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usoinked · 2 days ago

Note

Can I make a request for some Tama F/reader smut?

Yes I can♥️👏🏽

Sweet like Birthday Cake🍰(Tama Tonga X Black Reader)

CW: Fluff, Smut, 18+ MDNI, thoughtful surprises, praise, sexual content, mature language, unprotected p in v, soft dom, first time, happy ending this time ღ

Word Count: 3.0k+

Your birthday was currently approaching, being just a week away and you still had no idea what you wanted to do for it. You’ve had birthday parties before but the last time you had one was for your sweet 16. You were turning 21 now and you didn’t have the time nor the money to plan out a huge party for yourself. It didn’t help that you also didn’t really have anyone to invite, you had more associates than friends. The only person you really considered a friend, was Tama Tonga. You and Tama had been friends for a while but with Tama’s hectic wrestling schedule it wasn’t easy to contact him or find quality time together. Platonically that is. Truthfully, you were fine with doing nothing for your birthday other than just kicking back and eating some ice cream. You didn’t want to make make a big deal out of it because you really were a homebody more than anything and weren’t used to partying. Something low-key, a quiet evening at home would’ve done you well. However, your friend Tama wasn’t going for any of that and had different plans unbeknownst to you. He had been secretly arranging a surprise birthday celebration, enlisting the help of the new bloodline and even asked Cody Rhodes for some decorating advice.

After finishing up at work, you wrapped up the last task of the night—cleaning out the coffee machines and washing the cups and spoons from the day’s shift. Once everything was tidied up, you said your goodbyes to your coworker, Kayla, and made your way out to the parking lot. A quick press of the button on your car key and your car unlocked, ready to take you home.

You had always been a huge fan of pink, and Hello Kitty had practically taken over your life. It was no secret—your car was a testament to that. From the seat covers to the air fresheners to the coasters, it was a Hello Kitty wonderland. You didn’t mind the playful overload of cute, and honestly, you enjoyed the little touches of happiness it brought to your everyday routine. You even remembered the time Tama had bought you a Hello Kitty plushie as a thank-you for always supporting his wrestling career. The gesture had melted your heart; he didn’t make a big deal of it, but you knew he’d paid attention to what made you happy, and that made it all the more meaningful.

You slid into your car, settled into the familiar pink surroundings, and started the engine. The drive home was peaceful, the soft hum of the car engine and the radio playing quietly in the background brought you a nice sense of comfort. As you cruised down the road, the city lights slowly faded, giving way to the calm suburban streets leading to your house.

Pulling into your driveway, you sighed contently, grateful for the quiet after a long day. The house was just as cozy as you remembered, waiting for you to relax and unwind. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat, took one last glance at the plushie on the dashboard—Tama’s thoughtful gift—and made your way to the front door. It was a small, comforting routine, one that always made you feel at home.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, only to be startled as the lights suddenly flickered on, nearly making you jump out of your shoes. “AHH!” you yelped, instinctively stepping back before your eyes took in the sight in front of you. The room was filled with roses, pink balloons shaped with the numbers 2 and 1, and a gorgeous birthday cake sitting on the counter, topped with cream cheese frosting and fresh strawberries. There was also a massive bouquet of pink roses and, of course, a huge brown Hello Kitty plushie with a hibiscus flower tucked behind its ear.

“Surprise, Y/N. Happy Birthday!” Tama’s voice broke through your shock, and you finally spotted him, grinning and chuckling at your startled reaction.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “How the hell did you get in here, Tama? Aren’t you supposed to be on the road for your match tomorrow?”

Tama shrugged casually, still holding that playful grin. “Relax, Y/N. I got a pass from Solo to spend the night here and catch a flight in the morning. It’s only a four-hour trip. And with it being your birthday, I wasn’t about to miss the chance to see you… let alone surprise you.” He then pulled out a small key from his pocket and dangled it in front of you. “Remember that emergency key you gave me?”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at the key jingling in his hand. “You definitely surprised me,” you said with a small laugh, your eyes scanning the decorations again. “You did a good job, Tama. Thank you.”

Tama grinned wider, pleased with your reaction. “Lo mālō. I made some…ribeyes with mashed potatoes and asparagus for us. And I got a bottle of champagne for you on the table over there.” He said before motioning his finger over to the kitchen table.

You looked over at the table, seeing two plates sitting across from each other, each piled high with the meal Tama had made. The ribeye, mashed potatoes and asparagus looked absolutely delicious, and your heart skipped a beat. Tama had really gone all out for you on your birthday. The effort he’d put into this made you feel incredibly special, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful. It wasn’t every day that you found someone who would do something so thoughtful, and Tama’s attention to detail wasn’t lost on you.

As you dug into the meal, the flavors were just as incredible as you’d imagined. The ribeye was cooked perfectly, tender and juicy, and the sides complemented it so well. You both ate in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the clinking of utensils and soft murmurs of approval. Every now and then, Tama would glance at you with a playful smirk, as if silently asking how he was doing as your personal chef for the night. You’d smile back, showing him just how much you appreciated it.

Once you’d finished your meal, Tama excused himself to grab the cake, placing it gently in front of you. The birthday cake was just as beautiful as everything else tonight—vanilla butter cream frosting, fresh strawberries on top, and perfectly sweet. He gently cut two slices of it before placing them on two separate plastic plates. You picked up a fork, ready to indulge in the sweet treat, when just before you could take a bite, you stopped. Tama was holding up his own fork, a piece of cake on it, his expression playfully urging you to eat it from his fork.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you met his eyes. “You really want me to eat it off your fork?”

He nodded, his grin widening. “I made it for you, didn’t I? Can’t let you miss a bite.”

With a soft laugh, you leaned forward and accepted the fork, taking a small bite. The buttercream icing lingered on the fork like a mere stain, but the sweetness of the cake made your taste buds sing. As you chewed, savoring the flavor, you noticed Tama staring at you, his gaze intense. It wasn’t just the cake he was focused on now.

While you were enjoying the cake, Tama had shifted his attention, his mind drifting elsewhere. He was still eating, but his thoughts weren’t on the cake or even the meal anymore. His focus was entirely on you. The way you smiled after every bite, the way you seemed to radiate warmth and joy tonight, made him feel something deeper than just a momentary appreciation. Something more… personal. He couldn’t help but admire you in that quiet, intimate space between bites, knowing this was one of those rare moments he’d treasure forever.

Unable to shake off the feeling of Tama staring you, you looked at him a bit confused but tried to laugh it off playfully. “What? Are you okay?” He didn’t respond immediately, just took your hand gently intertwining it with his making your face start to heat up. You weren’t going to deny that Tama was an attractive man, but you were also nervous because you had yet to have this kind of interaction with him let alone another man before. “Happy Birthday Y/N, I wanted to do something meaningful for you. With your permission, I wanted to see if I could give you another present.”

You took a moment to respond but didn’t leave his question unanswered. “What other present you tryna give me?” There was a pause in the air before he just looked at you. “I can show you better than I can tell you” he said before gently taking your chin with his free hand and pressing your lips together. Your eyes expanded for a second before they slowly closed as you melted into the kiss, his tongue slid over your bottom lip asking gently for permission which you granted. The taste of icing, strawberry, and saliva combined as your tongues slid across one another. After a brief make out session, Tama slowly pulled away before commenting. “You taste sweet, just like your birthday cake.”

“You got it for me” you said before making a soft gasp feeling his hands snake their way up your shirt before stopping. “Can I take this off?” He asked, his voice being gentle and soothing. You hummed in response, nodding your head and raising your arms as your work shirt slipped off of you. With very little conversation, eventually all of your clothes were off right along side Tama being in nothing but his briefs by this point. His arms snaked their way around you as his lips collided with yours again, his tongue finding its way back to the place it was just moments ago before eventually pulling away and attacking your neck with soft kisses. His tongue slid over the area earning a soft moan from you as you gripped his shoulders, his body was rigid and you could feel how hard his shoulders were beneath your palm. He gently pulled you on top of him where you were both straddled, your body on his. The only thing keeping both your pussy and his dick separated was the fabric of his briefs, which neither of you minded…for now. His tongue slid over the area as if a mop was dragging across the floor, his hands finding their way to your breasts slowly beginning to knead them as he worked on giving your neck a birthday mark.

The feeling in between your legs grew even worse as Tama moved away from your neck and onto your nipples. His tongue worked like magic around the buds as your back arched gripping onto his shoulders even more. Your body squirmed, brushing up against the tent in his briefs earning a low moan from him. “Easy baby” he cooed against your chest before swirling his tongue around the bud once again.

The feeling sent jolts of electricity through your body, especially because your nipples were overly sensitive and you’d never gotten this far before with any of your previous partners. The most you’d ever did was kiss and that was it. You were always too afraid to take it further or give yourself away fearing they would leave afterwards. But with Tama, things were different. He was always so understanding and caring about you, never gave you any reason to doubt him. You trusted him. Trusted him enough to give him your body and take your virginity.

before lifting you up and sliding off his briefs.

His hands wrapped their way around his cock, rubbing it against your slick before holding it there a moment. Turns out he didn’t even need any lube because of how wet you were getting on your own, so he took that as a hefty invitation. “Hold onto me and tell me if you need to slow down or stop at any point okay?” He said, his warm hands wrapping themselves around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck in return nodding okay. “A-Alright”. “Just relax” he said before slowly lowering your body and just as you tried to relax feeling the tip push in, there was the sting and the pain of your walls closing in around him. Your grip around Tama tightened as you winced causing him to immediately stop to make sure you were okay. “Are you okay?” You couldn’t speak for a second because you were too busy trying to breathe, you had already felt so full but what you didn’t realize is that he wasn’t even half way in yet….that was until he told you. “It’s not half way in yet, but tell me when to move and I’ll move, okay?” You got to the point where you didn’t want to wait because you didn’t know how long the pain would last so you started to lower yourself even further evoking a strained moan from the man below you. You let out a wince before suddenly letting out a loud moan due to feeling how your insides were constricting around Tama and from how painful it was. A mixture of pain and pleasure was all you felt until you gave a swift command. “M-Move” you said as Tama replied with placing gentle kisses on your collarbone and began to bounce you slowly. Each bounce had so much passion and care behind it, it wasn’t just casual sex, he was actually making love to you.

The pain slowly began to subside and it was just replaced by pleasure. So much pleasure that Tama didn’t even have to bounce you anymore because your body had a mind of his own. Your hips began to grind against Tama’s, his cock massaging every area of your walls with his tip reaching further and further upward. You wanted to feel more of this feeling, more of him. The more your hips moved around, the wetter you became and the louder your moans got. “There you go, you’re doing so well for me babygirl” he cooed out as you moaned in response. The praise he gave you was like a reward, every time you rocked your hips or held onto him, he gave you a gesture of comfort or some word of praise. With how gentle he was being and how much you were getting addicted to chasing your own high, that knot in your stomach only seemed to form all the more faster.

“T-Tama s-shit! Somethings h-happening!” You screamed out as one of your hands found their way onto his toned chest as the other one gripped around the back of his neck. “I know, I feel it too baby, just hold onto me, I got you.” He muttered in response, one of his hands resting on your waist while another one wrapped around your neck and brought your forehead to his as both your ragged breaths and gasps for air were the only thing filling the space between you two. As your grinding got more and more erotic, you couldn’t help yourself as your body jolted from the slow unraveling of the knot inside your stomach. “F-Fuck!” You screamed out unable to hold back much of your curses anymore. “There you go, you took me so well” he said talking you through it as your body shook against his. While you were chasing your own orgasm, Tama was also chasing his own being completely encapsulated with the site of you in front of him. His hand gripped onto your hips bouncing you while you were currently going through your orgasm, but this was overstimulation he was secretly into. He couldn’t help himself, taking your lips into his own as the sound of skin hitting together and moans filled the room. His other hand slowly slid down to your clit, his finger gliding over it back and forth causing your body to jolt even more. The hand that was on his chest immediately went to his wrist not being use to this much pleasure since it was your first time. But you didn’t want it to stop, this would definitely be memorable and he made sure of it. With each flick of his fingers, your hips constantly bucked which caused his cock to twitch indicating he was getting closer and closer.

“Fuck! Oh m-my god!” You moaned out throwing your head back as your hips shook before you felt something warm suddenly pool inside of you. Tama’s head rested against your chest as the hand that was on your hips immediately wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him, letting out a loud moan while doing so. As both of you started to slowly come down from your highs, it was Tama who broke the silence first. “You were amazing, Y/N. I hope you liked your birthday gift.”

“I didn’t just like it, I loved it” you commented through pants before getting a sudden curious feeling. “Was this…just a birthday gift?”

Tama looked a bit taken back by the question but he knew you’d have to find out sooner rather than later. “Well…no…truthfully I’ve had feelings for you for a while now Y/N, I just never said anything because I’m always busy…and I didn’t want to hurt you. You mean a lot to me y’know?”

Upon hearing this you smiled before taking his cheeks in between both your hands. “I can tell, you’ve showed me how much I mean to you and how much you care. And with your work schedule, I understand…I’m…willing to take it slow if you are?”

“…Yeah I’d like that a lot.”

ღ

Note: So uhhhh I hope you like this 😅, this is my first tama fic so pls be nice😭

Note #2: Lo mālō means “you’re welcome” in Tongan (based on the research I’ve done, if I am incorrect pls let me know and I’ll more than happily change it! ♥️)

Taglist: @punksyeet @binnieaddict @sheaabuttaababyy @empressdede @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @partypoison00

#tama tonga #wwe #fanfic #smut #wwe fanfiction #18+ mdni #wwe fandom #tama tonga x reader #black reader #the new bloodline #tama tonga smut #wwe smut #gentle d0m #gentle domination #praise k!nk #cody rhodes #solo sikoa #tonga loa #jacob fatu

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catboydreamer · 1 day ago

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"overgrown anger" ajax/tartaglia x reader

you and ajax have a complicated relationship. he makes it complicated, as your feelings are quite simple. you love him endlessly but he seems to never be able to decide.

it frustrates you to no end; endless nights of being awoken at one am by him knocking on your window and you let him in. you always do even with a pout dragged across your lips some nights. even if you punch him as soon as he gets inside. even if you have friends over, he will put a finger to his lips and say, “shh. i’ll be quiet”. and if you dare to try to move on, and how dare you, he will grab the man up by his arms and haul him out the front door (though he itches to throw him out the window but he knows better with you) (he cannot burn every bridge). he never directly confronts the problems he creates by one am visits. of course, in the morning he’s gone, the only traces of him are his ajax sized imprints in the mattress.

there’s always more for you to comment on with him. he creates more scenarios wherever he goes, and god damn is he wherever you go. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was obsessed with you but you do know better. you’ve known this man since you were seven. you’ve seen him fall in love once and it wasn’t exactly pretty in the end but during? he was nothing like this. with her, he was straightforward in his affections; he spoke his affections clearly, brought her flowers at least once a week, and always held her hand. he was gentle and calm but looked at her with a smile on his face.

to admit things you didn’t really want to, you were quite devastated discovering your own selfish feelings for him. you felt so guilty the entire time as you’d smile weakly and make an effort to become his girlfriend’s friend. she was kind, the type of person you could never hate and yet, every time you looked at her you felt a bitter taste in your mouth.

secretly, relief flowed through your body the day that thye broke up. you were there for the entire thing too; you saw the cold and lifeless look he gave her as he tells her its over. its a side she’s never seen but a side you’ve seen countless times.

you never ask him about it, just walk quietly beside him waiting for words to tumble out but he turns to you abruptly and asks you to accompany him fishing. he never speaks of her again. he never cries or looks upset, either.

something about the break up felt wrong but you couldn’t put your finger on it…

bonus: you see her around town a few weeks after he broke up with her and she gives you the coldest glare you have ever seen. you simply assume its because you are associated with ajax. her mouth moves to say something but her eyes widen and she walks off… very strongly. minutes later, “boo!” comes up from behind your ear. it was ajax.

since growing older, he’s not as prominent in your life as before but he still visits at one am if nothing else. its not every night but it is frequent.

anxiety starts to eat at you about the whole situation. you don’t want it to stop per say because you really do miss him but you wish he would just be honest. constantly, you feel as if he’s hiding something from you. something unknown lays behind his icy blue eyes. you both know it and inevitably he will have to reveal it to you.

still, he plays with you, giving you a toothy grin one day as he hangs onto your every word but he’s gone the next day. you won’t hear from him for weeks as you constantly look for him in the crowds and stay up until four am waiting by the window. and just when you think you are over him, he’s right there all over again. sometimes you wonder if he’s real and just once, do you let this slip. its gotta be the hundredth time he’s done this back and forth with you and you’re reaching your wits ends. you try so hard to hold back the lump in your throat. the air feels heavy again, if only on your end with your racing thoughts and sweaty limbs. he’s cold again, leaning against the window sill with a far off, faded look in his gaze. he isn’t even looking at you. your chest fills with a hot boil of overpowering warmth.

you puff your cheeks with hot air and let it all out with a huff. for the record, the action does nothing to sizzle the heat. next, you wipe your hands on your fluffy pajama pants and stand up.

your voice is so small when you speak(smaller than you’d like it to), “ajax?”

for a split second, you see his gaze flicker to you, and is that a softness around the edges? no, you are imagining it within your dreary and delusional mind. “what.” he’s back to the deadness you are slowly starting to get used to. at least you try to tell yourself that.

“just..” you pause, letting out a frustrated growl, “are you even real anymore?”

he twists his body towards you, a twitch of a cocky smile on his lips. “would you like to test that?”

before he can take back what he said, you are marching up to him. his icy blue eyes widen and he tries to put his hands up slowly but you are too fast. before you can control the bubbling anger that fills your senses, your hand comes in contact with the plumpness on his cheek. hard.

he stares at you in shock, and you stare back. shocked and still very angry. you don’t even want to apologize despite not meaning to do it.

your breathing is uneven and heavier with every breath.

he doesn’t say anything, not sure what he could say at this point. he only watches you, seemingly searching for something in your gaze before he leans his head back and closes his eyes. a red mark starts to form on his cheek.

“thats for leading me on.”

he doesn’t even move as he speaks, “i never-”

“oh, but you did. multiple times. or did you forget?”

his eyes fly open. oh, he remembers. how could he ever forget that? the one night he let himself indulge and become intoxicated by your touch.

he gulps down the bitterness, “no. i didn’t.”

you take a step forward into his space, close enough he can feel your warming breathe. “then, explain it to me. all of it.”

he aches to trace a finger over your jawline. his fingers twitch at his side in response. he tries once more, “then, can i kiss you?”

you frown. “no! you can explain your behavior. i’ve got time.”

he sighs dramatically, “fine. i’m sorry to disappoint but there’s no tale to tell. i’m not worthy of you. that much became painfully obvious to me, quickly.”

your hands move to grip into his biceps. “what. what does that mean?”

he rolls his eyes. “oh, you know? im unworthy of your love and affections. don’t you know this already?”

your grip gets stronger. he lets you do it without a sound. “uh, no? what the hell, ajax?”

for the first time all night, he truly looks at you. he devours you with his gaze, searching for any semblance of hesitation or deception in your eyes. they are as pure as ever. if not a little more blazed. “you’re not lying to me.”

you say nothing, your eyes give him all the confirmation he needs.

he wipes a hand across his lips. “shit. shit. SHIT. I fucked up,” you’ve never seen this raw, pure fearful look that creeped into his eyes.

a bitter smile creeps in, “yep. you did.”

he’s frozen. “let go of me.”

instead, you creep even closer so that there is no distance between the two of you. your grip loosens on his arms and slowly travels up until they stop on his jawline. “i can’t,” your voice breaks in half. the same half he broke into a million little shards. and he’s responsible for piecing them back together.

he stares at you wide eyed, bottom lip slightly trembling. you know better than anyone that he’s fighting back tears. not for long, not if you keep looking at him like that. “please,” he’s begging you at this point.

your heart breaks for him but your heart is more broken. so you whisper to him, “i won’t. i won’t allow it.”

he leans his forehead against yours and screws his eyes shut. tears slowly drip from his eyes down his cheeks. they don’t stop for a long time.

at some point you have led him to lean his head against your chest as quiet cries leaving his mouth.

he hasn’t cried in a very long time.

your hand reaches to stroke strands of hair in a calming motion.

once he’s ready, he slowly pushes himself off of you. his eyes are bloodshot red and he turns his head to the side. you aren’t holding him in place but you also don’t need to. he knows you aren’t going anywhere.

“ajax. you need to hear this. please listen.”

he doesn’t make a sound but he doesn’t protest either. progress.

“i’ve loved you since we were thirteen. i never stopped, even for a second, despite what you put me through as a result.”

ajax opens his mouth to speak for a moment but clams it shut in the next.

you sigh and out come the words, “you are worthy of a grand love. i don’t want to come off too strong but… if you’ve reacted this way, i must mean a lot to you, huh?”

ajax turns to face you, a fiery gaze lingering within his face. “you don’t understand. you mean the world to me. you’re better than the air i breath. i don’t need to breathe if it means you get to. i can’t live without you, and i’ve tried.”

you can’t help but grin, you’re just so happy. finally you can feel how you feel out in the open. you mind is racing at the same pace as your heart.

ajax leans down, close enough that he’s only a hair away from your lips, “does this mean i can kiss you now?”

you wrap a arm around his neck and pull him down towards you. sealing the night with a kiss is all the confirmation anyone could ever need.

you just have to work on his self esteem issues because holy shit this whole scenario could’ve been avoided!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #ajax #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #bro #not proof read #ajax is a bit toxic #but then ur toxic back #its funny #i loved writing this but i almost cried btw #im tired lol #i didn't proof read take it as it is!!!

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pcktknife · 2 years ago

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But if you play sumo with female protag your gf lillie is also blonde … can’t choose that option

sorry selene u cant date lillie bc thats too much blonde between 2 people :/

#plus her whole family is blonde thats waaay too much yellow goin on #side bar why did they name the female sumo protag selene when theres a serena do u know how confusing that is #you could've spelt it celene and the moon thing still wouldve come across 😭#everytime im going thru the names of the protags im like okay serena as in calm selene as in the moon and it doesnt help that the moon is #...associated with the night and calmness #asks #anon

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motor-city-selfryed · 2 months ago

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im still crying is this normal.

#im shaking im like #my heart is still beating im #damn the fact ppl associate me with punk so much i had inboxes IMMEDIATELY when he showed up #srry i responded late i had to take a lap rq to calm myself #leaped out of my fucking seat fr #uhm. so. how r we doing #i might sleep with my cm punk shirt on #wwe #punkoween yaps #cm punk #friday night smackdown #wwe friday night smackdown

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norikuna · 21 days ago

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SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE CELIBATE, SHE TOLD ME I COULD NAIL HER SH*T — gojo satoru minors dni

PART I. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

prologue. → you wish gojo satoru would stop trying to ask you out. not that you don't like him, but dating the one guy that you're smacked silly about would mean that he could break your heart and leave you in ruins. so it's best to keep some distance right?

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. college au, reader wears a skirt, reader is choso's twin and yuuji's older sister, but no appearance detailed. kissing, making out, óral (f) receiving, general bitchiness and fuckups 😚 ensemble cast of poor bystanders (geto, shoko, sukuna, yuki etc)

word count. 10k! song inspiration. gang baby — nle choppa

a/n. it's because of that one edit by satorupedia that's going around rn. yall know which one 😭 art by touno_stupa on twt!

dedication. yayyy decided to start my little gift series for new years with this fic inspired and dedicated to @fushitoru who was one of the first blogs i followed on here before i was super familiar with jujutsu kaisen. aashi writes thee most wonderful gojo fics that are so well characterised and heart-stoppingly adorable and HAWT. 😁 🤭 and i easily associate her with physics/college au gojo now, ever since her spiderman gojo fic that lives in my head!!!!

gojo in this fic:

ACT I. don't puck around and find out!

"i ran into gojo today," choso says, his voice as unbothered and monotone as ever, scraping the gravel lazily with the heel of his scuffed combat boots, "or he ran into me."

"gojo satoru?"

"how many gojos do we know?" your twin brother huffs, giving you a dry side-eye. but before you can retort something equally acrid, he's yanking at the sleeve of your sweatshirt, halting you midstep, "wait. car."

you blink out of your tired daze just in time to see a battered camry putter past, its engine groaning like it's on its last legs. just how you feel after a long day of seminars and lectures. the car rattles down the street with the grace of a tin can tied to a string.

"thanks," you mutter, half-heartedly as you shift your laptop case from one tired arm to the other, "could have been the end of my genius academic career."

"would have been a short one either way," choso quietly quips, earning himself a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"so?" you press on.

"so, what?"

"what did gojo say?"

"ohhh," choso drawls, in that irritating way of his that indicates he has no idea how to deliver good gossip, news or any form of tea, "he asked if i wanted to play hockey for his team tomorrow. they're down a player ever since kento went on exchange."

"hockey?" your eyebrow arches, and skepticism curls your lips for choso is hardly known for his athleticism. you mean, you're sure he has the physical ability in him somewhere but you (and the rest of the world) are yet to see it, "are you gonna join the team, then?"

not that you care about gojo's stupid, state-tournament winning team. of course not. you're just curious. and curiosity is harmless.

it has nothing to do with the fact that you woke up last night wanting to jump gojo satoru's bones. just like you did the night before, and before. and the week before that. yeah, suffice to say that this has been going on for a while.

"nah," choso says, shaking dull, greasy strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "got placements tomorrow."

right. placements. choso's all about pathology and lab medicine and test tubes, while you get queasy at the mere mention of haemoglobin. and it unsettles you mildly at how your twin brother's eyes light up at the mere mention of a blood test.

"and?" you prod when he starts to drift off again, his attention wandering like it always does.

choso is often like a calm river. slow, broad and lazy.

this time, you pull at his one of his headphone cords to reel him back, "did gojo say anything else?"

choso gives you that dull look, quiet but loaded. like he's already solved a puzzle that you didn't know you were trying to hide. it just makes your stomach twist, "why do you care what gojo satoru says?"

"i don't," you snap, far too fast, like your tongue is racing your brain to a crash site. the lie sits heavy in your throat, thick and obvious.

choso's pale and dry lips twitch, and you wondered what happened to the lip balm you threw into his christmas stocking last year, "should i have told him you could sub in for his team instead?"

"no-one likes a smartass, cho," you grumble, speeding up your steps as your twin leisurely rummages through his fraying backpack for his house keys. you roll your eyes and push ahead, jamming your own keys into the lock before you die of boredom waiting for him to dig through the trash heap that lies at the bottom of his bag, "anyway, i was just asking. you brought gojo up."

choso trails behind you, his tone infuriatingly casual, "you always get weird when someone mentions him. i thought you guys were friends."

"we are friends. and i don't get weird."

"you get so weird. even yuki said so."

"i love yuki, i do. but she has no idea what she's talking about —"

the door swings open, cutting off your false deflection. standing there is yuuji, with half a sandwich dangling from his mouth like he's some kind of feral creature. there's a smear of mayonnaise clinging to his cheek as he yanks a red, track hoodie over his tank top.

"mmph! hey, you guys!" he muffles through a mouthful of bread, waving at you with the enthusiasm that only a teenage boy could muster after inhaling half the fridge.

"where are you off to?" you peer at your younger brother, your eyes zeroing in on his mutilated sandwich. a sandwich that you're certain you made for yourself this morning, leaving it for a study session upon your return.

"track practice," yuuji says, swallowing the last bite whole, "then dinner with fushiguro and kugisaki." he's already halfway down the driveway, sneakers untied and laces flopping on the pavement behind him.

choso narrows his eyes, "got money? or a water bottle? a hat? did you wear sunscreen?"

"i'm good!" yuuji calls back without breaking stride, waving a quick hand at the two of you.

"why don't you hold his hand and walk him to school, mother?"

"shut up," choso grumbles as he brushes past you into the house, throwing you an exaggerated scowl of wounded, elder-brother pride over his shoulder, "why don't you hold gojo's hand to hockey practice?"

your bookbag swings through the air, connecting to the back of choso's oversized head and a loud thud follows.

ACT II. long overdue and lacking a spine

you had been in this library for hours, eyes blurring as the words in your textbook stubbornly refused to make sense. it was all a gross blur of terms and diagrams, and your $8.00 coffee had gone lukewarm an hour ago.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that was the plan, no distractions.

your phone, however, had other ideas as it sat innocently next to your stack of notes. you tapped the screen quickly under the guise of a 'quick break' but before long, you were deep into instagram stories. someone's dog, a flyer for a rave that you definitely weren't going to, and then, of course, him.

gojo satoru. on someone's reposted story with a classic, grainy photo of one of the campus's most darling boys. long arm draped casually over some girl. both of them lit in the neon glow of what looked like a party bus. he wasn't even looking at the camera, just flashing that effortless grin that you had seen your entire life growing up. and the girl was gorgeous, obviously. not that you cared about that.

but speak of the devil and he hath appear. a long shadow fell over the table, and you felt the chill in your bones, trying not to shift in your seat.

"go away, gojo," you muttered, not even deigning to look up.

"how'd you know it was me?" his voice is teasing, all light and airy as he's pulling out the chair next to you.

"what can i say? lucky guess," you reply dryly, keeping your eyes glued to the suspiciously-stained textbook. worried that you'll look up and your iron resolve will disappear from one glance at big, blue eyes.

but out of the corner of his eye, you try not to twitch at the sight of the soft, pale blue hoodie that swallows his broad frame whole. thick, white strands of hair that fall gently over his face. and that cloying scent of mint and something faintly sweet that leaves your ears hot and your heart sitting in your throat.

study, pass, graduate. get a good gpa. that's what you tell yourself in a now failing mantra.

"are you following me today?" you ask, flipping a page with exaggerated nonchalance, like you're not about to tear up pathetically from a stupid crush.

"caught me," gojo says, the grin audible even in his voice, "i just couldn't resist finding you. is that what you want me to say?"

you finally look up, swallowing at unfairly fine features, "saw you were at some party yesterday. i didn't think you'd be on campus today."

gojo just laughs, the sound soft and infuriating, "keeping tabs on me now?" and he's rifling through his bag for something, "or you don't think the library's a good look for me? i'm broadening my horizons. testing the waters."

you narrow your eyes, willing the heat rising in your face to stay put and not crawl into your voice, "i think you're testing my patience. i have a test tomorrow, so if you're here to waste my time..."

"maybe i just wanted to hang out with my friend," gojo says, tearing open a kitkat wrapper in an obnoxious way that echoes through the silent hall, and the crinkle of plastic grates against your nerves, "we haven't seen each other in ages."

"don't you have a lot of other people to hang out with nowadays?" you're mentally beating yourself with a bat at your question, wincing at how it sounds like you keep count of who he hangs out with, and you're pathetically down bad for him. like a 90s singer begging on his knees for a kiss.

"i mean, i could hang out with them," gojo says, breaking his kitkat horizontally like a monster, "but they're not you."

his sunglasses are gone, revealing eyes so blue they look otherworldly, and he's throwing you that smiling, lopsided grin that makes your heart run around a room and bang into the walls. but no. you were not going to let gojo satoru get to you. he probably made every girl feel like this, like they were the centre of his fast-paced universe. until the next shiny thing came along.

besides, gojo satoru dated models. or stunning cheerleaders. the kind of people who looked good under strobe lights, and in the glow of his party bus digital camera pics.

and hey, it's not like you were self-depreciating or awfully insecure. you liked who you were and you would never change it for anyone. quiet and ambitious. reserved, but down for some fun. you'd like to think you were the type of person who saw the world in a beautiful, cinematic light. but it was maddening how gojo satoru seemed to bring out the most juvenile issues in you that had your stomach turning itself into ugly knots.

"gojo," you try to sound as nonchalant as possible, "are you even here to study?"

as in why are you really here? please ask me out.

gojo looks unbothered, unshaken, "coffee. cake. maybe even some flirting, if you're up to it."

the universe hates you. it has a way of delivering what you want right into your hands, when...you don't exactly want it.

you blink at the white-haired man, disbelief bubbling under your skin, "you're not serious."

"why wouldn't i be?"

"c'mon, satoru. everyone knows you're not the actual dating type. you ever been in a relationship that wasn't pr and lasted for more than two weeks?"

absolutely bonkers at how your heart and your tongue are not on the same wavelength at all. it's like your mouth missed the memo and is just firing bullets that have gojo's grin faltering a bit, as a flicker of heated annoyance flashes in his eyes. even hurt, but it's gone too quickly for you to read into it.

"didn't realise that you thought i was that much of a joke," and you're not fond of how gojo's voice is quieter now, and a pretty sneer is dancing across his lips. you're biting your lip before you lose your stupid, petty resolve to not get involved with someone who could truly break your heart.

"if you didn't make everything a joke, it wouldn't be," you snap at him, and you're not even sure what you're angry at. there's no reason to be annoyed, or frustrated or even hurt and snippy with a friend who came and sat with you to catch up.

but you don't want to untangle whatever you're projecting onto gojo satoru, so you let bitter words spill over, "some of us don't have time for your games, gojo. we have real lives to deal with."

gojo's expression shifts completely, and that playful spark in his eyes is replaced with something colder as he stands up and shoves his hands into his pockets, "right." and his tone is clipped, pissed, "got it. no time for games."

you watch as gojo walks away, already tapping away on his phone, but his footsteps are quieter than you expect. part of you wants to call after him, to take back the teeth and claws that painted your words.

but instead, you just look away from him and grimace. you must have pulled an awful, twisted face — for the man sitting across from you leans in and asks if you need to take an aspirin, or if you're low on fibre.

ACT III. between the covers

the bookstore smells faintly of old paper and new ink. a sharp contrast to the chill lingering outside, so the warmth hits you like a welcome blanket. the air buzzes with the muted chatter of customers, and the occasional beep of a cash register.

you're winding your way through the aisles, set on two missions. find that jacket-cover book that you had been wanting for weeks, and to hunt down the manga that yuuji had begged you to pick up for him.

you dart past a couple lingering in front of a 'booktube' bestseller display, narrowing avoiding a child wielding a stuffed dragon that you can only assume is smaug the magnificent from the hobbit. straight into the quieter section of the store, tucked in the back and smack-bang right into —

thud!

your shoulder collides hard with someone else, sending you stumbling back a step.

"fuck's sake. watch it," the person snaps, his tone sharp.

"maybe you should —" you start to retort, before the words die and patter out on your tongue as your mouth goes dry.

gojo satoru, ladies and gentlemen.

he's scowling at you, with sunglasses pushed up onto his head that expose those ridiculously pale eyelashes under the glow of the overhead lights. he's layered on a crisp varsity jacket, over a thick hoodie, all shades of soft blue and grey. and he looks irritated, with thick brows furrowed at you. but you don't miss the faint surprise that flutters across his face when he takes you in.

"seriously?" gojo murmurs, though more to himself, and his voice still holds an edge that has you wilting, "out of all the aisles in this store..."

you blink, caught somewhere between an apology that dances on the edge of your lips, and a bewildered laugh at how the divine powers deliver the worst luck on you. instead, you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your aviator jacket, "sorry. didn't see you."

gojo's shoulders relax, but just barely. as though he's still caught in the heavy fog of tension from your last words to him. but to your mild credit, he doesn't quite look ready to storm out either. progress?

"so. what are you doing here?" you ask, trying to break the ice and pretend that you're not doing internal pirouettes.

"just had to pick up a textbook," gojo mutters, holding up a thin and over-priced looking book on something like...quantum mechanics, "exams are coming up. gotta keep the top spot, you know."

you blink, "you're actually studying?"

gojo raises his eyebrow, lips twitching into the faintest smile, "what? you think i roll into my classes and ace everything through sheer willpower? or i spend all day being a joke and annoying everyone, right?"

you sigh, feeling the frosty, ice-gaze settle once more over you, paralysing you from head to toe, "look, gojo. i don't know what came over me that day," and now you're being sincere, looking away from his narrowed stare, "it's like some crazy, evil monster came over me and it possessed me. i think i incarnated some demon king in me and i said all that mean shit."

he shifts slightly beside you, and you don't miss at how gojo's lower lip juts out at your apology, or how close he is to you right now. "and i was jus' being stupid. swear i don't think you're a joke." you try to pick up some random book, pretending you're very busy as you speak.

but it's very hard to look genuine when you've just picked up a glossy copy of 'stand and deliver: a hard look at fixing male erection problems.'

it earns you a small laugh, light and quick, that has you almost falling to your knees, and you can hear choso's voice in your head. muttering out a dulcet 'i told you so. you want him so bad.' but it's worth it as gojo leans against the nearest shelf, the annoyance from earlier starting to ebb.

and for a moment, gojo studies you and his expression is unreadable. for your part, you're pretending to read the back cover of 'stand and deliver' and some blurb about how this award-winning author managed to help her husband 'get it up' after twenty years of marriage.

but the tension in his posture dissolves, relaxing further and gojo hums, "noted." that's all he says, and an awkward silence hovers. it hovers so uncomfortably, leaving you floundering for a new topic until gojo's voice breaks the silence.

"choso's doing good, yeah? i heard he got a girlfriend."

you smile, "yeah. yuki, she's like really cool. i don't know how he did it."

gojo snickers, "i asked if he wanted to play hockey and i think he's been avoiding me all week."

you try to pretend its not because of how you re-enacted your little spat with gojo, demonstrating the entire thing for your twin brother. who had just called you stupid afterwards. among other not-so-flattering terms, with little consideration for your crushing, beating heart.

"you going to suguru's party next weekend?"

ah, now that's a curveball.

because, again, you are your own brand of cool. or so you'd like to think, so this isn't really a matter of pitying comparison. but geto suguru is like on another level of effortlessly vogue. at least in your eyes. you know that he's gojo's best friend and he delivered a (controversial) and killer project on gene editing last semester. you know that geto's involved with gig photography as a hobby, and thus, has personal access to some of the coolest bands in the city.

and you also know that he occasionally waves a hand to you, but it's not like you actually know the man. it's just mutual association.

"i wasn't planning on it," you hesitate, for you really had been planning to cram through a mid-term session, "but someone asked me to go as their date."

gojo's smile evaporates, "who?"

"naoya zenin," you say cautiously, watching as gojo's face twists. like he's resisting the urge to gag and tear his hair out.

"naoya? he's like a walking billboard for being an entitled cunt," gojo groans, running a hand through glossy hair that has you trailing your gaze over slender, sculpted hands.

you narrow your eyes, "he seemed...okay. smart, i think."

"oh, he's smart. i'm not questioning that," gojo crabs, "he's so arrogant though. i grew up seeing that guy everywhere. our families were like, half friends."

you cross your arms, suddenly defensive, "are you warning me? or just mad that he asked me out?"

gojo seems to flounder for half a second, quick enough that you could miss it and he could deny it, "jealous of naoya? please," and he scoffs as he leans back against the shelf, "i have taste. unlike some people."

"you can't be the one giving me a lecture on dating etiquette. i mean, how many dates do you have lined up for geto's party? two, three?"

gojo gives you a sly grin, "more than that, hah. gotta keep my options open."

"tacky," you wrinkle your nose, trying to pretend that you don't feel like you just guzzled a gallon of curdled milk, "and classless."

"yes," gojo sighs sadly, "and endlessly charming. it's so hard being me," shooting you back a quizzical look as he pulls up to the register, paying for his textbook.

as he paid, you linger near the shelves, pretending to browse while stealing glances at gojo satoru. there was something different about him today, something quieter that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

and on gojo's way out, he pauses in the doorway, turning back to look at you. his expression is still entirely unreadable, his gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual. and then he was gone.

ACT IV. blush confidential

there's a soft hum of pop music wafting from someone's phone, blending in with the rustle of fabric and the hiss of a straightener. your bedroom is a whirlwind of motion and chaos, with clothes thrown over chairs, and pre-game drinks piled up over your vanity.

"i can't believe you're not coming with us," you gripe to yuki, watching as she lounged up on your bed, denim crinkling as she shifted to adjust herself.

"tch, you know i love a good party," yuki grins with sparkling ideas, "but choso and i have a date tonight. he's been texting me about it all day."

you snicke at the thought of your hapless twin, "yeah. he was practically glued to your dm's. ran into the kitchen table twice this morning."

shoko snorts from her spot at the vanity, from where she's running a brush through cropped, chestnut hair, "choso nervous? i need to see that," she catches your eye in the mirror, "do you still have that lip gloss?"

"on it," you're digging into the vast depths of your purse, grazing your wallet and a hal-featen granola bar. stubbing your finger on an opened gel pen, before clutching a small shiny tube that you toss to shoko.

"so," shoko smacks her lips, "how's it going with naoya?"

you blink, pausing in the middle of capping all your drying pens, "what do you mean how's it going? nothing's going."

your friend swivels on her stool, raising a thin eyebrow, "he's your date at this party, right? and why him, of all people?"

"seriously. that guy's got a reputation. and not a good kind, for a very good reason," utahime chimes in from her corner, where she's yanking on a ribbon woven through her hair.

you shrug, suddenly feeling defensive under their collective scrutiny, "hey. he asked, i said yes. it's not that deep."

shoko exchanges a pointed glance with utahime, and both of them looking equally skeptical in a way that has you flushing.

"he's just annoying, you know," shoko points out, "he thinks he's better than everyone else, and half the time? it's just hot air."

"and the other half?"

"still hot air," shoko flatlines, "you can do better."

"anyone's better than gojo," utahime mutters, "you don't want to be stuck with him."

yuki's snickering, and you're doing your utter best to pretend that the mention of gojo satoru doesn't have you crawling up and down the walls like a termite on crack.

"speaking of gojo," yuki drawls, running a comb through a golden sheaf of thick hair, "is he going with anyone to this party?"

you freeze for half a second, before busying yourself with some new body mist that you picked up from a sale, all vanilla and coconut and macademia, "i ran into gojo the other day," and you keep your tone as neutral as possible, "and he said he had a few dates."

"ugh," shoko groans, wrinkling her nose, "of course he does," and utahime mutters an affirmative, exasperated sigh, echoed only by yuki, who pauses mid-brush to look at you sympathetically.

"what?" you snap, defensive, "why are you all looking at me like that?"

shoko tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "well, i mean. you like gojo, right? like really like him?"

"huh?" the question catches you so off guard that you're left sputtering, as the perfume leaves a sharp and awful taste on your tongue, accidentally leaving a fresh spritz into your mouth, and not the curve of your neck.

"oh, blech. absolutely not," you say vehemently, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, "i don't like him like that. not that i think he's awful or anything —"

utahime crosses her arms, white sleeves brushing against each other, "he is awful."

"yes, thank you for that, utahime. but he's just not my type," you finish firmly, "he's loud. he's disruptive. he can't take anything seriously. i can't date that."

yuki gives you a long and knowing look, "oh, he likes you," she says lightly, as though she's telling you a casual piece of news, and not something that has you biting your tongue till iron spills, "he's been crushing on you for so long."

you feel your stomach twist uncomfortable, like little, evil goblins are dancing in your gut, "that's ridiculous," you mutter, fiddling with the clasp of your purse, "if he liked me, he would ask me out properly. and not date half the student population."

"he probably thinks it's fair, because you keep turning him down," shoko says matter-of-factly, standing up to grab her bag.

"i just don't think he's good for you. or anyone," utahime mutters, earning a pinch from you.

ACT V. stereo love

normally, gojo thrived at these parties. suguru was always able to pull a crowd that straddled the line between chic and cool, with just enough alcohol to keep things interesting. the thrum of the bass-heavy music should have been the perfect escape after a gruelling day spent staring at equations, leaving him half-convinced that his course coordinator was plotting against him and wanted him dead.

but now gojo satoru was just jittery, restless. and he hated that.

so for now, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a full cup in hand, watching people spill out of the living room and into the backyard. it seemed that other students had been aching for a party, something to take them off mid-terms and yet here he was, scowling like a storm cloud. he took another swig of his drink, ignoring how his own stomach was doing unexplained cartwheels.

"you good?"

suguru's low voice cuts through the noise, startling gojo enough that he has to tighten his fingers around his cup so sticky beer doesn't spill over pristine tiles.

gojo waves his closest friend and confidante off, "i'm fine. obviously."

suguru's frown deepens, though it's obscured by his loose, choppy dark hair. and there's skepticism painted all over his face, "you're never this quiet at any party. i thought that by now, i would have had to convince you not to jump off the roof."

"you think too little of me."

"you think too much of yourself," suguru drawls, but he's leaning against the counter beside gojo, as leather and cool metal rustle against each other, "so where's your date? or dates, i should say?"

gojo freezes, his cup halfway to his lip, "come again? what are you talkin' about?"

suguru arches a thin brow, "it's practically all over campus, man. apparently, you had several dates with lovely, young ladies lined up tonight. and i tried to defend your fragile honour, said it was too ambitious even for you. but..."

this revelation hits gojo like a punchline that he wasn't in on, and then it clicks for him. oh, he had started that rumour a few days ago. in the bookstore, to you. his brain replays the scene like a cruel, little highlight reel: the way your expression had wavered minutely, just for a moment, when he had straight up lied and claimed that he had a few dates.

truth be told, gojo had only said it to make you jealous, to see if he could ruffle you and play your game even better.

but now the joke was so clearly on him.

because gojo satoru had no dates. and you? you were here with someone who wasn't him.

suguru's following his gaze across the room, and gojo doesn't even bother to hide his petulant interest. he can see you standing near the back walls, laughing at something that naoya zenin, mayor of all things putrid, had said. naoya, with his stupid green roots and louis vuitton jacket, standing just a little bit too close to you for gojo's liking.

but before he can stew in it any linger, suguru's reaching out and pinching his ear. hard.

"ow! fuck was that for?" gojo's yelping, jerking away from his clearly evil, traitrous best friend.

"that," suguru says evenly, "was for looking like a lovesick idiot. pull yourself together, man."

"i'm not lovesick," gojo weakly protests, rubbing his bruised, throbbing ear and moving further away from suguru geto.

"you're not exactly screaming cool and collected," suguru dryly comments, "sulking like a sore loser while your crush laughs at another guy's jokes."

gojo feels his face heat up, just a little bit, because he knows that suguru's hitting close to home, "i don't sulk and do all that whiny shit. second of all, it's not my fault she went with zenin of all people. it's up to her if she wants to be stuck with someone who talks about his family's real estate portfolio as foreplay."

suguru snorts, and it's clear that he's not playing the role of sympathetic best man for life, "you know what's more obnoxious? watching you fuck around like this. you need to figure out how to ask her properly."

"i did all that!" gojo shoots back, throwing his arms up so his drink dances over the edge of the cup, "she said no. each time. you know what they call a guy who can't take a hint? she thinks i'm a loser!"

"and are you?"

gojo narrows his eyes, "am i what?"

"a loser."

"is it easier for me if i just say yes?" gojo half-heartedly gripes, "is that what you want me to say?"

"or," suguru says calmly, "you're a guy who hasn't proven he's worth saying yes to."

gojo groans, tipping his head back so he can block out the vision of his irritatingly wise best friend, "you sound like my grandmother."

"that's not even an insult. your grandmother is on some metal shit," suguru counters, unbothered, "and you sound like a twelve-year old. you can't flirt and sleaze your way through this. if you want her to take you seriously, i don't know how else to say this, you have to stop being...you."

"excuse me?"

"no. stop, don't make that face," suguru scowls, "you know what i mean. stop being a stupid flirt, and be a genuinely better person. otherwise, you're just spinning and burning out your wheels."

"did you pick up a self help book?"

suguru elbows him, sneering, "i'm trying to help you. if you don't want my help, i'm telling her you have an std."

"maybe you should just do that. end my misery," gojo downs the rest of his drink in one go, the burn of cheap beer doing nothing to ease the olympics in his alimentary canal. what's worse is that suguru is right, the bastard always is.

suguru claps him on the shoulder, "relax, satoru. you've got charm in spades. just use it...wisely."

"yeah, yeah. thanks, man," gojo mutters, brushing him off as suguru wanders away, probably to mediate some dumb argument between that big oaf, toji fushiguro and the even bigger oaf, ryomen sukuna. honestly, why were they even invited?

but gojo stays where he is, eyes flicking back to you. away from the distracting curve of your thighs in that skirt, and rather on how interested you look in naoya's stupid, animated gestures. and you look so at ease, but there's something hot and sharp twisting inside his gut.

suguru's soft, measured voice echoes in his head, "prove yourself as a person first."

oh, yeah. gojo could do that. he would absolutely do that. for you, he'd do just about anything, short of donating his vital organs (but he would definitely be considering it). but how hard could it be to be better? more mature? more grounded?

gojo satoru can handle all that. all he had to do was be a dignified, charming man. you know, someone who puts his best foot forward into the world. someone that you might actually consider taking seriously. someone calm and respectful.

if you were happy with naoya zenin, then who was he to interfere? who was he to ruin that for you? even if the guy looked like wile e. coyote when he smiled. even if naoya zenin was the most smug bastard to walk the earth.

gojo scowled at nothing in particular. but the point was that it wasn't his place to meddle. not if it meant risking your happiness. all he could do was be the best version of himself. polite, kind and above reproach. a good and respectful friend.

ACT VI. a shot of love, on the rocks.

"please, i want you so fuckin' bad."

gojo satoru is on his knees. at a party, in the middle of the living room. for you.

you feel like your mind isn't able to process all this fast enough, like your brain is on some pause. the music is still thumping in your head, but not as fast as your poor cardiac muscles as you're rendered frozen from pathetic, piercing blue eyes blinking up at you.

"please," gojo satoru repeats, and his voice vaguely warbles out like he's kinda lost his marbles and —

let's rewind.

five minutes ago, you had been standing with naoya zenin. and despite your initial reservations, you had been entertained. he's sorta witty, and definitely loaded with snarky remarks that cut through the noise of the party. it's hard not to laugh at his biting commentary, although half the time he's skewering people for fun, and the other half? just out of pure spite.

his golden eyes gleam with that edge, the kind of sharpness that makes you think of a hyena circling around its next meal. naoya is definitely full of himself, but it doesn't help that he's also ridiculously good-looking. and he knows how stunning he is, but its bothering him that you're not showering him in enough compliments for it.

still, he's here with you. he's your date. and you're doing your best to remind yourself of that. naoya is the only option you have at the moment, and he's definitely offering you more attention than anyone else tonight.

from across the room, utahime gives you an exaggerated, pained thumbs-up — while shoko shrugs in her usual blithe manner, but she gestures for you to smile more. you plaster on a wider grin, a little too obvious but naoya doesn't seem to notice.

"you know, if you're getting bored of all this, we could always find another room," naoya's low hiss slices right through the bass-thrum of the pulsing room, "do a little more than just talk."

for a moment, it's easy to imagine slipping away with him. but the sharpness in his killer-smile makes something in you bristle, like he's already envisioned you saying 'oh yes, naoya! please take me to bed!' and you shake your head, and give him an amused look.

"maybe later," you say lightly, "not now."

naoya zenin doesn't seem quite offended, but his smile grows wider as he stands up straight again, from where he had curved his tall frame into you, "i'm a patient man. fine by me, 'm gonna get some more drinks."

and you watch as his golden head of hair disappears into the crowd, leaving you all alone while the music blares around you, like a suffocating fog. you rub your temples, wondering if you should just go after naoya and tell him to go to town, something for the night's enjoyment. but before you can go any further, you hear a shout cut through the noise.

"hey!"

you whip around, blinking in surprise at gojo satoru.

but also not quite the gojo that you're used to. the one that you grew up with, and held hands with in kindergarten, one who smiled easy and laughed too loud. it seems he's ditched the oversized hoodies and varsity jackets tonight, opting for a black tee that fits him a little too well and dark cargo pants that only highlight...

you're getting distracted. but it's hard to remain focused, when he's walking towards with you. seemingly determined, as his white hair falls forward over thunderstorm-eyes. for a moment, you're not sure if you’re hearing him over the pounding music, or if it's just your own pulse making everything seem louder.

"i hate that you're here with naoya," gojo says suddenly, and his voice is low and serious, something that you've never really heard from him before.

your brow furrows, "what?"

"i lied about the dates," he continues, as words just jumble out his candy-pink mouth, "i don't have a bunch of dates. fuck, i don't even have one date. i only want to date you."

you blink, and then you blink once more, because again what?

the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you think you might have misheard the man. his blue eyes are wide and earnest, and they're staring right at you.

and before you know, he's on his knees. muscular thighs bending so his knees hit the cool tiles with a heavy thud, hands splayed out for you.

"please," he implores, "you gotta understand. i need you to feel what i feel, because it's not even a passin' thought, i swear. it's not even a stupid crush. this is like —" and he's gesturing wildly with one hand, still kneeling like a knight about to beg for his lady's favour, "this is destiny."

"gojo," you manage, "are you on drugs?"

the white-haired man, bless his sassy heart, rolls his eyes, "no. i'm on beer and vodka. will you please let me finish?"

"yes, but what are you doing?" you hiss, exasperated and sibilant, as more eyes turn to the most ravishing man on campus, who's absolutely off his rocker. and there are phones being pulled out, god help you.

"what am i doing?" gojo smiles, and it's unnervingly wide, "i'm like laying it out all here for you. my love. because that's what you are, to me. like you're everything. and i swear everyone knows this already. should i call you my sun, my moon, my entire universe? it's like time stops when i see you, a-and trust me, i do physics. i know time shit," and he must have caught at how your mouth is flapping open because he suddenly wags a finger, "no! i'm not done. i haven't even told you how the world fades, and all that's left is you glowing. like a star that i can't reach."

he's placing a hand on his broad chest, digging into the tight top clinging to his pectorals, like he's being dramatically wounded, "i have to reach you. i have to be with you."

you're not sure what parts you've processed, or what part of this slow train-wreck has settled in your head, "are you, like, actually begging right now?"

gojo's eyes flash with the intensity of a thousand suns (well, fuck — gojo's awful poeticism is rubbing off on you already). you can hear the low snickers of two men that had been beating the living daylights out of each other half an hour ago, those fuckwits that go by toji and sukuna. you can hear sukuna's deep mutters about how no-one ever would like toji enough to do this for him. and yep, you can hear them scuffle again.

"yes!" gojo booms, and more than a few heads have turned now. you wonder if naoya zenin is watching in the background, and realising that this isn't a battle he wants to pick, "i will kneel for you. like i'd do this shit for eternity, even if my knees hurt so bad right now. but as long as you give me a chance to prove my worth. and my devotion, d-don't forget that! deep as the ocean, endless and vast. and the stars align...oh, how they align for us."

"ah, satoru," you cut in, and you realise that you're now smiling. embarrassment and mild humiliation be damned, there's a quirk tugging at your lips, "you can get up now. this is a bit dramatic."

gojo blinks, not missing a beat, "i'm dramatic because i'm in love, okay? and —" he swivels his head to the crowd, grumbling, "shut up, sukuna! i heard that, i'll beat your wonky ass. you don' know shit about love."

he's turning back to you, all sticky and soothing sugar once more, "where was i? eh, my confession. well, it's all for you. and it's me, givin' you every part of me. beggin' you to see that you're the only one who can break the walls around my heart."

you think that you've completed a full speed-run on every stage of grief that there is to experience, and if the small plink! coming from someone's phone is any indication, gojo's monologue has already made it's way onto someone's private story. and so naturally, everyone will have seen it by tomorrow.

"can you get off your knees? you look ridiculous."

gojo's grin falters for a split second before he straights up, all with a hefty groan as he runs a hand through snowy strands, "ridiculous? i'm being vulnerable as hell, and you think i look stupid?"

"a little," you admit, but you're reaching a hand out to push a strand of thick hair out of his eyes. and it's maddening at how gojo seems to tremble mildly under your touch, at the brush of your fingers against his temple, "kneeling at a frat party is crazy work."

gojo sinks his teeth into a plush lower lip, "that was me trying to show how much i care, and all that sweet shit. you make me lose all my cool, and this isn't even a joke."

"you never had cool, and now you've lost your dignity too," but you're blushing, and it's a giddy feeling at how he's now close enough that you can feel his body heat.

gojo satoru's eyes twinkle, "maybe. but i'd do all that again if it won you over."

"with your future oscar nomination?"

the man shrugs, broad muscles rippling, "he who be a fool for love is far better than he who doth never dare to try at all."

"fair point," you murmur, feeling dizzy in that familiar scent of lemon candies and mint, like the world is swirling around in a heady haze, "do you wanna kiss me to seal the deal?"

"yes please. i think i'm gonna pass out and — mmph!"

you've pulled yourself up, and thrown your arms around his warm neck, drawing gojo into you. crashing your lips into his before either of you can say anything else. it's an urgent, reckless kiss. like a dam has burst and all the pent-up emotions that you've been carrying have finally exploded.

gojo's lips are soft, but demanding, taking more and more air from you. they fit against you with an ease that feels almost too natural. and his broad arms come around your waist with a force that leaves the air punched out of you. he's holding you tightly, as though he's afraid that you'll just disappear if he doesn't keep you close enough.

you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the muscles in his arms that flex as he pulls you in, deepening the kiss. all while his mouth moves against yours with a slow and deliberate intensity, as his tongue parts your lips. all so messy.

when gojo finally pulls away, the last brush of his lips catches your quiet whimper. just as his breath goes ragged, and you're left standing there, dazed, with your forehead resting against his. you can still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, that electricity that's crackling and buzzing through your veins as you giggle.

gojo, however, doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath. he tugs your wrist with a sharp, swift motion. but his grip is firm, not harsh as you pulls you away from the living room, "c'mon. let's get outta here."

shoko's eyes are wide, her jaw practically locked in disbelief, "what the hell just happened?"

utahime's lips curl, "someone took gojo's brain out and replaced it with a clone. ah! geto, what did you do?"

suguru has been standing near the kitchen counter, absolutely floored, and he's shaking his head so hard that he feels a headache forming, "hand on my heart, ladies. i told him not to pull any stunts. swear on destiny's child that i didn't tell him to do all that."

ACT VII. i bet we'd have really good bed chem!

gojo satoru has absolutely lost his mind. but you wish that he had lost it a bit earlier, because you're practically pawing at his top now. critically working to make quick work of the tight fabric, letting your fingers run over hard planes of muscles and lower.

right until you're reaching a trail of soft white hairs that disappear into the band of his pants.

"seems like you're just as desparate as me, hah," gojo snickers, and his broad hand is trailing further up your thighs, letting your skirt bunch and crinkle under his ministrations. thick fingers brush over dewy cotton, and you moan.

"s-satoru!"

"you don't even know how long i've w-wanted this," and his hand clenches at the fabric, gripping it so tightly that you fear it may just be on the verge of tearing, but you can only buck your hips into him further.

no longer even mindful of how you must be already dripping onto the palm of his hand, "and i thought you knew. i r-really thought you knew how much i wanted you."

his middle finger is gliding through your damp and searing slit, with clinging strands latching onto his skin as you muffle a whine into his chasing, teasing lips.

it's sending deep, low curls of arousal in thick waves, settling low in your groin and you don't even care what room of the house you're now in, someone's bedroom with a dark, stylish bedspread and vinyls up on the walls.

the force of his large hands drives you down onto the bed, pressing your back onto the soft mattress.

and gojo looks so pleased, at how you're splayed and sprawled out underneath his torso, his hands tugging at your now bare thighs to spread your legs even further. pulling them far enough so they come to rest on either side of his face.

"fuck, she's so pretty. even better than i imagined," and gojo's voice is husky and low, almost strained, "and believe me. imagined her plenty." the sound of drenched cotton being torn rips through the air, slippery and resistant from your arousal.

it's even stubborn as the fabric refuses to budge, until it gives way under the force of gojo's tug, soft and tearing. leaving your pussy open to the cool, cold air. bare for gojo's eyes to rest upon and widen.

his lips brush against your thigh with an uncharacteristic gentleness, one that makes your entrance clench and wink.

but gojo is nothing if not teasing, and he feels light-headed. pressing featherlight kisses to the crevice of your thigh, and then closer to your aching mound. but even he cannot hold off for much longer, and he's pressing a flat, lazy print of his tongue against your cunt.

that first munch sends a burst of tangy sweetness dancing across gojo's tongue, and he thinks he might just bust a load right then and there. the heat of your clenching cunt is almost overwhelming, but hey.

gojo's never been a quitter, and he doesn't care if he creams his pants at this very moment, he needs to hear that sweet whimper of his name from your lips again.

his lips part, blowing a quick breath on your aching clit, right as his fingers begin to press and meld into your syrupy folds. it's got you practically jumping further into him, so wet strands are clinging to the very tip of his nose. and gojo knows that this is heaven. that he's unlocked true paradise.

"satoru, c-can't you...?"

he's too busy running his tongue over your clit, drawing small circles with the very tip of the hot muscle, "can't i what, pretty? don' want me eating you out?"

and you are so adorable, pushing your head up to scowl down at him with furrowed brows, but the flush in your cheeks paints you the most beautiful shade of cherry red. and gojo vows to spend the rest of his life ensuring that this shade never leaves your cheeks.

"can't you get to the eating part? thought that you were gonna — f-fuck! hnngh, 'toru!"

he's pulling your thighs tighter around his head, and he doesn't give a fuck if this is how he goes. suffocated in this tantalising heat, with your fingers lacing themselves into woven patterns in his white hair.

he's lowering his tongue once more into your throbbing pussy, making sure that his pleased vibrations send pleasurable rumbles right through your core.

grinning and slurring his tongue further into you, right as you buck desparate hips over and over. dragging yourself against his chin, so he's sure that the lower half of his face must be glistening with your sweetness.

gojo absolutely thinks he can get used to being like this, at having you angle and force his head further into your cunt. letting you angle and toy at him and use him for your pleasure. he snaps his teeth around glossy strands of arousal, once and then twice, before delving back in.

making sure that his spare hand finds your clit to draw quick flicks and shapes over it, pushing a finger right up against the throbbing hood.

"satoru, ah, satoru! 'toru!" it's all you can even manage right now, just chants and groans of his names, as he's practically sunken your hips into the mattress, while he's on his knees for the second time this night.

"hey, none of that, yeah?" and gojo's gently tugging at your arm. trying to get you to stop muffling your whimpers and cries, because he just needs to hear your adorable sounds. and he needs to hear your bird-like cries when you come undone.

what a joy it is for gojo. to be able to dive between your legs and run his tongue between your folds. he's losing his mind at how your body trembles under his touch, and how he makes the mistake of peering up at you. your lips are parted, open and glossy. and your brows are furrowed, as lashes flutter against your cheek. you have to cum, gojo satoru needs you to cum right now.

and so, he exerts all his effort ten fold into having you finish. it's so sloppy, and so messy. gojo lets his own eyes dip shut, letting himself feel your glossy, glistening cunt pulse around his tongue. and let there be no doubt that gojo satoru is a munch, for he's eating you out in such an ardent manner, and it basically sends you barrelling towards a heart-stopping orgasm, where tears spring to the corners of your eyes.

you needn't have even tried to warn him of your impending climax, for gojo knows in the way that your legs quiver and get sloppier over his face. stars fall over your vision as you heave and toss your head back, muscles rippling as "satoru, satoru!" falls from your lips, long and drawn out as the rest of the world goes dark around you.

you gasp, struggling to inhale as the syrupy air is stolen from your lungs, all while gojo runs his tongue through your folds, head spinning with the dizzying rush of sensation. it's as if you've been swept away, hurtling towards space, weightless and disorientated.

only to crash back into reality as gojo seemingly hasn't stopped letting himself taste all of you, with not a drop of arousal wasted. your back is further pressed into the soft mattress beneath you, and the surge of overstimulated numbness follows, all pleasurable pins and needles and ferocious need.

"look at that, 'm already addicted," gojo coos, almost to himself, scooping a finger through the translucent gloss that leaks from your cunt. bringing it up to his mouth to wrap his tongue around, "think you can handle giving me another one?"

you let out a weak, breathless laugh. your gaze lingering on gojo's face, the soft moonlight that casts an ethereal glow on his features. his chin still faintly gleams, coated in your mirror-sheen and his lips are a plump, rosy red. you part your lips, propping yourself onto your elbows, but before you can form the words, the door slams open with a force that makes your ears rattle.

"i've looked in every fuckin' room in this house, and i swear to everything holy, satoru. if you chose my bedroom, i'm gonna —"

geto suguru's voice cuts off mid-rant, his words dissolving into a strangled, pained gasp as he takes in the sight before him. gojo, kneeling between your legs, wearing a ridiculously pleased grin. just like the cat who got the cream. you let out a squeak, hastily tugging your skirt over you, but it's hard to look innocent when gojo is still unabashedly pawing at your thighs.

geto pales, his jaw going slack, and he looks like he's about to collapse, "god help me. satoru, i'll kill you tomorrow," and then he shoots you both a nasty look, "and you're both paying for new sheets."

"so you and gojo are...dating now?" choso pries, with a tone that is entirely too casual but his eyes are keen. your twin is nursing a cup of coffee while he absolutely demolishes a plate of fried eggs. he had been quiet so far, but it's clear that curiosity gave out and now he's peering at you like a big owl.

you try, or do your very best not to smile too hard. to not look giddy and ridiculously pleased, "yeah, i guess we are," you admit, keeping your voice as level as possible.

choso blinks once, before setting his fork down and shaking his head, "i knew it. it was only a matter of time," he mutters, and without further ado, he resumes shovelling eggs into his mouth, utterly unfazed.

before you can respond, sukuna appears in the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame, his tattooed arms crossed and his expression dripping with disdainful amusement, "oh, i was there," he drawls, sharp fangs flashing in a wicked grin, "that loser pulled the dumbest, most dramatic stunt of all time. got on his knees and everything."

choso freezes mid-chew, raising a thick brow as he glances at the older man with mild interest, "wish i'd seen that," he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

to your utter astonishment, sukuna nods gravely, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious look, "yeah. i've got a video if you wanna watch."

your jaw drops as you glance between them, "this is officially the first time that i've ever seen you two agree on anything," setting your mug down with a thud, "if i had known that dating gojo would bring about world peace, i would have done it ages ago and —"

yuuji bounds into the kitchen like an overeager puppy, his blush-pink hair still a mess from interrupted sleep. but he's clapping his hands together like he's just won the lottery, "finally! look at that! everyone's getting along for once."

sukuna doesn't even bother to hide his irritation, shooting yuuji a withering glare. but it's hard to take him seriously when his own pink hair rivals yuuji's in sheer disarray, "don't push it," sukuna warns darkly, grabbing a glass of orange juice and downing it in one morose gulp. he slams the empty, cold glass on the counter before stalking off towards the door, "i'm seriously gonna move out at this rate."

"promise?" choso quips, without missing a bit, "wish you'd stop getting our hopes up and actually do it."

yuuji is undeterred, and he elbows you with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, "you have to invite gojo over all the time now. i like him a lot. he's like super cool."

"of course," you grin, sliding a plate towards him as he eagerly digs in.

and your younger brother beams like the sun itself. right as a mocking, high-pitched voice floats from the other room, "and then we're all gonna be lovesick, and skip around town while holding hands!" right before falling back into sukuna's usual gruff tone that echoes through the kitchen, "god, you're all so insufferable."

your phone buzzes on the table, and you glance down. gojo's contact photo lights up the screen. it's a snapshot from a year or two ago, taken the summer that you both graduated high school. he's standing at the edge of the beach, with the sun dipping low enough behind to catch his white hair. turning it into a halo of glowing light. it's a photo that you never had the heart to change.

satoru 🪐

good morning princess!! my one and only!!!! my sugar plum (too much? i can tone it down but you just can't put a lid on love) hope you dreamed of me 🙂‍↔️ so what are you doing today because i've got abt eight possible things we can cover today starting with [read more.]

"ugh, gross."

sukuna's disdainful drawl cuts through behind you, as an icy finger prods at your phone, trying to scroll up and snoop through your messages. you freeze and slam your phone down on the table. whirling around to come face to face with the world's most judgemental gargoyle sneers at you, "i think i'm gonna throw up."

"get a life, holy fuck."

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pomellon · 1 year ago

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Telling myself I will be good with my sleep and work schedule this year, and here I am working at 2 am again

#pom talks #in my defense my sleep phobia came back with a fucking vengeance #a couple of anxious nights and the negative association is apparently back #but on the bright side sleep therapy has made me able to calm down and fall asleep faster #so I haven't had any night of little to no sleep yet :D

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kidsinnowadays · 1 year ago

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How to Banish Bedtime Battles Forever: 8 Supernatural Techniques for Sleeping Angels

Discover magical bedtime strategies that will transform your children into peaceful sleeping angels, ensuring a restful night for everyone. #BedtimeRoutine #PeacefulSleep #ParentingTips #SleepingAngels

Embracing Peaceful Nights and Restful Sleep Bedtime battles with children can turn your evenings into a battleground, leaving both parents and little ones exhausted. As a parent, you long for peaceful nights and restful sleep for your child (and yourself). But fear not, for we’re about to unveil eight supernatural techniques that will help you banish bedtime battles forever. These techniques…

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#Addressing Nighttime Fears or Anxieties #Avoiding Caffeine or Sugar Close to Bedtime #Banishing Bedtime Battles #Bedtime Solutions for Peaceful Sleep #Celebrating Restful Sleep as a Family #Consistent and Loving Bedtime Parenting #Creating a Relaxing Bedtime Routine #Creating Magical Bedtime Moments #Encouraging Relaxation with Bedtime Stories or Lullabies #Establishing a Comfortable Sleep Environment #Fostering Positive Sleep Associations #Limiting Screen Time Before Bed #Mindful Breathing or Meditation for Calmness #Parent-Child Bonding at Bedtime #Parenting for Restful Nights #Peaceful Bedtime Techniques #Promoting Physical Activity During the Day #Setting a Consistent Sleep Schedule #Supernatural Sleep Strategies

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isuckatwritingsobenice · 1 year ago

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𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.

Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.

Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.

“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.

Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?

Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.

He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.

If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.

He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!

It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~

You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.

He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.

He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!

He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.

When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!

Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!

His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.

He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.

One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.

Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.

Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.

He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.

Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.

“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”

Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.

He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.

He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)

He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.

The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.

Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.

You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!

He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.

He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.

Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.

Now let’s talk about Vox.

Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.

He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.

Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.

Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.

Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin demon #alastor #Alastor and vox #Hazbin hotel #helluva boss vox #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin valentino #charlie morningstar #hazbin niffty

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saintobio · 5 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different.

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her.

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life?

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.”

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added.

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now.

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?”

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.”

“Well.. what is the HIS?”

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.”

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.”

“Roger that, boss!”

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences.

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission.

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense.

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for.

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things?

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him.

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away.

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer.

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.”

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?”

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.”

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice.

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.”

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed.

She’s a traitor.

Punish her.

Hurt her.

Devour her.

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you.

“I betrayed you because of her!”

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her.

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said.

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved.

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.”

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head.

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor.

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake.

No… no!

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever.

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.”

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another.

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either.

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first.

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.”

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind.

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life.

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure.

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!”

“Boss, let’s go!”

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about.

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital?

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter.

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer.

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.”

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you.

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life.

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café.

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you.

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute.

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?”

“Caw! Caw!”

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

And then, that day happened.

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with.

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.”

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman.

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you.

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of.

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment.

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?”

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.”

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.”

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional.

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso.

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look.

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.”

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love.

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.”

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”.

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.”

Like me.

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.”

“...Sleep tight, kitten.”

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

However, that same night was a different story.

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness.

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again.

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?”

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him.

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face.

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too.

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone.

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up.

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body.

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.”

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night.

Do you even recognize it?

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…”

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.”

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.”

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would.

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

PREVIOUS PART

#love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads x you #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x yn #lds x reader #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #sylus angst #sylus fanfic #l&ds sylus

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kaysungshine · 4 months ago

Text

𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓲 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓽 ♡

{ Pairing } - Producer.bf!Jisung x afab.gf!reader

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/f/d(dark)*, PWP, established relationship

{ Synopsis } - Your boyfriend doesn't know any other method of stress relief, other than creating music. He can get so consumed by it, it can become the stressor. So you decide to present him with a new method. That's how you found yourself walking down the street in nothing but lingerie and a long coat.

{ WC } - 2.9k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, *forced orgasm/slight dubcon if you squint, everything is consensual but there is begging for more when reader might be at her limit so that's why I'm including dubcon (for those who may find it triggering)*, use of pet names (baby, angel, mine, my love, good girl & Ji), very lowkey needy/soft dom & romantic sub dynamic, worshipping reader, oral (f. recieving), squirting, overstimulation, unprotected piv (do as I say & not as I write, pee after sex too!), creampie, cum feeding & eating, fingers in mouth, pussy worship, I may just have gotten carried away with oral fixations okay? FORGIVE ME.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - I originally was going to post a Hyunjin oneshot next, but I wanted to finish this one in time for Jiji's birthday! It's 2 am on the 14th where I am heheh. Hopefully you all like it. Han producing music will always be hot asf for me personally lmao. Barely proofread.

The air was cool, seeping underneath your long wool coat. In any other circumstance, on a late fall night, the coat would be enough to keep the chill out. Today however, it wouldn't. But you still kept walking, determined to make it to Jisungs studio.

You focused on the clicking of the heels on the boots you wore. And the sound of the wind picking up, signalling a blustery night ahead. The small sounds calm your nerves.

You were anxious about Jisung's reaction, he was in one of his moods again. You understand, you truly do. Juggling everything he has to on his plate, it was no easy feat. There were times he'd just let that dark veil take over, and shut everyone out without even meaning to.

You knew he was in that state again when you hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. It wasn't for lack of effort on your end either. Every phone call sent to voicemail, every text sent by you was met with the same response;

'At the studio, I'll text you after, angel'.

You knew it was time for intervention when Chan texted you that he was only coming home, at 2 in the morning no less, to shower and change. No eating, no resting, just back to the studio afterwards.

This had happened twice before in the almost year you've been dating. Each time you remember talking with him afterwards, he always said the same thing;

'making music is my stress relief.'

That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he is also a workaholic. One who easily gets lost in the creative space he has built a career off of. And once that diligence sets in, it's hard to shake off.

So here you are, ready to try a new approach. Ready to offer a new kind of relief. An alternative.

You and Jisungs sex life was far from boring. Far from infrequent, you'd say too. But it surely was more... monotonous. You'd never complain about it, and neither would he. There was nothing wrong with it. It just happened at the 'perfect' times in your relationship.

Before bed, after date nights, on monthly anniversaries, to express massive amounts of love, etc.

It was never to celebrate happiness, calm anger, or comfort sadness. Never to relieve stress.

You were determined to change that. There was no reason you could not help him in any way you could. And in this aspect, you knew you could.

Still, you were nervous. This would be new, he never did well with new.

Your footsteps stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in your ears. Until you pressed your badge against the card reader, listening to the beeps, to the gears unlock.

Once inside the lobby, the clinking of your heels against the vinyl tile filled your ears. Each step matches the thumping in your heart, you find yourself speed walking.

You smiled and gave a little wave to the staff in the lobby, and they returned it.

In the elevator, the sound of its melodic music filled your ears next. The whirring background noise the machinery made, stopped, as you reached your desired floor.

There was silence when you stepped off. The flooring is carpeted now, and soundproof rooms lined the hallway leaving the night quiet.

You took a deep breath and made your way to the door you knew was your boyfriend's. It was unlocked, thankfully.

You let yourself in, seeing the silhouette of your boyfriends back facing the door in the blue lighting.

He was all about ambiance in this facet of life, having LED's lining the ceiling. The only source of light in the room, besides the glowing screens of his monitors.

He was sat in his chair, headphones on, hood up, head nodding in tandem with his fingers tapping.

You took the opportunity to slide your boots off. Opting to keep your coat on, you brushed your hair over one shoulder. You took your badge from around your neck, and tossed it on the leather couch that was against the wall.

Padding your way over to him, you place your hand on his shoulder lightly. He tenses under your touch, and turns his head. He's frowning when he first faces you, eyebrow furrowed together.

When he sees you though, he softens. The corners of his mouth slightly upturning to a small smile.

"Baby..." He whispers, sliding his head phones off. Soft lofi music is filling the room from them.

He grabs your hand off his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He's pressing soft kisses to your palm, and placing it on his cheek.

"It's late my angel, why are you here?" He says in a husky voice with more volume.

Your heart flutters at his gentleness, and you bend down to press your own lips to the top of his head. A musky, yet spicy vanilla scent fills your nostrils. His scent.

"I'm here to help you baby." You murmur to him softly.

That caught his attention. He fully swivelled around to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He gazed up into your eyes, a curious look on his face.

You smiled down on him, feeling nothing but love for this man. You'd relax him in any way you can. You placed a hand on each side of his face, bending down again. No more words were said as you kissed him. As your hands slid down his neck, his found themselves on yours, pulling you closer to him. Matching your eagerness.

You let your hands fully slide off him, and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Your trembling fingers were working the buttons on your coat. One by one, releasing the fabric from your bare skin.

You stood up, letting the coat fall from your shoulders.

Jisung lets out a soft gasp, and licks his lips.

Exposed to him, was his favorite lingerie you owned. It was a bra and panty set, satin and lace. Revealing.

All white.

Your boyfriends favorite part. He always said that the contrast against your melanated skin was a work of art. He joked about commissioning Hyunjin, if he didn't have to see you essentially naked.

So here you stood before him, presenting yourself to him. Silently willing him to do as he pleases. To take your body and use you to decompress. You were too nervous to say it.

He traces the swell of your breast with a finger, curving around the delicate lace. It's a simple touch, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps blooming on your skin.

"So sexy." He mumbles, eyes roving your whole body.

He stands up, kissing you desperately, and walking you back to the couch. Your knees hit the back of it, and you're forced to sit. Lips ripping away from his, panting at the desire in his eyes.

All your nerves were gone. New or not, it would never change the fact that Jisung craved you as much as you craved him.

He held himself up with his hands on the back of the couch, and hovered above you for a moment looking you in the eyes.

Then he was sinking to the ground, on his knees, between your legs. His hands smooth over your thighs, making them pliant with soft kisses, before he spreads them open. Your pussy is glistening behind the lace, and he licks his lips again.

His hand glides from your thigh, to your heat. Thumb brushing against that sensitive bud, the friction eliciting a whine from you.

His eyes snap up to you, and he holds your gaze as his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core. The tip of it flicking deliciously against your sensitive clit.

"Mmmm..." He groaned at the taste of you, "All for me?"

You moan at his tongue swiping against you again, and again, "All for you, my love."

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, and he peels them off you. He's whimpering, watching as strings of your arousal stick to them. The cool air is hitting your sex, before puffs of hot air from his mouth is. And you're shivering again at the sensation.

A gasp escapes you when his tongue slides between your folds. Lapping up your juices, and suckling at that bundle of nerves. You listen to the wet sounds his mouth is making against you, along with the broken melody coming from his head set. You get lost in it.

Your hand finds his hair, and you're grinding against his mouth. He's whimpering and moaning with you, one hand palming at his bulge. The other has fingers teasing your entrance.

You let out a loud moan when two fingers push into you, and your grasp on his hair loosens. He takes the opportunity to get air, panting, mouth hanging open. His cheeks, chin and lips all shine in the dull blue light.

His fingers continue to pump into you as he watches your face contort for him. He's smiling with lidded eyes, basking in the fact that he's making you feel so good.

"Ji..." You moan, needing more.

"My beautiful baby, let me worship you a little longer." And he's diving back down.

His tongue focuses on your clit, and fingers coaxing that gummy spot inside you. He's pulling moan after moan from you, making out with your lower lips, bringing you closer to the edge. Your thighs start trembling around his head, and he has to grip the fleshy part of one of them to stop you from squeezing him before he's finished.

You're spilling over the edge, body alight and your release coating his fingers, and face. He's lapping up every little bit, determined to taste your pleasure on his tongue. Only when you start to whine from constant overstimulation does he stop.

He's kissing his way up to your lips, leaving a wet trail behind him that you couldn't bring yourself to care about.

You're not sure when he managed to discard his pants and boxers, but you feel his hard, bare length pressing against your inner thigh.

He's rubbing his member against your pussy now, letting your slick and his saliva cover him. Kissing your neck as he's rocking against you, he whispers, "Angel, do you have another one for me?"

Of course you did, you knew you did. You needed to feel him, you needed to please him. So you started nodding fervently, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he sucked lightly near your ear and jaw.

He had a grasp of his cock now, dragging the head through your folds with added pressure. Each squelch of your juices sounds like music to your ears, anticipation building in your body.

"'Gonna make you feel s'good." He's whining into your neck.

He has your legs around him now, as he fills you slowly, both of you savoring the sensations it brings. Your pussy spasms around him, and it has him grunting.

"Always feel so good squeezin' me..." He mumbled, letting you adjust, "...exactly what I needed..."

Then he was pumping into you, and you felt it. All the frustrations he was holding onto, all the stress, all the vexation. He was translating it into the energy he used to pleasure you. Letting go of it all.

You couldn't hear the soft lofi music coming from his head set anymore, instead the slapping of skin and heavy breathing mixed with moans were filling the room. You'd never be more thankful for a soundproof space. Neither of you were holding back.

Your moans only being interrupted by quiet curses, and his being peppered in between praises of how good you feel for him. He made it known he was chasing your high before his, begging you to cum for him.

"Please angel," he whispers against your lips, "need to feel you cumming on my cock."

His pace became quicker as he kissed you, and his hand slithered down to play with your clit. Your back arched off the couch at that, angling him deeper inside you. He groaned, and his thrusts faltered for a second indicating he was close.

Regardless he was determined to finish you, and his tone grew more demanding, "Be a good girl... cum for me, angel."

And that was all your body and mind needed to let go, legs locking around him and body shaking. Your hands slid under his hoodie, and nails dug into his back. It was the kind of intense orgasm, that your moan got stuck in your throat, instead a rough growl coming out.

You sounded absolutely feral for him, and you were.

That was what pushed him over the edge, a slew of curses leaving his mouth as his hips stuttered. With a final harsh thrust, he cums deep inside you. All of the negativity has dispersed from his body, and he collapsed back to his knees.

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. You jolt when you feel his fingers in your folds, over sensitivity taking over yet again. He's spreading you open, hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of you.

"So perfect, fuck." He says as he drags his finger through it.

He's bringing it up to your lips, and your mouth opens instinctively. You're sucking his finger into your mouth, his essence salty but familiar on your tongue.

His eyes are locked to yours as you work his finger, licking it clean. He slips a second finger in your mouth, letting you cover them in your saliva before he dips back down for a taste himself.

You're whining around his fingers when his tongue glides against your clit, and your hips try to retract into the couch. Quickly, he has both hands on your hips, securing you in place so he can continue tasting you.

"We taste so good together, my love..." He's mumbling against you.

His words will never fail to coax submission out of you.

Your hand flies back to his hair, as good as it feels you're trying to pull him away. He's just burying his face deeper, tongue dipping into your entrance to make sure he's tasting everything.

"Ji... s'too much... I can't-" You're pleading, even though you feel yourself succumbing to the overwhelming brushes of his tongue.

He hisses when you finally succeed in pulling him off you, "Please angel," He's begging again, "Just one more. I know you have one more for me."

"Fuck, Ji, I-"

He silences you with his tongue flat against you, another lick up to your clit "Please, need to hear you cumming one more time for me." He whines and starts leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your pussy.

You always knew he was more of a giver. That even though it was you who had cum twice, and he only once. He preferred it that way. Even if he was the one needing the release more, he thrived more on your pleasure.

"Just be gentl-" You try to say, but cut yourself off with a groan.

He's eagerly slurping at your core. Lost in the moment, all he has is your pussy on his mind now. Messily licking and lapping at every inch. He's shaking his head and moaning into it, keeping you pinned in place by your hips.

You feel another orgasm starting to build quickly, clenching around nothing. He risks you bucking your hips roughly into his face, and takes a hand off your hip. He's pushing two fingers into you yet again, and you're seeing stars.

His fingers curl, and his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly. You feel your release slip away from you, and your cumming on his face again. Yelling his name. He only grows more determined.

He leans back so he can watch the beautiful, writhing, mess he reduced you to. The thumb of his other hand is replacing his mouth, continuously flicking your bud. He doesn't slow his movements as you ride out your orgasm, instead picking them up.

Your world turns white, and you feel yourself squirt on his hands. He's watching you in awe, whispering more praise for you as your juices spray over him.

"So fucking sexy, my good girl."

"That's it, let go for me, let it all go."

"Knew you had one more in you, all for me."

"My perfect angel."

It's when you start to slip into that floaty space that he finally stops. He doesn't want you too gone, he's limited in the care he can provide here.

He's positioning you to lay on the couch, and he's laying behind you. You're both wet and sticky, and heaving for air. Yet, it's blissful.

You lay there for what could've been minutes or an hour, you weren't sure. You were content in each other's touch. Your arm reaches back to caress his head, fingers combing through his hair. He's humming.

"I love you." You finally murmur.

"I love you more, angel. Thank you for this." He says, and kisses your shoulder.

"You caught on quickly to my idea." You giggled.

He laughed with you, "I caught on halfway through it, actually. I was just beside myself with desire for you."

You blushed at that, and you were thankful he couldn't see it.

"I mean you showed up in my favorite set..." He whispers and starts toying with the lace on your bra, his finger slipping underneath to flick your nipple, "In ONLY my favorite set. How could I not show you how much I admire you."

You felt his length harden against you again, and he rolled his hips slowly as he gripped your hip.

You knew the night was far from over.

As for how you were both going to escape and clean up? Well that was a problem for future you.

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navybrat817 · 7 months ago

Text

Hold You Tight: Part 3

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Part 4

Chapter Summary: The date is just beginning, but you're not sure if you can keep it together.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, possessiveness, manipulation, mental and emotional whiplash, reader is trying to stay calm, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You took a deep breath and another, but it didn’t stop your heart from picking up in your chest. It was a feat that your legs didn’t give out. Your throat felt rough and raw, except you hadn’t screamed. You hadn’t made a sound. Not until Bucky moved toward you, pulling a whimper from you.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he said, cupping your face with a smile. You wanted to believe there was a warmth behind it or that he had a voice in his head telling him that this wasn’t right. That none of this was right. “Don’t you like them?”

“The flowers. The guy who bought them…” you swallowed, wondering exactly who he was and how he was associated with Bucky. Did Bucky know him well or was he a stranger? Did he bribe him into going into his shop?

“Oh, he’s fine,” Bucky assured you, which didn’t make you feel any better. “Loved the tulips you helped pick out for him. I know his girl will be very happy to get them, too.”

The citrus and woodsy combination of Bucky’s cologne filled your nostrils as you took another deep breath. You expected to stumble back when he suddenly crouched down, but you didn’t budge an inch. Once again, you were frozen in fear. Why couldn’t you move? You told yourself he wouldn’t hurt you. Why bother dragging you all the way to his place for that when he could’ve done so in your home?

Or, apparently, your place of work.

“Why don’t we have some of that wine after I show you around?” He asked, retrieving the clutch you dropped.

“Do you really expect me to just sit and have a drink with you?”

“Not just a drink,” he said, slowly standing and reminding you just how large he was. “Dinner. Dessert.”

“Where’s the bathroom?” You asked.

He nodded over your shoulders. “There’s one right behind you.”

You turned and went into the bathroom, careful not to lock the door behind you as much as you wanted to. He may have broken down the door if you tried. You gripped the sink as you struggled to take your next breath, blood rushing in your ears as you looked at your reflection. A voice in the back of your mind whispered to stay calm when tears threatened to spill over for the second time that evening.

Could you though? Could you play along and get through this night without having some sort of breakdown? You had to try.

Your attention was pulled away by the soft knock on the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Would you care if I wasn't?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

The door opened a heartbeat later, but you didn't dare meet his gaze in the mirror as he approached. Not even as he pressed himself against your back, your body trapped between his and the sink. It was suffocating. He brought a hand up to lift your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. The light above the mirror put a spotlight on the intensity of his gaze as his lips brushed your ear.

“I care more than you think,” he whispered, turning you to face him. His fingers traced the column of your neck before he let go. “In time, I know you’ll see that.”

You fought the urge to laugh as he led you back into the entryway. If he cared, he would’ve gone about this whole thing differently. You focused your attention instead on the penthouse, taking in more of the decor as he showed you around. As immaculate as the place looked, it lacked a personal touch. Where were the photos? Trinkets?

“What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful place,” you answered. And it was beautiful, but it didn't feel like a home or lived in like your place.

“A bit spacious for just me,” he said, glancing at you. Was it his roundabout way of stating again how he expected you to move in?

“Yeah, it’s a lot for one person, but it’s still nice.”

He nodded in agreement. “The couch is comfortable if you ever want to take a nap,” he said, an almost knowing look in his eyes as you stopped at the living room. Jesus, did he know you slept on your couch last night? “Though I’d prefer you sleep in our bed.”

“Our” bed. Not subtle at all. “I know you said this would be my place one day, too, but maybe we should get well past the first date before we talk about sharing a bed,” you said, sarcastically adding, “I hog the blankets, so I hope you're prepared for that.”

He chuckled and you wished you didn't like the pleasant sound. “You can have as many blankets as you want. And I had every intention of showing you the master bedroom tonight, but I think I’ll wait.”

“Really?” You asked, hoping you didn't sound too eager to avoid seeing it. Was there a catch?

“Really,” he said, pulling you close by the hips. Through his clothes, you felt how firm he was. There was strength there you couldn't match. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. And when I take you to bed, I’m going to ruin you. That's a promise.”

A shuddering breath left your lungs as he leaned in, his lips skimming yours.

“But I’m not the monster you think I am, which is why I’m going to wait,” he whispered.

It was a relief that Bucky wasn't going to take you to bed. Not tonight, at least. At the same time, what exactly was he waiting for? He made it clear that he wanted you and wasn't going to let go. What game was he playing?

Thinking about it was enough to drive you mad.

“And you won't hurt me?” You questioned. You had to hear him say it.

“I’d never hurt you,” he promised, pulling away at the two knocks on the front door.

He wouldn't hurt you, but what about other people?

“Chef’s here, boss,” the guard’s voice rang out.

“Perfect timing,” Bucky smiled.

He kept a hand on you as he guided you to the kitchen, the guard and who you assumed to be the chef entering seconds later. “Mr. Barnes, so good to see you.”

“You as well,” Bucky replied, his demeanor professional and somewhat colder.

Your eyes went back to the guard as Bucky chatted with the chef. He seemed to avoid your gaze, keeping his eye instead on the two men speaking. Did he know the circumstances that brought you here? Would he care if he did?

“You’re sure this is what you’d like, Mr. Barnes? This is a relatively simple meal,” the chef scoffed, making a show of gesturing to the ingredients. It dawned on you as you looked at them that he was going to prepare one of your favorite meals. Your stomach dropped, but you kept quiet. Of course, Bucky knew.

And of course, it wasn't sophisticated.

Bucky’s jaw twitched as if he sensed your embarrassment. The guard didn't look impressed by the chef’s comment either. “It’s her favorite. Are you insulting my girl’s taste?” he spoke, making you shiver from the ice in his tone.

“No, Mr. Barnes. Of course not! I meant no disrespect.” The chef shook his head, meeting your gaze with a shaky smile. “To be simple is to be great.”

“That’s right. Simplicity is also to be respected,” Bucky said, pointing a gloved finger at him. “And with your reputation, it better be the best meal she has ever had. I’d hate to see what happens if she doesn’t like it.”

“It’s fine,” you whispered. It was better to focus on easing the situation instead of yet another reminder that he knew another intimate detail about you. That and you felt bad as the man behind the counter began to sweat. “I’m sure the meal will be delicious. Thank you for taking the time to come here and prepare it.”

The tension dissipated as Bucky softly smiled at you, a crisis averted for the time being. “We’re going to enjoy our wine on the balcony while he prepares our meal,” he told the guard. “Keep an eye on him.”

“Will do.”

Bucky took you away from the kitchen before the chef could speak another word to you. Fresh air might help you breathe easier. He opened the glass door, the night breeze making you shiver as you stepped outside. The view of the city stretched on and the moon and stars lit up the sky. It was breathtaking.

You jumped when Bucky put his jacket around your shoulders. The romantic gesture felt like a claim. “I hope his comment didn't upset you. If it did-”

“It’s fine. Really,” you assured him, glancing at the two-seater table as he pulled out a chair for you. Two glasses were set out as well, along with what you knew to be an expensive bottle of wine. “This is gorgeous.”

“It is,” he agreed, your cheeks flaming when you saw him looking at you instead of the view.

“Do you spend a lot of time out here?” You asked.

He popped the cork on the bottle and poured each of you a small amount. You almost thanked him for that. You had to keep your wits about you.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he said, nodding to a small sofa in the corner as he took a seat. “But I do like to read out here.”

“You read in your free time?” You asked, biting back a moan when you sipped the wine.

His eyes lit up and just as quickly darkened when you licked your lips. “I do. Reading has always been a hobby of mine. I even have first editions of some of my favorite books.”

“That’s really nice,” you smiled. For a moment it felt like the two of you were having a normal conversation.

That good feeling went away when he took out a velvet box.

“Can’t forget about the surprise,” he smiled before he handed it over. It looked too long to be a ring box, thankfully, but it wouldn't have surprised you if there was an engagement ring inside. Which was likely why your hand shook as you opened it.

The diamond pendant was stunning enough to make you gasp. Five stones each a different shape, they sparkled under the moonlight. The kind of necklace you could only dream of having.

“Bucky, I’m sorry.” You shut the box and slid it back across the table toward him. “I can’t accept this.”

His gaze flickered to the box before he looked at you again. You wanted to believe he looked concerned, but he hadn’t exactly taken any of your feelings into consideration so far. “Why not? We can pick out another together if you’d rather have something else.”

“I can’t accept it because it’s too much,” you said. Accepting the gift would make the situation more real.

He chuckled after a moment. “No, it isn't. Nothing would ever be too much for me to give to you.”

You reached across to tap the top of the box. “Bucky, this is the kind of gift that you give to your wife or fiancé or girlfriend. Hell, maybe a mistress or a sugar baby. I’m none of those things.” Something flickered in his gaze and that should’ve been your warning to stop, but you kept going anyway. “I’m not your girl.”

He took your hand before you could pull it away, his jaw clenched. “You’re right about one thing. You’re not my mistress or a sugar baby,” he agreed. “You could never be those things because you are the only one I see.”

But why? It didn’t make any sense to you. “But-”

“Girlfriend, fiancé, wife,” he ticked off with the fingers of his free hand. “We'll get to all those phases of our relationship, so you might as well accept this gift now or you'll be accepting much more than this later.”

You swallowed, but didn’t attempt to pull away. His grip didn’t hurt and you didn’t know exactly what he was implying, but you didn’t want to find out tonight. Not when he promised he wouldn’t drag you off to his room. “Thank you for the wonderful gift.”

He smiled and took the box as he stood. You didn't protest as he moved to put the necklace around your neck nor did you flinch when his fingers moved along on your skin. When he sat back down, he sighed and lovingly looked you over. “It's beautiful. Just like I knew it would be on you."

You touched it after a moment, the feel of his fingertips still lingering. “I didn't expect something so nice for a first date.”

“This is only the beginning.” He tilted his head and let his eyes watch you trace the delicate gems. “You deserve so much more.”

“Is this some elaborate joke?” You scoffed a bit. He sounded so sure of himself, that he believed you deserved the world. But why? “You do realize that I'm just a florist. And I don't say that to belittle my career because I love what I do, but I'm nothing special.”

Sadness took over his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have with the stranger who broke into your home. You didn’t want to have any sort of conversation tonight. “Because I don't own the flower shop I work at. I'm not rich. Hell, I lived with a roommate until last year just to save up and afford my own place. You should know since you researched me,” you said without a trace of bitterness. “I’m not a party girl. I don't turn heads wherever I go. I just want to work with my flowers, go home, and live a simple little life.”

His eyes followed the motion of you biting your lip again before he shook his head. “You think being rich and owning a business are the things it takes to make someone special?”

“No, I don't think that.”

“Then what does?”

You looked around the balcony with a sigh before meeting his gaze again. “Who a person is makes them special.”

“Yet everything you stated has nothing to do with who you are. So I’ll ask again, why would you say you're nothing special?”

You didn't know how to respond. You thought he would’ve just dropped the conversation, so you looked into your lap with a shake of your head. If you were special, wouldn’t you have found someone by now the way Addision and your other friends had? You didn’t want to pour out your insecurities, even if he seemed to hold an invisible knife and was ready to cut them open. “I don't know. I just know I’m not.”

He hummed a little. “So, would someone who is nothing special make homemade meals for her neighbor because she recently had a baby and probably wouldn't have time to cook for herself?”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly hurt yourself. “How-”

“And not only are you in Addison's wedding party, you offered to have her flowers done so she could have more money for her honeymoon. You're telling me that being caring and thoughtful doesn’t make a person special?”

Goosebumps raised on your skin, realizing just how thorough he was in his research of you. “How do you know all of that about me?” Tears sprang to your eyes and you blinked them back. “I didn't tell anyone about my neighbor or the flowers.”

He cracked a small smile. “That's one of the things that makes you special. You don't do those things expecting anything in return and you sure as hell don't do it to brag. You do them because you care.” He took a second to lean back in his seat, his eyes still on you. “When I see something I want, I give it my all. And I'm not afraid to use my resources. I told you, I like to be thorough.”

You giggled. A hysterical sort of giggle. One that scared you because you had never laughed like that. “I don't know if I can do this,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I shouldn't be here. I should be getting a restraining order.”

Bucky didn't look offended in the slightest. “You could try. Do you think it’ll stop me?”

What little resolve you had left snapped. “Oh, my god. Do you hear yourself? I mean, really hear yourself?!” You snapped, tempted to throw the remainder of your wine on him when he didn’t react. “You know what a first date is, right? It’s two people trying to get to know each other and to see if there’s a mutual connection. You didn’t give me a chance to form a connection with you because you decided it for me after you stalked me.”

His brows pinched like you hurt his feelings. “Doll-”

“You know ‘everything’ about me, but what do I know about you, huh?” You continued, your anxiety bubbling over. “I know that you own a club and that you break into homes and scare the shit out of people. Oh, and that you read. And you apparently have the world at your fingertips since you can send people into my place of work and find out details about me that most aren’t privy to. You could probably use those resources of yours for good or to help others, but you used them to dig into my life when I didn't ask you to!”

“Some people do research before a first date,” he pointed out, not raising his voice.

“Not a full background check! I’m not an employee of yours and I’m not a toy for you to play with!” You huffed as you sat back, suddenly exhausted. How was he unphased? “You really think you have a say in my future? Are you that much of a control freak that you think you can control me?”

The silence stretched on as Bucky considered you and your body trembled as he idly sipped his wine. You weren’t the type to snap and you suddenly felt the urge to apologize for your outburst, which wasn’t fair. He put you in this situation, so why did you want to make it better?

Because you didn’t know what he would do.

“I’m not trying to control you,” he stated, handing you a handkerchief.

“It feels like you are and that isn’t fair,” you said, dabbing at your eyes. Life wasn’t exactly fair though, was it? “And for the record, the only reason I’m not tossing this wine on you is because it’s delicious and it would be a waste.”

His nose scrunched as he laughed. “I wish you could’ve met my mom. She would’ve loved you,” he said so softly you almost missed it, the change in topic jarring to say the least. What happened to her? “I’ve tried traditional dating. It doesn’t and hasn’t worked for me so far. The last woman I dated? She tried to rob me, if you can believe that.”

You sighed, still a bit worn out from your rant. “I can,” you said. There were greedy people in the world and he seemed to have more than enough to provide others with a comfortable life. It wasn’t right that someone tried to take what he earned.

It also wasn’t right what he was doing to you.

“In my line of work, everyone wants something from me. Money, power, favors. It’s hard to trust people,” he said, his gaze surprisingly soft as he took your hand again. “But not you.”

“Because that’s not the kind of person I am,” you guessed.

You were in many ways the opposite of him. While you weren’t poor, you certainly weren’t rich or powerful and didn’t want to use people for your gain. Perhaps that was why he wanted you so badly. You were someone who didn’t want anything from him. Someone like you was easy for him to control since you didn’t run in that kind of circle, even if he said he wasn’t trying to.

Maybe you should have put up a fight instead of making yourself an easy target.

Wait, why were you blaming yourself?

“I know it isn’t,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “So, maybe I’m a control freak and maybe my approach is a bit extreme, but I don't want to control you. I like who you are, doll. You’re loyal and caring and real. The kind of person I want and need.”

You took a sip of wine so you didn't have to respond. He needed you, so he said, but did you need him? And why did his praise warm your insides? You didn't want it to feel nice.

“And maybe I like that you aren’t the kind of person who has a hidden agenda and that you aren’t a party girl. Even you snapping at me. I love that fire. I want more of it. Burn me with it if you want,” he continued, sweeping his gaze over you once again. “Fuck, I can’t take my eyes off you. And I can't stop thinking about you.”

The look in his eyes put you on edge. “But we-”

“You’re good for me and you may not believe I’m good for you, but I am. We’re right for each other,” he said. The fierce determination in his gaze almost had you believing it. “And aren’t you tired of being lonely? I know I am.”

Loneliness could eat away at a person. Drive them to do desperate things. It didn't excuse his actions.

“Lonely or not, you can't force us to be together,” you said.

“I’m not forcing us to be together. You chose to be here tonight.”

“You know why I came here,” you argued. He had to know you did this because of his threat. “And I’ll behave or do whatever I need to do for the rest of the night, but I can't promise anything beyond that.”

Instead of anger like you expected, he smiled. Like a wolf flashing his teeth before sinking into its prey. “That’s okay because I have a promise for you,” he began, the flame dancing in his eyes. “You’ll be out of your apartment before the end of the month.”

The balcony door opening covered up the wheeze you let out, but didn't hide the despair written all over your face. He couldn't be serious. “Dinner’s ready,” the guard stated.

Bucky didn't spare him a glance as he stood and kept your hand in his, your appetite gone as his smile widened. “C’mon, doll. Better not let it get cold.”

Ooh. Will he really have you out of your place that soon? How awkward will that meal be? And who do we think this guard is? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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pyrodolls · 10 months ago

Note

will you write more parts for the yandere!fan fic? 🫣

STALKER! YANDERE BOY X GN! READER (PART 2)

WARNINGS: stalking, mentions of murder, regular yandere tendencies, gender neutral reader

A/N: damn that first part did a lot better than i thought it would, thank you guys! so how about i bring in a second yandere… i’m naming this yandere victor, and the yandere in the first part is bayani. (btw the art below is by RIP2_)

part one (with bayani) right here! a third part is coming soon, featuring both bayani and victor when they realize they both are pining for you...

stalker! yandere boy that puts in more effort than superfan! yandere boy to catch your attention. bayani could never love you. he can barely even handle you looking at him, what makes you think he’s the right one for you? he’s just a lowly coward. victor is the one for you. he loves you so much. more than bayani.

stalker! yandere boy that doesn't care about your music. not one bit. because he loves you for you! who cares what your music sounds like? he doesn't care what genre it is, or if you even have a good voice or not. he'd be the best boyfriend for you because he treats you like an actual human, not just some singing machine. besides, he personally prefers metal. maybe he can listen to it with you when you get together! it sounds like a delightful date.

stalker! yandere boy that follows you around wherever you go. he tracks your travelling patterns, and visits whatever places you visit at the exact same time. whether you fly private, commercial, or even use a train or car. doesn't matter. he will follow you. where you go, he goes.

stalker! yandere boy that would go as far as to disguise himself as someone else in order to interact with you and gain your attention. you go eat at a restaurant? victor would kill a random waiter, steal their uniform, and take their place. you stay at a hotel? he's posing as room service and will steal your clothes and belongings tidy up your room! he'll even use the key to your room to walk in and watch you sleep at night. you just look so enchanting in your sleep, how can he resist? it's not wrong, he's just keeping you safe. he is the only one that can make sure you are happy and healthy. in victor's eyes, even the strongest bodyguard cannot keep you safe. you don't need anyone else. just him.

stalker! yandere boy that tries to catch your attention anytime he can. he needs you to notice him. he needs you to say something to him, talk to him, touch him, know him, acknowledge his existence. victor needs you to validate his existence in order to continue living. without you, what would he do? he cannot handle being away from you. he cannot handle being alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. don't leave him alone. he needs you.

stalker! yandere boy that gets jealous easily. you collab with another artist or you're seen holding hands with someone in public? he's spreading a fake rumor about whoever it is and ruining their life. you shouldn't be so stupid. why associate with someone else when you have him? why ditch him for someone else? he's right there. he can be better than them. who cares what they look or sound like? victor's so much better. he can show you how much better he is, if you give him a chance.

stalker! yandere boy that is so desperate for any kind of attention from you. it doesn't matter if it's positive or negative attention. he always plays it cool and acts all smug and calm when you notice him, but on the inside he is resisting the urge to grab you and run away from the world. all he wants is to have a peaceful, isolated life with you. away from the disgusting people in the world. you and victor can be happy together.

stalker! yandere boy that is incredibly clingy. you know you need him, right? he must be near you at all times. his presence keeps you alive and happy. you keep HIM happy. he needs you. you both need each other. if he can't see or feel your presence, he will go insane. that is why he travels anywhere you go. that is why he must go to each and every one of your concerts and meet-and-greets. you assumed he was just a big fan to be at every single event, but you just can't see that he loves you much more than just some fan.

stalker! yandere boy that just wants to be with you! let him be around you. let him completely obsess over you, touch you, love you, do whatever he wants to you. he won't hurt you! he just wants a little bit of freedom to say and do whatever he wants to you once you are together, so he can make sure you don't leave him. he will make you feel so good, so loved, so appreciated. nobody will ever love you more than he does.

but there may be someone that rivals his affections. a lowly, masochistic, scrawny pest that thinks he loves you more. victor will have to do something about it before your little superfan finally decides to man up and make a move on you.

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queenshelby · 5 months ago

Text

Siblings (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Half!Sister

Warning: Incest

It was around 10'clock at night when you heard a quiet knock on the door. You couldn't help but feel a little surprised—and a bit nervous. You had never had a visitor this late before as usually your siblings were out, getting themselves into trouble, and your Aunt Polly, who had taken it upon herself to look after everyone, was in bed.

Your sister Ada, with whom you shared a room, had sneaked out earlier to see her boyfriend Freddy, so it was just you that night, alone in your small room, lying on your single bed, wearing a nightgown and reading a book.

"Who is it?" you called out, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's Thomas," came the reply. His voice was quiet and calm.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should let him in that late at night. He had just come back from the war a few weeks ago and his demure had changed towards you. It was almost like he had become obsessed with you, wanting to keep you company more often than you were used to.

Thomas was gone for five years and came back more handsome than ever. He had a rugged jawline, and deep-set blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but well-built with a perfect gentleman's body.

The war had hardened him, made him stronger, but also wiser. He had seen the worst of humanity, and you could tell that it had affected him deeply. It was understandable; he had been through hell and back.

"May I come in?" Thomas eventually asked, his voice still composed.

Without saying a word, you stood up and covered yourself with a robe , before opening the door slowly.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating Thomas's figure. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes were still bright and clear.

"Of course," you said finally, as you walked back to your bed and folded your book closed.

"I have heard that there was trouble today, at the docks," Thomas said as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked tired, but fatigue failed to sap the confidence and dominance from his demeanor.

You sighed and nodded. "Ada told me not to go there, but curiosity got the better of me Tommy," you admitted whereas, the truth was, that just recently you began to involve yourself with Isiah, another Peaky Blinder and your new-found love had gotten you into trouble.

"Curiosity, eh?" Thomas chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Isiah wouldn't have anything to do with this curiosity now, would he?" he then asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You looked away, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "He never meant for me to get involved, Tommy. It just kind of happened," you replied quietly, seeing how Isiah took risks and those risks involved you.

"Listen Y/N, you are a fucking Shelby," Thomas said, his voice stern but not unkind. "And you need to be careful about who you associate with."

"But Isiah is your friend, is he not?" you asked, slightly confused with Thomas's sudden change of tone.

"Isiah works for me Love. That doesn't make him a friend," Tommy replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Despite, even if he was my friend, I wouldn't allow him to be involved with my fucking sister," Tommy added, the veneer of calmness cracking a bit.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. The way things were going, it seemed as though you had made a mistake. With the tension in the room growing thicker by the second, you felt compelled to speak.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I got myself mixed up with him, Tommy," you admitted, shame coloring your voice. "I suppose I was bored," you added as an afterthought.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your face. "You're better than that, Love," he finally said, his voice steady and firm. "And if boredom is what bothers you, then I am sure we can make arrangements for you to work at the betting house," he then told you a lot more gently than before, placing some stray hair behind your ear.

"Aunt Pol won't allow it," you said quietly, not because you didn't want to work there, but because you believed that your aunt would not approve of such an idea.

"It is not up to Pol," Thomas said shortly, his fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek gently. "But out of curtesy, I will discuss it with her, alright?" he added after a short pause.

Before you could respond, Thomas's hand dropped from your face, and he stood up, his presence in the small room suddenly overwhelming.

"But Y/N, if you are going to continue seeing Isiah...," he began to say and you quickly interrupted him.

"Not after today," you replied firmly. "Not after what happened at the docks. I promise," you added, reassuring your brother.

Thomas looked at you, relief visible in his eyes. "Good. I'll hold you to that Y/N," he said before leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead.

You blushed slightly, shocked by this sudden display of affection from your half-brother. But before you could react, Thomas walked out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and, when you settled back on to your bed, you couldn't help but wonder what just happened. Thomas and you have always had a close relationship since him and Arthur had assumed responsibility for you after your father got arrested by the police, but you have never witnessed such a display of emotion from him before.

As you lay there in the dark, the silence was broken by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. The light cast a soothing glow on the room and made the floral quilt on the twin bed look more inviting. Your mind was abuzz with thoughts, each one trying to get a different message across. You tried to silence them and focus on the recent events.

This whole situation with Thomas, your curiosity, the sudden shift in your relationship - you knew that it was not something to take lightly. It felt different, and you could not ignore the strange tension that lingered between the two of you.

You sighed deeply and turned to face the window. It was then that you noticed the stars twinkling in the night sky ever so slightly. They were there, silent and unassuming, much like Thomas. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

Thomas had always been a mystery to you, even before he left for France, but now it felt like there was a whole other person behind the blue eyes that you had grown up with.

Days had passed and you indeed started working at the gambling den , which was located in the heart of Small Heath. It was a bustling place, and it was chaotic during peak hours, but you found joy in the chaos. Surprisingly, Aunt Polly did not seem to mind much; she knew that this was one of the ways to keep you out of trouble.

While you were working there, your brother Thomas kept a close eye on you and as different men attempted to flirt with you, they quickly learned that you were untouchable, a notion further solidified by Thomas’s warning glares.

On two occasions, he even threatened gamblers with a gun after you were propositioned for a date, and it was clear to you that he wasn’t playing around. Thomas Shelby never made idle threats, after all.

"You do realise that most of these men are harmless, Tommy," you said to Thomas one evening, after you had closed the betting shop for the night. The sky was a deep indigo and the stars were shining brightly.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes sharp and piercing. "That may be true, but you are my sister and they need to show you some fucking respect," he retorted, his voice steadier than before.

"But Tommy," you began, still unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst. "I am capable of handling my own affairs. I can fend them off," you assured your brother who appeared somewhat overprotective of you.

"I am sure you are," Thomas agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what kind of employer would I be if I did not at least protect my employees from unwanted advances, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile.

"A pretty shite one I suppose," you admitted, returning his half-smile with a lopsided grin as he locked the door.

"Exactly," he concurred, shaking his head as you stepped onto the sidewalk, right by your brother's side. "Now let me walk you home. It's late," Thomas said as he always did when you worked in his betting house until after dawn.

As Thomas and you walked side by side, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was still something that kept niggling the back of your mind. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed like Thomas was hiding something from you.

Nonetheless, as you walked to the house you shared with Polly, Tommy and the others, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to gauge what it was that was causing this strange behavior lately.

It was like he took a liking in you that almost felt, more than brotherly, but you decided not to focus on the matter and instead enjoyed the warmth of his company while it lasted.

Days passed, and your routine at the gambling den turned into sort of a normality, despite the occasional tensions between patrons and your brother that threatened to boil over.

On evening, at your house when you and Tommy were on your own, you ought to address it, his overprotectiveness and the strange tension that kept building between you.

But, Tommy simply brushed it off and told you that he was simply concerned for your safety.

"But I am safe here Tommy, with you and the others," you reminded him, your tone gentle yet firm. "And at the gambling house, even if some of the customers are inappropriate, it is a safe place because no one would dare to fuck with you, Arthur or John and I think you know that," you said, unable to mask the frustration that crept into your voice.

Tommy looked down at you, his gaze intense but soft. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Y/N, I know that you can look after yourself but, what I have learned over the years, is that no one is safe. Not here, not anywhere," Thomas said, his voice still firm but softer than before.

You stared into Thomas's eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through your veins. Awe, admiration, and... something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

"The war changed you, you know?" you said the words before you could stop yourself.

Thomas sighed and looked at you, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. "Yes, I know," he admitted quietly. "I can't help it, Y/N. I've seen and done things that most people couldn't even imagine."

You nodded, understanding dawning on you.

"No, you are right Tommy. I can't imagine," you said softly, caressing the scar on his cheek, causing Tommy to lean in closer, his eyes locked on yours.

You felt your heart race as you looked into Thomas's eyes. There was something about him that made you feel safe, yet also intensely aware of your feelings for him. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

"But you know what's amusing though?" you murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room as Thomas leaned over some more, his fingers lightly traced your jawline, you couldn't help but play along. "You are so overprotective towards me when it comes to potential suitors and there is almost no reason for you to be that way, because I never even kissed a boy before, so it just seems so absurd to me," you continued, allowing yourself to drop your guard, just a little.

"I find that hard to believe, Y/N," Thomas murmured, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your lips before slowly moving to trace the length of your jawbone.

Your breath hitched in your chest, hearing his low voice uttering your real name; you always felt an odd sense of familiarity from him, especially when he chose to use your given name, just for a brief moment. It almost felt like the two of you were not step-siblings.

"No, it's true. I never kissed a boy before, Tommy," you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn't know what had come over you, but suddenly, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your half-brother. "What is it like?" you

asked, your lips barely moving as Thomas continued to trace a path along your jawline.

"What's what like?" Thomas asked, his voice low and husky, as he leaned in even closer to you.

"Kissing," you clarified, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks as you admitted this.

Thomas seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze lingering briefly on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess it depends on who you are kissing," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it's just a kiss and it feels like nothing because it means nothing. But other times, it's more than that. It can be a way to express your feelings for someone. To show them how much you care about them," Thomas explained, his gaze still locked on yours.

"Do you think you could show me?" you whispered, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

Thomas's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breathing had quickened.

"Seeing that you are my sister, that would be inappropriate, don't you think?" Thomas said, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice.

"It's just a kiss, Tommy," you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "And no one needs to know," you continued, your heart pounding in your chest as you confessed this vulnerable part of yourself to your brother.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to tell you no . But then something shifted in his gaze, a heat that made your heart race.

"Alright. Fuck it," Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped slightly, surprised by how sudden the kiss was and how soft and gentle his lips were.

Your hands reached up to grip his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss. Thomas's other hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do, you followed his lead and when he parted his lips, you did the same before tentatively touching your tongue to his, experimenting with the new sensation.

Your brother's lips were warm and as the kiss deepened, you felt a fire ignite within you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. Your heart was racing as Thomas's hand dropped down from your hair, tracing a path around your neck as he deepened the kiss once more before, suddenly, he pulled away.

You stared at Thomas, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You could see a storm of emotions raging within his eyes, but you couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Shock? Excitement? Pleasure?

"I am sorry Love, but I have business to attend to," he told you with a horse voice, his breathing heavy and uneven from the kiss.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath as well. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks as you moved away from him, giving him some much-needed space. Thomas looked at you, his eyes heated with desire, before turning away and leaving the room without another word.

Even after he had left. a jolt of pleasurable heat still lingered on your lips where Thomas’s mouth had just been, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Your stepbrother, fucking Thomas, he had just kissed you and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about it or if you should be elated.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair, still feeling dazed. Your mind was racing, replaying the image of Thomas kissing you, over and over again.

Your lips were still tingling from the contact, but the room felt cold and empty once he left, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. Thomas had kissed you. He fucking kissed you and you were the one that had asked him to do it.

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ahqkas · 30 days ago

Note

hi!! I saw your post of the bat boys s/o wearing their merch and I loved it!!! How do you think they’d react seeing their s/o wearing another persons merch?? (Ex: Jason’s s/o wearing nightwing merch, and so on)

♯ THE COLOR GREEN

— gn!reader, angst for bruce, cursing + lmk if more

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT WAS AN ORDINARY EVENING IN WAYNE MANOR, FULL OF THE USUAL SILENCE that only the sprawling estate could provide. bruce had just finished a late-night meeting with gotham’s most influential philanthropists. it had been a long, tiring day, but the sense of duty still lingered within him. he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest properly until he checked in on gotham’s nighttime operations, but for now, he allowed himself a brief moment of peace.

as he made his way into the living room, he was expecting to find you curled up on the couch with a book or perhaps watching your latest show. what he wasn’t expecting, though, was the sight that greeted him when he walked in: you were standing by the window, looking out at the snowy white picture, dressed casually in a loose-fitting black shirt with a bright blue nightwing logo sprawled across it.

the symbol—the iconic bird, a badge that he associated so deeply with dick grayson, his former partner—was unmistakable. his heart skipped a beat, the rush of emotions coming so quickly that he barely had a chance to process it. he froze, just standing there in the doorway, his mind suddenly racing.

nightwing.

bruce had never expected this. sure, dick was well-known in gotham, a hero in his own right, with the same sense of justice that ran through batman’s veins. but to see his former robin’s symbol—nightwing’s symbol—worn so casually by someone he cared about? it struck a chord in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

dick grayson had been more than just a sidekick, more than a name in a costume. he had been bruce’s right hand for years, a trusted confidant, and at one point, like a son to him.

now, here bruce stood, watching the emblem of that very relationship—a reminder of the past he still struggled to come to terms with—on your chest.

his heart clenched as he realized that you, someone he had opened up to in ways he never had with others, didn’t know the full weight of that symbol. you didn’t know the stories tied to it, the sacrifices made, or the heartache that had followed dick’s departure from Gotham. bruce felt an uncomfortable mix of protectiveness, jealousy, and vulnerability that he wasn’t used to confronting. how could he explain this to you? how could he put into words what seeing that logo meant to him without revealing too much, too soon? the thought of you innocently wearing it as a mere fan seemed almost like an intrusion into something he had kept buried for so long.

his first instinct was to say something, but he didn’t know exactly how.

you looked over at him, a warm smile spreading across your face as you noticed him standing there. “hey, love! look at this cool shirt i got today. i couldn’t resist. nightwing’s awesome, right?”

bruce’s jaw clenched. his chest felt tight, and he swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. there was no malice in your voice, no hint of anything other than innocent admiration for a hero you respected.

you didn’t know the intricacies of the bond between them, how deeply it ran, or the strain it had caused over the years. you didn’t know that dick grayson wasn’t just nightwing, he was bruce’s family.

you saw the look on his face, the way his gaze had darkened. the smile faltered from your lips, and you hesitated, clearly sensing the change in his mood. “bruce?”

he took a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. stepping further into the room, his eyes never left the logo that felt so out of place on you. he needed to keep his voice steady. this wasn’t your fault. you didn’t know.

“i—” he cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. “you like nightwing?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “yeah, i’ve seen him patrol the city a few times, and i’ve read some cool stories about him. he’s really impressive.”

he tried to hold onto his composure, but his mind was running on autopilot, flicking through memories of dick’s training, their time together as batman and robin, the way things had fractured between them. but it was hard to keep all that inside when it was standing right in front of him, so public, so casual.

bruce couldn’t explain himself to you, not at this moment, but you somehow understood. his life wasn’t, wasn’t bright.

( note! as much as i’d like to write & see jealous bruce , this is smth more of what i think he’d react as )

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS A QUIET AFTERNOON IN DICK’S APARTMENT, the kind of lazy day you two rarely got to share. the winter sun streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a pale glow. he sat cross-legged on the couch, aimlessly flipping through a book, while you wandered around the kitchen. you’d been busy unpacking a bag from your recent shopping trip, chatting casually about the little finds you’d picked up.

his attention drifted back to you when he heard the sound of your laughter, a bright, melodic note that never failed to pull him in. it was the kind of laugh that made the world feel a little lighter, even when he didn’t know the reason behind it yet. he glanced over the back of the couch, his book forgotten, as you stood near the kitchen counter, hands rummaging through one of the shopping bags you’d brought home. the mischievous glint in your eyes was impossible to miss, and your lips curved into a playful smile that immediately piqued his curiosity. “i found something you’re going to love—or maybe hate,” you teased, the of your voice dancing somewhere between innocent and deliberately provocative, the kind of tone you used when you knew you were about to get a reaction out of him.

dick grinned and closed his book, leaning over the back of the couch to catch sight of you. “oh? what’d you find?”

you turned around, your eyes alight with a mischievous glint that told him you knew exactly what you were doing. in your hands, you held up a black hoodie, the fabric loose and casual, but what caught his attention—what stopped him mid-breath—was the bold crimson logo splashed across the front. the angular design, sharp and unmissable, was instantly recognizable: the unmistakable insignia of the red hood. you tilted your head slightly, watching his reaction like a cat that had just dropped a mouse at its owner’s feet, the corners of your mouth tugging into an impish smile as if daring him to say something.

your boyfriend froze for half a second, his brain catching up with what he was seeing. the sight of you holding that hoodie—with jason’s symbol—sent a whirl of conflicting emotions through him. amusement bubbled up first, chased quickly by a flicker of irritation, and finally, something quieter but no less present: a faint pang of jealousy.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, his tone light but with a slight edge of disbelief.

you shrugged innocently, clearly enjoying his reaction. “what? it’s cool. don’t you think it’s cool?” you held it up to yourself and struck a mock pose, the red logo standing out starkly against your figure.

dick let out a laugh, though it carried more incredulity than humor, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “oh, it’s something, all right,” he said, the words laced with mock offense as he stood up and made his way toward you. his movements were casual, but there was a certain energy behind them—curiosity tinged with disbelief. once he reached you, he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head as if sizing up the offending hoodie. his blue eyes flicked between your amused expression and the bold red symbol stretched across the fabric. “but red hood? really?” asking, his voice tinged with exaggerated disbelief, the way someone might react to finding out their favorite band had been passed over for a one-hit wonder.

you raised an eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by his tone. “what’s wrong with red hood? i mean, sure, he’s a bit . . . extreme. but you’ve got to admit, he’s kind of badass.”

he tilted his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. extreme was putting it mildly, he thought, but he kept that to himself. instead, he decided to lean into humor, a tried-and-true tactic. “oh, yeah. nothing says ‘badass’ like reckless decisions and questionable moral judgment,” he quipped, smirking.

you rolled her eyes, playfully tossing the hoodie at him. “oh, come on, dick. it’s just a hoodie. don’t be such a snob.”

he caught it effortlessly, the fabric flopping against his chest before he held it up at arm’s length like it might contain some hidden offense. his fingers brushed over the bold crimson logo, his expression a mix of mock scrutiny and genuine disbelief. he tilted his head slightly, inspecting the hoodie as if it might reveal some secret about why you had chosen this of all things. “a hoodie that glorifies a guy who spends half his time breaking the rules i try to uphold,” he muttered under his breath, the faintest edge of exasperation slipping into his tone. straightening, he lifted the hoodie higher, letting it unfurl completely before glancing at you with an exaggerated look of betrayal. “seriously? you could’ve picked nightwing merch,” he said, louder this time, his voice tinged with feigned indignation. “that guy’s way cooler.”

there was a pause, and then he added with a smirk, “better taste in colors, too.”

your laughter filled the room, light and carefree. “oh, please. nightwing? he’s fine, i guess, but red hood has this whole rogue antihero thing going on. it’s appealing!”

“appealing? over nightwing? i’m wounded.”

you shook your head, still grinning as you started putting away the rest of your shopping. “don’t take it personally, babe. it’s just merch. besides, i think the red looks good on me.”

he’d find a way to subtly convince you to pick up some nightwing merch next time.

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON TODD HAD SEEN A LOT OF STRANGE THINGS IN HIS LIFE. he’d fought crime bosses, faced off against costumed lunatics, and clawed his way back from the dead. but nothing—not even his years in gotham—had prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he walked into your apartment that afternoon.

he’d let himself in, as he often did when you two had made plans and you hadn’t responded to his text confirming he was on his way. you trusted him with the spare key, and honestly, the thought of you trusting him enough to hand it over always softened the rough edges of his otherwise sharp side. your apartment was your sanctuary, and letting him into it was no small thing.

just like you did with your heart.

the first thing he noticed when he stepped inside was the faint sound of music coming from your living room. it was something upbeat, probably one of those rock playlists you put on when you cleaning or decorating. the second thing he noticed was you—standing in front of the coffee table, carefully balancing a steaming mug in one hand while trying to place a stack of books on the shelf with the other.

it was the third thing that made him stop dead in his tracks.

the bright, unmistakable “RR” emblem of red robin blazoned across the front of your oversized hoodie.

jason blinked, his brain stumbling over itself as he processed the sight in front of him. no way. no. this can’t be happening. his jaw tightened, and for a split second, he wondered if he’d somehow walked into an alternate universe, one where betrayal came wrapped in cozy fleece and gotham’s greatest insult wasn’t the joker, but that emblem. the bright, unmistakable initials burned into his eyes like a neon sign mocking him, and he felt an unfamiliar twinge of something in his chest—was it betrayal? jealousy? he wasn’t sure, but one thing was clear: this moment would haunt him forever.

“hey, jay!” you called over your shoulder when you noticed him, your voice light and cheerful, completely unaware of the emotional rollercoaster you’d just sent him on. you turned to face him fully, the emblem on the hoodie practically shining under the warm light of your apartment. “you’re early! i was just finishing tidying up.”

your boyfriend stood frozen in place, his mouth slightly open as he tried to process the betrayal—no, the travesty—before him. the love of his life. the love of his life. wearing tim drake’s merch.

his jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “what the hell are you wearing?”

your brows furrowed in confusion, and you glanced down at yourself as if to check for an obvious stain or tear. when your eyes landed on the red robin logo, you looked back up at him, completely unbothered. “what? you don’t like it?” you tugged on the hem of the hoodie. “i thought it was cute.”

jason let out a disbelieving laugh, the kind that came out when you couldn’t quite believe the universe had conspired to humiliate you this thoroughly. “cute? you think that’s cute?”

your confusion deepened, and you tilted your head at him, the way you always did when you thought he was being dramatic. “yeah, it’s cute. i got it at that pop-up merch store downtown. they had this whole gotham vigilante theme—nightwing, red hood, batgirl, even batman. but i liked this one the most. the colors are nice.”

he stared at you, his mind a chaotic swirl of indignation and disbelief. you could’ve picked anyone else. anyone. you could’ve gone with nightwing—sure, it would’ve stung a little, but he could’ve handled it. even batman would’ve been tolerable, if only because of the begrudging respect he still held for the older man. but red robin? tim drake? of all people?

“you’re telling me that you went out, saw that, and thought, ‘yeah, this is the one’?”

“yeah,” you replied with your tone still casual, though you were starting to pick up on his agitation. “what’s the big deal? you’re acting like i came home with a joker hoodie or something.”

jason hesitated, torn between his frustration and the part of him that didn’t want to see that concerned look on your face. finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “it’s . . . complicated,” he said, his tone quieter now. “let’s just say i’ve got some history with red robin, and seeing you wearing that doesn’t exactly sit well with me.”

you frowned. “history? like, bad history?”

your boyfriend nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “you could say that.”

your expression softened, and you gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “i didn’t know,” you said quietly. “if i’d known, i wouldn’t have bought it.”

jason glanced down at you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “yeah, well,” he muttered, “it’s not your fault. you didn’t know. still,” he said, smirking now, “if you wanted vigilante merch, you could’ve at least gone with red hood. he’s got way more style.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face widened. “oh, sure, because nothing says ‘cute and comfy’ like a skull and crossbones.”

he chuckled, pulling you into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “you’re lucky i like you,” he murmured. “otherwise, this might’ve been a dealbreaker.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

TIM DRAKE IS USED TO BALANCING SECRETS. after all, it comes with the territory of being robin—or more recently, red robin. but there are moments when that balance falters, when the personal and the professional collide in ways he doesn’t expect. one of those moments? walking into your apartment and seeing you casually lounging on the couch in a batman sweatshirt.

the sight stopped him in his tracks.

at first, it was the sheer unexpectedness of it that catches him off guard. the bold black and yellow logo of the bat-symbol stretched across your chest, and you were completely oblivious to his reaction, scrolling through your phone with an easy, relaxed expression. for tim, it felt like a collision of worlds—a glaring reminder that you, someone he loves and trusts, exist just outside the shadowy world he calls home. a world where batman is more than a symbol, where the man behind the cowl is a mentor, a father figure, and someone tim can’t escape from even if he tried.

“nice shirt,” he said finally, keeping his tone neutral as he took a step into the room.

you looked up, startled at first, then smiled. “oh, this? thanks! i found it on sale last week. couldn’t resist—it’s a classic, you know? gotham pride and all that.”

“gotham pride,” he repeated, fighting the urge to smirk. “right. of course.”

tim walked further into the room, setting down his bag on the kitchen counter as he casually glanced back at you. he was trying to play it cool, but the sight of the bat-symbol on you felt like a cosmic joke he was not in on. it was not jealousy—exactly. it was more complicated than that. because batman isn’t just a symbol to him. it was bruce. it was his mission. it was his life.

“so, uh,” he began, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “what made you pick batman merch? why not, i don’t know, nightwing? or red hood?” he threw the names out casually, though there was a glimmer of curiosity in his voice. part of him wants to know if you had any opinions about the rest of the bat-family, even if you had idea you were dating a member of it.

you snorted, putting your phone down. “nightwing? please. he’s cool, sure, but batman’s the original. the icon. and red hood—that guy is terrifying. no offense to him, but i’d rather not wear merch of someone who’s rumored to leave actual body counts wherever he goes.”

he suppressed a laugh, his lips twitching. “fair.“

“i mean, think about it. batman’s like this larger-than-life figure, always watching over gotham. he’s mysterious, he’s powerful, and let’s be real—he’s probably way too intense to hang out with, but that’s part of the appeal. it’s like wearing a piece of gotham’s history, you know?”

tim nodded slowly, trying to process your words without revealing too much. it was fascinating to hear how people saw batman from the outside. the stories of the bat looming large over the city, and even though tim knew the truth—that batman was just a man under the cowl—it was interesting to see how the symbol resonated with others.

“you don’t think he’s a little . . . much?” he was testing the waters. “i mean, he’s not exactly warm and fuzzy.”

you shrugged. “sure, but that’s not his job. he’s supposed to be intimidating. he’s supposed to scare the bad guys. i think that’s kind of admirable, in a way. he’s sacrificed so much to protect this city. he’s not doing it for fame or recognition. he’s doing it because someone has to.”

you were not wrong. in fact, you probably summed up bruce’s mission better than most people ever could.

“you could’ve picked someone with, i don’t know, better people skills.”

“oh, like who?” you challenged him, arching a brow. “red robin? please. the guy barely even has merch. it’s like he doesn’t want people to know he exists.”

tim froze for a fraction of a second before forcing a laugh. “teah, weird how that works, huh?”

you didn’t notice the slight tension in his voice, too busy rolling your eyes. “anyway, i’m sticking with batman. he’s the OG. end of discussion.”

your boyfriend shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you settle back into the couch. you had no idea how close to the truth you were—how the man you admired from afar was someone tim knew intimately. because even without knowing the full story, you saw the good in what they did. and that, more than anything, made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to keep the gap so wide forever.

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