#A Prolonged Jealousy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chithereader · 1 month ago

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jealousy, jealousy / aaron hotchner

here’s my masterlist! pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader word count: 2.4k genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!

Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder.

You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face.

Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through.

That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought.

There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right?

Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.

Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh.

You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day.

But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why.

You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?”

Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something.

Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing.

“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty.

Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.”

Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch.

You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you.

He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely.

Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse.

You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate.

You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file.

As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!

If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done�� …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss.

And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth.

After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short.

Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud.

To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile.

You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground.

You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?”

Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing.

The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand.

While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.”

You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.”

You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob.

Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud.

“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia.

He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face.

Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!”

When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you.

Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting.

You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience.

“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–

“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”

“Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?”

“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?”

Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.”

Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.”

You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.”

The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really?

As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.”

With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?”

As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”

Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?”

Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.”

Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.

Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.

Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous?

In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish.

You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–”

Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now.

The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you.

You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt–

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice,

“You don’t think you’re my girl?”

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rafeacs · 6 months ago

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Best Friend Rafe x Reader Petty Jealousy

Warnings: None (yet), fluff, soft rafe, jealousy, yearning, rafe finally makes a move

Rafe was growing restless in your absence. You had been gone for two weeks while you and your parents were on vacation in Italy. He and you did FaceTimed often. Rafe did not mind waking up in the middle of the night just to talk to you for a few minutes, but that wasn’t enough. He was used to you being just minutes away from him. You did message him frequently, updating him with pictures, but you were too busy to actually hold a prolonged conversation with him. He knew he was not entitled to feel as such; you were just best friends, but still, he could not help but grow weary in your absence.

When the day finally came for your return, he had the urge to pick you up at the airport himself, but that action seemed a tad too desperate. So he waited until you finally called him to hang out. Rafe was playing a round of golf in the club with Kelce and Topper when he turned his direction towards the club’s bar and saw your distinct outline that he had thoroughly memorized. He felt a true smile creep to his lips, but it soon faded as he realized that you had your arms linked with a random guy. Rafe squinted his eyes to see who you were with, but due to the distance, he could not make out his face.

Rafe’s mood was quick to dampen, his hold on his putter growing tighter, and no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his shot, he was distracted by who the guy you were with was. “Woah, chill,” Topper laughed as Rafe grunted and smashed his putter upon the once untainted grass, jealousy quick to consume him. He turned towards the club restaurant once more and saw you seated on the bar with the stranger still right next to you. “I’m leaving,” Rafe gritted and threw his golf club to the ground and took the golf cart despite the protest of his friends he left stranded in the middle of the field.

Rafe’s frame was rigged when he approached you, body consumed with anger as he watched you tilt your head back as you laughed with the random dude he was so close to beating up. “Rafe!” You exclaimed as you saw him from your peripheral vision. You were quick to stand and run to him, engulfing him with a hug. Through his anger, Rafe still wrapped his big arms around your frame and lifted you up, his lips twitching as he heard you giggle. “Missed me that much?” He lightly chuckled, completely forgetting about the presence you were with earlier. “A bit,” you shrugged as you parted from him.

You glanced behind and pulled Rafe toward where you once sat. “Rafe, meet Lorenzo,” you smiled as you introduced the two of them. Rafe gritted his jaw as Lorenzo stood and led out his hand for Rafe to shake. Rafe begrudgingly shook his hand so as not to appear brazen in front of you, but he made sure to painfully tighten his hold, smirking as he watched Lorenzo grimace.

“Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you these past few weeks,” Lorenzo smiled. Rafe was surprised that he did not have an Italian accent, as he had suspected; Lorenzo spoke with a British accent, and Rafe immediately felt threatened as he remembered how you would always gush about how much you loved British accents. “Really? I heard nothing about you. Who are you?” Rafe said abruptly, making your eyes widen. “Lorenzo’s a son of a close family friend— I mentioned him before; you must just forgot,” You smiled but widened your eyes at Rafe, urging him to be kinder.

Lorenzo felt the tensions rise, and he cleared his throat, “I erm… I better go. Jetlag’s getting the best of me. See you back at the house?” He asked but did not really give you room to respond as he quickly kissed both your cheeks and left. Rafe stared widely at his action and was ready to pounce on him.“What was that?” You exclaimed at Rafe as soon as Lorenzo left. “He’s British! You can’t be so blatantly rude; they greatly frown upon that!” You explained, lightly hitting Rafe on his muscled chest as you took a seat on the stool once more. Rafe shrugged, “What? I just said I don’t know him because you never mentioned him.” He gritted and ordered drinks for the both of you.

“I did! Remember? He was my childhood best friend before we moved here?” Rafe’s hand clenched tightly around the cold glass. Childhood best friend? He was your best friend! “How long is he staying here?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Only a few days, so be nice! I haven’t seen him in about eleven years, so please make him feel welcome.” You pleaded and placed your hand on his tense arm. Rafe shook his head, but you smiled up at him, poking his side and urging him to agree. After a few more pokes on his waist, the spot you knew he was ticklish in, he finally cracked a smile and sighed. “Fine,” He sighed, and you squealed and stood, kissing his cheek and wrapping your arms around him.

Rafe’s tense frame relaxed as he felt you around him. “Now come on, I wanna play tennis, and Sarah’s busy,” you pulled at him to stand. Rafe downed his drink and followed you to the tennis court, trying not to let his gaze stray too long downwards to your plump behind, clad in a rather short and tight tennis skirt.

After countless rounds of tennis, with you beating Rafe every single time, the sun was beginning to set, and you only remembered that you had a dinner to attend to. “What’s the rush? Scared I’ll beat you?” Rafe laughed as you pulled him away from the court so he could bring you home.

“Are you going to Top’s party later?” You asked, and Rafe shrugged, “Depends,” he said. “Why? You’re going? You hate house parties,” Rafe suddenly frowned as he turned a corner. “I do, but I want to bring Lorenzo to one— he said he’s rather curious about American parties,” You shrugged as Rafe pulled into your driveway. “So you’re not going?” You confirmed, and Rafe immediately shook his head. “No, I'm going if you’re going. I’ll pick you up at nine,” He said, and you smiled quickly, kissing his cheek in gratitude before bidding him goodbye for you to attend your family��s dinner. Rafe felt his heart stagger at the feeling of your lips against his skin. The jealousy he felt faded, and his skin tingled whilst a boyish smile that only you could conjure appeared on his lips.

Rafe rolled into your driveway at exactly nine, stepped out of his truck, and leaned on the passenger door as he waited for you. He felt a small smile twitch on his lips as you stepped out your front door, but it quickly disappeared as he saw you walk out hand in hand with Lorenzo. “Nice to see you again, Rafe,” Lorenzo smiled politely. Rafe bit his tongue and resisted rolling his eyes. “Yeah, nice of you to join us,” He grumbled and opened the passenger seat for you.

He drove to Topper’s house, the car filled with conversation between you and Lorenzo, him growing reserved and annoyed that your attention was not solely on him. “I don’t really understand why you want to go to a house party,” You mused as Rafe helped you out from the passenger seat. Lorenzo shrugged, “I always see it in the movies and just wanted to experience one first hand,” Rafe rolled his eyes as he placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you through the crowded entrance to Topper’s house.

“Let’s go get some drinks!” You exclaimed and took hold of Lorenzo’s arm and pulled him towards the drinks table, leaving Rafe to mingle with the other partygoers, but he had no wish to mingle; he wanted to be with you!

Rafe secured a spot for the two of you on the couch, waiting for your return as Kelce chatted up with him. “Hey, who’s that guy she’s with? She finally got a boyfriend?” He snickered, knowing Rafe would react badly to his insinuation. “No.” He almost growled. Kelce smirked and shook his head in amusement, “I told you, dude, It’s been fucking years— just make a move, you pussy!” He laughed and quickly exited, fearing Rafe would physically retaliate.

“I got you a beer!” You screamed as you pushed your way through the crowd and spotted Rafe’s hulking body seated on the couch. His tense frame momentarily relaxed as he saw you. You handed Rafe the bottle and turned to Lorenzo, “You can take that seat; I could just stand,” You offered, wanting your guest to be comfortable. Rafe clenched his jaw as you made your way to sit on the armrest of the chair, but you yelped as he pulled you onto his lap. Rafe smirked as neither you nor Lorenzo expected his actions. It was not that it was uncommon; you often sat on Rafe’s lap when there were no more seats; why should this instance be different?

For the better part of the night, you and Lorenzo were the only ones chatting, and Rafe was just there, acting like your chair and having his arms wrapped around your frame. “I’ll get another drink,” Lorenzo excused, and you nodded, taking his place on the couch and offering relief for Rafe’s legs, for you had been sitting on his lap for the past hour. “Oh shoot, I need a drink too.” You suddenly said as you looked down at your cup. “I’ll just g—“ Rafe immediately stood and shook his head, not wanting you to spend more time with Lorenzo; it was petty, yes, but he had reserved to be petty and jealous. “I’ll get it,” He gritted, and you frowned as you only now realize that Rafe was rather in a sour mood.

“Okay,” You say softly, trying to figure out why your best friend was irritated. Rafe shuffled through the crowds, a severe frown on his brow as his jealousy was eating him inside out. Each moment he watched, you and Lorenzo planted further fear in him. Each conversation you had rolled off effortlessly; the history between you was deep, and you two even had inside jokes. He could just not fathom the thought that another person— another guy knew everything about you, possibly even more. He just could not accept the fact that he had to share you.

Rafe clenched his jaw as he saw your preferred drink was all gone. He pushed through the crowd and went to the pantry to retrieve another bottle, but he was startled as he opened the door and saw a couple making out. He was stunned to see Lorenzo locking lips with another guy, “Do you mind?” The random guy Lorenzo was with snapped, and Rafe could only blink and shut the door, unable to process the scene before him. Rafe stumbled to where he left you, his irritated face now filled with shock.

“Are you okay?” You asked in concern and assisted Rafe to sit beside you. “I… I uh—“ He mumbled, and you knitted your brows with concern. “I saw Lorenzo making out with a… dude,” He said slowly and expected to see the surprise on your face, but you only looked confused. “Yeah?” You said, unsure. “Aren’t you surprised?” He questioned. “I’d be more surprised if he was making out with a girl.” You shrugged. You feel your lips twitch into a smile as Rafe blinks, and his face contorts into realization. “Oh,” You laughed as the word left his lips. “You’re so cute!” You laughed at his expression.

Rafe shook his head as you pinched his cheek, hoping none saw your actions because it would surely diminish his reputation of being cold and harsh, but at the same time, he didn’t truly care just as long as your attention and affections were focused on him.

“You don’t have to be like this, you know.” You teased as Rafe settled further into the couch. “Like what?” He frowned, “Like you know— jelly. You don’t have to be jealous of Lorenzo; he’s my best friend, but you are my bestest friend.” You smiled, hoping that Rafe would mirror it, but your smile faltered as he frowned and crossed his arms.

Rafe looked at you, the room growing quiet with each second he observed your face and mulled over your words. “I don’t wanna be your best friend,” He suddenly said, and you feel your heart fall out of your chest. You feel goosebumps rise to your skin as you try to process his words. “Oh?” Was all you could word out, feeling your chest bubble with emotion. Rafe shook his head and turned to face you.

“No, I— I don’t want to be just your best friend.” He explained further. “What a—“ The words died on your tongue as you felt lips against yours and a strong hand cupping your cheek. Rafe took the risk that he had wanted to take since the day he met you. He finally kissed you as he had wanted to for so long.

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velarisdusk · 4 months ago

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Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Azriel x Reader

part 2 -> word count: 5.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az doesn't pull out lol, casual sex, hurt/comfort kinda?, jealousy, friends to lovers, language ] summary: Frustrated by Azriel's apparent indifference towards you, you seek solace in the arms of others. But words exchanged over a family dinner ignite a long-suppressed jealousy. A heated exchange, an unforeseen confrontation, and a passionate encounter follow. author's note: i received this ask a couple of weeks ago and omg i had so much fun writing this, i love drama ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

You liked to think you could handle a lot; political disputes, bloodshed, mountains of paperwork. But this? No, this was simply too much. You were in hysterics when Nesta found you — or rather when Nesta was rounding a corner and you bumped into her with enough force to make even Cassian stumble back.

“(Y/n), do you sincerely believe that that,” she’d gestured between you and the general direction you’d run from, “was ever going to work?” Her words were like a knife to the gut, her tone like grabbing it by the hilt and twisting. How she’d known what you’d seen was beyond you. But it wasn’t lost on her, or anyone else except Azriel apparently; the longing stares out the window down to the training ring, always sitting next to or across from him at the table, the way your scent would change when he’d pop into and out of a room — a dead giveaway of where your mind went when he was around.

So to see him like that — with her… It was a sight that seared itself into your memory. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, her fingers threaded through his dark hair. His hands roamed her body with unbridled desire, tracing the curves of her sides, waist, and hips, cupping her breast, and cradling her neck. To say it stung would’ve been the understatement of the millennia.

“It’s just… how he is,” her tone softened when she noticed your wince. “He was obsessed with Morrigan for five hundred years… five hundred, (y/n). I won’t be surprised if he’s set on Elain for five hundred more. What she plans to do, well,” Nesta raised her hands as if to say ‘not my problem.’ Her words were harsh, but you knew they held some truth.

“Maybe you just need to go to a pleasure house and fuck him out of your system,” she’d said plainly, smoothing down your hair as if she were discussing the weather. A pleasure house? They were illegal, but you weren’t naive, you knew they were out there. They were all underground; places you found through a friend of a cousin of a neighbor. Before you could dry your eyes, Nesta pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled an address onto your wrist. You didn’t want to know why she’d had it memorized. “Pretend it’s him, or the cute guy at the coffee shop, or whoever honestly. Hell, maybe even think of whoever it is you’re fucking,” she said with a smirk as she wrote. “Whatever you need to do to get over him, do it.”

You spent months in and out of taverns, walking in alone, walking out with a different male each time. It was fun… when they knew what they were doing. It was a wonder; males don’t know what they’re doing even if they have all the time in the world to figure it out. On the nights when there were enough of you for a family dinner at the River House, you didn’t miss how they all tried to scent you subtly, and eventually how Azriel’s shadows crept under the table all the way towards your feet, curling around your ankles as if trying to unravel your secrets. That was one of the many things that had stopped lately, sitting near him. The first night you took Mor’s usual seat, she’d given you a bemused look but said nothing of it. Meanwhile, the windowsill grew colder, both from the changing weather and your prolonged absence.

Your thoughts, however, were as persistent as ever. You didn’t think about him as often these days (Nesta’s advice worked pretty fast, you thought), but that was before he walked into Rhys’s office while you were discussing how to best quell the persistent tensions with Autumn.

It had been a quick in-and-out from him, typical as of late. Azriel strode in, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dropped some papers onto Rhys’s desk, leaning over your shoulder to do so. As he straightened, his right hand briefly rested on your other shoulder, the touch light but noticeable. He gave Rhys a nod and left. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he’d gone.

“We’ll have to speak to Eris again, soon,” he’d said with a barely-there note of urgency as he sifted through Azriel’s report.

“I can go,” you’d volunteered. “I’ve been meaning to go for some honey. Autumn Court honey-”

“-is the best, I know,” he finished with a soft smile. “Listen, I know I don’t need to warn you, but whatever conversation you may have with Eris, it’ll likely be heated. And tense. Things right now aren’t the best after-”

“I know,” it was your turn to say. “I can handle him, Rhysie, don’t you worry,” you teased, using that nickname you knew he’d roll his eyes at. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on your shoulder was a brand on your skin.

Not an hour after you’d met with Rhysand, you were standing in the entrance of the pleasure hall Nesta’d told you about all those weeks ago. The kind-looking female at the desk brought out a book of names so you could choose… your companion for the evening. You’d flipped through page after page, your nerves growing with each description you read. None of them were your type to begin with, but to pick and choose from a book felt wrong. You were about to point one out at random when the door opened, and who should walk in but the heir to the Autumn Court himself?

You’d somehow convinced him not to rush out, and to have a chat over coffee. He somehow convinced you that it was meant to be that he walked in right when you were about to make a mistake.

You’d somehow convinced each other it wouldn’t be an entirely terrible and irreversible mistake to get a room at the hotel across the street for a couple of hours.

Then again one night the next week.

And again three days after that.

That was how you found yourself underneath Eris Vanserra now. It was meaningless for both of you, purely physical, but you couldn’t deny the added thrill of finding someone so mutually attractive.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans from behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto his cock with a force unmatched by any of your tavern trysts. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and heated whispers.

Rhysand would be waiting for you to get back. You were supposed to meet with Eris to discuss the logistics of a diplomatic meeting to address inter-court relations. And then there was the family dinner tonight. Almost everyone was home – only Amren was absent, her extended stays in the Summer Court becoming more frequent these days.

“Hurry up and finish, I’ve got places to be,” you tell him over your shoulder, looking his way just as he lands a firm smack on your ass.

“Better places than right here?” he asks. With a particularly hard thrust, you’re thrown off of your forearms with a yelp, face-first into the pillowy sheets.

“I didn’t say that-” You’re cut off by a moan that escapes you when he reaches around and toys with your nipple. “But I’ve got to get back and tell Rhysand that we-”

“Let’s not talk business, please,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The last thing I want to think about right now is leaving the lands of one tyrant to go back to the lands of another.” You turn your head indignantly at that, ready to defend your High Lord, when he shoves your face back into the mattress, abandoning any pretense of gentleness. Eris’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting sparks along your skin. Your breath caught as he reached a particularly sensitive spot. You arched into him, pushing aside all thoughts of diplomatic meetings and family dinners.

This? This was simply too good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the first time in months, Feyre called for a family dinner at the River House. It was a rare occurrence lately; as soon as someone returned, someone else had to leave. She and Cassian had returned from the Continent this morning, and Azriel and Nesta from Autumn hours ago.

Azriel’s gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of his family. Rhys sat to his right at the head, one hand intertwined with Feyre’s, the other gently stroking Nyx’s hair as the toddler babbled happily in his high chair. Cassian’s booming voice filled the air, entertaining them with tales of his and Feyre’s adventure, and Mor leaned in, her golden hair catching the candlelight as she listened. Even Nesta, usually with her mask of indifference, couldn’t entirely hide the fond exasperation in her eyes as she watched her mate’s exaggerated retelling.

When his eyes fell on Elain, the tips of his ears reddened slightly. The memory of their encounter all those months ago flashed through his mind. The passion, the nervousness, the realization that followed. He’d handled it poorly. The guilt of touching her so intimately, only to find himself unmoved, still weighed on him. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping no one had noticed his momentary discomfort.

They’d been happily sitting at the table just shy of ten minutes when a realization struck him. The chair diagonal to his remained suspiciously empty. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to cover his sudden unease. “Where’s (y/n)?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “I thought we were all home tonight?”

“She’s probably with Jasper,” Cassian said offhandedly, sawing into his steak with perhaps more force than was necessary. Azriel’s grip on his fork tightened imperceptibly.

Feyre shook her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jasper? No, that ended forever ago. Last I heard, she was seeing Ares.”

“Ares?” Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “I could’ve sworn I saw her with Roan a couple of weeks ago.”

“Before Ares,” Feyre clarified, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

Mor leaned in, unable to hide her curiosity. “Wait, wasn’t there a Soran at some point too?”

He tried to maintain his composure, but it grated on his nerves. His jaw clenched tighter with each name mentioned, his grip on his fork becoming white-knuckled. The metal bent under the pressure of his fingers, and his shadows whirled around him, betraying the storm of emotions the words had unleashed.

Elain’s soft voice cut through the chatter. “It’s been Eris a few times now.”

The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to Elain. She paused, her glass of wine halfway to her lips, suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

“Lucien mentioned something about it,” she murmured, before taking a rather large sip.

Something inside Azriel snapped. He slammed the bent fork onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, the sound cutting through the stunned silence. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Ignoring the concerned looks and half-formed questions from his family, he strode out of the dining room. His shadows darted around him, agitated and dark.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t; not until he knew where she was. His shadows slipped from him, spreading out into the night, searching for her. He clenched his jaw, the thought of them, of her with him, branded into his mind. With a low growl of frustration, Azriel let his shadows envelop him completely.

Azriel sat at the small, dimly lit cafe, the steam rising from the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He didn’t need it, not really. The caffeine wouldn’t do anything to calm him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He settled into a corner seat, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet as he waited. He stared out the window, his eyes trained on the hotel’s entrance, but his mind was elsewhere. The fury simmered beneath his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it made him feel restless.

But why was he so mad?

They weren’t together. They’d never been together. She was free to do whatever she pleased, with whoever she pleased. He’d never allowed himself to think of her that way — she was beautiful, yes, but he had never looked at her and felt that familiar tug of desire that he’d experienced with others. She was more than that… It was different.

He scowled, leaning back in his chair as the thought sank in. If that was true, if he’d never seen her in that light, then why did the thought of her with Eris make his blood boil? What was it about seeing her with that arrogant piece of shit that had twisted something deep inside him?

His jaw tightened. Maybe it wasn’t just about Eris. Maybe it was about her.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the coffee cup, the ceramic warm against his palm as he watched the entrance of the hotel from the cafe. It wasn’t long before he saw Eris stride out, pausing briefly to glance around as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. Azriel scoffed, imagining all the things he’d love to do to that self-satisfied prick. The idea of wiping that smug look off Eris’s face brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, his breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the hotel, turning to walk in the opposite direction, towards the River House. Azriel’s jaw clenched. Were you planning on showing up and pretending nothing had happened?

He let out a slow, measured breath, willing the fury to simmer down as he pushed away from the table. Keeping a safe distance, he followed you through the darkened streets, his shadows drifting ahead to ensure your path was clear. He told himself it was just to make sure you got back safe. That was all.

But the anger, the confusion, the gnawing sense of something he couldn’t quite name — it lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took.

As you neared the house, Azriel’s pace slowed, his footsteps nearly silent as he watched you walk the final block. The moment you turned the corner, his form dissolved into shadows, and he winnowed back into the house, appearing in the dining room with a gust of displaced air.

“Az, where the hell did you–” Cassian started, but Azriel cut him off with a cold glare.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Az?” Feyre’s voice held a note of concern. “You–”

“I said sh–” he stopped himself when he looked up and realized who’d spoken. “Eat.” Azriel’s tone was softer but still left no room for argument as he dropped into his seat, his jaw clenched tight. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but after a brief, tense pause, the conversation resumed. It was quieter at first, voices subdued as they cautiously picked up where they’d left off, but soon enough, the normal rhythm returned.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and you walked in, your presence instantly drawing the room’s attention. You hung up your coat, smoothing down your hair as you made your way to the table. But as you sat, the scent slammed into him, unmistakable — Eris. It was all over you, clinging to your skin, and your clothes, filling the room with the unmistakable evidence of your encounter.

Azriel’s fists clenched under the table, though his face remained neutral. To his left, Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking between you and Azriel. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire demeanor had changed the moment she casually mentioned who you’d been spending time with lately. And now, with the proof of it hanging in the air like a challenge, she could see through his cool facade, the turmoil beneath it. But Azriel said nothing, just stared down at his plate.

The table was silent as you ate, the tension thickening with every passing moment. Azriel’s gaze was fixed on you, his patience wearing thin. When it became clear that you had no intention of bringing up the unmistakable smell that lingered around you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you smell like Eris?” His voice cut through the silence with a directness that left no room for misinterpretation.

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise at the bluntness of his question. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response.

Azriel stayed deathly still, back straight against the seat. “You knew someone was going to ask. His stench is all over you — you reek of him. So why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression one of calm defiance. “I think you’re old enough to have had that conversation with someone else already.” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Rhysand summoning a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

A murmur rippled through the room. Elain’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, while Feyre’s face twitched, clearly uncomfortable. But a smirk played on Nesta’s lips, amused by the scene unfolding before her.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you. His jaw clenched, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You know, most people would have the decency to keep their affairs private.”

Your lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And some people think it’s their job to play moral watchdog. How very… quaint.”

Mor, now holding the bottle of liquor and pouring, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but made no move to intervene, clearly interested in the outcome.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his irritation evident. “Quaint? Is that what you call it when someone’s reckless behavior affects everyone around them?”

You leaned forward, your voice icy. “How is what I choose to do with my time affecting everyone else? And who’s being reckless here? I’m not the one who’s turned this dinner into a circus.”

Nesta’s smirk widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The room’s atmosphere grew thicker, tension palpable as both of you held your ground, eyes locked on each other.

“Can we take this somewhere else?” Azriel’s voice was edged with frustration. It was unlike him to let his composure slip.

You shook your head, a glint of challenge in your smile. “No, you’ve already brought it up. Go ahead.”

His voice dropped, carrying a hard edge. “I don’t think you should be with him.”

Your gaze hardened, your tone sharp. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not ‘with’ him.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think you should be fucking him then!”

You met his challenge head-on. “And who are you to decide who I fuck?”

His frustration boiled over, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m–” He started, but the words faltered on his lips. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and he realized he had no right to be this worked up. With a ragged breath, he abruptly stood from the table, circling it to your seat. Without another word, Azriel grabbed your arm with a firm grip and began to drag you towards the door. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t resist. The room’s atmosphere had shifted, the air charged with an electric tension. Azriel’s grip on your arm was firm but not harsh, leading you toward a quieter corner of the house.

He guided you into a dimly lit hallway, far from the prying eyes of your family. As soon as the hall door clicked shut behind you, the space seemed to close in. Azriel’s breath was uneven, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of more than just frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you with him.”

You stepped closer, your voice equally low but steady. “And what does that matter to you? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with me.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. And thinking about you with him… it drives me mad.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t seem like you were too concerned when you were feeling up Elain.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, guilt and frustration clouding his features. “That’s not fair. Things are complicated, you know that. It wasn’t about not caring for you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what was it about? Because to me, it seemed like you were perfectly fine ignoring me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I never ignored you, (y/n),” he said, his touch firm yet gentle as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “I may have been spending more time with Elain, but I never ignored you. Her and I already spoke, forever ago, a few days after it happened, actually. It was a mistake. One I deeply regret.”

You shook your head, the hurt evident in your eyes. “Words are easy, Azriel. Actions–”

“–actions were a mess, I know.” He cut you off, stepping closer. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

You searched his face, conflicted emotions warring within you. “And yet, here we are, you feeling the need to interfere in my life.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, earnest and intense. “Because I care about you, just as much as you care about me, if not more.” You had to suppress an eye roll at that. If only he knew. “Knowing you’re with him… I can’t help but feel it’s not right.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Before you could break it, Azriel closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, demanding, and full of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface all this time. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The world outside seemed to fade away. In the quiet darkness of the hallway, your bodies pressed together, the tension from your confrontation fueling a different kind of intensity.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body with a desperate need, as if he was trying to erase the anger and frustration from earlier, trying to replace the scent tinging your usual honey and lavender with night-chilled mist and cedar. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more insistent.

You gasped against his lips, your body responding to his touch with desire and need. Your hands traveled down to the hem of his winter sweater, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged it upwards, needing to feel more of him, needing to touch the skin beneath. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, discarding it to the side before his mouth was on yours again, more demanding, more fervent.

You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the lines of hard muscle, the cool touch of his skin a contrast to the searing heat between you. Every caress, every brush of his lips, was fueled by the unspoken tension that had been simmering inside of you for so long. Though the thought of this wasn’t on your radar an hour ago, it felt as though this moment had been inevitable, the collision of anger and passion combusting into something neither of you could resist.

Azriel’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted the fabric, fingers trailing over your skin, up to your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. With a swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head and then his lips were on your neck trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, every word laced with the same intensity that had sparked this fire between you. “Is this what you were trying to find with those miserable fucks?” He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing it with a kiss.

You could only nod, words failing you as the need in your body overpowered everything else. You wanted this — wanted him — and there was no space for hesitation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed you more firmly against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made you gasp again.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, dark and filled with a mixture of desire and something more — something deeper. For a brief moment, everything paused, the air thick with unspoken emotions that hung between you. Then, as if some unspoken agreement had been reached, his lips found yours again, and all the pent-up tension spilled over. He pressed his hands firmly against your hips, his grip possessive as he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. With a deliberate stride, he carried you towards the guest bedroom he was staying in, his lips meeting yours once again. His lips burned against yours as he carried you down the hall, his pace steady but urgent. The guest bedroom door swung open with a firm push, and he set you down gently on the edge of the bed. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment.

He loomed over you, his hands still gripping your hips, his breaths deep as he took in the sight of you sprawled before him. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, a smoldering look in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. His fingers traced the curve of your waist as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts. He reached beneath you, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You arched your back, offering him better access. With a skilled movement, he undid the clasp and slid the garment off your shoulders. His gaze lingered on your exposed skin, filled with an intense, appreciative heat.

His hands roamed eagerly, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. He paused momentarily to meet your eyes, the burning desire in his gaze mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how to make you feel everything you need.”

You pulled him down for another searing kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you whispered against his lips, “Just touch me, Azriel.”

His response was immediate. He moved with a practiced grace, undressing you with urgency. Azriel took a moment to appreciate the view, his gaze dark and intense with a mixture of hunger and reverence. He shifted position, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of your skin. His lips followed, trailing fiery kisses down your torso, savoring every inch of you. He took his time, lingering over the most sensitive spots, teasing and testing to see what made you shiver and gasp.

He knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he leaned in to kiss the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing and exploring with a skill that made you writhe beneath him. The sensation was overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands were steady and reassuring as he guided you through the rising tide of your desire.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire — the soft rustle of sheets, the breathy gasps of pleasure, and the occasional low groan of satisfaction. Azriel’s touch was relentless and precise, each movement meant to drive you closer to the edge.

When he finally positioned himself above you, there was a moment of intense eye contact, his gaze fierce and protective, as if etching every detail of your expression into his mind.

As you reached for him, your fingers tracing the torso you’d pleasured yourself to the thought of countless times, Azriel gently took your hand in his. His voice was low and firm, filled with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. “Not tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Tonight, I want to take care of you. We can worry about everything else another time.”

With that, he shifted his focus entirely to you, his hands and lips working in concert to bring you to the brink of pleasure. His body melded with yours, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped at the sudden fullness, every inch of him filling you in a way that was electrifying and profoundly intimate. Azriel’s movements were rhythmic and purposeful, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

His gaze softened, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’m here,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you, each thrust driving you further into a state of heightened arousal. Azriel’s movements were perfectly curated to push you closer and closer to the edge. His hands and lips explored your body with a dedication that made your pulse race, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips.

His lips traveled from your ear to your neck, his kisses lingering and teasing, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. You arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the deep connection he was giving you.

“You feel amazing,” Azriel murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. “Every part of you. I can’t get enough.”

You managed a breathless moan, your fingers gripping the sheets as you writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

Azriel’s response was a low, rumbling growl of approval. His rhythm never faltered, he was relentless in his devotion, ensuring that every inch of you was covered in his touch, every gasp and shiver met with a responsive stroke. The pressure within you continued to build, the pleasure intensifying with every passing second. Azriel’s hands traced patterns on your skin, his fingers brushing against the most sensitive spots with a skill that made you tremble.

When you were on the verge of losing control, Azriel’s lips found yours once more, his kiss deep and passionate. His movements matched the fervor of the kiss, driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at him. You felt a wave of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Azriel’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he drove you to the brink. You clung to him, your body arching and trembling as the climax hit with a powerful intensity.

He followed you into the release, his body shuddering with his own pleasure as he held you close, his grip firm and reassuring. The world seemed to dissolve around you, leaving only the shared warmth and satisfaction of your intimate connection.

Azriel looked down at you with a teasing grin. “You know, we might want to wash up.”

You laughed, catching his playful tone. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t head back downstairs like this.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening as he scented the air near you. “No, they’ll be able to tell we’ve been at it. You’ve still got some Autumn on you and I’m going to be the one to scrub it off.”

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar smut #azriel x reader smut #azriel smut #acotar reader insert

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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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vxnuslogy · 6 months ago

Text

– jealous charms.

pairing: wise x gn!reader

premise: when jealous, wise had an interesting habit of trying to outdo whoever caught your attention. he needn't worry though, he'll still be your favorite forever.

– warnings: none

– author's note: another filler fic until i finish that one sunday fic that i've been marinating for 2 days now. | ~1.7k words.

“master, is it safe to conclude that you’re jealous of miss grace howards from belobog industries? you’ve been awfully engrossed in trying to replicate her creation for [name].”

a loud clatter echoed in the room as the pair of pliers in wise’s hand suddenly dropped to his work table. your head darts to wise’s hunched figure. his back was awfully straight and shoulders tensed as you raised an amused brow at him when he stood up from his seat and marched his way to fairy. muttering quiet curses as the bangboo on your lap tilted its head at him.

“is that why you’ve been glaring at her whenever we visit the construction site?” you questioned with a teasing tone. wise swiveled his head to your direction and narrowed his gentle eyes at you but you only let out an amused snort. he looked more like a wet cat than a big shot proxy with the way his cheeks burned red all the way to the tips of his ears. the color could probably rival the red tassel earring you gave him last year on chinese new years.

“firstly, i am not jealous–”

“i would beg to differ, master.”

“second!” wise turned to fairy, a hand to his hip while the other ran down his face, voice raising slightly as he tried to rid off the flustered tint on his cheeks. “if i were to be jealous of someone, it wouldn’t be grace.”

“will mister anton from belobog industries be the next candidate?” the ai quipped at him making the gray haired boy groan in frustration.

a laugh rippled from your chest as wise pouted and begrudgingly went back to his work station. but not before narrowing his eyes one last time at a glowing blue eyeball (?) that was fairy.

“aww wise it’s okay,” you gently place the bangboo down on the floor and make your way to wise. trying your hardest to take a peek at whatever he’s been working on. or at least get confirmation that he was actually making what you thought he was making. “everyone gets jealous sometimes.”

wise didn’t appreciate your teasing remark because he rolled his eyes at you and threw a piece of paper at your face. “seeing as though you’re not doing anything, do me a favor and pick up some more films for the store.”

it was your turn to pout. “jealousy doesn’t suit you at all, wise.”

with a sigh, you reluctantly left the room when he raised a brow at you with a smirk tugging at his lips. you hated how such a small quirk up of his lips melted all of your teasing. but then again, when it comes to anything related to wise you didn’t put up too much of a fight, no matter what it was.

– –

wise was not jealous. he repeatedly reminded himself of those words like a broken record. reciting it like a mantra in his head as he continued to bend and break the pieces of metal in front of him.

“master, now that the subject of your affection is gone, will you finally admit to being jealous?”

fairy’s words sent a shiver down his spine, silently thanking belle and you for going out to the arcade and prolonging your inevitable return even more. if either one of you heard fairy, he wouldn’t be able to live it down. a defeated sigh left his lips when he dropped his tools and buried his head in his arms.

“fairy, please just shut up.” wise’s voice was no more than a muffled plea as fairy continued to torment him.

“but all the data i’ve collected all share the same conclusion: you are jealous master.”

wise turned his head to their hdd system that glowed blue as fairy’s avatar floated. “okay so maybe i am a little jealous.”

“but why, master?” wise felt an oncoming headache approach as fairy listed out the reason why he shouldn’t be jealous. “hollow raider [name] has made it clear on many occasions that they favor you the most. their sudden interest in miss grace howards cannot compare to their interest in you.”

wise knew that but it still didn’t feel right to him. with a groan he dropped his head back on the desk, his free hand coming to inspect the silver band he’s been working on for the past few weeks. “you’re making me feel stupid here, fairy.” an uncharacteristic pout graced his lips when he remembered how your eyes shined like bright diamonds when grace showed you her newest invention.

“it’ll help you in the hollows!” she had proudly proclaimed. and ever since that day, you’ve been wearing the bracelet that doubled as a tracker for both your health and your position to every mission you took on. wise felt the pricks of jealousy whenever you praised the older woman with a dazzling grin and an excited “it was very helpful!”

“i’m also helpful.” he muttered to no one in particular.

“of course you are! you’re my proxy after all.”

wise felt his heart lurch out his chest as he hurried hid the band inside his hand when you appeared in the room. like a deer caught in headlights, he stiffly smiled at you. “w-when did you get back…?” he cooly asked, or at least he hoped it sounded cool enough for you to brush off whatever you heard.

with your hands behind your back, you stalked your way to his desk. “just a moment ago. belle is shelving all the new films now.” you lean in closer to wise’s space, trying for the second time to catch a glimpse at whatever it was he was working on. a tentative smile forming on your face when you ask him, “will you finally show me what you’re making? i won’t laugh, i promise.”

you certainly wouldn’t laugh, but you would tease him relentlessly. a final sigh escaped him as he leaned back on his seat and opened up the hand that hid his creation. “it’s… really nothing.” his voice was unusually timid when you walked over to his desk and took a peak. being in such close proximity with you has his poor heart and mind swimming. you wore perfume today and it was all wise could think about as you gingerly pick up the silver band.

“you need to give yourself more credit, wise.”

this wasn’t good. if you continued to look at him like that he would surely melt into a puddle, and that would be incredibly embarrassing. a smile broke out from your face as you unclipped grace’s wristband and put wise’s creation on your wrist.

“does it have any functions?” wise has always enjoyed your curious nature. sure, it got you in trouble most of the time, but he found it incredibly endearing. he shook his head and opened up the closest drawer and pulled out a matching band several sizes smaller. “not any advanced ones, not yet at least.”

wise stood up from his seat and picked up the bangboo peacefully dozing off in one of the corners. taking its small arm gently, he slid the band over and glowed a soft white. the same thing happened to the one you wore and wise swore he felt his heart skip a few beats when you looked at him with big eyes filled with wonder.

“but it can accurately track your ether aptitude and send me an emergency message when you’re reaching your limit,” picking up the bangboo in his arms, wise made his way back to his desk and placed the little creature on it. “it’s still a work in progress, but i hope it’ll eventually be able to map out full hollows without much trouble.”

your silence made wise nervous. you were never this quiet and he didn’t dare to look at you. that is until he felt a pair of arms wrap around his head and the scent of your perfume invading his senses. his breath started to quicken as you nuzzled your face into his hair, hands resting on his shoulders. wise felt his entire body tingle when your chuckle vibrated through his entire body and left a fuzzy feeling in his chest, a swarm of freed butterflies fluttering inside his stomach when you pulled away. warm hands holding both of his cheeks that were no doubt burning a bright red.

“did you make this for me?” wise didn’t like the way your eyes crinkled into amused crescents. “or did you just want to outstage miss grace?” he heard your laugh ring out when he turned his head to the side and murmured a soft maybe into your palm.

“god you’re so cute you know that?” a wide smile spread across your face as you smothered the boy into another hug. “don’t worry, no one could ever replace my proxy.”

wise wasn’t a physically affectionate person, not by a lot at least. but right now when he feels your laughter so close to his heart, he can’t help but wish to stay in your embrace. his arms slowly snaked to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, wanting to hug you like how your skin hugs the bones that make up your entirety. how lovely it must be to live inside your heart, to feel every beat pulsing through him as he listens to your heartbeat. slightly erratic but still calm, so unlike his that was beating so rapidly he feared it might escape his ribs and offer itself to you.

“maybe i was a little jealous.” he didn’t know what urged him to say that but the laughter it stole from you made him smile like a fool. wise would stay jealous forever if you would hug him like this every time to assure him that he was still your favorite form of protection.

“thank you for always caring about me, wise.” there was such vulnerability in your voice that made wise tremble in your hold. all he could offer was a hum as he buried his head further into your chest making you chuckle. if only you knew the lengths he would go to just to keep you glued to his side, away from all harm and danger.

#—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#zenless zone zero x reader #zenless zone zero headcanons #zenless zone zero wise #zzz wise #zzz wise x reader #wise x reader #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 3 months ago

Text

Testing His Patience

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: smut, jealous girlfriend, a bit toxic btw idk if Max even has a sister, I completely made Carla up

Now you have to admit that you were a jealous type of a girlfriend, but like really jealous, the possessive type of a girlfriend. It was something that you couldn't help and you weren't proud of it, but it was either that or you weren't interested at all. It's not your best feature, and you know it very well, but when you love, you love with all your heart, strongly and completely and that's exactly why you don't let anyone mess with or touch something that's yours.

You weren't really insanely jealous and acted like a crazy person about it, but Lando knew from the very beginning that you had a little jealousy problem, although you didn't always and constantly show it. For example, you were never jealous of his fans, but you would be jealous if Lando paid more attention than you would like to one of his girl friends or, for example, Max's sister Carla.

Oh, you didn't like her at all. She was a thorn in your side and you couldn't really do anything about it because she was Max's younger sister.

Carla was only 20 years old, but she sure didn't look 20. Lando's known her ever since he's known Max and Max is like a family to him. Their friendship is on another level, it's very special and they both mean a lot to each other. However, Lando always looked at Carla as Max's younger sister and she looked at Lando as Max's best friend.

And that was the case until half a year ago, when you noticed that Carla had turned into a "pick me" girl and that she was trying to flirt with Lando on several occasions in front of your own eyes.

At first you ignored it because you knew Lando would never even look at her that way, but when it started happening more and more often it started to bother you a lot. You told Lando about it, but he didn't take it seriously and just brushed it off.

Now Lando hated your jealous scenes. He loved you more than anything and showed it to you all the time, but he hated it when you used to give him a jealous outburst from time to time. It bothered him because he saw it as you not trusting him, and he never gave you a reason to not trust him, but sometimes you just couldn't bite your tongue even if you wanted to.

It was the same this time. An article online titled "Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell's Sister?" which talked about Lando possibly dating his sister and also had a picture of Carla hugging Lando after taking the pole position, was the final straw.

People didn't know about you and Lando. They didn't know that you have been together for two years because you agreed that you wanted to keep your relationship private and away from the media because Lando wanted to protect you and your relationship at any cost.

But lately, this idea of keeping a relationship private has started to do more harm than good precisely because they always linked up Lando with some girls and talked about how he was with them, when in fact he wasn't at all. All of that started to affect your self-confidence and it definitely increased your feeling of jealousy.

That led to arguing with Lando about Carla all over again and Lando was not having it.

"Y/n, please don't do this again. I had a busy weekend and I just want to lie down together and relax in front of the TV. Please stop."

"No, I'm not gonna stop! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of her making me feel like a fool!" You yelled clenching your fists.

Lando sighed trying to keep his cool, running his hands over his face and then through his curls.

"She does it all the time and even in front of me! I see the way she looks at you, the way she always finds an excuse to touch you, the way she always tries to prolong the hug with you, the way she's at every single race." Exasperated, you continued to speak in a raised tone, barely catching your breath.

"And you keep letting it happen! You never said anything to her nor have you ever done anything about it even though you know how it's making me feel, Lando!"

You continued to complain for probably another 3 minutes without stopping until you completely pushed his buttons. He abruptly got up from the couch where he was sitting at and walked towards you grabbing your waist and harshly pushing you against the wall. You winced in pain as your back hit the wall behind you.

"What? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to fuck you in front of her? Is that what you want?" His eyes darkened as he yelled tightly gripping your hips. "I absolutely don't give a shit about her. I don't even notice all those things that you keep talking about because you are the only one on my mind." He continued talking, looking deep into your eyes, his gaze penetrating your soul.

"But do you realize that she is Max's sister and that I can not do anything about it because Max is like a brother to me. I love you, y/n, I love you more than anything in this world, but I don't ever want to put myself in a situation where I have to choose between you and him."

"No one even knows about us, Lando. Do you know how much it hurts me to see them trying to link you up with other girls that aren't me?" Your eyes slowly began to fill with tears, but you were still angry and wanted to prove your point so you didn't let them rush down your cheeks.

"But I kept us a secret because I wanted to protect you, y/n! I would love nothing more than to show you off every fucking day, but at what cost? So that they can completely invade our privacy? Send you death threats? Mess with your mental health? I'd fucking lose it if anything happened to you, y/n! Fuck!!" He yelled letting go of your waist and turning away from you trying to calm down.

You were angry, but he was angrier. His patience was wearing thin and you could sense it.

When you stayed silent for a moment, Lando thought that you had tried to give yourself a chance to understand this situation.

"Maybe you won't have to choose between me and him, but you will have to choose between me and her."

But when these words came out of your mouth, you completely drove him crazy with your stubbornness. He pulled your arm and threw you onto the couch hovering over you.

"Don't test my patience, y/n" He said through gritted teeth pinning your hands above your head. "I'm telling you, I'm getting sick and tired of this shit. How many times do I have to remind you that I only want you?" He asks grinding himself against you.

His mouth moved down to the level of your neck, pressing his lips to your thin skin. "Why do you always have to make things so difficult when you know that I'm only yours? What part of that don't you understand, huh?"

It was his time to talk now. His hand found its way down your stomach and into your panties making you moan at the unexpected contact.

Your back arched off the couch as two of his fingers slipped inside you while his thumb continued to rub your clit. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but that only resulted in him spreading them even more and watching you whimper open-mouthed beneath him.

"From now on," He kissed you hard and passionately before he started. "Every time you try to act like a brat, i will treat you like one. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for days." His fingers quickened their pace as he held you firmly down on the couch with his other hand.

You were so wet, so close. "Oh, fuck, Lan.." You whimpered trying to grab his wrist.

"But you'll never get to cum, if you don't stop acting like that." And just when you were about to, he stopped pulling out his fingers that were glistening with your wetness. You whined almost crying out when he decided to deprive you from the release you needed so bad.

He pulled off your leggings and unclapsed your bra, leaving you in only black panties and a tight crop top that showed your hard nipples. He leaned down to kiss you, his tongue fighting against yours, before he pulled down his grey sweats and shirt tossing them somewhere to the side.

He grabbed his hard prominent member through his boxers grunting as he pumped himself through the fabric. You tried to move to a sitting position to be closer to him and kiss his stomach all the way to where he needed you the most, but as soon as you tried to get up, he pushed you back down on the couch. He pulled down his boxers freeing his cock and taking it in his hand. He hovered over you again and pressed his red leaking tip against your clothed folds rubbing himself up and down.

"Do you want to cum, baby?" He asked leaning down closer to you and pressing a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

"Yeah, I do."

"Yeah? Does that mean you're going to be a good girl for me then?" He asked squeezing your boob then lifting up your crop top just above your nipples. Your response came out as a whimper as he stuck his lips around your nipple and began sucking on it.

"I can't hear you, baby" He let go of his cock and let it rest against your stomach as both of his hands played with your breasts.

"Yes,-ah- yes"

Holding your breasts, his teeth bit your nipples so hard that you cried out in pain.

"Ah, Lando, it hurts, fuck" You whined. The pain was so stinging it made one tear roll down your cheek.

"Shh, it's okay, baby, it's okay" He cooed you kissing your cheek and now gently caressing your nipples with his thumbs while grinding his cock against your stomach. "You like it when it hurts, don't you baby?"

He moved your panties to the side and positioned his tip at your entrance. "So wet for me" He commented spreading it with his tip all over your slits. Your fingers went down to your clit as he pushed in. The face he made when it first went in, head thrown back, eyes closed, lips slightly open letting out a long moan in relief, it almost made you cum right away.

He stayed still for a moment, not wanting to move because he was so painfully hard that he knew he would come in a matter of seconds and he wanted to at least wait for you.

He pulled you by your thighs even further down on him and then hovered over you again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he pressed his forehead against yours.

He started thrusting in slow, but deep and hard knocking the air out of your lungs. "C'mon, baby, take it, take it like a big girl" He said holding your face between his hands.

You were so turned on by his words. You loved it so much when he'd be angry like this and then ruthlessly took all of his anger out on you. You could feel yourself dripping down as he kept ravaging you with his cock.

"I-I'm so close, Lan" You whispered.

"Yeah, baby?" He took your leg and lifted it up to wrap them around him. That way he got to thrust even deeper into you, knocking your mind out of your body. "You gonna cum around my cock?" He asked against your skin.

Before you could even answer, you threw your head back against the couch, you gripped his shoulders tightly trying to resist him and get away because the pleasure was so intense you couldn't take it. But he didn't let you escape from under him, he continued to fuck you through your orgasm as you screaming out his name filled his ears.

"That's it. That's a good girl." He praised you kissing your chest to calm you down as you were barely being able to catch your breath.

"You can take it a little longer, love yeah? I'm almost there." The weight of his body was completely pressed against yours, you could feel his heartbeat, see beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he kept pounding into you like his life depended on it, like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

Once you pressed your lips against the sensitive spot on his neck and ran your tongue over it, he lost it. His breath hitched, head tilted back, grip tightened around your waist and soon he was cumming inside you, filling you up to the brim.

His head fell on your shoulder and you wrapped your arms around him, wanting to hold him even closer to you if that was even possible.

When both of your breathing calmed down and your pulses returned to normal, Lando pulled out of you. He watched as his cum rushed out of your pussy at the loss of him and hissed at the sight. "Fuck, baby" He leaned down and kissed your thighs making you blush.

...

The next race weekend, Lando took P1 and you were there to support him. You blended into the group with Max and the rest of his friends including Carla.

You were annoyed that she was here for yet another race and once again doing everything to draw his attention to herself. But you weren't going to let her get the best of you this time.

Although when Lando came closer to all of you to celebrate his victory, she was the first one to go and hug him. At that moment your heart ached and Lando saw the sadness in your eyes as you stood on the side watching him from afar. At that moment, he finally understood what you've been talking about all this time. He felt your hurt through your teary eyes and therefore without a second thought he made his way through the crowd to you, pulling you to himself and trapping you into a tight hug and a passionate kiss in front of thousands of people and cameras before whispering

"It's always you."

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris blurb #lando norris one shot #f1 smut #f1 #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 fluff

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anotherkindofmindpod · 1 year ago

Note

I think it's very sad that Lewisohn chooses to characterize Paul's reluctance to share cigarettes as "stingy." I think it's quite endearing, tragic, and worthy of empathy, and an interesting anecdote that's left unexplored (and explained in the most droll, least imaginative way possible).

As an adult child of an addict, life can be so terrifyingly expensive (to say nothing of all the emotional and mental trauma). Paul was faced with what all children in that situation face: how do I keep everything afloat when the house is gone, the car is gone, etc? When the person I looked up to the most decides to stop working, to stop bathing, to have their personality altered on a fundamental level in order to feed their habit? Even in 2023, most of us have to accept that these parents will simply end up homeless or institutionalized, because society won't support them. Unlike the others, Paul HAD to make money. Legitimate money. And he'd already taken a huge gamble on the band instead of pursuing a more traditional career. If it were me, I would have pushed Stu off of that stage just for refusing to pay me back, let alone for not taking the band seriously. I wonder what Stu's financial situation was like at home.

And, not for nothing, but I believe I read that Paul had to buy back the house he gave to his father multiple times, due to his father's gambling addiction (I don't recall the exact source, and I'll be transparent about that, unlike Lewisohn). I believe it was Mike who spilled the beans on this. If Paul hadn't become rich and famous, what would have happened to Jim, I wonder?

Anyways, thank you for this beautiful (and heartbreaking) series. The fandom really deserves better than what Lewisohn gave us.

Thank you, Anon! For the kind words, for listening and for sharing your thoughts!

#AKOM #Fine Tuning #A Prolonged Jealousy

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etheraltides · 1 month ago

Text

Burning the Line

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x best friend!Reader

Summary: What started as a no-strings-attachment is quickly spiraling out of control. You and Rafe Cameron had rules, but rules were meant to be broken. As jealousy ignites, emotions boils over, and fists fly, you’re left questioning if you’re ready to risk your friendship for something neither of you can ignore anymore.

Warning(s): SMUT – oral sex, p in v penetration (wrap before you tap it, y’all), dirty talk, a bit of degrading kink. Substance use, jealousy, possessiveness, violence, toxic dynamic. Minors do not interact, please! 18+ ONLY!

Word count: 7.5k

A/N: I’ve used Grammarly to correct things so if there’s anything weird, blame it on that bot. Don’t forget to check my masterlist and maybe show your girl some feedback. Love y’all!

Rafe’s new place was alive with music, laughter, and the buzz of expensive liquor. The air inside was stifling, a haze of cigarette smoke and sweat from too many bodies crammed into the space. You nursed your drink, eyes scanning the crowd for no one in particular. Well, maybe someone in particular. But you’d rather die than admit it.

Rafe had been making the rounds all night, charming the crowd in that cocky, effortless way he had. His arm had been slung around Sofia’s shoulders not too long ago, and you’d tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter.

You’d known they were hooking up. It wasn’t a secret — not that Rafe had ever been shy about the girls he entertained. But this? This felt different. Too comfortable. Too prolonged. Rafe Cameron didn’t go back to the same person more than twice, three times max. Except for you.

That thought had always given you a strange sense of pride, something you’d never admit out loud. He’d been with you more times than you could count, and while you’d both sworn it didn’t mean anything, part of you had held onto the idea that it was different with you. That you were different.

But seeing Sofia press herself closer to him, her lips lingering on his ear as she whispered something only for him, made your stomach churn. It wasn’t just casual flirting — it had an air of possession, like she thought she had him. And the worst part? He didn’t seem to mind.

When Sofia kissed him, it was the final blow.

Her lips captured his like it was the most natural thing in the world, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. And Rafe didn’t just let it happen — he kissed her back. His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her flush against him, his other hand resting on the back of her neck as though he was guiding her.

You swallowed hard, the burn of jealousy clawing at your chest. You told yourself it was just Rafe being Rafe, that he’d get bored of her eventually. But the kiss felt like it was lasting too long. Too intimate. Too much.

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, the sight of them together too much to handle. You gripped your drink tighter, the cold glass digging into your palm as if it could ground you, but it didn’t help. The ache in your chest only grew, and before you could think twice, you tipped the rest of your drink back, letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat.

Slamming the empty glass onto the nearest table, you forced yourself to move, the heat of the room and the weight of their kiss suffocating you. Without a word to anyone, you pushed your way down the hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

You leaned against it, your breathing shallow as you tried to compose yourself. But no amount of deep breaths could erase the image burned into your mind — Rafe’s hand on Sofia’s waist, his lips moving against hers like she was the only person in the room.

Staring into the mirror, you barely recognized the frustrated, jealous girl looking back at you. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to care who he kissed or how many times he went back to her.

But you did. And that truth was harder to swallow than the drink still burning in your throat.

You weren’t his girlfriend, not even close. Just… friends. Friends who had been tangled up in bedsheets more times than you cared to count, friends who couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other after a few too many drinks. That was it. That was all.

It wasn’t long before it swung open and before you could shout that the bathroom was already taken, there he was.

“Been looking for you,” Rafe said, shutting the door behind him with a subtle smirk.

“Why? Thought Sofia had you busy.” The words left your lips with venom, barely able to hide it.

He smirked, stepping closer, and you hated the way your body reacted to his presence, like it was wired to his every move. “She’s not my type. You know that.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the counter. “Then why were you all over her?”

He took another step, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “What, you jealous?”

You scoffed, but it came out weaker than you intended. “Shut up, Rafe.”

His smirk widened, and before you could say another word, his hands were on your hips, his lips crashing against yours.

It was all heat and desperation, months of tension spilling out as he pressed you against the counter, his hands gripping your waist like he was afraid you might disappear.

“Admit it,” he murmured against your lips. “This is about her, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you snapped, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re so full of shit, you know that? You care who I’m with.”

“I don’t,” you lied, pushing him back slightly, though your hands stayed on his chest. “We’re just friends, Rafe. Friends who—”

“Friends who what?” he interrupted, his voice sharp now, his blue eyes blazing as they locked onto yours. “Friends who fuck? Friends who can’t go a week without tearing each other’s clothes off? That’s not friendship, and you fucking know it.”

Your heart was pounding, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. “You’re drunk,” you muttered, though the words felt hollow even as you said them.

“And you’re a coward,” he shot back, his hands gripping the counter on either side of you, caging you in. The air between you felt thick, electric, like the room itself was alive with the tension crackling between you.

“Rafe—”

“You feel it too,” he said, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “You can pretend all you want, but you’re lying to yourself if you think this is nothing.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The party, the music, the laughter – it all faded into the background as his words hung heavy in the air.

You wanted to argue, to push him away, to deny it all. But instead, you pulled him closer, your lips finding his again in a kiss that was equal parts frustration and surrender.

Maybe you were lying to yourself. Maybe you had been for a long time. But in that moment, with his hands on your skin and his breath mixing with yours, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

His grip on your hips was bruising, pulling you flush against him, leaving no room for air or thought.

“Admit it,” Rafe growled against your lips, his voice rough, raw. His hands slid up your sides, pushing your shirt higher, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself – or break you.

“Admit what?” you bit back, shoving at his chest even as your legs locked around his waist, holding him in place. “That you’re a smug asshole? That you think you can push me around?”

He grabbed your wrists, pinning them against the counter behind you with one hand, his lips curling into a dangerous smirk. “You’re so full of shit,” he said, his breath fanning over your face, his free hand trailing up your thigh. “You think you don’t care? You think I don’t see it? That I don’t know you?”

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you hissed, though the words came out weaker than you wanted, trembling with the electricity coursing between you.

“Make me,” he shot back, his voice dark, taunting. His lips crashed against yours again, his hand leaving your thigh to grip the back of your neck, forcing you to meet his intensity head-on.

You twisted your wrists, trying to break free, but his grip held firm. You hated the way your body betrayed you, heat pooling in your stomach even as you told yourself you wanted to push him away.

“Why do you always have to ruin everything?” you spat when you finally managed to pull back, your chest heaving as you glared at him.

“Me?” he barked out a bitter laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re the one who keeps lying. To me. To yourself. You think I’m ruining this? Newsflash, sweetheart, you’re the one fucking things up.”

Your jaw tightened, the words hitting too close to home. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

His grip on your wrists loosened, but only so he could grab your face, tilting it up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. “Don’t I?” he challenged, his eyes blazing. “Then why are you still here? Why are you letting me touch you like this?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he kissed you again before you could get a word out, his lips moving against yours with a ferocity that stole your breath. His hands were everywhere — your waist, your thighs, your neck — gripping, holding, demanding.

You hated him for being right, for knowing exactly how to dismantle every wall you’d built. You hated yourself more for letting him.

“Say it,” he growled against your lips, his hands tightening on your hips as he pushed you harder against the counter. “Say you don’t care, and I’ll walk out that door right now.”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into his shoulders as you glared at him, your anger and frustration bubbling over. “And then will you do what? Go back to miss pogue? Didn’t know you were into charity, Cameron.”

His smirk was sharp, cruel, as his hands slid to your thighs, pulling you even closer. “I’m trying new things,” he admitted, his voice dropping an octave. “But that was rude even for you, Y/N.”

Your breath caught, his words hitting like a slap, and you hated how much you wanted to kiss him again, to shut him up, to drown in the chaos of him.

So you did.

Your lips crashed into his with a force that left your teeth clashing, your hands gripping his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan against your mouth. His hands were rough, sliding under your shirt, his touch possessive, searing.

The tension was suffocating, the air thick with everything unspoken between you. Every kiss, every touch, every desperate gasp was a battle —a clash of frustration, anger, and the kind of want that left you both teetering on the edge of destruction.

When you pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, your faces inches apart. His hands were still on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin, grounding you in a way that made you want to scream.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you said, your voice shaking, though whether it was from anger or the sheer force of what just happened, you weren’t sure.

Rafe’s laugh was low, bitter, as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “Keep telling yourself that,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “But we both know the truth, don’t we?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Not when the weight of his words hung so heavy between you. Instead, you grabbed his collar, pulling him back to you, your lips crashing against his once more in a kiss that was equal parts anger and surrender.

Because maybe he was right. Maybe you did know the truth. But for now, this was all you could give.

The air in the bathroom was stifling, filled with the heady mix of alcohol, sweat, and lust. Your back slammed against the counter as Rafe’s mouth claimed yours, all heat and rawness. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, pulling you into him like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Admit it,” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough and demanding.

“Admit what?” you snapped back, tugging at his shirt, your anger and desire bleeding into every movement. “That you’re an insufferable prick?”

He growled low in his throat, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he kissed you harder, swallowing the gasp that escaped you. His hands slid under your shirt, fingers digging into your bare skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake.

“You think this doesn’t mean anything?” he asked, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes blazing.

“It doesn’t,” you lied, even as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “It’s just sex, Rafe. That’s all it’s ever been.”

He laughed, dark and humorless, his grip tightening. “You’re such a horrible liar,” he said, his lips crashing against yours again, his kiss rough, punishing. “You feel it, just like I do.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Not when his hands were sliding down your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer as he kissed his way down your neck, biting just hard enough to leave marks.

The sound of the party outside was distant now, a dull thrum that faded into nothing as he pushed up your skirt, his hands rough, desperate.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low, almost daring.

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, your nails dug into his shoulders, urging him closer, silently begging for more. Rafe took the invitation, lifting your shirt with a fervor that spoke of his own desperation. Your breasts spilled out of your bra, the lacy confines no match for his greedy hands. He cupped them, squeezing gently before his thumbs found your erect nipples. He rolled them between his fingers, eliciting a whimper that you couldn’t hold back. The sensation shot straight to your core, making you wetter, needier.

Then his mouth was there, sucking one of your tits into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh as he worked on the other with his hand. You arched your back, pressing your chest closer to him, silently demanding more. He gave it to you without hesitation, his teeth grazing your sensitive peak before soothing the sting with a soft lick. You moaned, the sound muffled by his mouth, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt yourself falling into the abyss of pleasure he so expertly created.

While he feasted on your breasts, Rafe’s hand slithered up your thigh, the fabric of your panties already damp with your arousal. He hooked his finger under the elastic, pulling it aside to expose your swollen folds. His touch was feather-light at first, teasing, making you squirm and grip his shoulders. Then, his fingers were inside you, pushing deep and curling just so, making your eyes fly open wide with a gasp. His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you trembling on the edge of the counter.

“You’re so wet for me,” Rafe murmured, his voice thick with lust. “Does it feel good, baby?”

With a feral growl, Rafe ripped your panties away, the fabric giving way to the strength of his desire. The sudden exposure made you gasp, your legs trembling as he positioned himself between your thighs. He didn’t wait for your response, instead plunging his face between your legs to taste your sweetness. Your hands clutched the counter, knuckles white from the intensity as his tongue delved deep, lapping up your arousal as if it were the sweetest nectar.

“Oh, God, Rafe!” you moaned, your voice echoing off the tiles, raw and unbridled. It was a sound that didn’t belong in the hallowed halls of friendship, but here you were, straddling that blurry line, your body begging for more of what he offered. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking and stroking in a rhythm that sent shockwaves through your core. Your moans grew louder, filling the small space, a symphony of pleasure that you couldn’t hold back.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured against your sex, his breath hot and heavy. “Tell me this isn’t what you crave every time you think of me, every time you touch yourself in the dark of your room.”

“Fuck you,” you gritted out, the words muffled by the moan that followed, a testament to the way his tongue was working its magic on your clit. It was a declaration of war, a challenge, but the way your body responded was anything but adversarial. Your hips bucked upwards, meeting his mouth with a desperate rhythm that spoke volumes.

Rafe arched a brow, adding a finger to the mix, sliding it into your soaking wet pussy alongside his tongue. The dual sensation was overwhelming, his finger curling inside you, stroking that perfect spot while his mouth feasted on your clit. You bit down on your lip to keep from screaming, the pressure building, your orgasm cresting like a wave about to break.

But then, just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled away, leaving you panting and desperate. “What the fuck?” you gasped, your eyes snapping open to find him smirking up at you, his pants quickly unbuckled and on the floor.

“Turn around,” he instructed, his voice a deep rumble of authority that sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t argue, you couldn’t. The need was too intense, the desire too overpowering. You spun around, gripping the edge of the counter as he bent you over it. The cool marble sent a jolt through your overheated body, heightening the sensation as he positioned himself behind you.

He didn’t waste any time, his cock sliding into you in one swift, hard thrust that made you cry out. The angle was just right, hitting deep, sending pleasure and a hint of pain spiraling through you. Rafe’s hands dug into your hips, his grip bruising as he began to fuck you with an aggression that bordered on feral. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he growled, his breath hot on your neck. “You’re such a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it, not when his words sent a thrill through you, making your pussy clench around his thick cock. You pushed back into him, meeting each thrust with an eager moan. His words were a balm to the anger that simmered between you, a reminder that this was what you both wanted, what you both needed.

“Shit, just like that,” you breathed, your voice ragged with need. The words were barely out of your mouth before Rafe’s hand came down with a sharp slap on your ass, the sting of pain mixing with the pleasure that already had you teetering on the edge.

He chuckled darkly, his voice thick with desire as he leaned over you, his breath hot on your neck. “You like getting it rough, don’t you?” he murmured, his free hand reaching around to squeeze your breast, twisting the nipple just enough to make you gasp.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here without everyone knowing what a slut you are for me,” he said, his voice a low, seductive taunt that had you clenching around him even tighter. The orgasm was building, coiling deep in your belly, a pressure that grew with every thrust, every slap of his body against yours.

“Oh, fuck, Rafe,” you panted, your forehead resting against the cool marble as he pounded into you relentlessly. The sound of skin on skin filled the bathroom, punctuated by your ragged gasps and his grunts of pleasure. You felt so exposed, so vulnerable in this position, and yet, it only added to the thrill.

“I’m close,” you managed to choke out, your voice shaking with the effort of holding back your orgasm. His grip on your hips tightened, his strokes becoming even more punishing, pushing you closer to the brink.

The tension coiled in your belly, a tight, unyielding knot that grew with every thrust. Then, with a final slap to your ass and a hard, deep drive of his cock, the dam broke. You screamed, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles as your orgasm crashed over you, a wave of pleasure so intense it was almost painful. Your body convulsed around him, muscles clenching and releasing in a symphony of ecstasy that left you trembling.

But Rafe wasn’t done. He pulled out just as he felt himself reaching the edge, his cock glistening with your juices. You whimpered, the sudden emptiness making your legs wobble. Before you could protest, he spun you around and gently but firmly pushed you to your knees, his eyes never leaving yours. The look in them was one of hunger and possession, a silent demand that sent a fresh wave of arousal through your veins.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice strained, and you complied without thought, your eyes locked onto his. He positioned the head of his cock at your lips, the tip brushing against your bottom lip. You could feel the heat of him, see the veins pulsing with need. He was close, so close, and the power to bring him to climax was intoxicating.

As soon as your lips parted, Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling you closer. The sting of pain made your eyes water, but you welcomed it, the sensation only adding to the intensity of the moment. You took him deep into your mouth, the muscles in your throat contracting around his thickness, the taste of him salty and addictive.

Rafe’s eyes rolled back in his head as you worked your mouth over him, your tongue swirling around the tip with every pull back, tracing the underside of his cock with each descent. His hand in your hair tightened, guiding your movements, setting the pace. You could feel his thighs tremble beneath your grasp, his breath hitching with every stroke of your tongue.

“Fuck, yes, like that,” he groaned, his voice a raw, guttural sound that only spurred you on. His hand tightened into a fist, tugging on your hair, and you moaned around his length, the pain mixing with the pleasure of pleasuring him. His other hand came to rest on the back of your head, pressing you closer, urging you to take more of him. You obliged, your nose brushing against his pelvis, your throat stretched around his cock.

The head of his dick hit the back of your throat and you gagged, your eyes watering, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you swallowed around him, the sensation sending a shiver of arousal down your spine. Rafe’s body grew taut, his hips jerking as he fought for control.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, the words coming out as a strangled groan. You could feel his orgasm approaching, his cock swelling in your mouth. And when he finally came, it was with a roar, his cum spurting down your throat in hot, thick jets. You swallowed around him, eagerly taking every drop, your own desire spiraling out of control. His hand in your hair tightened, holding you in place as he fucked your mouth through his climax, his hips thrusting erratically.

When he finally pulled out, you sat back on your heels, wiping at the corner of your mouth with a trembling hand. You didn’t dare look up at him, not yet. The silence in the room was deafening, the only sound the harshness of your own breathing and the distant throb of music from the party outside.

Rafe stepped back, his chest heaving, and you took the opportunity to stand, smoothing down your skirt and fixing your shirt as best you could. The fabric was wrinkled, the buttons askew, but it was the best you could manage with shaking hands. You avoided his gaze as you bent down to pick up your panties, the shredded lace a sad testament to the ferocity of your encounter.

The silence in the bathroom was palpable, the tension thick as you both took stock of the situation. The anger was back, simmering just beneath the surface, a potent reminder of the unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings that had brought you to this point. Without looking at him, you straightened up, tucking the ruined underwear into your purse.

Rafe let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?” he said, his voice still thick with arousal. “You’re just gonna go back out there without panties?”

You shot him a glare, your cheeks flaming with both anger and embarrassment. “What the fuck do you expect me to do? You tore them off, remember?”

Rafe’s couldn’t help the smirk on his lips, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’ll get you new ones,” he offered, his tone mockingly sweet.

You rolled your eyes and turned to the sink, running cold water over your wrists in an attempt to cool down. “Just leave me alone, Rafe,” you said, your voice tight. “Go worry about your little party fling, Sofia, or whatever her name is. I’m sure she’s waiting for you.”

Rafe’s smirk fell away, replaced by a look of annoyance. “Don’t do that,” he said, his voice low and warning.

“Don’t do what?” you shot back, turning to face him, your hands planted firmly on your hips.

But before you could say another word, Rafe’s face contorted in a snarl of anger. “You know what!” he shouted, slamming his fist against the wall. Plaster rained down, the sudden violence making you flinch.

He stepped closer, his body a tower of rage, his eyes piercing yours with a ferocity that stole your breath. “You want to act like this doesn’t mean anything?” he yelled, his voice echoing in the small space. “You want to pretend like you don’t feel anything different?”

You stared at him for a long moment, your chest heaving with the effort of holding in the words that threatened to spill out. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when the truth was a knife that would cut too deep, a wound that might never heal the friendship you cherished.

With a shaky breath, you stepped around him, reaching for the bathroom door. His hand shot out, catching your wrist in a vise-like grip. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled.

But you didn’t cower. Instead, you yanked free, turning to face him with a look of cold determination. “Let go of me, Rafe,” you said, your voice shaking with barely restrained anger.

He took a step back, his eyes searching yours, looking for something, anything to hold onto. But you were tired, tired of pretending that the earth didn’t quake beneath you every time he touched you. So you pushed past him, the door slamming shut behind you as you stormed out of the bathroom, leaving him standing there.

You needed air. You needed to get away from him before you hazy mind let something slip.

You couldn’t loose Rafe. Couldn’t even entertain the thought of losing your best friend because neither of you could keep it in your pants.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind you, and you stumbled into the hallway, your breathing unsteady. You didn’t look at Rafe as he passed you, his expression hard, unreadable. The weight of what had just happened hung heavy between you, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

You made your way back into the party, grabbing the first drink you could find and downing it in one go. The burn of the alcohol did little to dull the mess of emotions swirling inside you.

“Where’ve you been?” Topper’s voice cut through the chaos, and you turned to see him holding a tray of shots.

“Nowhere,” you said quickly, forcing a grin. “Let’s do this.”

The atmosphere in the house was suffocating, the music pounding in your ears like a second heartbeat. You hadn’t noticed Rafe at first, but the air shifted when he entered the room. Your skin prickled, and every nerve felt attuned to him, even if you couldn’t see him yet. When your gaze finally found him across the room, your chest tightened.

He was standing near the bar, Sofia pressed against him. Her laugh, shrill and fake, echoed above the noise, and your stomach churned. You told yourself he didn’t mean anything by it — he wouldn’t. But then her fingers curled into his shirt, and your breath caught as you watched him tilt his head down with the cockiest smile, his lips brushing hers.

Your stomach twisted, and heat rushed to your face, equal parts humiliation and rage. You felt your heart drop before your emotions boiled into something sharper, hotter. If that’s how he wants to play it, fine. You downed the tequila in your glass in one burning gulp, then reached for another shot.

Your fingers tightened around the glass as the scene replayed in your head, fueling your every irrational thought. He doesn’t care. He’s never cared.

You slammed the shot glass onto the counter and turned, searching for anything—anyone—to pull you out of this spiral. Your eyes landed on the stranger who had been watching you, his smirk practically begging for trouble. Normally, you’d ignore someone like him, but tonight, his attention felt like exactly the kind of distraction you needed.

You stalked over, your steps deliberate, your chin held high. His grin widened when you stopped in front of him, your face set in a mask of forced confidence.

“You look like you could use some company,” he said, his voice smooth and self-assured.

“Maybe I could,” you replied, leaning in with syrupy sweetness. Without giving it another thought, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was messy, clumsy, your mind clouded with tequila and spite. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let him. For those few seconds, you weren’t thinking about Rafe — about the way his lips had brushed Sofia’s, the way he hadn’t even tried to stop her.

But the illusion shattered when you felt a strong, unyielding hand grab the stranger’s shoulder and yank him away from you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rafe’s voice was low, lethal, his eyes blazing with an anger that sent chills down your spine. His jaw was set so tightly it looked like it might snap, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to explode.

The stranger stumbled but quickly regained his footing, shoving Rafe’s hand off with a sneer. “Seriously, man?” he spat. “Back off. She’s not yours.”

Rafe’s nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling with short, controlled breaths. His eyes darted to you for the briefest second, and the flicker of pain there was almost enough to stop your heart. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something far darker — jealousy, rage, frustration.

“Say that again,” Rafe growled, stepping forward, his voice deadly quiet.

“I said, she’s not yours.” The stranger smirked, glancing at you. “Though I wouldn’t mind if she was. She was clearly needing some.”

That was it. Rafe snapped.

The first punch landed square on the man’s jaw, a sickening crack echoing through the room. The stranger reeled back, clutching his face, but he wasn’t out. He lunged at Rafe, his fist connecting with Rafe’s cheekbone hard enough to split the skin. Blood dripped down his face, but it didn’t stop him.

Rafe’s expression was feral, his teeth gritted, his eyes burning with something raw and uncontrollable. He moved with precision, landing blows to the man’s ribs, his stomach, his face. The stranger staggered but fought back, catching Rafe in the stomach, then swinging wildly again. The crowd around them screamed, phones raised, some yelling for them to stop and others cheering them on.

“Rafe, stop!” you shouted, panic clawing at your throat, but your voice was lost in the chaos.

The scene spiraled out of control faster than you could have imagined. Rafe’s punches were relentless, his fists slamming into the stranger with a precision that made your stomach churn. The stranger fought back, landing blows of his own, but Rafe didn’t falter. His eyes were wild, blazing with fury, and you knew he wouldn’t stop until someone stopped him.

“Rafe, stop it!” you screamed, your voice drowned out by the shouts and chaos of the crowd forming around them. You tried to push through, but the bodies pressing in made it impossible to get close enough.

Desperation clawed at your chest as you scanned the room, your heart pounding. Then you spotted him — Topper, standing near the edge of the crowd with a beer in his hand, his eyes wide as he watched the fight unfold.

“Topper!” you yelled, your voice cracking with panic. “Topper, do something! Get him off!”

He blinked, startled, before realizing you were talking to him. “What the hell—” he started, but you cut him off.

“Now, Topper! Fucking help me!” you shouted, shoving someone aside as you struggled to get closer to the fight.

Topper cursed under his breath and shoved his drink into someone’s hands before rushing forward. “Rafe! Man, stop! You’re gonna kill him!” he barked, grabbing Rafe by the shoulders and trying to yank him back.

But Rafe barely reacted, his body tensing as he shook Topper off like he was nothing. “Stay out of it, Top!” he growled, his voice low and venomous, his fists still clenched and ready to swing again.

“Rafe, enough!” Topper shouted, throwing his weight into pulling Rafe back. “You’re gonna get yourself arrested, you idiot!”

With Topper’s help, you finally managed to push your way between them, your hands pressing hard against Rafe’s chest. His bloodied knuckles hovered in the air, trembling with the force of restraint as his gaze locked onto yours. His breaths were ragged, his chest heaving against your palms.

“Enough,” you repeated, your voice breaking, your hands shaking as you held him back. Topper stood just behind you, ready to step in again if Rafe tried to lunge.

The stranger coughed, staggering to his feet, blood dripping from his split lip. “You’re fucking insane,” he spat, glaring at Rafe before stumbling toward the door.

The crowd began to disperse after that, the tension slowly bleeding out of the room thanks to Topper helping send everyone away. But Rafe didn’t move, his burning gaze fixed on you, his chest still heaving beneath your hands.

Neither of you said anything after that. His fists were still clenched at his sides, the tension in his body radiating like heat. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, not when everything you wanted to scream was too raw, too real, too dangerous.

Rafe sat on the edge of the couch, his knuckles bloodied, his cheekbone swelling. You slammed the first aid kit onto the table, your hands trembling with a mix of anger and adrenaline.

“You’re such a fucking idiot!” you snapped, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it.

He didn’t respond, just watched you with that same infuriating, unreadable expression. His jaw clenched.

“What were you thinking?” you demanded, pressing the towel to his knuckles harder than necessary.

He winced but didn’t pull away. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

You turned to him slowly, your head tilting in disbelief as you stared at him. Your lips parted, but no words came out at first, your thoughts racing too fast to catch. A bitter laugh finally bubbled up from your chest, and you shook your head, your eyebrows raising as if to ask are you serious right now?

“What the hell is your problem?” your voice sharp and incredulous. Your hands trembled at your sides, but you clenched them into fists, trying to steady yourself. It felt like your entire body was caught between rage and disbelief, your heart pounding as you searched his face for any hint that he realized how insane he sounded.

Rafe’s jaw was tight, his chest still heaving from the fight. His eyes dark and burning with something wild. “What’s my problem?” he snapped, his voice rough, practically vibrating with anger. “What the fuck were you doing, letting some asshole put his hands on you?!”

Your eyes widened, your brows shooting up as if his words had physically struck you. Letting some asshole? Your breath hitched in your throat, your body stiffening. For a moment, you didn’t even know how to respond, the audacity of his accusation knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Are you—” you started, your voice faltering as you let out another disbelieving laugh as you tried to wrap your head around the sheer hypocrisy. He cannot be serious.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, so you get to shove your tongue down Sofia’s throat, but I can’t kiss someone else?”

His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “That’s different. You did that to get under my skin.”

“Bullshit,” you shot back, tossing the towel onto the table and grabbing an antiseptic wipe. “You were trying to piss me off too, and congratulations — it worked. But that doesn’t mean you get to play the jealous boyfriend when I turn the tables.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” he said, though the lie was so transparent it almost made you laugh.

“Sure, you weren’t,” you said sarcastically, dabbing at the cut on his cheek.

His hand shot up, grabbing your wrist and stilling your movements. “Why does it bother you so much, then?”

You froze, your breath catching as his eyes bore into yours.

“It doesn’t,” you said weakly, but even you didn’t believe it.

His grip tightened, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “Liar.”

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Not until you stop running,” he shot back, his frustration boiling over. “You think this is just about sex? You think I’d care who you kissed if I didn’t give a shit about you?”

Your chest tightened, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“This—us—it’s a mess,” you said finally, your voice breaking. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Rafe sighed, his grip loosening as he leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe we don’t need to fix it,” he said quietly. “Maybe we just need to stop pretending it doesn’t matter.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Because deep down, you knew he was right.

A week had passed, but the tension hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it had grown heavier, thicker, stretching between you and Rafe like an unspoken dare. You’d avoided him since the party, throwing yourself into anything that would keep your mind off the bruises on his knuckles and the heat in his eyes when he’d pinned you with that question: Why does it bother you so much?

But Rafe was impossible to ignore. He always had been.

You were perched on a lounge chair by the pool at another Kook party – this one at Kelce’s place – pretending to listen to Topper as he rambled on about some stupid surf trip. The music thudded in the background, people laughing and shouting, but your focus was elsewhere.

Because Rafe was here.

He was leaning against the bar, a beer in hand, his expression unreadable as his gaze flicked to you for what had to be the tenth time that night. He looked the same as always — perfectly put together, the bruises from the fight almost faded. But there was something different in the way he was watching you.

It wasn’t just casual interest or playful teasing. It was heat. Frustration. Possession.

You looked away quickly, your stomach twisting.

“You okay?” Topper asked, raising a brow.

“Fine,” you lied, forcing a smile.

“Good, because we’re doing shots.” He grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the bar before you could protest. Topper and his damn shots.

And just like that, you were standing next to Rafe, the air between you charged and suffocating. You had to bite your tongue to don’t ask where his new pogue pet was. You had inflamed his ego just enough last time.

“Want one, Cameron?” Topper asked, oblivious to the way you and Rafe were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

Rafe smirked, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he grabbed a shot. “Why not?”

You reached for yours, your hand brushing his briefly. It was enough to send a jolt through you, and you hated the way your body reacted, even after everything.

“Cheers!” Topper shouted, and you all knocked back the shots.

The burn of tequila was a welcome distraction, but it wasn’t enough to dull the way Rafe’s eyes stayed on you, even as you turned away.

Later that night, you found yourself alone in the kitchen, searching for water to ease the heat in your chest. The party was still going strong, the chaos outside muffled by the thick glass doors.

“Can’t stay away, can you?”

The sound of his voice made you freeze, your hand tightening around the water bottle you’d just grabbed. You didn’t have to turn around to know he was standing in the doorway, his presence filling the room like it always did.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended as you turned to face him.

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? What do you want?”

Your jaw tightened, your frustration bubbling over. “I want you to stop playing these stupid games,” you snapped. “You act like you care, but then you go around kissing Sofia or picking fights with random guys like some jealous psycho.”

His smirk faded, his expression hardening. “And you act like you don’t care at all,” he shot back, stepping closer. “Like none of this matters. Like I don’t matter.”

“You’re my best friend. Of course you matter,” you said, the words felt wrong even as they left your mouth. He wasn’t just your best friend at this point — you were sure friends didn’t do half of the things you’ve done.

“Bullshit,” he said, his voice low and dangerous as he crowded into your space.

You glared up at him, your chest heaving. “What do you want me to say, Rafe? That I’m scared? That I don’t know what the hell I’m doing? That I don’t want to lose the only person who—”

You cut yourself off, swallowing the rest of the sentence, but it was too late. The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

His jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides like he was holding himself back. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice softer but no less intense. “But you’re gonna drive me fucking insane if you keep pushing me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away,” you argued, though the words felt weak even to you.

“You are,” he said, his voice rising. “Every time I get close, you run. And I’m done chasing you, alright? You want this to mean nothing? Fine. But don’t stand here and tell me you don’t feel it, because I know you do.”

You stared at him, your pulse racing, your walls crumbling under the weight of his words.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened, his hand reaching out to cup your face. “Then let me show you,” he said, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t pull away either. And when he kissed you, it wasn’t rough or angry like before. It was slow, deliberate, filled with all the things neither of you had been able to say.

And for the first time, you let yourself kiss him back without fear or worry. Just you and him, in the quiet chaos of everything you couldn’t run from anymore.

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sunandflame · 1 year ago

Text

Not a Monster

Warnings: fluff, nsfw, smut, implied violence, neglect, threesome, double penetration, biting, mating, jealousy

Word Count: 7,2k

Pairing: Yoriichi x Fem!Reader x Kokushibo

crossposted on AO3

In a world where Demons had become domesticated in the last century or so, becoming glorified pets and workers.

You knew you had done your friend a favor by getting her a pet demon, especially since you were worried about her mental state, which had been rapidly getting worse.

Weeks and months had passed now. Of course you remained in constant contact and had observed how good it was for her to take care of the demonic creature. Which of course left you wondering why you didn't have one, since you weren't any better when it came to fighting the loneliness that was a constant part of your life. Some solitude was always good but when prolonged, it was overwhelming and could be painful.

That's why you thought it couldn't hurt to - maybe - keep your eyes open, look and behold, it literally popped in front of your nose as you walked past a shelter. There was a red sign with 'HIGH DISCOUNT' there.

It wouldn't hurt to take a look, right?

Your entrance was announced by the ringing of a bell above the door. There was no one there and you looked around cautiously. There were all sorts of things that were used for keeping a demon. You walked down the corridor and saw a big cage standing darkly in the corner. It was larger than the other cages you had seen and you became curious, especially since the sign also said high discount.

As you walked in closer, you noticed the demon who was on his knees behind the bars, dignified and humble, he had his gaze lowered until he realized you were there. He was beautiful with his maroon colored eyes and long black hair that turned reddish at the tips. A prominent mark on his forehead took nothing away from his beauty and neither did the two horns that protruded from his forehead. Two horns…? Wait a minute, this means…

“This is a pureblood, very rare on the market.”

Startled, you turned to the clerk, who suddenly stood behind the counter and stared at you. Your gaze went back to the demon, who looked at you carefully and didn't take his eyes off of you. “Then why is it at such a low price?”

“Because of his brother.”

"His brother?" You frowned and looked confused from the seller to the cage and you felt another presence in the cage - 6 glowing eyes stared at you from the dark corner.

He stepped forward next to his brother and even though you could tell they were probably twins, you could clearly see the differences. The red of his long hair was darker and more spikier, his complexion paler, his physique was broader and more muscular. But this was not the main difference. It was his eyes which he held 6 pairs of. Golden with red sclera. His aura was intimidating and yet also very regal and proud. He had two horns as well that were more purple than red. He also adorned an additional mark that ran from his chin down to his throat.

“Why, what’s wrong with his brother?” You couldn't take your eyes off him as you asked your questions and saw him squinting all of his 6 eyes on you.

“Yoriichi is a very domestic and remarkable demon. Very trusting, friendly, and listens to every command but his brother, Kokushibo, on the other hand… Well, I can only say that his previous owner was not able to handle him.”

“It didn’t occur to you to separate the two?”

“Of course, but every time they were separated, Kokushibo became more and more uncontrolled, and Yoriichi always managed to escape and return to his brother. We’ve tried it several times but it just didn’t work, which is why these rare purebloods are on discount.”

You saw Yoriichi looking at you with interest and Kokushibo about to hiss at you. You turned your head to the seller and grinned at him. “I’ll take them both.”

~ ~ ~

You really didn't know what got into you when you found yourself standing in front of the two demons that were clearly too tall. They literally towered over you by almost two heads, looking down at your pathetic height. You should have been intimidated, but strangely enough, you weren't. Maybe it was because Yoriichi's calm and tranquil manner balanced out Kokushibo's wild and angry one. The two of them were like yin and yang. Brothers who couldn't be separated.

The purchase was so spontaneous that you weren't really prepared and you were lucky enough to have a larger apartment with an additional room that you could possibly make available to the two of them. Your friend, whom you surprised with the demon Giyuu, probably felt as unprepared as you too.

“When was the last time you two ate?”

The two of them stared at you before Kokushibo turned away in disdain and Yoriichi felt obligated to answer for them both. He opened his mouth and it was the first time either of them had opened their mouths. “We last ate 10 days ago.”

What?! No wonder the six-eyed demon was in such a bad mood. Demons didn't have to eat regularly like humans. 1 to 2 a week was enough, but not 10 days! They must have been absolutely starving!

After they had eaten, you prepared their room. Unfortunately you didn't have any other beds, just futons, but that should be enough for now.

~ ~ ~

A few days passed and they were quieter than expected. Kokushibo hadn't done anything bad to you but still refused to talk to you while Yoriichi was very pleasant.

“Yoriichi, do you want me to take your collar off? The Wisteria pouch must be uncomfortable for you.” Collars were mandatory for demons when they wanted to go outside, but the owner was able to choose at home.

He lowered his gaze humbly. “You are too kind, Mistress.”

You were very fond of Yoriichi. You liked his kind and gentle nature that even soothed your own chaotic thoughts. It was the least you could do for him. You asked him to lower his head and carefully took off his collar. While you came so close to him, you noticed his hair and gently stroked it. “How about I brush your hair, it’s looking a bit dull.”

His hair was beautiful and you could feel how he enjoyed being pampered by you in this way. How your brush went slowly through the dark red waves, making them shine again. It was a very domestic situation between the both of you that got interrupted by a dark aura from the corner. You quickly glanced from Yoriichi’s hair to Kokushibo. If you didn't know any better then you would assume that he was jealous, but you were not sure.

“Are you hungry?” But there was no answer. It was not like you expected him to talk. Both demon brothers had been very silent since the beginning. After taking off Yoriichi’s collar you noticed that he spoke a little bit more. His pleasant and calm voice relaxed you deeply and you wondered whether Kokushibo could even speak and whether it was perhaps because of the prong collar that he still had around his neck. The prong collar looked painful and even if you weren't intimidated by his strong presence, you still wanted to be careful.

But somehow that seemed unfair to you.

“Yoriichi, please wait here.” You stood up and approached the tall menacing demon until you were standing in front of him. He didn’t lower his ominous presence when he looked down on you and yet you showed no fear. ”Lower your head, please.” But he did nothing of that sort, but squinted his 6 eyes onto you. You let out a long sigh. You knew that it wouldn't be easy with him and yet you were slightly annoyed when you needed to pull up a chair so you could be on the same level as him.

“Don’t move…” You were very close to him as you fumbled with his prong collar to open it. What kind of brutal device was that? The collar was far too tight on his neck and had left scars; there were also scratch marks that showed that he had desperately tried to open it himself. It was said that demons who have face marks are wilder and less easy to tame. Kokushibo even had two. Was that the reason why they tortured him like that? Anger flared up in you, but you took controlled breaths so you were able to focus on this damn opening mechanism.

Kokushibo watched your efforts with interest and for the first time there was no anger or threatening aura coming from him or his eyes. After some fiddling with his neck, you managed to open the damn collar and threw it on the floor. Your gaze was focused on the puncture scars on his neck. Without a second thought, your fingers roamed over the spots.

Well at least you tried, because he had stopped you with such a quick movement that you took a startled step back. The only thing was that you had forgotten you were still standing on a chair and your foot stepped on thin air.

Everything happened so quickly in the next few seconds that you were not able to realize what actually happened until your body was pressed against his, his strong arms around your waist. He caught you in time and held you against his solid physique, and you could feel how strong and muscular he was. You looked at him with wide eyes while he looked at you almost bored. “You humans are so clumsy.”

Were those really his first words towards you? His voice had a deeper timbre than Yoriichi's and it made your skin shiver. Since his arrival, all he had done was glare at you and intimidate you with his brutal presence, which he was very good at controlling. All that was gone now as he still held you close to him - as if you weighed nothing. His gaze on you was interested, since this was the first time you were up so close to him.

“You- You can put me down now…” And he did. With a gentleness you never expected from him. Your soft body slid along his. You looked at him, slightly puzzled. “I'll get some balm for your wounds. Maybe you should sit down so I don’t have to get back on a chair.” He just nodded at you and sat down on the sofa where Yoriichi was sitting.

You left the room briefly and didn't notice how the brothers communicated with each other or how Kokushibo’s eyes were following you. With the balm in your hand, you sat between the two and turned your attention to Kokushibo. “Don’t be alarmed, it might be a little cool now,” you whispered as you gently rubbed the cool gel along his neck. He didn't even bat an eyelash and just let you do it while keeping all his 6 eyes closed. Was he enjoying it? It seemed like it. You carefully stroked over it a second time as you saw how the wounds were already starting to heal. “Woah!” You let out surprise.

“Our wounds heal very quickly and we can’t have scars, but my brother's collar was coated with an extra strong dose of wisteria that made him even weaker and made it difficult for him to speak. Thank you, Mistress, for this generous gift you gave to both of us.”

Yoriichi, who was sitting to your right, had taken your hand. He brought it gently to face and brushed it against his cheek and gave each knuckle a kiss. There were so many emotions associated with his gesture, like gratitude and affection, that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

You turned your head towards Kokushibo who looked at you with a look that you couldn't interpret. He finally spoke and his voice made you shiver again. “I would like to take a bath. May I, Owner?”

You simply nodded and watched him get up and disappear into the bathroom. Yoriichi, who was still holding your hand, spoke as his brother was gone. “Michikatsu is not evil as anyone would assume. He needs love and affection like any other being. I wouldn't mind if you would give some of your attention and affection to him."

“Michikatsu? His name is not Kokushibo?”

He shook his head. “Koku, black. Shi, death, Bo, eye. They named him like that because of his eyes. He never corrected them as he wanted them to fear him. But in reality Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.”

Michikatsu is the nicest of them all.

Yoriichi's words echoed in your mind as you knocked on your bathroom door and opened a crack. "Can I come in?"

“This is your house, Owner...”

You grimaced at his wording and entered anyway. You saw him sitting relaxed in the tub with all but one of his eyes closed. With the one he watched you carefully as you took a washcloth and sat down on a stool behind him. You gestured for him to lean forward slightly, which he did.

You moistened the washcloth with the warm water and gently slid it over his broad shoulder. Luckily his hair was already in a bun so you had free access to his back. At first he was very tense, but when he realized that you didn't mean him any harm and just wanted to scrub his back, you felt his muscles slowly relax under your fingers.

“I told your brother the same, please don’t call me Owner. Just call me Y/N. It feels so degrading to you both to call me owner.”

He was silent for a while before answering. “We... are demons... We have no right to name anything the way we want... We have no right to have an opinion on what we should be called. We are just objects in people's eyes. Easy pets...”

This time you were the one who remained silent, because you had felt the resentment and frustration behind those words. You took a cup and filled it with warm water and poured it over his back to wash away the dirt that had formed from your scrubbing. “I don’t know what your previous owners did to you. You don't have to tell me, but you're not objects to me. You are living beings who deserve to live a good life. You can call my home yours too. You are allowed to have possessions too.”

“That is…noted…”

The next few minutes were shrouded in silence, but it wasn't unpleasant. On the contrary, Michikatsu actually seemed to enjoy the way you gently massaged his scalp with your fingertips while you shampooed his hair. You enjoyed these domestic activities. To take care of someone. To make them feel good. You hadn't done that for a very long time because you had also been alone for a long time. Being alone was painful-

Before you could delve into your dark thoughts, you noticed an odd smell and was startled. Did you leave something on the stove? No, it smelled way too pleasant for that.

Michikatsu noticed your twitch, but he didn't react like you. “Yoriichi has been watching you for days, like me. He’ll probably cook you something while you’re here with me.”

You looked at him in surprise. He wasn't serious, was he? You really wanted to check, but wanted to finish bathing Michikatsu.

“Go… I’ll wash up and join you…”

You nodded and walked into the kitchen where you saw Yoriichi standing at the stove with your pink apron on. He looked at you and gave you a smile. “Since you take such good care of us, I wanted to prepare something for you. I read that miso soup is very popular and you had the ingredients for it. Do you like miso soup with silken tofu?”

You couldn't help but giggle at the sight of him looking so adorable with your pink apron. “Yes, I love miso soup.”

~ ~ ~

Ever since Kokushibo spoke to you, you were sure that all three of you were getting along very well. You ate together, laughed and talked. Well mainly you talked, because the two of them enjoyed listening to you talk and you finally had the feeling that someone actually wanted to listen to you too. And of course you cared for them too. Pampered them, washed their backs and bought them what they wanted even if that was not much. Yoriichi had once told you that it was enough that you would treat them well as you did now. This always made you question what terrible things had been done to them. How would they dare to treat them badly? You didn't want to think too deeply about it. If they didn’t want to talk and think about it then who were you to do so?

“Ouch!”

You looked at your finger which was starting to bleed. You quickly put your bleeding finger under running water to rinse out the dirt and checked out the wound. Shit, the cut was deeper than expected. Suddenly you felt Michikatsu’s presence very close to you. You jumped. Even after weeks, you couldn't get used to how quietly the two of them moved around the apartment. He looked down at you and your bleeding finger.

“Don’t worry, it’ll stop bleeding soon.” You weren't sure if you were saying this more to yourself than to him, but he wasn't deterred. He took your hand and put your finger in his mouth, licking the blood off. You looked at him with wide eyes. You were even more surprised when he suddenly took you in his arms and carried you to the couch and sat down, you sitting sideways on his lap, taking your bleeding finger into his mouth again.

You were literally puzzled, but he didn't seem to mind. You had been in the middle of cooking and wanted to tell him so, but he just gave you a look which silenced you.

“Clumsy human, let Yoriichi do the cooking and let me take care of your wound.”

You wanted to say something in response but didn't know what. You had already seen Yoriichi scurrying into the kitchen but were distracted again when Michikatsu gently nibbled on your finger and put it in his mouth.

Since that time he always looked for moments to distract himself by nibbling on your fingers. He seemed to have an oral fixation, or he just liked it. Either way, he seemed to be enjoying it and it didn't bother you, so you let him have his way. It also gave you the chance to look at him up close, as he often didn't allow that.

Michikatsu noticed this of course. “You’re not at all disgusted by my appearance.”

“Why should I?” You did not understand the question.

“Are my eyes not too scary for you?”

Oh, this is what it was about… “Is this why you always keep all eyes closed and just look with one?”

“No, I keep them closed so that I don’t have sensory overload and… so that you aren’t afraid of me.”

“So I was right?”

He kept silent and you gave him a soft smile. “Please close your eyes.” He did as you asked. You moved closer to him ever so slowly and gently kissed each of his 6 eyelids. When you let go he looked at you in surprise, his 6 eyes wide. This was the first time you could see the emotions so strong on his face. “You are not a monster and never will be to me.”

~ ~ ~

“You are not jealous, right?” you asked Yoriichi, while he was sitting patiently in front of you as you brushed his long beautiful hair.

He shook his head. “No, why should I?”

“Well… Because I give your brother so much more attention than you.” It was a little bit uncomfortable to admit this, but it was true. Michikatsu was very demanding and jealous from time to time, even if you don’t give him much reason for it. But yet, anytime you were close to Yoriichi or spending time with him, he immediately snatched you away in silence and nibbled on your fingers.

“But I did ask you to do so, right?”

“I mean, yes you did. But I still feel bad about it. You deserve my attention as much as Michikatsu.”

Yoriichi took your hand, it seemed like the brothers had a fixation with your hands, and kissed your knuckles as he always does when he wants to show his gratitude. “Sitting here with you, hearing you talk, while you touch me so affectionately, is everything I ever wanted.”

Yoriichi were always able to hit you with the right words and gestures. You leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the crown of his head. “You are such a good boy and deserve the whole world.” You felt Yoriichi shiver from your words.

~ ~ ~

Months passed, the season changed and it was winter. That meant the Christmas markets opened very soon! You were excited because you wanted to show the brothers how beautiful the markets can be. Of course they needed to wear collars, since demon companions were required to wear one by law. You hated it, since you were not able to forget the painful device Michikatsu had had to wear, but you had to adhere to the law. You decided to get the type that was demon friendly without the wisteria pouch for both of them.

The three of you strolled through the Christmas market, Michikatsu to your left and Yoriichi to your right, and you received a lot of attention. You didn't know if it was because of their height or because of their distinguishing face marks. It could also be due to Michikatsu’s threatening aura, or the fact that they had two horns which identified them as purebloods - a very rare sight to see.

It wasn't important to you. The only important thing was that they had fun like you did and got as many impressions as possible. You curiously looked at all the stands and came across a woodcarver that had beautiful pieces to offer when you suddenly saw a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-bako. You took it carefully and stared at it, fascinated. You always wanted to try it. The idea to get so fixated with a riddle was so appealing to you that you asked about the price. He named the price. You thanked him, placing the puzzle back down, and went to the next stall.

“Why didn’t you buy the puzzle box? You seemed very interested in it.” Yoriichi looked at you questioningly, while Michikatsu lingered in the back, his attention somewhere else.

“Oh, it was a bit too expensive. I wanted to have money for candied apples and to buy you two something you want! The puzzle has no priority.” You gave him a bright smile as the cold air made your cheeks blush.

You threw yourself onto your couch immediately when you got home. Man, you were exhausted. Yoriichi and Michikatsu didn't even seem to show any signs of exhaustion, but you clearly were. Walking for hours had drained you and you just wanted to relax now. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

As usual, they sat down on the couch on either side of you as you made yourself comfortable. It wasn’t long until your head was resting on Yoriichi's lap, him playing softly with your hair while Michikatsu massaged your calves that were sore from all the walking. You felt so comfortable and safe that it didn't take long for you to fall asleep and you missed over half of the movie. You didn’t notice how Yoriichi gently lifted you into his arms and carried you to bed or how he gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead while you cuddled yourself onto your blanket.

~ ~ ~

"What is this?" You stared at the small box that was placed in front of you and you didn't hesitate to pick up. It didn't take long for you to realize what it was. It was a wooden puzzle box. Himitsu-baku! You looked excitedly at the beautiful piece. “But where did you get that from, Michi-kun?”

“Michikatsu is very skilled in wood carving,” Yoriichi replied as Michikatsu watched you with interest. “He made me a flute too, see?” He took out the little flute and showed it to you.

You looked at the beautiful piece in awe and then looked over at Michikatsu. “Michi-kun, I didn’t know you were so talented! Yori-kun, can you play on that?”

Yoriichi didn't hesitate and played some soft tunes. You clapped your hands enthusiastically. “You two are so talented!” You watched as Michikatsu turned away and hid his face behind his hair. Was he blushing? You probably saw it wrong… You looked back at your box. These were some refined skills, which made you wonder.

“It never occurred to me to ask you about your hobbies or what activities you like to do…” You felt guilty because until now they had always obediently gone along with everything you wanted but you never asked what they wanted.

The brothers looked at each other, visibly confused by your change of topic. This time Michikatsu spoke to answer your question. “We enjoy…training kendo together… But our previous owners didn’t like it at all… They got scared… Also we always lack the space and the necessary tools.”

"Tools?"

“A bokken, but a simple wooden broomstick will do too,” Yoriichi explained to her.

"Oh! I think I can organize that! Also a place for you to train! The apartment complex has an unused backyard. We can go there in the evening! As often as you want too!”

You three were at the said place. You were not able to find a bokken, but Yoriichi had said that broomsticks are enough for now. You can get them the necessary equipment later. Oh, how happy they would be, you thought excitedly to yourself.

Now you sat in a corner, lulled in your jacket as you watched the two brothers standing in front of each other. They first bowed respectfully and then it began. Their movements were so fluid and elegant that you were barely able to look away. It was a dance between two brothers who couldn't be more different. Like the sun and moon, Yin and yang. You weren't sure who would emerge victorious, but you were still surprised to see Michikatsu a few minutes later on the ground.

Another fight. Michikatsu was on the ground again. It went on like this until the yukatas were thrown over their shoulders, hanging down from the Hakamas. They were both suddenly topless, the cold didn't seem to bother them. You felt heat creeping into you. It wasn't like you'd never seen them topless before, since you washed and bathed them both from time to time. But now they are training. The muscles rippled in harmony with their movements, it was only then that you realized how incredibly sexy they both actually were.

Both were muscular and strongly built. Yoriichi a little leaner than Michikatsu. Your eyes wandered and you couldn't get enough of what was presented in front of you. Wandering up and down until they stopped on the seductive V-line of the two of them. Your eyes switched back and forth and you had to suppress a sigh as Michikatsu lunged forward, flexing his big biceps.

It didn't take long for you to get wet and dampen your panties. Crap. That was not good. You couldn’t be horny for your demons! That's irresponsible! Both of them had immediately stopped and stared at you as if they knew something. You blushed like a tomato.

“It seems like Y/N is cold. We should go home,” Yoriichi said as he put his yukata back on.

Michikatsu nodded and did the same and you were happy that demons were not able to notice things like that, right?

~ ~ ~

You laid in bed, frustrated, not being able to finish what you had started. Fuck, why can’t I come already? For the past hour you were touching yourself, trying to get rid of this horniness and the lewd thoughts that bothered you all evening. But it didn't work!

You huffed, frustrated, pulling your hands from your pants, and rested your arm on your forehead. It has been a while since you touched yourself. Was it possible to unlearn things like that? You didn’t know. What you did know was that you were exhausted and wanted to sleep but the hot images of the two brothers haunted you badly.

Your thoughts were interrupted by soft knocking. “May we come in?” It was Yoriichi’s soft voice.

You immediately gathered yourself and sat straight in your bed. “Um, y-yes, sure!” The door opened slowly and the two brothers entered your bedroom. “Were you both not able to sleep?”

No answer, only gazes as Michikatsu sat down at the end of your bed and gently massaged your calves while Yoriichi sat close to you and held your hands in his. Normally you didn't have a problem with them being so touchy, you were happy to give them whatever they wanted and secretly you enjoyed it too, but at the moment it wasn't so good. Because you were a bit oversensitive due to your frustration.

Yoriichi looked at you with his soft maroon eyes as he cupped your face. “We sensed your troubles.”

Your furrowed your eyebrows. “My troubles?”

Michikatsu’s hands were gliding a little bit higher onto your thigh. “Yes, your arousal.”

You didn’t know if you were blushing because of the embarrassment of being caught or the feeling of his hands being so close to your core. It also didn’t help that Yoriichi lowered his head closer to your face and talked in his soft beguiling voice. “There is no need to be ashamed, Y/N. You always make sure that we feel good. You care about us so much, never seeing a monster in us. We want to give it back to you…” With each word he came closer, until his lips were on yours. His kiss was so soft and loving that you sighed into the kiss. Yoriichi took that as an invitation for his tongue.

While Yoriichi distracted you with his sensual kiss, you felt Michikatsu slowly dragging your pants along with your underwear down and spreading your legs. “Brother, she smells so intoxicating…” You felt his breath close to your pussy.

Yoriichi, who let go of you briefly to let you catch a breath, answered his brother. “Her lips are sweeter than anything I’ve tasted before.”

Michikatsu did not wait and licked at your slick like a hungry cat and groaned. “You are right… She tastes like heaven…” With these words he dove into your core and lavished on your juices. You let out a surprised moan as you threw your head back. Your hand grabbed desperately at Yoriichi’s yukata who just watched you, fascinated, and then kissed you again. But he didn’t stay on your lips for long. His mouth traveled down your neck, nibbling at the soft skin there. You felt how his hands were slowly pushing up your loose shirt to cup one of your boobs and massaging it slowly with one hand. His mouth also found his destination and kissed and sucked on your other nipple.

So many sensations at the same time and you were not sure what to focus on. The knot inside you tightened, and suddenly everything exploded. You came with a loud moan as you threw your head back once again.

Michikatsu’s lower eyes were closed, his face glistening in your juices. He pushed a single finger into you just to let Yoriichi lick it off. You watched the interaction between them both. It was like he wanted him to know how you tasted. You saw how Yoriichi’s pupils dilated as he tasted your sweet nectar. It was such a lewd image that it made you sigh in anticipation.

You heard your bedsheet ruffle and watched as the brothers swapped their places. Suddenly Michikatsu was in your face, kissing you greedily on the mouth, not letting you take a breath. You were able to taste yourself on his lips but you didn’t mind it at all. Not even that he used his teeth, because all of that was washed away by Yoriichi's tongue and mouth, who was now the one eating you out.

There was a clear difference between the two. Yoriichi was definitely gentler, as were the tongue strokes along your outer labia. Or the way he sucked on your clit. Your left hand was on his head, tangled into his soft waves as you pushed him closer to your cunt, feeling how close you were again.

Your other hand was on Michikatsu, who was pinching your nipples, making you wince and twitch every time, forcing you to keep your attention on him. It was a lot to handle. Lots of feelings and desires at once that you didn't know how to deal with. But they were so strong, able to hold you still while they feasted on you.

Yoriichi hit a point with his tongue that made you come with a loud cry. The waves of the orgasm were so intense that it left you trembling. You had never cum twice in a row in your life.

Yoriichi wiped his face with the back of his hand. Both brothers watched you in awe as you layed there, exhausted from your orgasm.

“She is so beautiful… I want to mark her.”

“Later, when we are inside of her.”

“I am not sure if her bed is able to carry us three.”

“Yes, we should move her to our room with the futons.”

You were not able to distinguish who said what, since your brain felt like mush, but that was not important. You were suddenly lifted up and carried by someone. Your cheek resting on a strong chest. You realized that you were all naked. When did they undress you? You opened your eyes slowly to see his beautiful maroon eyes. “Yori-kun…”

You felt his lips on your forehead and then on your lips again, making you sigh again and heating up the desire in your lower belly.

“Do you think she can take us both?

“She is stronger than you think.”

“I know.” These two words were said in such loving affection that it made your heart flutter.

“Hey… I am still here,” you protested. “You both prepped me so well I… I think I can handle that.”

"Oh, you do?” The first time in your life you saw how Michikatsu smirked at you as he snatched you away from Yoriichi and sat you down on his lap.

You felt his hardened cock close to your core, but your eyes were fixated on that smirk of his. He was “...gorgeous…” You leaned forward, your hands on his muscular chest as you kissed him oh so softly. It seemed like he didn’t expect that softness. Never did he expect anything, though he deserved all the softness and kindness.

You poured all your love into the kiss, playing with his hair, nudging his tongue against yours and biting at his lower lip. He groaned and got impatient. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you on the tip of his dick and let you sink down very slowly. “Michi..!” You whimpered and shuddered at the fullness and how good it felt.

He bottomed out and didn’t move, letting you adjust. Until you moved your hips. “Impatient human,” he murmured as he started sucking on your tit.

You didn't stay still though as you slowly moved your hips and started riding him. His hands grabbed your thighs tightly to help you. Michikatsu couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling of your tightness around him. Gosh, it felt so good hearing those noises coming out of him, knowing that you were the cause of it. Making you feel that you had a tiny bit of control even if it was not like that at all.

Suddenly you felt his hands on your waist, moving up to cup your breasts and kneading them; you also felt his lips kissing along your spine, making you shiver as you still moved on top of Michikatsu. You smiled and when his kisses reached your shoulder, you tried to turn your head to look at him, to give him a kiss. Yoriichi came closer but you were interrupted by Michikatsu, who grabbed your chin and turned your head back to him, just to claim your lips harshly and groan into the kiss.

“H-Hey-” you panted after he left you breathless. “Stop being jealous. I want to kiss Yoriichi too!”

Michikatsu was about to respond when Yoriichi picked you up into his arms without warning. With one fluid movement Michikatsu’s dick slid out of you and you could only go “Oh!” at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Even Michikatsu breathed out harshly at the sudden change and glared at you both.

“Now it's my turn.” You giggled at him teasing his brother and slung your arms over Yoriichi’s neck, your legs around his waist. It was clear that he missed your kisses and you were glad to give him all he could ever want. You started kissing him all over his face - his cheek, his nose, his eyes, and then his lips. You both couldn’t hold back moaning into the kiss when he suddenly sheathed himself into you. You at the fullness he was giving you, and him because you were so tight around his cock.

You marveled at his strength as he held you up so easily, starting to move inside of you at a slow pace. You felt safe in his arms; you knew he wouldn’t even think of dropping you.

You felt the jealous glare on your back and it didn’t take long until Michikatsu got up to stand behind you. One of his hands pushed your hair aside so he was able to kiss and nibble on your left shoulder. You felt his chest pressed on your back as his fingers slid up to spread your wetness and lube you up with additional saliva. It was a strange feeling, but not unwelcome, as Yoriichi’s careful thrusts distracted you from Michikatsu’s motions behind you.

Soon enough, he retracted his fingers and replaced them with his tip. He was so careful with you - a contrast to his earlier roughness - moving in tandem with Yoriichi to bring you pleasure rather than pain. The feeling of them both inside you was overwhelming and you didn’t know what else to do other than to hold tightly onto Yoriichi’s shoulder, your nails digging into his skin.

Michikatsu’s hands joined Yoriichi’s on your thighs. It felt as if the heat of their touch burned you to the core and even if you wanted to get out, it was impossible. You were placed so tightly between the two brothers, moving in sync into you, you could not move at all.

One of your hands reached behind you so you could grab onto Michikatsu’s neck. The other one still gripping onto Yoriichi. The angle changed, and you saw stars, clenching tightly around both of them making them both groan. They sped up, the pleasure bringing tears to your eyes.

“Please…!” You begged, not knowing what for, but it seemed like they knew.

You were not sure if you saw it correctly as your brain was not able to comprehend anything logical at that moment but you saw a change in Yoriichi’s face as if he was communicating with his brother.

The knot inside you tightened for the third time that night. You cried out their names as they thrusted harder into you making your vision blur. This time your release was more intense than you’d ever experienced, but before it could ebb away you felt teeth on both of your shoulders.

You could only cry out and everything went black.

~ ~ ~

Ah shit... Why does my shoulder hurt so much?

You woke up between two muscle-bound bodies and didn't know where you were until you remembered the last night. “Oh fuck…” you whispered and immediately put your hand over your mouth when someone started to grumble in annoyance. Did you wake one of them? Suddenly you were pulled by a strong hand and pressed against a muscular chest. “Stop thinking too much, human, sleep a little bit more. You need rest.”

You looked up into the face of Michikatsu, who had narrowed one of his lower eyes to look at you. You couldn't contradict him because you felt tiredness overcoming you again and you fell back into a deep sleep, safe in his arms.

You woke up again, but this time on Yoriichi's chest, who was playing with your hair. “Good morning.”

“Good morning…” You yawned and looked around, realizing that you both were alone on the futons. “Where is Michikatsu…?”

“He is preparing a bath for you. How do you feel?” He watched you as he waited for your answer.

How did you feel? You were not sure if you thought about last night. Did you regret it? No… But your shoulders were killing you. “My shoulders hurt and I feel sore, but that’s it.”

“Oh, that’s because we marked you.”

“Marked me?”

“Yes,” he smiled at you, “We are now mates.”

Mates… Wait what?! Was that even possible between a human and demons? You heard about this rumour that demons were able to mate each other, but fuck… This was the last thing you ever expected. “What will happen now?”

“First of all you are going to take a bath while we take care of you.” Michikatsu appeared at the door frame as he looked at the both of you, laying naked on top of each other.

~ ~ ~

Even if it was weird in the beginning you quickly got used to the idea of being mated to both of your demons. You hadn’t been sure what to do with the situation and called your friend, who just told you that she had also got mated with her demon. It was not a common thing at all, actually unheard of, but here you were, having not one but two demon mates.

You asked them if that was something common, to have two demons, but they shook their heads. “It’s probably because we are twins and very attached to each other. Perhaps it was inevitable we would share a mate,” Yoriichi told you, while he nuzzled his face into your hair.

“Who would have thought that we would mate with a clumsy human?” You saw the smirk on Michikatsu’s face that now happened to appear more after that night. He seated himself next to you both and snatched you away from Yoriichi again. It seemed like a game between the two brothers at this point - as if they were not able to share a toy.

You faux-sulked. You just took his face into your hands and gave him a long loving kiss. Then you felt how he placed something on your lap.

It was a wooden carving of a woman with two tall men at her sides and looking closer, you realized it was the three of you. The gift nearly made you spill tears, touched by his gesture of love.

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candy69gurl · 8 months ago

Note

Sooo what is your thought in bully sukuna x shy reader? I think it's kinda hot tho. Like imagine sukuna picking on you every day bc he is obsessed with reader 🥴😩

ENSNARED

PAIRING bully Sukuna x shy reader

WARNING slight non/con, mean Sukuna (obv), m!masturbation, jealousy, slight mentions of Jin Itadori, mentions of violence, public harassment, little comfort?, slight dacryphilic Sukuna, fingering, clit rubbing, use of nicknames (brat, slut), slight exhibitionistic Sukuna, raw sex, m!cum on f!face

"G-give that back to me," you attempt to snatch your notebook from Sukuna's grasp, but he intentionally keeps it just out of reach, smirking wickedly.

"Oh, are you truly desperate for this piece of shit?" He asks teasingly, enjoying your frustration. "Perhaps if you beg prettily, I might consider letting you have it back."

Your desperation grows with each attempt, as you frantically lunge and twist to snatch the notebook from Sukuna's skilled hands. He shifts it from one hand to the other, juggling it playfully, prolonging your torment. His eyes gleam with mischief as he watches you struggle, enjoying the power struggle between the two of you. "Beg," he urges, leaning closer to whisper the word in your ear, making the situation even more agonizing.

In your frantic attempts, you lose your balance and accidentally land on top of him. Your body settles over his lap, unknowingly straddling what seems to be a rather significant bulge beneath his clothes. Sukuna's smirk falters for a moment, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as you finally tear the notebook from his grip and scurry away, completely oblivious to the chaos you've caused. "You... you have no idea, do you?" he stammers, trying to regain his composure, a mix of embarrassment and amusement coloring his voice.

You glare at Sukuna, your eyes narrowing in anger as you hold the now-precious notebook tightly. Your cheeks red from embarassment and anger. Without another word, you turn on your heels and storm away, leaving him behind, his laughter trailing behind you.

Little did you know, the incident had left a lasting impression on him, and the game of cat and mouse between you and the school bully would continue, fueling his obsession with you even further.

As the night falls, Sukuna tosses and turns, unable to shake off the vivid memory of your accidental encounter earlier that day. His erection strains against his pants, a painful reminder of the power you unwittingly hold over him. "Damn you, little brat," he curses under his breath, frustration mixing with desire. He tries to distract himself with other thoughts, but his mind keeps returning to the image of you, sitting on his lap, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

Unable to resist any longer, Sukuna's hand slips beneath the covers, wrapping around his throbbing member. He jerks himself roughly, visualizing your innocent face and the way your body had felt against him earlier. Each stroke brings him closer to release, and he moans softly, fantasizing about the day when he'll claim you as his own, asserting his dominance over you in every sense. The thought pushes him over the edge, and he sighs in relief as he spends himself, imagining your surprised expression when he finally makes you submit to his desires.

As he releases, a satisfied smirk graces his lips. "Soon, little brat," he murmurs, "I will.. fucking make you mine." He cleans himself up and drifts off to sleep, dreams filled with fantasies of dominating and possessing you, eager for the day when he could make you his in every way possible.

The next day, Sukuna finds himself walking down the hallway, his eyes desperately trying to locate you. He is determined to start the day by bullying you. He eventually finds you leaning against your locker, talking to none other than Jin Itadori, another nerd he picks on.

Jealousy surges within him, the sight of you with someone else igniting his possessive nature. He approaches the scene, casually inserting himself into the conversation, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Mind if I join you two? I heard there's some juicy gossip going around," he says, his eyes never leaving you.

Sukuna's arms wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close and shielding you from the boy's advances. "You want to date her? Just look at her, she's as ugly as fuck. You can do so much better than this pathetic excuse for a human." His words drip with contempt, and his tone is dismissive.

Embarrassment floods you as Sukuna's cruel words echo through the hallway, drawing stares and snickers from the surrounding students. Jin, unable to handle the situation any longer, offers you an awkward smile before retreating and leaving you alone with Sukuna. Tears start to form in your eyes, and you struggle to maintain your composure in front of your tormentor. "You should be thanking-"

With a sudden burst of anger, you slap Sukuna across the cheek, the sound reverberating through the now-silent hallway. "I hate you!" you cry out, your voice cracking with emotion. For once, the tables have turned, and the roles are reversed – now it's Sukuna who feels humiliated in front of his peers.

Sukuna's eyes flash with anger, and before you know it, he seizes your hair, his fist clenching to strike you. The room erupts in chaos as classmates rush forward to pull you and Sukuna apart. As they separate you, his eyes burn with fury, promising retribution later. "This isn't over, little brat," he growls, his voice low and menacing. In the midst of the confusion, you can't help but wonder how far he'll go to assert his dominance and exact his revenge.

After school, you are the last student in the classroom. You quickly gather your belongings and stuff them into your bag. The sooner you leave school, the sooner you can get away from the stress of the day's activities.

Just as you're about to exit the classroom, your gaze shifts left, revealing Sukuna's smirking face. He's been waiting for you to finish what you're doing so he can pounce on you; now that you're both alone, no one can stop him.

His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he grabs your wrist, yanking you back and pinning you to the ground under his weight. "Nowhere to run, little brat," he chuckles, holding you down with an iron grip. "Time for your punishment." Fear and adrenaline course through you as you struggle against him, knowing that you can't escape his grasp.

Afraid and overwhelmed, tears stream down your face as Sukuna looms over you. To your surprise, his demeanor shifts, and he hastily gets off you, cradling your trembling form in his arms. "I didn't mean to scare you," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You continue to sob, the mixture of fear and humiliation overwhelming you. Sukuna holds you tightly, his grip softening as he tries to offer comfort. "Please don't cry," he whispers, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. "I won't hurt you, little brat. You just need to learn your place, that's all." Despite his words, you can't help but feel uneasy, knowing that his intentions might not be entirely genuine.

His hands cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your teary, puppy-like fearful eyes, your bruised lips from when he pinned you down, everything appears irresistible to him. He licks his lips as arousal surges through him, seeing you so vulnerable.

His fingers brush against your lips as he leans down to kiss your cheeks, tasting your tears. He moves further down letting his lips brush against yours. The kiss is slow and deliberate, his tongue sliding into your mouth with authority. Shock courses through you, your tears drying up as his dominance is once again asserted. But amidst the shock, a strange feeling of desire begins to stir within you, leaving you both confused and anxious.

As you recover from the shock, his kiss intensifies, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer. The unexpected intimacy leaves you both breathless and uncertain, your heart pounding in your chest. His lips are insistent, his tongue exploring your mouth with a possessive fervor. "You're mine, little brat," he whispers against your lips, his words laced with possession and dominance. You can't help but wonder what this new development means for your turbulent relationship.

As his lips continue their relentless assault, Sukuna's hands reach inside your skirt, his fingers tracing the outline of your thighs before finding their way to your most intimate place. Your breath hitches, the surprise and embarrassment from earlier replaced by an unwelcome arousal. "Does my little brat like that?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with satisfaction as he feels your reaction. His fingers delve deeper, his touch both demanding and thrilling. The intensity of the moment leaves you gasping for breath, your body betraying your mind's resistance.

With a triumphant smirk, Sukuna slides his finger inside you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. "So wet for me, little brat," he praises, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You should be ashamed, wanting me even after I embarrassed you in front of everyone." His words are a mix of pleasure and reprimand, further fueling your confusion and desire. You can't help but squirm under his touch, your body responding to his touch despite your mind's protests.

He thrusts his finger deeper, your walls clenching around him in response. "Such a naughty little brat.." he growls, his thumb caressing your clit. Your breath hitches, your body arching involuntarily under his expert touch. "But don't think this means I've forgiven you," he warns, his finger thrusting in and out in a slow, rhythmic pace. "You still have much to learn, and I'll teach you every lesson you need." You close your eyes, a mixture of shame and pleasure washing over you.

He lifts you up on one of the benches, bringing his erection towards your core. Your core gushing around his shaft, his groan of desire echoing through the still classroom. With a smirk, he frees his cock from his pants, the sight of it causing your breath to catch in your throat. He proceeds to rub the engorged member against your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. You try to resist, whispering a half-hearted "Wait..," but his eyes are filled with determination.

Despite your protests, he ignores your pleas and guides his member to your entrance. Forcing himself into you, he pushes past your resistance, his size causing a burning sensation. You whimper and whine, struggling against him, but his strength is overwhelming. "Quiet, little brat," he snarls, his cock stretching you wide. "Take it like the good little slut you are." You can't help but surrender to his force, your body adjusting to his intrusion as his thrusts become more forceful. "W-what if someone..?", your voice quivering, the thought of somebody seeing you like this is almost revolting to you..

What will everyone say? The shy innocent girl getting fucked by her bully and also that she is enjoying it? Yet, you cannot deny the pleasure he is giving you. You don't want him to stop.

"No one's coming", Sukuna interrups , "Even if someone sees us, let them know you just pretend to be shy... but you are in reality a masochist slut."

The combination of pain and pleasure washes over you, your body betraying your will once again. Your protests turn into moans, your hips moving in tandem with his. The intensity of the situation leaves you breathless, your mind conflicted between desire and fear. Despite yourself, you begin to enjoy the rough ride, your body responding to his dominance.

As his thrusts become more forceful, he cups your face, his eyes locked on yours. "You feel so good, little brat," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I've fantasized about this so many times, imagining you wrapped around my cock." You blush, both mortified and flattered by his admission. "You don't know how much I like you," he continues, his words contradicting his usual cold demeanor. "Maybe too much."

His confession catches you off guard, your mind reeling from the unexpected sentiment. Despite your confusion, his words ignite a spark of affection within you. "L-like me..? then why?," you whisper, your eyes tearing once more..

Sukuna pauses, his eyes searching your face as if trying to decipher your thoughts. "You're mine, and I want you to know it," he says, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. "I'll always push you, force you to submit because I can't bear the idea of losing you." His thrusts resume, his movements fierce yet tender. "I enjoy seeing you struggle, hearing you beg, because it proves you belong to me."

He leans in, his lips grazing your ear. "It's my way of showing you how much I care, little brat," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I'll never let anyone take you from me, even if it means breaking you first." His words are both reassuring and terrifying, leaving you unsure of how to feel about this new revelation.

Despite your confusion, the intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, your body responding to his every move. His declaration has opened a door to a whole new realm of emotions, leaving you both scared and entranced by his possessiveness. The love-hate dynamic between you grows more complex with each passionate thrust, your future now intertwined with the man who both torments and cherishes you.

With a smirk, Sukuna reaches inside your shirt, his fingers finding your breasts through your bra. He kneads your nipples roughly, your breath hitching at the sudden sensation. "Such a pretty sight, my little brat writhing under me," he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck to find your lips. His kiss is both possessive and demanding, his tongue dueling with yours in a heated dance.

Your body responds to his touch, your nipples hardening in his grasp. The mix of pain and pleasure leaves you gasping, your mind clouded by the sensations. His kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands roaming freely over your body. The dual assault leaves you breathless, your arousal reaching new heights.

As his kisses become more intense, so do his thrusts. You can't help but become more responsive, your body surrendering to his domination. The intimacy and brutality blend together, leaving you both exhilarated and terrified by the intensity of the experience. Your resistance melts away, your body craving the release that only he can provide.

He watches your face intently, his thrusts becoming more frantic. "That's it, little brat," he growls, "let go for me." You can feel the heat building within you, your body ready to explode.

As you reach your climax, your inner muscles contract around his cock, milking him in a rhythmic pulse. Sukuna groans, his own release nearing. With a growl, he pulls out, his seed shooting across your face in a hot spray. You gasp, your eyes widening at the sudden intrusion. "There," he says, a triumphant glint in his eye. "Now you're marked, my little slut."

Your breath hitches, the cooling semen on your face a testament to his claim. The shock of the action leaves you speechless, your mind struggling to process the intensity of the situation.

As Sukuna zips up, his eyes rake over your body, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Clean yourself up," he commands, raising a hand in dismissal before turning on his heel and striding away. You're left on the ground, still panting from your orgasm, your mind reeling from his abrupt departure.

You watch him leave, your mind reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. As he disappears from sight, you can't help but feel abandoned. With shaking hands, you wipe the semen from your face, a small part of you feeling humiliated yet another part aroused by the act. Your body still buzzes from the encounter, your heart racing. You rise slowly, your legs unsteady beneath you, and make your way back to your quarters.

Does he really like me?

The questions linger, unanswered, but you know one thing for certain - you belong to him, body and soul.

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