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simpjaes · 5 months ago

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CUNNILINGUIST ― s.jy (ft. p.sh)

Unfortunately for you, no man has ever given you some good head. Fortunately for you, your best friend is more annoyed by it than you are. It’s just a favor, right? or the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue.

minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog to give bestie jake conflicting feelings

WORDCOUNT― 16.1 k

PAIRING― jake x afab reader (ft. sunghoon)

CONTENT― a lot of waiting, like to the point it even annoyed me, very fluffy stuff , typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, jake is whiny and needy when he’s horny, reader thinks it’s cute. angst if you’re a baby about it

OTHER CHARACTERS― sunghoon as the mutual friend who bangs reader

NOTE― this was originally written by me on my other blog [@/ncteez], if you’ve read it before, that’s why!

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― BIG DICKED BESTIE, pussy eating (he gets IN THERE), masturbation in the form of dry humping a mattress and then into his hand, finger fucking, cum eating, sunghoon hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up,raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cheesy love stuff

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What? Again?” Jake says, leaning back against the couch with a groan and a smack to his own forehead.

“Yeah, so basically he went down on me for less than a minute but expected me to, like, go long enough to ‘swallow’ or whatever.” You continue the story in a frustrated huff, shaking your head in self-pity.

Jake groans louder, leaning himself forward again and swiping his drink from your coffee table to take a long and thoughtful sip.

“How many times is that, then?” He says between sips, glancing around the room as if he’s in deep thought. “I can’t help but think you pick these kinds of guys on purpose at this point.”

You look at him in mock pain, grabbing his drink and taking your own thoughtful sip of it.

“I dunno, they always talk big game during phone sex and stuff. I figure eventually one of them will live up to it.” You drone on, internally marking your recent date’s name off of your call-back list.

“Be honest with me, have you ever actually gotten good head? Like how would you know if they’re bad if you have nothing good to compare them to?” Jake asks, letting you mindlessly drink his beverage.

It’s not weird to be having these types of conversations with him, if at all, something would seem off if you didn’t. He’s the only person in your life that you’ve ever felt this close to. At this point, you think he’d have to chase you down with a bloody hatchet for things to be awkward. Which is…kind of interesting, you guess.

“Well, I mean,” You think for a moment too long for his liking, but he gives you the space to finish your answer. “It feels good and all but it’s not like I’ve ever gotten off by it.”

“Correction –” Jake starts, blinking right at you. “You’ve never been given the chance to get off on it.” His bright smile shows through his words, and you’re sure he’s mocking you at this point.

“Yeah, yeah. Yada, yada. I have terrible taste in sexual partners but to be fair, it’s not like the pool is that big to choose from.”

He nods in agreement, humming as if to end the conversation and still watching you sip at his drink.

“Would you be opposed to–” He pauses, making eye contact with you. “Y’know, I could do it for you.”

You pause, nearly dropping his drink out of your hand but thankfully your grip actually tightens on it instead. You swallow as you look at him, searching his face to see if this is some kind of joke.

“Jae-fucking-yun,” You deadpan, sitting his cup back down on your coffee table and leaning toward him, staring him down. “You’d really do that, for me?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, mostly playing it off as a half-joke just to see if he’s fucking with you or not.

“How else are you gonna experience it?”

You stare him down harder.

“You say that like you’re some sort of pussy-eating-god,” You narrow your eyes. “Are you?”

He shrugs casually with his little smile, leaning back on your couch and stretching his arms out. One of his hands lands behind your shoulder and you lean into it.

“I’d let you be the judge of that if you’re up for it.”

Finally, you decide that he’s definitely not joking and you’re definitely gonna do it because like, that’s your best friend. Experiencing your firsts with him comes almost as naturally as walking. You had your first kiss with him, albeit it was a dare. You experienced your first concert with him, your first break up, your first failed exam, and even your first legal drink in a club. What’s so bad about letting him eat you out?

“Right now?” You ask, quirking your brow and tilting your head.

“Now, tomorrow, next week. Whenever.” He runs his hands through his hair as he says it and only now are you starting to really tune into his features that you’ve already found handsome.

Day after day you’ve seen him on this couch and in other states of dress without really thinking twice about how his lips would feel on you (despite that short first kiss). You’ve seen him kissing all up on other people, you’ve seen him in the club with wet lips from alcohol, you’ve seen him all messy and eating spaghetti at his parent’s house– but for some reason, his lips seem different now. His sleepy eyes seem different, his messy hair seems like something that should be tugged on, his fucking jawline–

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” He looks at you up and down as if he’s judging. “You wanna go right now?”

You nod slowly, letting the traces of any lusty thoughts you’ve had about him in your life come to the front in waves. Then you quickly shake your head.

“Wait, no,” You roll your eyes more at yourself than him. “I haven’t showered since my date, maybe I should, uh…”

“Uh – yeah. Please do.” He grimaces, that same dopey smile coming back after a moment.

“Fair.” You roll your eyes. “Gonna go shower then.”

Part of you wonders if like, he’s being totally legit. For all you know, you’ll get out of the shower and he’ll be too busy doing something else, or like, he’ll go home or something. No hurt in seeing though.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

In the bathroom, you can’t help the feeling in your chest at even the thought that this may be about to happen.

Excitement. That’s what you feel. Not because it’s Jake. Well, maybe a little bit because you wanna see what his tongue is all about but more so because you’re about to get some presumably good head.

You shower thoughtfully, cleaning every part of your body and feeling little goosebumps rise and fall with each sensation of your air conditioning snaking its way past your shower doors. When you get out, you lotion your body so you’re all nice and soft and brush your teeth just in case things go a little further. You’re not expecting it to, but y’know, nothing wrong with having fun if it comes to it.

After all, he’s doing you a favor by going down on you, the least you can do is smell good, be soft, and totally prepared for if he were to suggest more, right? Right. Anyway, you’re all showered up and opt to just let your hair do its own thing as you throw on your shirt and shorts. You ignore the panties at this point, because why not?

When you get back to the living room, Jake isn’t there. Naturally, you check your bedroom and there he is, still his normal self and lounging against your headboard while flipping through videos on his phone.

“And she’s back,” he comments, reaching a hand out as if to invite you to your own bed. “Change your mind yet?”

“Not even for a second,” you smile as you take a spot in front of him, your entire body facing him as you pull your knees up and lay your chin against your arms. “Have you?”

He seems to fall into a more serious tone now, locking his phone before tossing it to the side and flicking his eyes up to look at you, scanning your legs in the shorts.

“No,” he chokes back, shocked to see straight between the gap of your shorts and actually lay eyes on the point of this whole situation for the first time. “And you’re not wearing anything under those shorts.”

You watch his face and the way it turns from your best friend into something you’ve seen time and time again from men you’ve gone home with. It’s sexy on him though, for some reason.

“Figured I’d save you the trouble?”

He smiles, now moving himself toward you and reaching a hand behind to cradle your head.

“Lay back,” he says softly, in a voice you’ve only heard a few times from him, “you could have left the shorts off too though.” He adds with an even softer laugh.

For some reason, it makes you feel shy. His hand guiding you to lay back all while grabbing the pillow from behind him and placing it under your head so that you’re nice and comfortable. You watch him look at you and honestly, it’s in a way you can’t remember him ever looking at you before. If this is how he looks at other women, you may be a little jealous.

It feels more intense right now than you thought it would.

“You’re being weird.” You say offhandedly, looking away from him and trying to keep the heat from flushing to your cheeks.

“You’re letting me eat you out, how am I being weird?” He leans up from you, putting two hands on your knees but still waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “You want me to act like the other dudes? Dip my tongue in then wrap it up?”

You groan, rolling your eyes back to him and analyzing the way his big hands drape over your knees.

“Okay, fair.” You admit defeat, feeling his warm palms move down the back of your thighs and to your ass.

“Lift up,” He says, quickly pulling the shorts off of you when you do as he asks.

“Oh–” He gasps quietly. “Damn.”

He stares directly between your legs, bracing his hands back at your knees and spreading your legs a bit. He angles his head in different ways to really look at you, seemingly enamored with your pussy as a whole.

“Look who’s staring now.” You chuckle, instinctively hiding your face from him despite knowing he isn’t looking up at you.

“Yeah– I am,” he admits, now adjusting himself on the bed to lay down, his head easily slotting between your legs as he rests his chin on your lower belly and looks up at you. “You can pull my hair or do whatever, I’m just gonna…like, start I guess. Tell me if it’s something you don’t like.”

As normal as this isn’t, he’s speaking similar to how the two of you had taken on projects before. He typically takes the lead but offers you control more often than not. All you can do is nod at him, trying to comprehend that it’s your best friend’s head between your legs right now.

When he pulls his head back up with one last nod of confirmation, the first thing you feel is his fingers slipping up your folds, the other braced on your thigh and holding your legs open. You release a short sigh of relief at the feeling and he instantly smirks at it.

“I haven’t even started yet,” He whispers, glancing up at you before fixing his eyes back on the expanse of your pussy. He uses his ring and pointer finger to spread your lips open, and the middle finger to rub against your hole only for a brief moment before he licks his lips and releases his own sigh of relief. “God, Sunghoon would be so jealous right now.”

You look down at him, wanting to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about and why he’d bring up Sunghoon right now, but you find yourself staring at him instead. Breath caught in your throat with the way his eyes meet yours before letting his tongue hang from his mouth as if presenting it to you in a cheeky way.

He’s so fast with it too, with the way he replaces his middle finger with his tensed tongue, forcing you to swallow your words and hold your breath even more. You can feel him lick and nibble against each of your lips before moving inward, flattening his tongue to lick one long, languid, and wet stripe up until meeting your clit.

He wraps his lips around it, sucking once, hard, before releasing it and pulling back to look at you.

“This okay?”

Goddamn him for making you have to talk right now. You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that he said Sunghoon, fucking Sunghoon of all people would be jealous that he’s doing this right now. That’s definitely a question for later, because yeah, it’s fucking okay.

More than okay.

You nod to him, throwing your arm over your eyes and instinctively bucking your hips up towards his hovering mouth.

“Oh, that was hot,” He groans out his compliment, watching the way you hide your face before he pulls his eyes back down and uses his fingers to spread your pussy open wider, enough to see your hole pulsate when he dips down to blow against it, “I can see how wet you’re getting, Is it because of me or is it just because someone is playing with your pussy?”

You half groan half moan at that, mostly because hearing these words from him is something that feels entirely too sexual. As if he hasn’t already tasted you, as if you’re not spread out by his fingers right now. You ignore his words, yet, your brain holds onto them with white knuckles and your hips buck toward him again.

“Not a talker, got it.” He notes, watching your hips chase his breath.

He watches for much longer than you’d like for him to, and you’re about to lift up and accuse him of being just like the other guys but he shuts your thoughts off so fucking fast when you feel his lips on you again.

His tongue explores every part of you, licking and sucking against areas you didn’t even know would feel good until his mouth lands against your clit again. This time, you can’t help it, you grind up and he hums at it as he braces your legs open just enough to skew his head and move his tongue back down.

He’s slurping. Lost in the moment as he does it. Tasting you in full and getting a warm, pleasant feeling each time your legs try to close and your hips buck up for more. He…can’t believe this is finally happening. Fucking finally.

Unsure if you’d let him, he tries anyway. He stiffens his tongue, circling your hole before pressing just a bit, giving you just enough pressure that you feel frustrated. So frustrated that you’re the one who ends up finishing his attempt at something new. You reach down and lace your fingers in his hair, and let out a soft, needy little moan for him.

That sound forces one from his chest too, he can’t help it, really. With the way you’re grabbing his hair and holding his head in place, pressing yourself against his mouth so much harder than before. Ah, he really, really loves doing this for you.

To think any man would already be done? To think anyone could like, not wanna eat you out? Insanity. Stupid, stupid fucking men.

He can taste how wet you are now, truly taste it as he stretches your hole as much as he can with his tongue and another groan of his own. It’s probably embarrassing, truly, but he doesn’t care.

Both of you are moaning at this point as you hold his head in place and grind your hips harder than you think you are. He loves it, you love it. So much that you really are barely comprehending that your best friend could do this the whole time?! And never told you until now?!

Jake is just as drunk on the moment as you are though. Totally lost in the scent and taste of you as he continues to lap away, constantly trying to prove that you can and will get off from his mouth alone. And honestly? It’s at the point that he figures he can use his fingers now too considering you let him spread you open with his tongue. What’s a little more gonna hurt, anyway?

The taste of you alone has him in heaven, cursing any man who didn’t take advantage of your pussy against their mouth. He can easily slip a finger into a hole this wet and needy, gasping in awe before glancing up at you.

God, the way you immediately ride his finger, no huff or sound of irritation that he’s pulled his tongue back now. Your face. Fuck.

He watches as you shamelessly chase the small amount of pleasure he can offer in terms of just head and fingering. He can imagine how hot you’d be without that shirt on, with your legs around his hips, with your mouth wrapped around him. You look blissed out, soaking his finger and keeping your hand in his hair, mindlessly grabbing and scratching at him.

Making quick work, he goes back for your clit, circling his tongue around the bundle of nerves and noticing how you ride his finger harder. He can’t help but smirk against you when you do it either.

The movement of your hips constantly humping against him is enough, and he can’t help but groan at the sound of your slick squelching out of you and warming his chin, he can’t fucking help but grind his own hips forward when you act like this. His cock is so painfully hard for you right now, at the taste of you, that all he can do is chase the mattress beneath him. Tensing his muscles and moaning against your clit shamelessly at the jolts of pleasure he gets from it.

He slips another finger in with ease, feeling how much wetter you’ve gotten in the way the slide is filthy and audible. You groan out at that too, feeling his tongue flick relentlessly against your clit and only now moving your free hand from your face and trailing to your stomach.

You can’t even talk, so you don’t. You lift your shirt up until you can at least rub against your nipples, just to heighten the pleasure your best friend is so graciously giving you.

His eyes roll back when you do that, only to fall back on you and get a frustrated grunt from him. He’s a bit annoyed that the shirt is still covering you despite your hand under it, fondling yourself. He’s thinking with his cock, so fucking aroused that he doesn’t think twice when he aggressively lifts your shirt up to your chin and watches the way your fingers poke and prod at yourself.

He inhales a sharp breath at the image, and his hips fuck harder against the mattress at that. His fingers speed up and now he’s focused. You feel him all over you from the waist down, his tongue flicking and lips sucking against your swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, your fingers heightening those sensations by playing with your own tits– then, oh, then you notice.

Jake, you’re best fucking friend, is so goddamn horny that he’s dry humping against your bed and whining out moans against your clit. Probably to avoid asking for more, to avoid making you feel obligated to get him off too, to avoid anything you may not want or consent to. And that’s why he’s your best friend.

It doesn’t take long after that, your hips come to a stop as you watch him get himself off all while getting you off, and you find your orgasm bubbling up much faster than if you’d have imagined solely because of the image in front of you.

“Jake, you’re fucking whining.” You groan almost as needy as he does, rolling your hips up in a stutter.

He was almost gonna stop, because yeah, he is whining. Gasping for air but only tasting you, only swallowing up the moans you give to him, only inhaling the dull scent of the fruity soap you used when you showered. But, you moan louder after you say that. You like it. You like seeing him act so desperate. So he continues, shamefully reaching one of his hands between himself and the bed and quickly shoving it down his pants, circling around his cock and continuing to fuck into it.

If he thinks hard enough, you’re what he’s fucking right now, and technically, he is. With his fingers and mouth at least. When your hips stutter more, he fucks harder against his hand and holds his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get them. There, he sucks against your clit until you’re the one whining louder.

You’re shocked at how quickly you’re getting off. Releasing a splash against him in a breathy, choked up sob. Nearly squeezing his head between your thighs to the point he almost misses the way you breathe out strings of praises toward him. But he hears them.

He definitely heard you say that he looks sexy with your hand in his hair, and god, did he ride off of the fact that you encouraged him to get off with you. Regardless of if you knew if he could or not, regardless of if you knew his hand was providing just enough pleasure for him to do just that.

There, as your orgasm subsides with his tongue still flicking your sensitive clit, you watch him writhe his hips against your mattress, his eyes slammed shut, and his breath coming out in pornographic moans. So this is what Jake looks like when he cums. It’s desperate, but somehow, it feels passionate too.

You’re all dazed after the fact, pussy pulsing and tingling from the loss of his lips and fingers once he pulls back and lays against your bed with a lazy smile. His pants are uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind as he wipes his hand across his shirt and watches the way you catch your breath.

“So,” He tries to say, clearing his throat. “I– um– hope that’s what you needed?”

You’re shy. You’re never fucking shy, especially towards Jake, but god.

“Um, yeah,” you sigh out, lifting from the bed and looking back at him. Part of you wondering if that’s what it’s supposed to be like when someone gives you good head, or if that’s just…what it’s like when Jake gives head.

For some reason, you genuinely don’t think another man would ever eat you out to that level again. There’s no way, based on experience.

“It was definitely what I needed.”

He nods in a shy way, reminding himself that his pants are fucking nasty right now. So, he goes to stand up and extends a hand out to you.

“Let’s go clean up.”

You shake your head, not at all wanting to move from this bed. He nods again, pulling your shirt back down for you and leaning to look at you.

“I’m gonna bring you something to clean up with, and I’m gonna shower.”

You smile at him, a bit dazed as you make yourself comfortable on your messy sheets as you think hard about the fact that this dopey motherfucker really never told you how good he was at this? Rude.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake looks all proud of himself when he comes back to your room and cuddles into bed with you much like he always has.

“I didn’t expect to sleep over, I have work in the morning.” He whispers in a rasp against your back, curling around you like the perfect big spoon.

You’re quick to turn on his work alarm on your phone, like you always do when he crashes during weeknights. Because, what best friend doesn’t have alarms set for each other anyway?

After a few more long moments of silence, you try to talk. Mostly because your brain is swimming with the fact that, like, you’re not sure but it’s just– wow.

“Hey, um–”

“Hmm?” He hums out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” His sudden louder voice causes you to jump, but you relax back into his gasp.

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responds with mock-confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him, as if to hide the way he’s trying to make this sound like a joke. For his own comfort, really.

You smile.

“And don’t tell other dudes my secrets.” He adds.

“I won't.”

Jake has his own smile from behind you, wondering if he really is just that good at eating pussy. The truth is, he’s done it a handful of times but he was just really really interested in doing it for you. For…reasons.

・・・・・・THIS WAS ORIGINALLY TWO PARTS, NOW IT’S ONE. YOU’RE WELCOME・・・・・・

“Hey, um,”

“Hmm?” Jake hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice.

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.”

You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.

It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Jake went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.

Nothing changed.

In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Jake. Sweet, caring, aloof, Jake. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.

Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward.

You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands.

It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him.

Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough.

You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did.

Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Jake is different though. You knew he would be too.

Why is Jake any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?

He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm.

You haven’t gone on any dates since that day, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.

So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.

That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Jake briefly mentioning Sunghoon to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time.

Why would Sunghoon be jealous of what happened? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Jake was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend.

Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him.

So, texting Sunghoon? Easy.

Thankfully, Sunghoon texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well, Sunghoon sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Jake for the past couple of hours.

You lay here in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you. And yeah, you did fucking enjoy it.

But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Sunghoon a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Jake, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place?

Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Sunghoon and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time.

God, if only Jake would just talk about it.

And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability.

And, well, you wake up much the same, except Sunghoon was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does.

“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.”

You quirk a brow. Right, Jake is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.

“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?”

You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now.

“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked thighs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.”

You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Sunghoon must offer to all of his lovers.

You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Jake for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts.

“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you.

“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Sunghoon whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.”

You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Jay? Heeseung? Fucking Jungwon? As fucking if.

“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.”

And he listens. Sunghoon goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging in as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Jake isn’t the only man who can please you now.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Sunghoon did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Jake did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him.

Even so, you know Jake will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Sunghoon around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened.

You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Sunghoon. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already.

Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Jake, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant.

“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Sunghoon and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even two hours after you left.

“What?” Jake responds in confusion to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed.

“Oh god, something happened.” Jake groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.”

Something is off, Jake can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him.

“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Jay mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?”

“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Sunghoon.”

You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Jake reacts.

“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Sunghoon? Why?!”

God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Sunghoon that day, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Sunghoon has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold.

“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.”

You refuse to pick up on Jake’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting?

“Sunghoon? You want to fuck Sunghoon?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying.

“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it.

Jake hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.”

He really thought he was the one who could do it for you.

“Yeah, but–” Jake starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in.

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over.

He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you.

He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Sunghoon?

By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Sunghoon managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it.

Whether you’re his or not, Sunghoon never should have been a fucking option.

So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop.

You must be talking to Sunghoon, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Jake has heard that Sunghoon knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying.

To Jake, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do.

He calls again. You don’t answer.

Again.

“What?!” You answer, annoyed.

“Why would you even want Sunghoon?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all.

It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care?

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Sunghoon. We aren’t dating, Jake.”

“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Jake argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart.

“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

Pause.

“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks.

“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Sunghoon is sending you and listening closely to what Jake might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.

“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”

You’re fucking appalled.

“Jake, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”

Jake sighs along with you on the other end of the line.

“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Sunghoon’s tonight.”

“What?” Jake’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!”

It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Sunghoon an option? Knife to the heart, honestly.

Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this.

You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Sunghoon.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.

“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he does….again.” An inhale. “ Yes! I’m fucking jealous!”

You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips.

“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”

You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “I’m going to kick his ass.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?”

The confirmation of Jake being the friend who forbade Sunghoon from making a move on you is right there, clear as day.

“Ah, so the Jake I know isn’t the Jake everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.

“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”

“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to get me off? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?”

Jake sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation.

“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!”

“I’m genuinely shocked you didn’t know already. Made me think you weren’t interested enough to like–” He pauses, not wanting to be too telling. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”

You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you.

“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest.

”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of it. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”

You listen to him breathe deeply, again.

“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”

There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you.

“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Jake. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”

“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”

“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?”

“No,” Jake sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.”

“And this is you.” You confirm.

“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.”

You pause at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Jake you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore.

Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you.

“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Jake tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you.

“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?”

“Are you still going to fuck Sunghoon?”

You laugh.

“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.”

“Get better jokes, asshole.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What the fuck?” Jake deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!”

“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Sunghoon shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Jake, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”

Jake slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes.

“You’re such a dick– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Sunghoon with you, the person he wants the most.

“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–”

“Sunghoon, stop. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.”

Sunghoon’s brow raises in curiosity.

“Ah, did you finally make a move?”

If there’s anything Jake knows Sunghoon won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Jake made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman.

Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.

“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”

Sunghoon lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past.

“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Jake for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-”

“Sunghoon.” Jake warns. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Relax, jesus.” Sunghoon plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.”

Jake rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Sunghoon becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you.

Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs.

Sunghoon could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Jake, ever.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has.

Jake comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t live.

Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.

You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Jake working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first.

Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard.

What if he doesn’t show up at all?

You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”?

God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again.

You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value.

Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Jake was nothing but a one time thing for his sake.

And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags.

“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.”

You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him.

“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags.

You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like that.”

You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Jake is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.

“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug.

“Two days too long, though.” You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back. “We don’t have a lot of time, but we can still make it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”

You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling a bit let down. You wanted more, especially after that hug. The fact that he can contain himself right now feels isolating. Are you the only one who has a vibrating brain right now? He really wants to have the conversation at the restaurant?

He really wants to do this the right way?

You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Jake’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling.

“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off.

“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.

You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you.

“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself.

You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.

“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.”

Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow.

“I think I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “Even if I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me– I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand.

“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now.

“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”

Jake snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him.

“To be fair though, Jake, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”

“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant.

You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order.

Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing.

“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you.

“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table.

“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him.

Especially after having to be in this stupid fucking restaurant in the first place.

He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit.

“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you?”

God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing.

“Jake, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you want to tame yourself a little bit.

“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.”

Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you.

“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”

You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Jake’s eagerness to have you in full, finally.

“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?”

You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you.

“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”

An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Jake.

You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him.

For Jake, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night.

Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the right moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight.

Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back.

What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the moments he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses.

Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant.

You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway.

Jake, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet.

“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Jake’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this.

It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over.

“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Sungh-”

“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Jake squeezes you tighter against you, hating himself for constantly bringing up reasons to wait.

“If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Sunghoon’s name is forbidden.”

You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way.

“Deal. Now, can you fucking hurry?” You roll your eyes playfully, internally a little thankful for the short moments you will have to prepare yourself for this.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Damn this shower for feeling so good. Jake could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.

It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more.

It’s not a hook up though. Jake is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…

He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is.

You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of it.

Then, he’s faced with a dilemma.

You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Jake may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.

Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you.

Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out.

“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–”

Fucking pause.

God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship.

Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you.

You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.

“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time too,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”

That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed.

Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own.

The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”

Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.

Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically.

“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.

He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now.

Never has making out gotten him this turned on, and it’s not a surprise because it’s you.

He half moans, half chuckles into your kiss when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against.

“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.”

You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.

Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his cock between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next.

First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck.

At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. His nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your breast.

He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips, and he begins to nibble.

And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.

“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?”

You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit.

He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.

He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples.

Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time.

As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you.

“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally breathes out, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pressing your loose shorts to the side just to get the taste of you against his lips again.

Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every dip and crease of your cunt. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much.

The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you all he’s got.

All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react.

Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state and made you forget about the restaurant, the shower, the weeks of pining before this. His mouth is so warm, and his vibrating moans sooth your clit through its desperate attempts to beg for more.

You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue he’s giving you.

He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king.

Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers with intent, and he pulls back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.

“Fuck.” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick.

You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers.

“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, I can feel you squeeze my fingers–”

And it’s true, he’s seeing stars solely because he can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…

His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the thought, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you.

You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated digits to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation.

You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing your shorts to stretch against the crease of your thigh.

He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants.

“Keep it spread open–” He mutters when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been holding your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it.”

God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole.

You let out a pleased sigh, despite your shorts becoming a nuisance at this point. It’s easy to forget you’re still wearing them though, because they only become drenched more and more as the moments pass with Jake.

You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for.

“Jake–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.

There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can in this moment.

His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if or when he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.

There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down to take over for him.

In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.

He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours.

And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, your shorts being stretched until they’re sliding down your thighs and off of you, and then the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time.

His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you.

“Yeah?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment.

“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.

And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.

“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and expect me to be gentle…” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”

You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most.

“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself.

“Oh, fuck–” He chokes out before sucking in a breath and letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point.

“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation.

That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have.

Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your shoulders, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels.

He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes white when the stretch hits you.

So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you at all, actually

“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Jake, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is.

It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer.

Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet.

“Shh–” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.

His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now.

You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against you before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second.

His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.

Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again.

His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that’s only becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding.

“Yeah, yeah–” Jake suddenly chimes with out of breath words, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his and picking up a different pace.

This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again.

“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.”

Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Those words feel so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true.

You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head.

That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly how he wants you to feel.

“Ahh, you like that?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more.

“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you’re confident like this–”

He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by them from this point forward. He truly doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to make an attempt to fuck you the way he does.

And then the room falls silent again, as if Jake is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place.

His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act.

You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to cum? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate?

None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking and timidly looking down at you.

“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you.

You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.

There, he loses himself, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full.

“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Fuck, I really can’t.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his strings of cum ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense.

It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.

You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.

And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–

“What the fu–” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Jake, Fuck–yes, right there.” You continue to groan when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm.

You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone is enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.

Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm.

You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster than he offered before.

And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.

Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles.

You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes.

“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone.

He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you.

A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he finally rolls off of you and right up against your side.

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud.

“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.

“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Sunghoon see you act like that too?”

You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him.

“You’re insane if you think Sunghoon is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”

Jake glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in.

“Well,” He starts, pausing and feeling that little pit in his stomach return. “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.”

You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are.

“Jake, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”

He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach. And then? He groans.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached.

Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Sunghoon without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.

Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed down by pining or lust.

As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it.

Romance isn’t dead, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it.

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #jake smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut

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honeybubblebeeeeee · 6 months ago

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Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Pairing: Sylus x reader

Tags: mostly fluff, some suggestive content

A/N: LMAO ik I’ve been MIA forever a lot happened BUT lnds has restarted my brain rot so I’m boutta get REAL ANNOYING HAHAHAHA this game has me in a chokehold

Sylus the man that you are 😩

Sylus had been gone for a few days. It shouldn’t have bothered you but it did.

You didn’t know where he went or when he’d come back. Mephisto was gone, even Luke and Kieran had disappeared.

It didn’t feel the same going out into the N109 zone without your second shadow. You haunted the Onychinus base. More specifically Sylus’ wing of the base.

You couldn’t stop yourself from walking into his room one exceptionally lonely night. Or from going into his closet and sneaking his soft grey sweater that you’ve only seen him wear maybe once. It smelled like him.

There was something blossoming between the two of you. Your distaste for him had slowly dissolved. After everything he did to help you it was hard to hate him.

Lately the two of you had become more intimate. There were more soft touches, sneaking glances, many almost kisses but there was some sort of barrier, a line both of you seemed hesitant to cross.

Wearing nothing but his sweater and some underwear, as it went almost down to your knees, you curled up in his bed. It made you blush to think about the time you were trying to steal the brooch from him. After he had evaded his handcuffs and pinned you to the bed, you two had been so close to doing something.

It quickly got ruined when Luke and Kieran came barreling in and then everyone was blushing. Sylus some how kept a nonchalant face.

The softness of his silk sheets and comfortable mattress lulled you to sleep.

Movement in the room started to rouse you. Rubbing your eyes against the soft glow of a lamp, Sylus’ large figure came into view.

“Sorry darling I didn’t mean to wake you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, having a hard time adjusting to the light. Sylus chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair away from your face.

His touch vanished, you squinted trying to see where he went. As your vision cleared, you watched the way his deft hands made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. As he laid it across the chair beside him he turned and made eye contact with you.

A smirk played on his lips as he stalked over to you. He sat down beside your head and cupped your cheek. “Don’t you have your own bed kitten?”

You sleepily giggle, your eyes fluttering closed again. His touch was soothing and warm. “And this sweater looks quite familiar. I think I have one just like it.” His hand left your cheek and went for your exposed thigh.

Sylus massaged the soft skin and slowly you felt the sweater rise with the warmth of his touch as he came to your hip. He gave the area a squeeze before pulling the sweater back down. “Not only do you lay in my bed and steal my clothes but you’re also wearing practically nothing underneath.” A deep laugh sounded from his chest. “Maybe I should leave more often.”

Your eyes opened and your mouth fell into an O. “That’s not nice.” Dramatically you pouted, jutting out your bottom lip. Sylus only smirked and flicked it before standing up and walking into his closet.

He came back out moments later in just his underwear and you couldn’t help but eye him. His steeled abs flexed as he moved about the room. The scars on his skin glowed like stars against the lamp light.

“You’re staring.” His crimson eyes flared a little brighter as he stalked toward you. Your eyes couldn’t help but flick down to the bulge of his underwear.

He laughed as he slid overtop of you and hovered to get a good look at you. Your skin heated against his gaze. The sweater you wore suddenly feeling too hot. As you reached out to touch him he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“Bed time for such a sleepy kitten hm?” He stood up and grabbed your hips pulling you to the edge of the bed. Squealing he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You kept a strong grip around his neck as you snuggled into his skin. Sylus always smelled good. It was addicting. One strong arm gripped your ass as he pulled back the blankets on the bed before laying you back down again.

He released you ready to pull away but you kept your grip around his neck, refusing to let him go. Sylus chuckled, the sound vibrating deliciously throughout your body.

“Come on darling. I’ll lay with you.” Huffing you started to release him. Quickly you planted a kiss on his cheek before he could pull too far away. He kissed your forehead in return. Hesitating at the way you licked your lips but he still pulled away.

Sylus flicked off the light. Dousing the room in completely darkness. You couldn’t see him but you could hear him walk around the bed and pull back the blankets. You stayed facing away from him as he got settled.

There was a moment of silence no movement or words. His hands came out of no where, gripping your hips and pulling you back against him. A giggle passed your lips, he tightly wrapped himself around you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You squirmed in his hold, pushing your ass against him as innocently as you could.

“If you keep doing that, the last thing you’ll be doing is sleeping sweetheart.” His voice brushed your ear sending a chill down your spine.

You didn’t feel like sleeping anyway.

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus #lnds sylus #lads #lads sylus #lnds #lnds x reader #lads x reader

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ittybittyfanblog · 18 days ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 8

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, suggestive themes, again with the slight smut phew, angst on top of more angst, no comfort... yet (or ever? hmm much to ponder about) A/N: Imagine if I leave it here lmao Also, I've been listening to White Ferrari on repeat while editing this chapter. I'm not saying that you should too while you're reading, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Oh, and Angel by Massive Attack. Trust me, it's gonna come up. (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9

The cold tiles of the bathroom floor wreak a shiver through your body.

You’re curled up in front of the toilet, barely upright after another round of puking what little bile is left in your stomach. Cold beads of sweat dot your forehead and every breath feels thin, ragged, like you’re trying to gulp air through a pinhole. The chill seeps under your skin, leaving you shuddering involuntarily between dry heaves.

You make the rookie mistake of tilting your head ever-so-slightly to rest against the cool porcelain, and the miniscule action threatens to send the room careening into another violent spin. A wave of nausea hits you and you desperately gnaw on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from gagging.

You feel like absolute shit.

There’s something lodged inside, sinking deep into the pit of your stomach. A poison, a corruption—heavier than the excess of alcohol still clawing its way through your system. It isn’t the simple penance for overindulging, no; it’s darker, rawer, less perfunctory than the remnants of last night’s events.

It churns inside you, leaving an acrid, metallic taste on your tongue and a dull ache behind your eyes.

The buzzing of your phone reverberates beside you, a relentless vibration against your thigh. It hasn’t stopped since the moment you clawed your way out of bed and staggered toward your porcelain waste bucket. You weren’t supposed to bring it along with you—it should’ve been left abandoned outside of this room, far from this bleak sanctuary. This… this disgusting aftermath of your revelry.

Unfortunately, it’s practically an extension of you now. A limb, almost. Or worse, a crutch—something you lean on so habitually, that the mere thought of its absence feels like an amputation.

“S-sorry,” you release a shaky breath, tears pricking your vision, unbidden. Unwelcome. “Sorry.”

Another vibration. You can picture it clearly in your head: the worry marring his face, the exasperation in his eyes.

You retch.

––––

The red takeout box from Panda Express sits in front of you, its contents lukewarm and forgotten for the better part of the hour. You barely remember ordering it—actually, now that you think about it… Did you even order it yourself? Your memory’s a little hazy, just like everything else today. And last night.

Sylus’ voice crackles through your phone, propped precariously against a half-empty mug of tea on the low table.

His presence, as always, manages to fill the room, though this time there’s a palpable tension in the air since you opened the game. His initial greeting had all the warmth of a parent catching their kid sneaking in past curfew. The moment his image blinked into view, you could see the battle in his eyes.

On one end, he simmered with ire, almost ready to boil over. On the other, he looked like he’d gladly claw his way out the screen just to tuck you into bed and personally force-feed you the food you’ve been ignoring for the past forty minutes.

“Eat it,” he grouses, a hint of steel sharpening his deceptively calm tone. The worry beneath it feels like it could strangle you.

(And if it could, it probably would—if he has any say in it.)

You whine, burrowing deeper under the blanket, folding yourself into a sad, uncooperative ball on the couch. “I will. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” he echoes, the incredulity clear in his voice. “Do you plan on eating it soon as it becomes inedible, or is this a test of endurance?”

With a sigh that feels like it’s pulled from the depths of your soul, you poke halfheartedly at the lid. The smell of grease and fried food wafts out, making your stomach churn. Whether it’s from nausea or hunger pangs, you can’t tell.

“It smells like regret,” you mutter, swallowing the lump rising from your esophagus.

Sylus snorts, and you can tell it slipped out before he could stop it. “Considering the state you’re in? Can’t say I’m surprised. But you still need to eat, kitten. You can’t run on stubbornness alone.”

“I’m doing fine so far,” you argue weakly, knowing you’re not convincing anyone. Your body feels like it’s been put through the wringer—limbs heavy, muscles crying in protest, a pounding headache that refuses to let up.

“Fine,” he repeats, dry as ash. “You can barely hold yourself up, but sure, let’s call that fine.”

You finally flip the box open, revealing a mess of something fried and vaguely brown. The smell hits you harder this time, and you salivate something odd. “I don’t think—”

“Eat,” he cuts you off, voice firm, brooking no argument. “You’ve done well with the tea, but now you need something to fill you up.”

“I can think of something else I’d like to fill me up,” you mumble, the words slipping out before you can stop yourself.

A beat of silence, and then Sylus’ tone shifts—a touch amused now, but it’s edged with a deliberate weight that makes your skin prickle. Uh-oh.

“Sweetie,” he says slowly, almost indulgent, “if you’ve got the energy to make jokes like that, you’ve got the energy to eat. Be good, and I’ll make sure you’re properly rewarded once you’re feeling better.”

You laugh, breathless, trying to mask your nervousness from the subtle innuendo. Obediently, you pick up the plastic spork beside the carton. “You’re really selling this hard, huh.”

“I’m not here to sell it,” he sighs, voice losing its edge, but there’s still a firmness to it. “I’m here to make sure you don’t pass out. One bite. Start there.”

You spear a piece of shrimp hesitantly. It looks harmless enough, but you lift it like it might bite back.

You take the tiniest nibble.

It’s greasy, salty, and absolutely meh—but it doesn’t immediately trigger your gag reflex, which in itself feels like a small victory.

“There,” he says, his satisfaction palpable. “See? You survived.”

“Barely,” you shoot back half-heartedly, though the corner of your mouth twitches.

“I’ll make sure to congratulate you later for your heroic recovery,” he says wryly. “Now another bite, sweetheart.”

You make a reluctant noise but comply, munching slowly. He hums in approval. When you glance at the screen, his expression has mellowed—the severity giving way to something almost tender.

You look away quickly, swallowing hard; though you're not sure if it’s because of the tiny morsel of food or from the heavier something that's lodged in your throat.

The sound of your chewing is slightly amplified by the silence that comes after. You’re afraid to break it first.

So Sylus does it for you. Once he’s decided you’ve had your fill of the fried rice.

“Would you like to talk about last night?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “What about last night?”

A long pause.

“We don’t have to,” he says quietly. “I’m just saying that if you want to, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. You press your lips together, unsure of how to answer. There’s discomfort; the unease brought by your own self-consciousness.

“I—uh—” You start, fumbling for the right words. “I didn’t mean to… make things weird or anything. I don't usually get that wasted,” You sigh, blowing a stray hair out of your face. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“The only thing you did wrong last night was ignore my messages,” Sylus murmurs, his tone a little admonishing. “Making me worry about your well-being.”

You glance up, catching the affection in his eyes. He gives you a slight smile, relieved to finally have your attention fully on him.

You scrunch the blanket in your fist, fiddling with a loose string. You want to say something. Anything. But you can’t seem to summon the courage.

Finally—

“You don’t think…” you hesitate, voice small. “You don’t think it’s– that I’m… too much trouble?”

He tuts softly, the sound playful, with hints of something fond. Comforting, almost. So you hold his gaze, even if it’s a little harder than you’d like it to be.

Sylus looks at you with something so… endearing that it’s almost painful. “You’re perfect. My little troublemaker,” his eyes burn a little brighter. “Mine.”

The words hit you like a wave—soothing, gratifying. Staggering.

Oh, you want to believe him. You want to lose yourself in his words, to give in to the feeling of being cherished, of being seen. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything as much as this.

But turmoil wages a war inside you, and you’re stuck between the pull to let yourself believe and the sharp reality of your situation.

The futility of it all.

It makes you hurt, deep inside, in a way you don’t know how to fix.

––––

The package you got from the lobby is nondescript. Unassuming. The kind of box that could contain anything from kitchenware to – you don’t know, maybe a desk lamp? You turn it over in your hands, squinting at the lack of clues of its content and its sender.

Did you order something and forgot?

Payroll was over a week ago, and you’re aware of your irresponsible tendency to pile everything that catches your eye onto an online shopping cart just to tempt yourself into buying shit you don’t need, but you’re pretty sure you’d remember spending money on… whatever this is.

It’s not until you’re back in the privacy of your apartment, scissors in hand, that the mystery begins—and promptly ends.

The contents spill out, leaving you to blink owlishly at the mess of shredded wrapping paper and its pièce de résistance: a nine-inch monstrosity of a dildo, hot red in color.

The… thing is practically a weapon, its twisting ridges and intimidating girth looking more like something you’d need a user manual for. Or a fucking exorcist, you distantly think in rising panic.

“Uhh…” The sound tumbles out, an embarrassing mix of confused and gobsmacked. “I don’t remember—?”

Ping!

Your phone chimes before you can finish, and you slowly turn your gaze towards the screen, a sinking feeling beginning to form in your gut.

The message is short. And oh-so-smug.

Ah. Just in time.

The realization dawns on you, and your cheeks burn hot enough to fry an egg. “Sylus!”

What? Even in text, his tone carries that infuriating slyness you can practically hear from a mile away. You’ve earned it.

Your mouth works uselessly for a moment before words could spill out, clumsy and agitated. “Earned what?!”

A little treat for being such an obedient little thing while you were recovering, remember?

“Holy shit,” you wheeze. A half-hysterical giggle bubbles up your throat as you hold the draconic cock far from you as if it’s gonna attack at any second. Fuck, it might. “This is almost as big as my forearm! The hell am I supposed to do with this?”

What do I expect you to do with it? Sylus’s reply comes almost instantly, the weight of his insinuation almost coming across as mocking. I thought that was obvious.

You didn’t think your face could go any redder, and you’re sure you resemble a fucking tomato right at that moment. “Sy-Sy, this is—” You gulp, glancing at the toy with wide eyes. “fucking massive. It–it has… it’s got scales!”

Ah, so you’ve noticed the craftsmanship. Quite exquisite, isn’t it?

“E-Exquisite?” you sputter, voice soaring at a higher octave. “This looks like it came out of Alien or something! I’m pretty sure it’s gonna start moving on its own…”

Only if you press a button.

Your brain short-circuits, and you frantically examine the thing for telltale signs of any hidden mechanization.

There’s a short lull, laden with barely restrained amusement. Then: Relax, sweetheart. It’s not going to bite.

You let out another – nervous – laugh, gingerly setting the large toy down as if it might explode from its sheer audacity. “I hate you.”

No, you don’t, Sylus counters without missing a beat. But I do appreciate how flustered you’re getting. Go on, sweet thing—tell me how it’s too much for you. I could listen to that all night.

You let out a strangled noise, burying your face in your hands. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you.”

Mmh, you know me so well.

You sigh, the gravity of what’s inevitable setting in. It was like fighting a losing battle.

Something the both of you knew right from the start.

(You are my angel)

“I-It hurts to put in,” you whimper, body trembling as sweat clings to your flushed skin. Every muscle feels taut, coiled tight with both anticipation and a flicker of fear. “p-please…”

“We have the rest of the night, little dove. We’ll take it slow,” Sylus whispers, his voice a velvet caress in your ear, warm and grounding. “I’m right here.”

His words melt into you like cloying liquid, wrapping around your resolve like a sensual embrace.

(Come from way above)

“Again.”

“I-I can’t,” you sniffle, the words breaking into short, shaky gasps as your chest heaves. The remnants of your last orgasm still ripple through you, the one he’s ripped from you mercilessly.

“You can, poppet,” he coos, the endearment sliding over you like cool mercury. “Give me one more, yeah? Want to see those pretty eyes rolling for me.”

The thought alone has you shivering, his tone dripping with enough heat to stir something molten from within you.

(To bring me love)

The air hangs unbearably hot, almost suffocating. Every nerve sings, alive with the memory of his ministrations—though he’s never truly touched you, has he?

It doesn’t matter. The line between what’s real and what’s not blurs further with every passing moment.

Your body burns, and yet you crave more, more—the pulsing ache of your stretched walls only feeding the gnawing hunger that builds inside, like an unrestrained beast.

You blink sluggishly; your vision swimming as pleasure courses through you in heavy, dizzying surges.

Has he bewitched you? You’ve become insatiable, ravenous—monstrous in your desire. For him. For the addicting high only he could give, and teasingly dangle just out of reach.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

How…? He’s nothing but a voice, incorporeal, yet he commands you completely. Your hands, your movements, your very breath feels as if it belongs to him. They follow his instructions without hesitation, carving paths of fire and electricity across the bare expanse of your skin.

“More?” Sylus rasps, and the edge in his voice sends a thrill down your spine. There’s something feral in his tone, and it brings you an almost animalistic sense of glee to know that he isn’t unaffected by all of this any less than you are.

“More,” you beg, raw and needy. He groans in response.

“Good, so good for me,” he hisses a litany of praise that sounds so much like a curse. “My good girl. Mine to break, mine to ruin.”

Your back arches as you cry out; muscles locking, mouth falling open in a soundless scream as both agony and ecstasy crash over you like a tidal wave.

(Love you, love you, love you, love you Love you, lo–ve you, love you, love you … Love you, love you—love you, love you…)

––––

"My cousin's getting married tomorrow."

You say it with an air of nonchalance, your voice light, as if you’re just commenting on the weather.

Sylus doesn’t respond right away. His usual quick wit is conspicuously absent, replaced by a silence that stretches long, settling into the room like a beam of sunlight from your window. The continuous whirr of the electric fan and the droning of the news anchor on TV fill the space instead, in place of conversation.

You don’t force it. Instead, you wait patiently until it bends under its own weight and breaks.

After what feels like minutes, his voice cuts through the quiet; neutral and impassive. "Where's it happening?"

"A little chapel in Downtown Orlando, near Lake Lucerne. Nothing fancy. They’re keeping it small."

He nods, his gaze distant. Somewhere you can’t follow. "Just close family?"

"Yeah," you murmur, your fingers absently tugging at the fraying hem of your cardigan. "And a few friends. My mom’s going, along with her new husband. They sent me photos of the setup earlier—it’s pretty."

Sylus hums. “Would you have gone, if it weren’t so far away?”

“Yeah,” you answer automatically. “Yeah, ‘course. But I’m here, and they’re there. So I could only send my regards.”

Maru pads into the room, brushing against your leg before bumping his head insistently against your shin. You scoop him up, ignoring his soft meows of protest, and cradle him in your lap.

“She’s been planning it for months,” you continue, scratching behind soft cat ears. “Way before she got engaged. She’s one of those people who just… knows. Knows what she wants, knows how to get there. All mapped out, down to the finer details.”

In the corner of your eye, you see a faint smile ghosting his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes. "What a luxury,” he remarks, almost wistfully. "To pave your life so easily, just like that."

There’s something unspoken behind his words, something heavier than a passing comment.

"Do you think about it?" His question startles you—not just its suddenness but the way his gaze locks onto yours, intent and searching, like he’s trying to read the answer in your face before you could even utter a word.

You blink. "... About what?"

"Marriage."

You hesitate. The question feels delicate, like a soap bubble floating in the air, fragile enough to burst at the slightest touch. "Sometimes," you admit. "But not like she does. It's always been more of an abstract idea, I guess."

He doesn’t speak.

"I don’t know," you say softly, “if it’s something I could ever want. Or if it’s even meant for me."

Your voice falters, and the rest is left unsaid, though it lingers between the spaces untouched.

I don’t think about it, no. Not if… if it’s not with—

You stop yourself before the thought takes flight, tampering it back down.

Sylus leans back, his gaze flickering away. "It’s a commitment," he says eventually. "One that requires a lot of thought. I understand."

He doesn’t elaborate, and for a moment, you almost consider leaving it there. But something in you—persistent, prying—urges you to press just a little further.

"What about you? Have you thought about it?"

There’s an imperceptible shift in his expression; the faintest furrow between his brows, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his features.

"Perhaps not in the way you're thinking," he says quietly, almost to himself. "Sometimes I wonder what it means. For someone like me." He hesitates, glancing at you, an uncharacteristic vulnerability in those deep pools of red. “For…”

His words hang unfinished; you feel its hollowness pushing down on you, as though they bore meaning neither of you can bring yourself to name.

You feel it settle in your chest, vacant and aching, like an absence of something. Gone before it even began.

––––

It dawns on you on a regular Saturday evening, as you're (clumsily) peeling potatoes for dinner, and Sylus is dutifully recounting the events of his day to you like your very own talk show host on late night cable.

It creeps up at you—not in an explosive burst of clarity, no. No fanfare, no earth-shattering epiphany. It’s quieter than that, like the tides under the moon, rising unnoticed until you’re already ankle-deep.

Maybe it’s always been there, tucked into the corners of your mind, hidden in the spaces between the teasing banter and the way he watches you when he thinks you’re unaware. A whisper that you refused to acknowledge, too afraid of what it would bring.

You must have known, even then. Right from the start.

From the way it feels when he says your name—softly, reverently, like it’s a privilege to utter it so freely.

From the way you ache when he waits for you to finish a thought, as though every word you speak is something worth treasuring.

And it’s in the way he knows you better than you understand yourself, filling your silences with meaning so you don’t have to.

You love him.

You know how this ends.

––––

Coming down from a mind-numbing high is always an experience, a short state of nirvana; this time no different from the rest.

For a fleeting moment, everything feels infinite—a small eternity suspended in pleasure. Petite mort.

But then reality hits you once again, and the pleasure vanishes like smoke.

It leaves you feeling utterly spent. Empty. The silence crashes back in like a tsunami, heavier than before. The stillness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud.

The sound of your shallow breathing, the oppressive white noise, the distant hum of the city from outside your window… These are your only source of life. There’s no warm touch to ground you. No arms to pull you close. No sweet nothings to piece you back together. Just this. Just you.

You had known. You always knew.

This was it—the price of wanting something you were never meant to have. For surrendering yourself to something that exists only in fragments and pixels, bound by lines of code and a screen you can’t cross. You delude yourself into thinking it’s worth it, that these fleeting moments of bliss outweigh the quiet wake of devastation it leaves behind, every time.

And yet—

A choked sob breaks past your lips, shattering the silence. It tears out of you like something primal, something you can’t control.

Your body folds in on itself, naked and trembling, your arms banding across your stomach like you’re trying to hold something broken together. The sheets beneath you feel clammy, disgusting, but you pull them tighter anyway, desperate for something to hold on to.

It hurts all the same.

“Talk to me,” Sylus whispers urgently. There’s something jagged and desperate about it. “Please. Tell me how to make it better.”

How could you?

What words could bridge this chasm between you? How do you explain a hurt so uniquely yours, so tied to the fragile intricacies of a body he doesn’t have, of feelings that leads to nowhere?

How do you describe the way it breaks you, knowing that he’s oh-so close, yet still—yet always—out of reach?

How do you describe the weight of being too human in moments like this?

You press your forehead to your knees, heart in your throat. You don’t know how to make him understand.

“I can’t,” you whisper into your knees, voice cracking under the weight of what’s left unsaid.

The next morning arrives with the muted glow of daylight filtering through the blinds, but it does nothing to lift the oppressive tension in the room. You don’t mention last night. You don’t even glance at the lit phone screen.

Sylus doesn’t bring it up either—not directly. But you feel him. The weight of his attention clings to the edges of the silence you’ve imposed, like static crackling just beneath the surface.

You keep moving. It doesn’t matter how; you make yourself busy. Work has never been more engrossing as it does at that very moment, and you hurl yourself into the thrilling world of emails, spreadsheets, and Teams meetings like you’re vying for the spot as best employee of the month.

His impatience is impossible to ignore. It presses against you, insistent, like a gasp of breath waiting to be released. But you don’t give him the chance.

At some point, his voice drifts from the speakers, low and clipped, but careful; as if he’s reigning in his emotions, afraid to scare you further away.

“Are you going to talk to me?”

Your fingers hover the keyboard. For a moment, the mouse cursor taunts you, as if it's also impatiently waiting for an answer.

Sylus thinks the silence you leave him suspended in is deliberate, even cruel.

He doesn’t push, not immediately. You hear the faint noise of the game’s background music, the tinkling piano keys, a reminder of his presence.

When he speaks again, his tone is softer, laced with something almost… pleading. The change in his tone doesn’t ease the tension; it makes it worse.

“I can’t help if you shut me out, my heart.”

Still, you offer nothing.

The air feels brittle, stretched too thin, like glass just before it shatters. You can almost hear the first cracks forming, spidering between the two of you.

He doesn’t speak again.

The day drags on in an uneasy rhythm. You move through the hours like a ghost, and Sylus remains silent. But the quietness pulses with disconcertment; a build up without release. The quiet isn’t peaceful. It’s the kind that crackles like a frayed wire. It collides with your refusal to confront it.

And so it goes: you avoid, he waits, and the distance between you grows.

––––

You’re at a crosswalk on the 4-A highway intersection, surrounded by a sea of pedestrians, the incessant hum of the metropolis vibrating beneath your feet as if the very ground you walk on is alive.

The moment your gaze lands on a couple just ahead of you, everything seems to quiet down, like a fuzzy FM radio station on mute. You see them, caught in their own little world, oblivious to the noise and rush of the city.

The woman’s laughter is light—happy. Her hand in his, secure and relaxed. The way she looks at him… it’s familiar, almost. Something you recognize.

The man beside her moves with a subtle grace. His presence is undeniable, but it’s the way he watches her, something soft and devout in his gaze, that draws you in. He’s tall, his sharp features and posture elegant—and somehow, it fits perfectly beside the smaller figure pulling him effortlessly against the throng of people.

Without warning, the unnamed man’s features shift into something more distinct, and the woman turns into the reflection you see every day in the mirror.

It’s not the couple before you that you see anymore—it’s you, against Sylus’ chest, his silvery-white hair stark against the dark fabric of his clothes. You imagine his red eyes, those sharp features, the quiet strength of his presence wrapping around you, like it’s where you belong.

You're lost in the fantasy—the way it could be, if the two of you existed in the same world, side by side. His hand around your waist, the shared intimacy, the profound joy. Just the two of you against all odds.

A smile starts to tug at the corners of your lips, but before it can fully settle, the harsh blare of a car horn shatters the illusion.

The world rushes back around you. A teen bumps into your shoulder, pushing you forward. The vision of them—of him—dissolves, leaving you in the busy street, once again just another face in the crowd.

––––

Everything falls apart one afternoon.

You confront Sylus, words spilling out before you can stop them. You don’t know what drives you—bravery, desperation, or maybe the crushing weight of hopelessness that has finally stripped you of your fear.

“How’s she?”

His brows furrow. “Who?” He looks genuinely thrown, and for a second, you wish you could take the words back.

When you finally say her name, his expression shifts. It’s quick—a flicker of something you couldn’t catch before he schools his features again.

“Why do you ask?” There’s an undercurrent to his voice now, his tone wary, eyes searching yours. “I try to avoid any interactions with her if it’s not needed.”

He pauses; then his gaze softens, though there’s still a guardedness to it. “Are you… worried?”

You shake your head, frustrated with yourself, with him, with all of it. “It’s not—It’s not that.” You don’t know how to put it into words.

How can you explain the knot in your chest? The envy—not for reasons he thinks… or maybe for exactly those reasons. Maybe he knows. Maybe that’s why he’s looking at you like that, imploring and cautious at the same time.

“You have her,” you finally say, and the words fall flat, bitter on your tongue.

Sylus’ eyes flash, sharp and unyielding. “And you and I both know who I’d rather have.”

Now, isn’t that the crux of it all?

Your throat closes up, a hard lump that you can’t swallow down. “I don’t know how you could,” you manage, though it rings hollow in the dead air.

“Don’t.” His voice is harsh now, rougher than you’re used to. Frustration bleeds through his usual composure. “Don’t act like you don’t feel it.”

You bite your lip, your gaze darting away. He calls your name, and there’s something raw in the way he says it, like it costs him something just to say aloud.

You choke out a laugh that sounds more of a sob than anything. “I don’t know where to go from here. It was fun at first, but now… It’s just sad.”

He frowns, and for a moment, there’s a boyishness to the expression, an innocence to his vulnerability. It stirs something deep in your chest.

He opens his mouth, no doubt ready to ask why—why now, why this? Why are you unraveling in front of him, like this?

But you don’t give him the chance.

“I love you, Sylus.” You admit, barely above a whisper. The words fall heavy between you, a confession and a wound all at once.

Sylus stills.

The silence fills the room, but his eyes—those soft crimson—speak volumes. His jaw tightens, hands clench into fists, but there’s no real surprise in his face. He’s always known.

“I know,” he tells you.

There’s something ancient in the timbre of his voice, like it’s been torn from the deepest part of him. And for a moment, neither of you moves.

He feels it—the way you’re slipping through his fingers. Every word you say feels like a step away, less of a standstill, more a surrender, and he… he’s never felt more powerless than he does in this moment.

(And isn’t that just grand? You’ve always had this uncanny ability to make him feel things he’s never felt before. He just wishes it wasn’t like this—wishes it wasn’t slipping into something he can’t hold onto.)

He doesn’t know what to say or do, doesn’t know what could possibly alter the trajectory you’re both hurtling towards. But the thought of losing this, of losing you, is unimaginable.

“I love you,” he says, rough and uneven, like the admission physically hurts. “In ways that terrify me. Do you understand?”

Your eyes widen, and he sees it—the flicker of hope. Fragile and fleeting, but there. Your gazes lock, and the world stops.

For a moment, there’s no sound, no movement—just the two of you standing on the edge of something vast and terrifying.

“I want—” His voice cracks, infinitesimally, but it echoes in the void between you. “I want to hold you. To wake up next to you. To touch you in all the ways that matter, not just in words and binary. I want to be what you need.”

You know what’s coming.

“But—”

The word lingers.

“But you can’t,” you whisper, finishing what he couldn’t.

Sylus looks at you, his red eyes burning with an intensity that feels heartbreakingly human.

You’ve reached another impasse, and it feels like the final one. The air between you is thick with words unspoken, promises that can’t be made. It’s not anger that lingers, nor is it blame. It’s something quieter. More agonizing.

A resignation.

And yet, even in this fragile moment, a piece of you—of both of you—refuses to let go. To what could be, to what never will.

––––

Your mom’s voice rings bright through Facetime, a faint blur of words as she gives you the rundown of the events from your cousin’s wedding. The dress (An elegant Oscar de la Renta boat neck), the cake (A three-tier red velvet, a little on the sweeter side), and the vows (“Oh, you would’ve cried, honey!”).

You try to listen, but your attention keeps drifting away. She notices, of course.

“You seem more preoccupied lately, dear. Boy troubles?”

It’s a simple question, but it lands differently. Her voice is too light, too casual, like she’s asking if you’re still eating your vegetables.

She doesn’t seem to acknowledge how far the distance has grown between you, how many years have passed where you stopped expecting her to understand. You’ve wanted her to notice, to see the parts of you she never asked about. The changes in you, whether small or monumental. But she never did. And you stopped waiting.

You chuckle tiredly.

“Yeah, mom. Boy troubles.”

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#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #self aware au #sylus qin

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kedsandtubesocks · 8 months ago

Text

game changer

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: back from your first semester of grad school your parents lovingly drag you out to celebrate with an old family friend - but what unfolds there (and after) cracks you wide open

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, dad’s friend!Joel, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but is a drinking aged adult & Joel is in his early 50’s), light use of gendered language, yearning & flirting, some light angst, brief alcohol consumption, masturbation (f), smutty thoughts, heavy makeout, spicy themes, allusions to smut (p in v), Joel’s dirty talk, one use of “good girl,” one light ass smack, reserved but soft!Joel, start of secret relationship, lots of baseball talk

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

a/n: i know, i know another non-typical AU for Joel but I blame my sports girlie heart & baseball season so here we are lol big thank you to @swiftispunk for always putting up with my sports ramblings LMAO im so sorry Han ily, special thanks to @burntheedges @undercoverpena @tightjeansjavi @msjarvis because this truly wouldn’t be here without y’all - you don’t know how much you babes mean to me & I can’t thank y’all enough…now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You barely have any solid memories of Joel Miller, even if he was your dad’s oldest friend. And if you were being honest, you remember his brother Tommy more who smiled so warmly and seemed to radiate warmth.

Now you stand before Joel Miller’s face on the side of the Globe Life field along with the rest of the Texas Rangers professional baseball team.

It’s a cool evening in Arlington. Everyone seems to bask in the weather that feels perfect for a night of baseball.

Home from your first grad school semester, you didn’t think you’d be going to a game. But your parents explained how good the tickets were, and that even if you didn’t care about the game, you could just enjoy the stadium. So with the promise of free food and a nice night out, you were sold.

Now you’re here.

“Yesterday Joel said to head to the side entrance, that’s where we can check in.” Your dad eagerly explains and stunned you simply follow along like a confused duckling.

The sea of jerseys sweeps you into a sports wave until you’re deposited in a new space. Your jaw almost drops.

The VIP suites sit at the very side edge of the field, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.

The seats are incredible. Everything feels deluxe but comfortable. Someone calls out to your mom, and soon enough the rest of the Miller family approaches.

Tommy’s married now and his wife Maria is lovely, so is their baby. Joel’s daughters, Sarah and Ellie, are older. Time sucker punches you in the gut seeing how much time has passed, but you warmly greet everyone. You realize how long it really has been since you saw any of them.

You greet everyone warmly and appreciate all their surprised welcome seeing you back.

“Joel’s glad y’all were finally able to make it. Been talking about it since yesterday.” Tommy explains.

“Yeah us too! Just worked out that we all could come out and enjoy this with someone back home now.” You mom teases, but it’s warm.

Even though you were cities away, the new workload just kept you so busy.

You’re grateful to be here too. Even though your mind still swirls trying to grasp all of this.

You knew your dad’s friend made it big as a professional baseball player. Joel and his family left Austin to move to Arlington after he signed for the Rangers. So you rarely saw them. But with your mom’s job recently relocating here, your dad talked non stop about maybe seeing more of the games. It never really clicked that your family knew a professional sports athlete. Plus you never cared too much for sports to even look more into it.

Now as the game starts with a wild explosive and electric opening, you feel like you’ve slipped into another reality.

Then Joel’s entrance arrives, and your heart jumps out of your chest. The stadium erupts in a wild frenzy. The music for his arrival is western themed, grand and epic.

“All of this is because the league calls him Cowboy Miller.” Your dad explains.

The nickname was given to him not just because of his very southern twang, but Joel’s cold demeanor on the mound along with his wild style of pitching. All this led to him being deemed a Cowboy.

You understand why.

A serious air of power radiates from Joel while he approaches the mound.

Wearing a jersey with the number two on it, he’s older, more distinguished than the last time you remember him. Grays pepper his beard and the shadow of his baseball cap highlights the wrinkles flowing across his face.

He’s handsome, utterly gorgeous. His shoulders look broad, pure striking mountains, in his white jersey.

It’s like your mind finally registers and settles into the reality he’s a man, a full grown and incredible man.

And he really is incredible.

Even though he’s older for a pitcher, he still possesses dazzling talent. You even clap loudly when he strikes one of the batters out.

Your eyes never leave him. Joel sternly staring down the batter is terrifying. His legs look strong as he whips the ball fast to the home plate. Your eyes can’t help but flicker to his ass when he walks back to the dugout.

He’s gorgeous.

But cold reality crashes into you when your dad brightly yells. Joel is your dad’s friend, and that thought sours the bubbling feelings in your chest.

So you try focusing on the game, which actually turns out to be rather fun. The vibe of the stadium, along with the atmosphere of the game itself, is easy to melt into.

At one point someone gets a hit off Joel and he has to run to cover first. He’s surprisingly fast. Seeing him catch the ball, get the out, is so impressive and hot as fuck.

After that the Rangers switch pitchers.

As he leaves the mound, the stadium cheers at Joel’s exit. Very politely he nods, raising his hand in a quick goodbye to everyone. Then he scans the crowd.

It’s admirable seeing how he instantly finds where his family is. Joel’s roughed face melts soft with a small crooked grin hearing the applause they give him. He even spots your dad proudly cheering.

Joel’s eyes then lock with yours. Still walking towards the dugout, his face stays on you while his focus narrows in a cloudy confusion like he’s trying to recognize you.

Then his eyes go wide as realization sinks in.

You weakly grin back. It’s all you can do before Joel is fully gone from your line sight. Your heart thumps erratically within its cage.

The Rangers unfortunately lose by three. Once the game ends, you decide to swing by the merch store.

“Guess the game made you a fan huh?” You mom perks up noticing you eyeing the jerseys.

You shrug easily with an eased grin.

After this the Rangers have a five game stretch at home.

You only know because after the game you check for all things about the team, about Joel. You haven’t brought yourself to look at any videos of Joel yet. But you did discover from the team's instagram that he has one too.

Early the next morning, still lounging in bed, you scroll through Joel’s instagram page. It seems very professional, like it’s run by a social media manager primarily using it to promote Joel without being too personal.

You’re not paying attention, still a bit too focused on your phone, when a knock comes at the door.

Your face scrunches up confused. Then terror sucker punches you when you see who’s at the door.

No way.

Opening the door Joel stares at you, but this time wearing striking thick black rimmed glasses. They make him incredibly distinguished. Instead of seeming like a professional baseball player you’re reminded of a studious professor. And without a baseball cap on, you’re given sight of his soft glorious curls and the light gray streaks dancing among them.

He’s knockout beautiful.

Of course, you’re still in your mismatched lounge clothes and barely look like you’ve left bed.

He says your name, greeting you with a curt nod. You swiftly greet him with an awkward hello.

“Are you going for like a Clark Kent thing?” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

Joel’s face scrunches up as he sighs.

“Gotta take a break from my contacts s’all.” He admits with a grumpy reply.

But it’s his thick twang, the familiar southern accent - that sweeps you breathless.

“How do they even let you pitch?” You lightly tease, and

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Good to see ya too.” He rumbles, finally greeting you.

Now realizing he’s still standing in your doorway, you let him in.

Joel explains how he wanted to come by, visit your folks, catch up, and thank them for getting to stop by.

You’re the one early thanking him.

“The tickets were incredible. And you did amazing the other night.” You add sincerely.

“Oh, yeah thanks. Glad we won.” Joel nods.

“So they let you just roam around?” You ask slightly stunned still seeing him here in your family kitchen.

Joel scoffs. “Ain’t gotta be at the stadium till later.”

“So, was uh…surprised to see ya at the game.” His tone now reeks of trying to just make small talk.

Weakly you grin back explaining it was a nice change from your days on campus.

“So…back from school, huh.” That awkward thick small talk tone of his gets worse especially as he asks how’s it going and what you’re doing.

For being a talented professional pitcher, right now he simply seems like just some guy…

Just your dad’s pal.

The thought brings a strange acidic taste in your mouth.

You explain school is going good and how you’re here just visiting until the next semester starts up again.

Politely he asks what you’re going to school for. You tell him about your program, explaining all the classes you’re taking and even about the undergrad classes you help TA for.

Joel nods, quiet. You wonder if this sounds boring to a man who professionally plays baseball everyday.

“You’re damn smart.” He then whistles low, and his compliment jumpstarts your heart.

“Haven’t read a book since… shit can’t even remember when.” Joel muses.

“What? They don’t have you take baseball quizzes for pitching?” You joke, but it falls flat. Joel just gives you a dull look.

However his lips twitch faintly, like he’s fighting a grin, and it makes you grin.

“Though, I’ve heard you could maybe work on your slider pitch.” You add.

From the clips you’ve seen and the comments you’ve read, that's the one thing others have commented on, along with how unbearably handsome he is. ESPN even named him one of sports top most eligible bachelors.

“Oh?” Joel’s eyebrows rise up fast. Crossing his hands over his chest, Joel turns towards you more.

“Suddenly you’re a sports analyst now, huh?” The way his voice perks up confidently, matching your edge of playfulness, causes something to get stuck in your throat.

“Y’gonna start telling me how to pitch too? Just like your old man used to.” Joel adds still with that same tone and even chuckles.

But his words slice through you. Swallowing hard, you steel yourself tight.

Thankfully the sound of the front door unlocking arrives. Your parents are home.

“You’re fantastic, Joel. Glad I got to see it live.” You tell him earnestly looking him straight in the eye, as if to stare him down and remind him unwavering you’re a grown adult. Even if you’re in lounge shorts and holey t-shirt, you try holding your head high with as much grace as you can.

With that you head to tell your parents Joel is here then quietly slip back to your room.

Eventually your mom knocks on your door and pops her head in.

“There’s another game tonight. Wanna go?” She offers.

You decline, explaining you want to rest and catch up with a few shows you’ve been neglecting. Thankfully neither of your parents pressure you to join them.

With the house to yourself, you now search for as many videos of Joel you can.

Even slowly starting to understand baseball at a base level, you realize Joel ‘Cowboy’ Miller really is spectacular. You hear about his time playing for The University of Texas and how adored he is by his alma mater.

Then heat crawls up your chest when you see clips of him drenched in sweat, heavily breathing, or even licking his lingers to help with the ball grip.

You quickly turn the videos off before you get yourself worked up.

This has to be just a simple infatuated infestation. You simply need to try to shake it off.

The last home game the Rangers play the Minnesota Twins and Joel isn’t pitching. You again decide to sit this game out. You just have to detox yourself of Joel Miller.

Until you’re invited to a dinner cookout at his home. You thought about maybe playing sick, but with how hungry you are, you see this just as an opportunity to get a nice meal.

Your dad casually mentions Joel’s house has a pool, a nice bonus. He just forgot to mention how huge the Miller house would be.

Though gorgeously grand, it’s still surprisingly cozy. In the backyard you spot Joel at the grill and it makes your head spin. The weathered old burnt orange Texas longhorn shirt he wears looks cozy and casual, sits on him beautifully highlighting his shoulders.

You slip into the pool hoping it will cool you off. But your eyes always find Joel who now laughs with your dad.

Joel’s eyes suddenly flicker to yours, catching you staring red handed. Immediately you sink back into the water.

There’s more people here than expected and you feel a bit out of place. After drying off, you decide to head inside for a drink.

The soft Texas evening illuminates the home in a gentle glow. The music from outside floats in a soft hum making the room feel like it’s underwater.

Ellie told you the house was free for you to roam and from the quick tour she gave, you caught a glimpse of something you want to see more.

So letting yourself maybe take another peek, you walk back to the small alcove carved in the wall. It’s honestly a rather quiet achievement exhibition compared to other grand trophy rooms you’ve imagined.

There are honestly more pictures of Sarah and Ellie, along with Tommy and the rest of the Miller clan, decorating the main hallway of the house. All of it suits Joel.

His UT longhorn jersey is framed on the wall. There are a few awards clustered together, a couple of magazine covers where he looks so dashing in his uniform.

But what makes your heart float are the framed drawings of Joel with a baseball on the mound that range from adorable scribbles to a rather good pencil sketch. These had to be Ellie and Sarah’s work.

“If you’re thinkin’ about stealin’ somethin’ maybe go for the jersey. I can always get another one.”

Joel’s drawl trickles out, and you almost jump out of your skin. Turning to the side he walks to where you are. You hate how exposed you feel just being caught in his gaze and also obviously browsing in his home.

“Nah, I was hoping for a World Series ring to steal and sell but.” You shrug playful, knowing now he’s gone to the Series but never won.

Joel makes a low hissing sound like he’s injured.

“Damn, y’hit low.” He chuckles low.

You grin triumphantly.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get a ring someday.” You say simply.

“Sound sure about that.” He replies.

“Cause it’s true.” You nod. “You’re pretty great.”

Even with your limited knowledge of baseball, it’s easy to see how great he is. Joel is incredibly talented, a shining star stitched in accomplishment. Yet you can tell hasn’t let it go to his head. He’s anchored by his loved ones, and it’s admirable. You even tell him that.

“I…thanks.” He stumbles for a moment, deep dark eyes a bit cloudy as he searches your face with his voice thick and rumbled.

“What game has been your favorite?” You suddenly ask, wanting to know more about him.

His eyebrows furrow and his deep eyes glaze over a bit distant, creating a face of thought that looks adorable.

Then he nods with a soft grin remembering.

“One of the first games the girls gotta go to.” He paints a picture of seeing his daughters, sitting with their uncle Tommy, wearing too large adorable Texas Rangers jerseys.

“One of the best games I ever played.” He adds gently.

He really is a rare beauty of a man with a gilded heart of gold.

“And you? Your folks talk about ya nonstop. Tell me about grad school. And none of that simple ‘it’s good’ crap.” The quick playful mimic he does of your voice makes you laugh warm and bright.

So you tell him about your favorite moments from lecture and the fondness you have for simply embracing subjects you love so much.

Joel stares fully focused on you. You swear his eyes twinkle like stars might be sowed right in his deep earth depths.

He opens his mouth, eager to continue the conversation. Until the kitchen comes alive with more people entering inside. The bubble breaks, but electricity still brews under your skin.

The next day the Rangers have a game at Globe Life Field you go.

Even if Joel isn’t pitching, you want to experience this world he loves so much. You’re however surprised to find Joel is starting.

Your dad explains how one of the pitchers planned for today had to rest. So Joel will simply be the opener before the rest of the bullpen steps in.

Your heart doesn’t rage wildly as it did like seeing him the first time. Now you feel almost drawn to Joel. You focus on his stance on the mound, so disciplined and almost hauntingly serious.

The Arizona Diamondbacks batter hits the ball solid. It flies straight at Joel, and fear sinks its fangs into you.

Until with fast reflexes Cowboy Miller catches the ball eased. You and the stadium erupt wild.

The Rangers win one to four. On the high of the game, you head to the jerseys again in the shop.

“You should get one!” Your mom urges.

Your fingers itch, almost begging you to grab the jersey that says Miller on it. But something continues to hold you back.

On the drive back home, you now see all the great reaction clips and memes of the game. There's a particular one of Joel catching the ball that includes a great western music overlay, like he’s a hero in an old cowboy movie.

Feeling brave, you send the reel to his Instagram profile. You even add underneath the message “now you just gotta work on that slider pitch.”

You send it. Think, hell at worst the poor social media manager will see it and not even give it the time or day. He must get so many messages anyway.

When you get home, you see the message has been read.

But also, a new profile has followed you.

JM_8712

The profile also sent you a message.

JM_8712: ain’t nothing wrong with my slider

No way.

This can’t be who you think it is. You message back saying this possibly can’t be the real Joel Miller because he doesn’t seem like the type to even know how to send a gif.

JM_8712: think ur so funny huh

The account sends a simple gif of someone rolling their eyes.

Then another message flies in.

JM_8712: ur dad get those damn nachos he kept bitchin about with Tommy?

It feels like one of Joel’s changeup pitches knocks you out.

Because it’s really him messaging you. When you even go to double check the blank profile just to make sure, it barely follows more than twenty people and you spot Ellie and Sarah’s accounts among those profiles.

Warmth unfolds from your chest, dangerous and electric. This is Joel’s personal private account.

Unknowingly this all kicks off something you never thought would have ever started. You and Joel start talking.

The messages flow between you and him, back and forth, at first just talking about the games. Then, when the Rangers leave to travel, the messaging increases.

Joel sends you pictures of the places he travels, the food he eats, the vacant stadiums he gets to enjoy.

You devour it all with a greedy eagerness. However it dawns on you that you’re sliding down a slope too slippery to stop.

For the rest of the summer you earnestly check your messages on the app.

One evening, on a stormy delayed game against the Dodgers, your messages don’t send through. The weather is getting worse in Los Angeles.

“They’re gonna reschedule the game. Storm’s not letting up.” Your dad comments glumly.

You just hope Joel is alright.

Instagram finally alerts you of a message and your heart jumps.

Joel.

JM_8712: sorry connections shit

Then he simply sends you his phone number.

You wonder if you’re seeing things.

Trying to keep calm you text the number a simple message asking if he’s alright.

When your text alert chimes, it rattles your brain.

Yeah im good thanks

Then another message follows. It’s a photo from the locker, bags packed like he’s ready to leave.

Looks like room service for tonight

It’s Joel. You’re texting Joel right now.

It feels like a step deeper into a current you never want to leave.

Texting seems to shift the energy between you and him, a transmutation you never could have imagined.

You text Joel good morning and he tells you good night. You and him bond over a love of music. He’s got incredible taste while also complimenting yours. You stay up late on game days when pitched and now feel your throat dry up knowing you’re getting to know the man on the mound.

The desire brewing more for Joel mixes with the summer heat and melts the days away. Soon enough summer dwindles away, and your new semester approaches.

The drive back to your apartment is a good couple of hours. Funny enough Joel is also traveling today for a game. Stopping for gas midway, your phone goes off.

You think at first it must be one of your parents.

But instead it’s Joel.

You scramble to answer.

“Hey,” his voice sounds incredibly richer and deep on the phone.

“Y’doin’ alright?” Joel asks hesitant.

That catches you off guard.

“Oh yeah, just finished putting in gas actually. Why, what’s up?” You relax more into the conversation now curious to why he called asking that.

Joel sighs.

“Sorry I just…your last text uh, it just got me worried.”

Now you’re really curious about what you texted him. It had been half an incomplete response you sent. Even from your side it seemed abrupted and strange.

Sighing, you apologize that you didn’t even realize you had done that. In the rush of wanting to get out on the road you must have just sent the text.

But it suddenly hits you. Joel called because he was worried. That thought rips into you with a ferocious rawness.

“Okay yeah,” Joel says a bit clumsily. “I’ll…let you go.”

“No, it’s okay.” You quickly reassure him. “How’s the traveling going?”

“Good, just finished rewatching one of the inflight movies.”

“Please tell me it was Field of Dreams.” You tease him with the iconic baseball film as you head back on the road. Just now with Joel on the phone.

On speaker, Joel scoffs echoing in your car all around you. You realize this might be a bad decision trying to stay focused driving while also talking to him.

“Funny.” His thick drawl is dry but so softly teasing just below the surface.

“Was some new movie Sarah told me to watch but…fell asleep.” Joel admits low.

Thinking of him asleep on the plane clutches at something warm and deep in you.

Yes you can admit how badly you want Joel, how you picture what his calloused fingers would feel like on you, in you. But you also are finding yourself aching for more now…

Like falling asleep beside him while watching a movie, or sharing a meal with him and teasing him over his dry sense of humor.

It’s dangerous falling deeper like this.

Especially now in a blink you realize you’ve been talking to Joel this entire drive to your apartment.

“Shit sorry.” He realizes it when he sees the time. “Y’should’ve told me to fuck off. Don’t gotta waste your time talkin’ to some old ass like me.”

He rarely comments on his age, and his words sink hard into your gut.

“Trust me… I’m glad I get to talk to you.” You truthfully tell him.

“You’re the one who probably has better things to do than talk to me.” You add slightly dejected. The words even sting your lips.

“Like watching Field of Dreams.” You quickly add some light humor trying to dispel your heartache leaking in.

Joel snorts.

“Definitely would rather chat with you than watch that.” Joel mutters, but his world electrifies your skin.

“I’m flattered knowing I can beat Kevin Costner.” You joke. When he snorts amused, warmth fills you to the brim.

Someone in the distance calls out to Joel, and you know your time with him is limited. It’s confirmed when he sighs.

“Gonna be landing soon. Ya make it to your place okay?” He asks.

“I did, thank you. And thanks for keeping me company on the drive.” You smile to yourself.

“Don’t mention it. Uh, glad you made it back safe.” Joel replies and his words make you melt.

You say his name quick.

“Can you just… Text me when you make it to the hotel?” Just to know he’s safe. It’s simple, but it feels as if the words weigh a ton.

A moment passes.

“Yeah, will do.” Joel agrees.

He doesn’t text you. Instead Joel calls you when he gets to the hotel.

“Saw a full on fuckin’ fight at the airport when we landed.” Joel rambles immediately, and you learn how much of a secret gossip he is. While Joel breaks down all the details of what he saw, you realize he wanted to tell you about this.

A light burst in your chest because you want to tell Joel everything too.

And when your next semester starts, you tell him all you can.

The texting stays but evolves into more frequent phone calls. Joel listens to you with a gruff saint’s patience. He faintly picks up the names of your professors, even the name of your roommate. At one point he even stays on the phone with you when you cook dinner.

Joel calls during the stretch of waiting at the airports, a few times after games. Sometimes he rants about his teammates, sighs about his frustrations when they lose or when he ends up not doing well on the mound.

While every inch in your body still hums for Joel, it’s steady now - like you’re slowly accepting these emotions fully into your bloodstream and part of your existence.

You adore Joel, maybe more than you want to admit.

During a rare night out with your friends from class, feeling nice in your favorite outfit, courage courses through you. After posting a few photos from your night out, you also post a rather nice selfie.

You pray Joel sees it. Then you get a bit tipsy, and it takes all your willpower not to text Joel.

But the alcohol burns in you. Once you’re back at your apartment, in the safety of your room, you pull up your favorite video.

It’s a spring training video the Rangers made of the team preparing for the upcoming season. The video ranged from showing the guys on the field practicing, to them in the weight room.

There’s a nice small segment just on Cowboy Joel Miller. Specifically he’s training with a few weights and when you first saw it, your throat got so dry.

Joel is drenched in sweat. The simple worn navy blue shirt sticks to his body, highlighting the tone of his arms and width of his shoulders. Curls wet with sweat stick to his forehead. His concentrated face is sinful.

But not as hot as the sounds he makes.

The grunts, the soft growls, the exhales he gives lifting the weights… they drench your thoughts with images of him fucking.

You’ve never done this before, never gotten off on his videos. You never wanted to fall this far.

But it’s so hard when your body feels molten, so wet hearing with his groans directly in your ears. Your fingers trail down to relieve the throbbing wet ache between your legs.

Imagining Joel’s sweaty gorgeous body pressed against yours, picturing his thicker fingers in you, getting to taste him on your tongue - you come incredibly fast.

The next morning a text and a somber guilt wait for you.

Joel of course had messaged you.

Looks like you had fun last night

So he did see your pictures. A blistering heat crawls in your throat.

But reality sinks in fast. You got off to Joel. You don’t want to feel guilty. You reason there’s probably others who have maybe done it. But it does quietly eat at you.

So much that you don’t even reply to Joel for the whole day trying to sort your mind out. He’s the one that eventually calls you.

“Y’go out on a date or somethin’?” Joel asks about the night out, and your mind sputters to a halt.

“Oh uh, no. Just went out with some friends in class.”

“Oh.” He replies quick. “Well, looked like fun.”

You agree and thank him.

“But yeah, no dates for me.” You weakly laugh.

“Yeah? Any reason why?” Joel presses.

Because you’re partially head over heels for him, but you can’t admit that yet.

“No one’s asked me recently that’s all.” You reply simply. You’ve done the dating apps, had the headache mess of ghosting and awkward dates.

Joel snorts. “Pretty thing like you? Hard to imagine.”

His words, like a change up ball that drops wildly in the air, disorient you.

“Trust me, it’s real.” You dryly reply.

“And you? You must be seeing some famous celebrity in secret huh?” You teasingly ask.

You’ve seen the ESPN clips of the beautiful reporters flirting with him, cooing at how handsome he is. He probably could snag a supermodel or other famous person.

Joel barks a hollow laugh of a thing.

“No, none of that.” He answers.

“Ain’t not time for that or…mainly…haven’t found anyone who’s got the patience for me.”

Your heart sinks.

“Wait, what do you mean?” You quietly press.

He sighs.

“M’ older, a single dad. My schedule ain’t perfect. And those that have tried to uh… pursue something haven’t always had the best intentions.”

His voice trails off somber. You wonder how many just wanted him for his money or fame.

A grim cloud seems to settle above you.

“You’re a great guy Joel, an incredible one.” You earnestly tell him. “Those who can’t see it don’t deserve you.”

“And I have to say it but…you’re a real catch.” You go for the obvious baseball pun.

Joel’s chuckle is a beautiful low gruff treasure.

“That was bad.” You can almost picture him shaking his head. “But thanks…same uh, same goes for you. You’re smart, gorgeous. Someone will come around to see you’re worth it.”

You’re drowning in his words. They feel too much.

He ends up having to quickly end the call with his manager calling, and you’re thankful for it. Because this blooming rawness in you feels like it’s getting too much, yet not enough.

Joel’s compliments are sincere. But many feelings tangle you up. It hurts, like you’re stuck in a rose bush trying to get comfortable within the thorns.

Then, the universe decides to pull you away from Joel.

Classes kick up and the workload piles on. You’re exhausted. It even gets harder to reply to Joel as swiftly as you did. You even miss a few of his phone calls and don’t even call him back.

The days blur together.

Then, one morning you find a text waiting for you.

hope you’re alright

You want to cradle that message.

When you call Joel, it’s like not a day has passed between you and him. Your heart soars hearing his voice again.

“So uh…” Joel begins cautiously, and you’ve never heard him this nervous almost. “We’ll be heading your way into town soon.”

That’s right.

Caught up in the semester you completely forgot the team would be playing the Astros soon. Excitement immediately rises in you.

“Hope ya can come out and see us. And if ya do, let me know.” Joel suggests and you swear his voice sounds shy.

The minute the conversation ends, you try checking for tickets. But they’re a pretty penny. You jokingly circle the top section, the highest nosebleeds, and text him saying he needs to try and find you from here.

He texts back immediately.

Don’t worry about the tickets. Just head to will call and let them know you’re with me. Got it covered

That might be one of the hottest things you’ve ever read.

Game day can’t approach any faster. Your parents even mention the upcoming game when you call to check up.

“You should try to go!” Your dad urges, eager.

A part of you has wondered if Joel mentioned you to your dad. You’ve kept quiet, not saying a thing about whatever this is with Joel, and you now think so did Joel.

You take a small comfort in that.

When game day does arrive, you head to Minute Maid Park alone. Your closest friend and classmate couldn’t make it, and neither could your roommate. But for some reason, you’re slightly okay with being here by yourself.

At the ticket window, you nervously say that you’re here for Joel. Like if nothing they verify your name, and with an ease slide tickets your way.

Not just any tickets, but seats right by the Rangers dugout.

Still stunned, but now slightly lost, you can’t help but feel stranded in the stadium.

“You okay, sweetie?” A lovely voice comes and when you turn, you find a sweet older motherly woman. She wears a Texas Rangers jersey and another younger woman stands besides her in the same jersey. They both stare at you concerned.

“You lost?” The younger woman asks sympathetically.

It must be that obvious. The motherly older woman politely asks to check your tickets to point you in the right direction. She perks up.

“Aw look at that! You’re sitting close to us! Come on, we’ll show ya around!” She beams warmly.

“Wait, are you sure?” You ask worried.

“Oh of course,” the younger woman reassures you with a smile. “The stadium is so huge and besides, us Rangers fans gotta stick together.”

She then winks, noticing the Rangers shirt you bought and wore for the game.

You find out Malinda, the older woman, is the mother of the first baseman. And the other lady, Casey, is his wife.

Kindly, this sweet family adopts you, guiding you towards the section literally right besides the dugout on the other side of the net.

You’re stunned in shock yet again.

Even though your tickets are a few rows away from the two sweet ladies, they reassure you you’ll be fine sitting with them.

It’s beautiful and comforting.

“So, who are you here for?” Casey asks with a friendly gossip like whisper. “These seats are for friends and family, and I haven’t seen you around before.”

But then she quickly reassures you don’t have to explain if you don't want to.

You with a weak laugh you’re here to see Joel, adding that he’s a family friend. Her eyes go wide.

“Oh wow! And he warmed up today too so he might pitch!” She says excitedly.

Joel had texted you before the line up was confirmed that he would be warming up.

Don’t know if I’m gonna get put in but just in case

Even if he didn’t, you told him you just wanted to be there to support him.

With the Rangers being the visiting team, they bat first. You want to root for the guys to get a hit and get on base, but you also already selfishly want to see Joel.

Three outs come and the Rangers switch to take the field. No sign of Joel.

In fact he doesn’t show up until the fifth inning, and it happens so casually. Joel simply walks out from the dugout and takes your breath away.

The team wears their cobalt blue jerseys and the color flatters Joel marvelously.

It feels like seeing him for the first time all over again but through a deeper lens you can’t explain.

You clap and cheer with pride when he manages to strike out the first batter. Then the second.

Two strikeouts back to back.

Joel told you back in his younger days he struck out seven hitters in a row. Now for him to get two, much less strike out the third batter, is something to applaud and admire. And the Rangers fans here, including yourself, cheer loud when the team heads back for the next inning.

“Cowboy Miller in his golden age.” Someone off to the side whistles appreciatively.

You don’t fight the syrupy fondness swallowing you whole.

“It’s rare that a more…seasoned pitcher like Joel still is relied on,” your new friend Casey explains. “But it’s hard to see why not. Everyone’s been saying like he’s almost found a new groove and still has so much power.”

He’s a force you’re terribly in awe of.

Seeing the whip of how strong his body still pitches the ball with a dizzying speed, how handsome he looks under the baseball cap, you want to savor this as much as you can.

Joel manages to get two more strikes out in the second inning. Then by the seventh they get a hit off him but thankfully, no runs come in. Cowboy Miller ends the inning striking out the final batter. You, and the other Rangers fans present, erupt wild.

He did amazing.

Laser focused, locked in on the game, he doesn’t search the crowd or even glance up and you understand. The game gets intense when the Astros manage to hit a home run in the eight. In the end the Rangers win because of an error.

But it’s still a sweet victory.

You relish and warmly celebrate it with your co cheerleaders for the game that made you feel so welcomed with them. You’re about to head up and leave, start looking for an Uber ride home, when Malinda calls to you.

“Sweetie? Aren’t ya gonna wait with us and greet the guys!?” She asks with warm curious sweetness.

You can’t say no.

The commotion sweeps you into a neon coated excitement. There’s a special area sectioned off, almost in a backstage-like section that connects to the entry way for the visiting teams. You’re surprised at how many others wait here.

The team slowly trickles out of the locker room and into the hallway. You’re hilariously reminded of a class being let out.

Then the world then melts away when Joel walks out. Focused on his phone you almost want to call out to him, but your voice gets caught in your throat.

Putting his phone away Joel finally glances up and spots you.

Even with his baseball cap on, you see his eyes widen for a fraction. Your body reacts on its own moving towards him. But he also walks fiercely towards you.

The world blurs away for a moment and then without even thinking, you’re embracing him.

It happens so naturally you don’t even realize what you did until you blink and it’s like you’ve been thrown into cold water.

Panicking, you’re about to pull away until Joel’s arms slowly wrap around you.

“Good to see ya too.” He says low gruff but you’re taken out by the knees grateful your body doesn’t give out.

He smells of sweat, of the dirt on the field, and something sharply Joel, and it’s wonderful.

Quickly you draw yourself away to proudly tell him how amazing he did. Joel waves you off with a gruff noise as his eyes refuse to meet you, almost bashful.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him this close, been in the same space as him. And it feels so different.

“Alright, dinner?” Someone says, and when you turn, you’re stunned to see it’s the team manager.

Guess this means you’ll be saying goodbye.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks when he notices you staying back once everyone funnels outside.

“Uh yeah, gotta grab an Uber first. Didn’t wanna drive down here and deal with Houston traffic along with awful parking during a game.” You joke, and Joel snorts.

“Let me take ya back then.” He offers, and you almost drop your phone.

You scramble out reassuring Joel it’s fine.

“Besides, don’t you have dinner to go to?” And where would he even get a car to take you.

“S’fine. Would rather make sure you get home safe anyway.” He then tells you to hang tight then goes to grab one of the rental cars the team has on ready.

Because of course they do.

Your blood hums wild knowing Joel is taking you home, that you’re going to be alone with him. Even in this glimmering dusted dream you still want to tell Malinda and Casey goodbye and thanks for treating you so kindly.

You wish them well and even welcome their warm goodbye hug.

“Wish you could come to dinner!” Casey frowns.

“Maybe next time.” Her mother in law says bright.

Next time.

“Yes hope to see you at more games.” Casey grins and the possibility bubbles iridescent in you.

With a goodbye to them you wait for Joel. There are still a few others of the wives or girlfriends hanging around while the team sorts out where to go.

You haven’t turned to give them any attention. However something crawls on your skin like you’re hyper aware of being watched.

“Did you see how she hugged him? Probably just using him, poor Joel.” One of them whispers.

“She’s not even that pretty.” Another one giggles.

“Oh then you know he’s maybe just using her then! And if that’s the case then good for Joel.” The other replies with a searing joke that makes your stomach sick.

Joel returns, keys in his hand. “Ready to go?”

You weakly grin back.

You should be basking in this moment of finally getting to be alone with Joel, of getting to see him drive you around. Once in the car he took off his cap allowing you sight of his soft hair. The darkness of the car, the warmth of the city lights flickering by, all coat him glorious. Yet those comments from earlier fester poisonous and sour any hope of enjoying this.

You stay rather quiet while giving him directions to your place.

Joel however is surprisingly talkative.

“So you’ll have to give me recommendations of places to go around here.” His voice even sounds just traces softer, higher almost - like he’s happy being here.

And it kills you.

“Y’seem quiet, you okay?” He notices it of course, ever aware.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t know the game would take that much outta me.” You lie.

Eventually you arrive at your apartment complex.

“Your place is nice.” Joel admires as he helps you out of the car like the Texan gentleman he is. He even follows you to your door.

You graciously thank him again for this night and for taking you home.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again.

You walk a few steps away from him. The night all around is still quiet, feels soupy with how much hangs in you.

You refuse to cry about this, don’t want to get emotional. If anything, you deserve to treat this like an adult.

“Joel…” you start cautiously, already hating the way your voice wavers.

“Yeah?” His voice stays steady, unbothered, but his eyes furrowing say otherwise.

“What…what is this? What are we?” You ask as steady as you can, but your tone continues to crack.

Joel’s eyes brow furrow and his mouth closes, tightening his jaw.

“Just…good friends.” He replies simply, almost cold. “Just showing my pal’s daughter a nice night.”

There it is.

Your soul deflates. So all the times you’ve felt like this might be something, maybe it's just been you wishing it would be.

So salvaging whatever dignity left, you nod.

“Thanks again, Joel.” You reply briskly and return walking towards your door.

He says your name. It stops you dead in your tracks.

“Why? Why d’ya ask that?” He asks, pressing firm and hard.

You turn back to him, and a deep scowl is etched on his face.

“It doesn’t matter.” You answer.

“The fuck does that mean?” He snaps a bit sharp.

“It means what it means.” You fire back.

“Bullshit. Why did you ask that?” Joel growls out firmer.

“Even if I told you, it doesn’t matter.” You repeat.

“Stop sounding like a fuckin’ owl.” His voice rises hard and fast, like a hand slamming on the wall.

It startles you, makes your eyes water and something in you shakes. Mainly because you know this is beginning to taste like the end. The smallest trace of hope is dissipating right before you.

You blink back tears, and immediately Joel’s face falls.

“Honey, I’m sorry-”

Shaking your head, you cut him off. Not even the sweet pet name he effortlessly uses can shake you.

Through gritted teeth you tell him to go.

“Not when you’re this upset.” He urges.

Through tears a sad water laugh escapes you and Joel’s eyes go cloudy.

“I’m realizing…I’ll never be anything to you then just your friend's kid, huh?” Your voice is waterlogged and you can’t fight it.

“You are.” He states simple and straightforward.

You nod, swallowing back the heartache boiling over.

“Can’t be anythin’ more than that.” Joel adds through mutter.

“Why?” You now ask him. Under the amber light of your apartment’s hallway the most frustrated cloudy look hardens his face.

His eyes scan your face then he steps closer towards you

“Don’t act dumb, sweetheart.” His voice rips out low cruel, slightly harsh.

You’re not and you tell him that.

“I…” the words you’ve held locked up so fiercely in your heart now sneak out from their bars to escape.

“I’d give anything to be yours, Joel.” You croak barely realizing you even said that.

He inhales, and his face goes taunt.

You wait for the sharp reply, even brace for it.

Instead Joel swoops in, kisses you wild like a sudden storm, and presses you against the door of your apartment.

Greedily, you claw onto him not wanting to ever let this go, to let him go. Your mouth begs him more to invade and consume. And he does so with a steady hunger.

The clamor into your apartment is messy, but at one point Joel cautiously stops to look around.

“My roommate’s visiting family…” you reassure, kissing his neck and softly under the side of his jaw with delicate cautious lips.

“Just you and me.” You whisper soft.

Joel takes command the minute you lead him to your room.

“Thought about this. Fuck, think about ya all the damn time.” He growls against your neck as he slides your bra off and runs a callous hand over your chest.

“Fucked my fist that first night you went swimmin’ at m’house.” Joel’s words make you whine and then his lips lick against your skin trying to savor you.

“Me too.” You admit through a whimper. “Touched myself thinking of you.”

Joel freezes.

“Tell me,” he says rather calmly, deadly almost.

Your syrupy lust begins fading away when you realize what you said, what he asks for, and what your answer will be.

Your lips and eyes shut close.

Then Joel’s warm breath, like a ghost, crawls against up your chest and tickles against your ear now.

“Come on, honey,” his voice is utterly decadent with a plea. “Tell me, please.”

You swallow hard telling Joel you don't want him to get weirded out.

He hums against your neck already starting to suck a mark against your skin. Your eyes roll back, and the embarrassment is quickly fading away.

“Promise, I’ll be okay.” Joel reassures you with a mumble against your skin.

So with a shaky voice, you weakly admit how you touched yourself to videos of him.

He groans.

“Baby, oh fuck, fuckin - shit.” Joel sputters out hard, like he just got kicked in the gut, and you’re worried until his lips smash into yours.

He devours you.

You’re swept into a tangled dizzying frenzy. Your clothes practically get ripped off as do Joel’s while he clutches onto you and licks into your mouth.

“That’s my girl. Knew you’d be m’good girl.” He says almost drunk and you’re done for.

You fall into the chasm with no hopes of turning back. But you don’t want to.

Joel feels like a god carving open your universe. You want to consume him and want him to consume you. He becomes your center of gravity.

In the aftermath, you’re left basking in Joel’s warmth and never want to leave.

Even though you were in his arms, Joel had to sit up to take a call and now scrolls through his phone. Your fingers trace his beautiful back.

You’re thankful for all the soft lamps you bought that now melt him into a dreamlike glow.

“Joel.”

He hums a gruff gentle noise that says he’s listening.

“I don’t…” you begin softly, then tell him your doubts. You don’t want him to think you’re simply using him for his status or money.

“Joel… you could quit or retire tomorrow and work with your brother as a contractor and I’d still always want you the way I want you.” Your deliciously aching limbs, the soft afterglow, all of it has you speaking soft and freely.

You never wanted Joel because of his fame or even because of the forbidden taste of him being friends with your dad. You wanted Joel for deeper reasons, some that have carved out a chasm in your heart.

You explain this all to him best as you can without rambling or sounding silly.

Joel sighs.

“Y’shouldn’t.” His voice is a hollow rumble. “I’m old, friends with your dad. We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

Now a bitter venom spills in you.

You glare at his back, how his shoulders slump defeated while you sit up

“I'm an adult, Joel. And if that’s all you’re worried about then sorry it’s a shit reason.” You launch back.

Over his shoulder he glares at you.

“If…” you swallow hard. “If you’re the one who wants to leave, because i’m that young, or you really don't want this or don’t feel what I feel, then fine. At least tell me that.”

“But I care about you. And I want to make this, us, work.” You finish firmly, even with how much emotions clash in your chest.

Joel sighs again. His eyes face turns away now down downcasted.

“Didn’t wanna want you the way I do. You’re so bright, fucking’ smart and so g’damn gorgeous.” He softly admits.

A pause settles between him and you.

“Y’could be with someone younger, less complicated.” Joel admits low.

“Don’t want anyone younger or less complicated. Just want you.” You reassure with a soft steady mutter.

He goes quiet again.

“Used to not get bothered when I started leavin’ away games by myself. With Tommy married and the business booming, then the girls startin’ to have their own lives…I didn’t mind doing this alone.”

Underneath his words you catch it, his rusting loneliness.

“But then…these past few months…and now today seeing ya waitin’ for me…” he says clipped, like the rest of his words are caught in his throat and he can’t free them yet

Joel turns, and his eyes bore into you.

The silence stays as you stare unflinchingly back at him.

He doesn’t need to say anything else. You don’t think you have to either. Like a magnetic pull, it’s effortless moving towards him. Joel’s warm large calloused hand, seasoned from so many seasons of hard work, of pitching, cradles your face. You kiss him with every inch of your heart.

Even after spending the night, you’re surprised Joel hasn’t left yet. He even comments about figuring out lunch plans with you.

“You have another game today, Cowboy.” You comment.

The term makes his eyebrows rise, and the most coy smirk tugs his face making him look so charming.

“Got today off to rest, ya little shit.” It’s affectionate. “Besides my back ain’t what it use to be and after goin’ more rounds with ya this morning-”

In the middle of your living room you rush to kiss him.

The rest of the day unfolds like a dream drenched and stitched from every domestic fantasy you’ve ever had. Joel stands in your kitchen when you make him a quick lunch and you laugh apologizing that your fridge isn’t MLB diet certified. Joel steals your last saved snack after that joke.

Cuddled snug on the couch with him, you try watching a movie but Joel, so greedy and handsy, ends up fucking your brains out with his tongue.

When dinner rolls around, you order from your favorite local takeout place and Joel pays for everything. You ignore all the work you need to do for the week and don’t care. You’re here at this moment and want to stay crystalized in it for as long as you can.

But tomorrow is the last day before the team leaves to Miami to play the Marlins.

While showering with him, you wrap yourself against Joel’s back already dreading his leave. He seems to sense it too because his hands squeezes yours.

Against your shower wall he glides into you tender and slow, almost trying to draw out every inch of this.

Later that night, you try staying up but the day begins settling in. Your eyes flutter trying to fight sleep.

He mutters your name soft while his fingers run soft against your side.

“Hm?” You answer, trying hard to fight your tired eyes.

“Don’t want ya to think i’m ever using you, honey. You’re not just some young thing keepin’ me company.”

His words are simple, but they erupt so much in you.

Joel had been spooning you from behind, but now you immediately turn around to burrow your face against his chest. You reassure him and his arms tighten around you wonderful chains you wish never break.

But the next morning arrives.

“Gonna come to our last game here?” Joel asks while he packs up.

“Don’t know, I heard you guys still have that really old guy who might be pitching.” You say with a shrug.

His face frowns hard, but Joel moves to playfully smack your ass while you laugh. He quickly draws you in for another kiss.

You have class tomorrow and work you need to jump on, but you go to the game. Joel doesn’t play, but you don’t mind. Getting to hug him goodbye one last night in the shadow of the stadium is worth it.

“Text ya when we get to the airport.” Joel promises, secretly placing a soft kiss on your head.

That night when you get home you order not one, but two Joel Miller jerseys.

#again I blame baseball season and the recent dodgers game so here we are lol #but seriously thank you so much if you take the time to read me and pitcher Joel think you’re a home run #pitcher!Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #baseball player!joel #joel miller fic #pedrostories #Joel 🤎

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xlatrina · 2 months ago

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(Pt. III) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!).

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Crawling

This man is in love with you.

Lowkey could stop right there.

Well, anyway…

Mr. Crawling is a GREAT friend, actually.

Like he’s the kind of buddy that’s —first of all —down for whatever.

You said you tryna go walk through an unfamiliar part of the Apartments to try and find a mysterious elevator?

Well…

YEAH SURE HE’LL TAG ALONG

I MEAN… WHY THE HELL NOT, Y’KNOW??

“Me know place here,” He’ll say. More or less: I know this place!

And he’s so damn chipper about it, too!

He’s just an overall helpful guy.

He seems to have an intrinsic protective streak in him, too.

Which is interesting, ‘cause it’s like…

While it’s obvious he’s been in the Apartments for a long time, it’s clear that he hasn’t completely lost his sense of humanity.

I mean, trust —it’s definitely worn in some ways.

Like, he eats people bruh.

Trust, his sense of humanity is def gone in some ways...

But!! At least he's not as violent as the other ghosts can be!!

Like, generally speaking, you’ll find that he’s a pretty admirable dude.

He doesn’t hurt other entities for the pure sake of hurting them.

Defense, and alternatively —for food or other resources like clothes or tools.

Those would probably be the only reasons Mr. Crawling would ever just… attack someone, especially unprovoked (unprovoked, but not necessarily without reason).

That being said, he’s a social butterfly!!

He’s literally a professional yapper in every sense of the word.

Like… he could start a podcast LMAO

Podcast Bro!Mr. Crawling…

Anywho, he’s genuinely a people person and he likes being in good company.

Whether it’s you, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Stitch(?), the Nurse, Mr. Wheelchair, the Hairdresser, etc…

He’s genuinely the type who could talk to literally anyone about anything for any amount of time.

If you’re a yapper too, this’ll probably be fun for you!

And hell, you may very well have met your match, LOL.

If you’re more introverted or quiet —no matter.

Mr. Crawling, being the professional he is, knows how to fill up any awkward silences with banter.

He doesn’t judge you at all on the basis of how you react to his yapping. Truly.

At the end of the day, he just enjoys sharing your company and getting to hear your voice, as little or as often as that occurs.

Hopefully, you don’t find his constant need for company annoying.

… Do you find him annoying?

At some point, Mr. Crawling begins to realize his feelings for you have changed…

In the case you accept him as a partner, he’s absolutely OVERJOYED.

Not only have you promised to indefinitely keep his company, but you also accepted him as your better half!

“You enjoy me?” He’ll ask, pulling himself over your curled-up form beneath the thin white sheets of the hospital bed.

“Me enjoy you,” you’ll say. You might even pet his head a few times, and he’ll giggle maniacally before dropping his head into your neck.

As Mr. Crawling’s fondness for you intensifies, so does his protective streak.

This guy turns into Papa Bear when it comes down to protecting his better half.

What Megan thee Stallion said??

“Three things I don’t play about: myself, my money, or my man!”

That, but more like: “... my friends, or my partner!”

Something like that, LOL.

Mr. Crawling’s sweethearted, bubbly, outgoing, protective, and quite affectionate. Intimacy is a language he speaks as fluently as his otherworldly one.

As we know, he’s very much the “high-maintenance” type.

He’s just super affectionate overall —and Mr. Crawling just wants to know that you’re always on the same page!

Tell him you love him.

Tell him how fun it was exploring the same old dreary halls with him. Tell him how relieved you felt when he swooped in to shield you from danger, even though you could handle yourself just fine. Run your fingers through his hair and massage the nape of his neck as you tell him how much you’ve come to enjoy —and maybe even crave —his company.

And when you’re done…

Tell him you love him. Yes, again. Again and again and again and again and again…

He could never get enough. Truly.

He could never get enough of you.

With a boyfriend like Mr. Crawling, you’ll never have to fear a lack of comfort, protection, friendship, or intimacy…

Because he’s constantly giving it to you.

You don’t even need to ask for any kind of intimacy —again, he’s giving it to you anyway.

And whether you’d like to shack up in a nearby spare room beside Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped’s loungeroom (of the sort) or if you take him with you to the surface world…

It makes no real difference in the way Mr. Crawling clings to you.

All he knows is so long as you’re both finding yourselves tangled together beneath the sheets each night, all is right in the world!

Mr. Crawling just wants to spend his evenings at home, and if home is where the heart is, then…

Well, you know how that goes!

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

#homicipher headcanons #homicipher fanfiction #homicipher x reader #homicipher mr crawling #mr crawling #mr crawling x reader #homicipher mr crawling x reader

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crystalflygeo · 2 years ago

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Sweet torture ft. Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: bondage/shibari, muzzle, oral sex (m!receiver), dom/sub dynamics, reader doms in this one ayyy, sub!zhongli, TEASING lots of it, masturbation, sex toy, improper use of geo (lmao).

notes: What did I just write?? We just don't know. I am sorry I saw one (1) fanart of Zhongli wearing a muzzle and went b a l l i s c t i c. Also.... dom!reader hella. This is so filthy and I'm so sleepy.....

It was torture. You were torturing him.

Zhongli groans, muscles tense as he feels your fingers gently stroking his member. The sudden touch makes him jerk, but the intricate ropework laced around his arms holds him nicely to prevent any more movements and instead keeping them tied at his back.

He couldn't touch you, kiss you, hold you...

A sweet yet deliciously devilish laughter comes out of your lips.

And then you lean down and start giving small kitten licks to his dripping cockhead before your hot, wet mouth starts slowly enveloping him, bobbing your head with lewd wet noises and purposefully drooling all over him. Messy. Obscene. Painfully driving him mad with lust.

“Darling, please.” He moans hoarsely.

You pull back with a smirk “Hmm? Are you about to break your own contract? My dearest Zhongli?”

He huffs and growls, shaking his head.

As easily as he could break out of these ‘restrains’ he had made a deal with you, so all he could do was toss his head back and endure.

And oh… you could definitely see the appeal of being the one in control.

The lord of Geo. The mighty Prime of the Adepti. Bound and muzzled like a feral beast. Squirming under your touch.

You kiss down along the side of his impressive cock, lightly tracing a vein with your tongue and making it twitch. “Hmmm… seems like you’re all ready for me.” Zhongli gasps as your fingers follow the fine trail of hair from his bellybutton down, teasingly. “It’s my turn.”

For a moment he thinks the torture is over and you’re satisfied with your small game. You’ll release his arms, or at least take off the horrible muzzle (“no biting tonight, dearest.”) and allow him to eat you out to his heart’s content.

How wrong he was.

Zhongli’s eyes widen then he scowls and jerks into his restrains again, shuffling on the bed when he sees you pull out one of your toys. He glares at you. You wouldn’t.

You smirk in response. Watch me.

“Relax…” You smile, sickly sweet. Leaning back onto a pillow and spreading your legs. “Just enjoy the show, darling.”

You start by teasing your entrance, gently, slowly. Caressing and pinching at your clit and slowly easing the oiled tip of the object into you. A rather special geo construct of Zhongli’s own creation. Sweet irony.

“Hmmmm…Ah…”

He snarls, glaring at the offending object as you slowly feed the fake cock into your pussy, inch by inch stuffing you as you let out a quiet moan. He knows you wouldn’t be satisfied with such a… crude and lacking replacement, no. He knows you ached for him, his warmth and thickness that could fill you so much more, satisfy you so much better.

You bite your lip and whine as it bottoms out.

“This one is… hah… rather accurate huh? … hng!” You mewl, squeezing your eyes shut as you start pulling it out only to push back in. “A-ah- fu-!”

He tries to keep calm. By Celestia, he tries. But the sight of you, naked and sweaty, presenting yourself so freely and displaying your pleasure, makes it excruciatingly difficult. You rock your hips and moan his name, high-pitched. Getting more and more used to the intrusion and thus increasing the speed.

“Z-Zhongli, baobei” You keen. “Wouldn’t you be a dear and apply a bit of resonance?”

A growl. “I would rather have you myself, my love.”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Of course. But don’t you want to see me come undone first? We do have a contract and for now you have to do as I sa-a-y Ah! Oh fuck-!”

You bite your lip, whining, eyes rolling back and hips moving on their own when the geo construct indeed starts buzzing low on your hand and inside your pussy. The sensation drives you up to the edge of that high, delicious simmering heat all over your body and pooling at your navel. Feel so good, so good-

“Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhongli-”

You come with a cry of his name as your body arches away from the mattress, high-strung with pleasure, free hand clawing at the sheets. For a few seconds you lie there basking in the afterglow, chest falling and rising rapidly until you sit up and slowly pull the toy out, shuddering at the wet squelch.

Your gaze sets on the man in front of you, looking absolutely pent-up with sexual frustration. Cock pressed up hard against his abs and smearing tacky precum everywhere.

You scoot up to him with a playful smile, eyes half-lidded as you sit upon his lap. You brush your hand down before bringing it back to run a slick-covered finger over the muzzle, the metal turning shiny and no doubt getting impregnated with the scent of your arousal. You see him open his mouth and pant slightly, sharp fangs on display, nostrils flared, eyes half-lidded and pupils brown wide as he chases the path your finger makes.

Oh, he is absolutely drunk on you.

You place your hands at his shoulders for leverage and this time (finally!) slowly envelop his cock with your warm pussy.

“Now’s your turn…”

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mydarlingclaudia · 3 months ago

Text

taste like the fourth of july

note : dividers are from @/rookthornesartistry. I FUCKING LOVE LANA DEL REY AND I LOVE HER UNRELEASED SONGS GUESS WHAT THIS IS INSPIRED BY!!!!!! SUGAR DADDY CHRIS!!!!!!! OOC DONT WORRY ABOUT IT!!!!!! this is really short but I've had this in my drafts since 9/9 and I finally got it of motivation to write it so it was either getting written tonight or not at all and if you saw this as a wip in a wip tag game and you thought it was gonna be smut sorry lmao

wc : 1.2k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy @withonly-sweetheart @onlyasimp4nobody

desc : sugar daddy. established-ish relationship, fluff, a bit suggestive, age gap (mid twenties - late forties), fem!reader, re8!Chris, not proofread

You love him ‘cause he tastes like your favorite liquor, and also because of the fat wad of cash he’s willing to hand over if you just bat your eyelashes at him. Well, that might be the reason, anyway. Not one of the sweetest men you’ve ever been with, but definitely one of the best.

Chris will buy pretty much anything for you. Expensive shoes you’ve been staring at in magazines? Yours. A watch that’s way too expensive but you like the color? It’s on your wrist the next morning. A cute new swimsuit? It’s yours as long as he gets to watch you model it.

There seems to be only perks when it comes to continuing on with whatever is going on between you and Chris; the money, the gifts, the vacations, the sex. Only downside is him going away for work, but that’s only a small downside, it doesn’t scare you away. Chris isn’t leaving you uncared for, anyway. The $1,000 he gives you the night before he heads out is supposed to be an apology, that’s what he says, at least.

Chris isn’t totally sure why he’s still doing this, he always thought of himself as a more traditional guy, you know, get a girlfriend that would eventually become a fiancée and after that a wife. But when he met you at this nice little restaurant, sitting all alone at the bar, eyeing him the whole fucking night, what was he supposed to say to you when you tapped him on the shoulder and asked him for a cigarette? No? It was a lucky enough guess that you even assumed he had cigarettes on him, maybe the smell of the smoke clung to his clothes more than had thought.

You hadn’t even asked if he was married, you probably saw his ring finger that lacked a wedding ring and took that as a green light.

It’s probably better this way, Christ, you’re twenty-six and he’s forty-eight. Chris could waste a few thousand dollars on you, give you a few years of his time, there’s not much else that he does besides work.

And you’re pretty, you’re worth the money.

So who is he to deny you? It really is a win-win.

But it’s not like you and Chris are exclusive, you were both able to sleep with whoever you wanted, no hard feelings if you do or don’t. And you did, for a little bit, before you started questioning whether or not Chris did the same. You never noticed another woman's clothes in his apartment, no lipstick-stained shirts in his hamper, nothing. You stopped seeing other men maybe a week after Chris had found a few fading hickeys on your hips and left darker ones where they once stood.

Okay, saying you love him might actually be a bit of a lie, but you’re pretty sure he’s lying to you too when he says it back. You’re not one to look things over too much, even if he does truly love you, that just makes your situation better.

Another great thing is date night.

You love vacations just as much as the next person, but Chris' job doesn't guarantee any amount of time longer than a week off. So vacations are a treat, typically a birthday present for either you or Chris, go somewhere with a great beach and greater drinks.

Date night is at the very least once a month, Chris always calls you a few days before, tells you the time and place and you just stand there and nod before blowing him a kiss over the phone as a goodbye before hanging up.

He takes you out, buys you dinner, gets you a new dress or a new necklace depending on how you're feeling that night, then drives you through the city before heading back to either his or your place.

You will admit that you find it funny when he doesn't know how to react to what you do. If you want something, say it, okay? Don't send him nudes, he's told you time and time again that he prefers seeing you face-to-face and not on a tiny screen that doesn't capture the whole view. You think he prefers it that way because then at least he can reach out and touch you instead of trying to type things out on his phone only for them to end up being deleted seconds later.

The morning after date night is never awkward, at least not usually. You either spend the day at Chris' or he takes you out shopping again before dropping you back at your place. You still feel sore most mornings.

This is one of those mornings, you can still feel the burn between your legs and the sting of bites, scratches, and beard burn left behind. Chris isn't there when you grope around for him in bed, but he's quick to come to your rescue as you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on before the door opens and he steps out.

"You up?" He's straightening his shirt out when he asks you, not looking at you as you sit up in his bed.

You stretch and rub your eyes, "Mhm," You mumble, Chris finally looks at you.

"You usually sleep like a log."

"Can you blame me?" Another mumble and he smiles, walking over to you and placing both his hands on the side of your face so he can lean down and kiss the top of your head. "Goin' somewhere?"

"Got called in, something important, apparently." He sighs, you push forward and lean against his ribs as he brushes through your tangled hair with his fingers.

"It always is."

"Mm, don't pout."

"Don't want me to miss you?" As always, whenever you tease him, he only responds to you with a light scoff before he smiles. Chris pulls you away from his ribs so he can cup the back of your neck and get you to look at him, his thumbs trace over the edges of your jaw and you hum.

"You still want something from me?"

"A pony," Chris rolls his eyes this time, kneeling so he can wrap his arms around you once you giggle.

"We're going out again once I get back." You think you hear him murmur, "Not to get a fucking pony." under his breath even though you can feel his breath in your ear, but you know he's saying that more to himself than to you.

"Surprise me?"

"Sure," Chris pulls back and kisses your cheek before his lips meet yours, his kisses are as slow as they always are. Chris breaks the kiss for a second only yo mumble, "Do you feel alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit." You press a kiss to his closed mouth as you play with the ends of his short hair.

"I gotta go," You sigh and kiss him again before you pull away from him, he kisses the corner of your mouth before he stands up. "Go have fun today."

"I will."

"Good, I wanna see what you bought later." You lay back down again as Chris starts to pull his jacket on and head for the bedroom door.

"Don't be too late," Your back is already turned towards the door when you call out to him, you don't see the smile he shoots you over his shoulder before he leaves.

#resident evil #resident evil x reader #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield

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ultralightpoe · 1 year ago

Text

High Infidelity - Coriolanus Snow

Authors Note: Yup. I wrote for him. Hate me for it. (This was also the first time I wrote him so it’s not the best characterization, but hey. It’s been sitting in my drafts foreverrrrrr)

Word Count: 5642

Warnings: Prostitution. Lmao. And really bad writing so be prepared for that.

Apart of the Midnights Album Event

My MAIN Masterlist is here!

(Thank you for the gif @youremyvioleta )

Enjoy!

Lock broken, slur spoken

Wound open, game token

I didn't know you were keeping count

Rain soaking, blind hoping

You said I was freeloading

I didn't know you were keeping count

Your mother had always warned you away from him, warning you of the terrible terrible things that came from his family, she used to sit you at the table and plead with you to stay as far away from Coriolanus Snow as you could.

“Everything with that family ends with bloodshed.” She had warned you, telling you to stay away.

You hadn’t, and you never would….. well at least you never thought you would.

You had grown up with Coryo, known eachother since you were just children and had survived a war together. Had gone through starvation together. Back then you hadn’t understood why your mother was so afraid of him, this was the boy that had shared a can of beans with you when you had nothing. And now that the Capitol was back you were still as thick as thieves.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out, staring at your best friend right now, tears sliding your cheeks. “I don’t understand Coryo.”

It had been months since you last saw him, his hair was shorter and whiter now, and his face set into a grim glare. But it was the eyes that were different, they were cold and dark, just making eye contact made you shutter.

You had rushed to the train station to pick him up, an expensive flower in your hand and a wide smile. That had promptly been wiped away the second he got off the train and snapped at you.

The words fuzzed a bit, but it was something along the lines of “I’m warning you to stay away from my family, you freeloading wretch.”

“Do I really need to repeat myself?” The smile he gives you is anything but warm. “What? Now that I’m back you want to tag along all the time? Steal my family's fortune and pretend you’re not a starving leech?”

“Starving Leech? When have I ever taken anything from you?” You bite back, hands curling into fists.

“I can give you an entire list of everything you have taken from my family.” He laughs. “And I promise you that there will be no more favors.”

“You….. I hadn’t realized helping eachother from not starving was a favor. You ate from my table to need I remind you.” You snap, a heat crossing your skin, casting eyes towards a pair of on lookers.

You didn’t have time for this, you had a shift at the med wing.

You said as much to him, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed as he finally took in your medical garb. “We’ll talk later.” He scoffs, and you walk off after that, set on never talking to him again.

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

It was nothing but sobs the night your mother passed away, cuddled on the floor of Coryos floor with his arms wrapped around you, trying to keep quiet just in case his grandmother woke up.

She hated tears, always thought them a sign of weakness.

“Shhh.” Coryo whispers, petting your hair back. “It will be okay.”

“What will I do?” You sob, feeling like your chest was caving in. “How will I survive?”

“We’ll find a way.” He whispers, using the pad of his thumb to rub the tears from your cheeks. “I’m sure Tigris can get you a job, and you can move in here if you need. Just take a moment-“

“I can’t. I can’t breathe.” You panic, hand snapping to his jacket as if he could keep you planted to the earth, your breathing ragged panting as your vision begins to blur.

“No. No.” He breathes, fingers snatching your jaw to make you look at him, digging into your skin. “Focus. Breathe. You’re stronger than this. Take. A. Breath.”

You listen, breathing in the same time he does, deep and open, breathing out when he does. Your nerves calm a bit, and you close your eyes as the tears keep falling. He pushes your head until it is laying on his chest. “Your mother just died. Don’t focus on the future, just let the pain settle. You’re safe here. I promise.”

And so you did, letting the sobs free as he held you all night.

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

“Did….. did you see her?” Tigris asks, keeping close to the doorframe of his room, hugging her arms close to herself as she watches him work at his desk.

He feels himself tense, spine stiffening so much a wave of pain passed over him, doing his best to seem natural about it all. “She will not be coming around anymore if that is what you want to ask.”

He would make sure of it, he would make sure no one took from him or his family ever again. Not that bitch from 12, not Highbottom and not….. you. You whose face filled his brain with sunlight and warmth, you who made his chest melt and hands shake from nerves.

He loved you, always had.

But that couldn’t be anymore. He was set for a pristine life now, he could not let his weakness get in the way. He already risked it more than he should have.

“She missed you. A lot.” Tigris sighs, moving a little closer. “And she…. Well she helped us scrap together money for care packages and rent.”

“I’m sure there was something she could get from it. Don’t worry.” Even as he says it his gut clenches. He didn’t believe it for a second, but this needed to be done.

“She….. Coryo she-“ Tigris seems to stutter over the words, closing her eyes as if just thinking about it dragged her into a wave of pain. He tries not to laugh because what did she have to hurt about? Living the plush life here as he fought for them in 12, fought for them in the games. Risked his life to make sure that girl survived.

“She. What?”

“She….. well once she found out we were short on rent and she had nothing to offer she…. Slept with someone…… for us.”

“How would whoring herself out help us?” He already knew, his heart beating through his chest as his hands began to shake, clenching them into fists so it wouldn’t show. He was going to be sick.

You wouldn’t have. No.

“For money. She made us-“

“GET. OUT.” He sneers, standing quickly. “Get out right now.” He watches his cousin dash from the room with tears sliding down her face, his own kings constricting at the news.

You couldn’t have. You couldn’t have.

Regret laces through his stomach, your face flickering through his mind. Of course you would. You would do anything for him and his family.

Storm coming, good husband

Bad omen

Dragged my feet right down the aisle

At the house lonely, good money

I'd pay if you'd just know me

Seemed like the right thing at the time

It had been a fools dream long ago that you would marry for love, nothing but a dream of a child that didn’t know better, hadn't let the world destroy her yet.

Now, you knew better. Staring at your soon to be husband, Festus Creed, with a small smile playing at your lips. You were trying to make it seem like you actually loved him, like you actually cared what he was saying as cameras flashed at you both. The light of it blinded you a bit, and you tried not to flinch while he merely laughed and gripped your hand tighter.

He saved your ass and the Snow’s asses. Playing pretty little fucking wife is a small price to pay. You remind yourself when he kisses your cheek. Just pretend. Smile and pretend.

You had sold yourself to Festus in the months that Coryo…. Coriolanus was gone. When you were barely making ends meet and his cousin and grandmother weren’t making it. You had known that Tigris sometimes sold herself to people that wouldn’t really know her last name, but she hadn’t ever been able to get the primary houses due to her family's nobility.

You could.

So, you offered yourself to Creed, a classmate of Coriolanus’ and one that he had warned you to stay away from. “A viper wearing human skin.” How ironic how things turned around.

You tried not thinking about Snow at all, tried to get his face out of your mind, but every time you got close to winning against your memory, he somehow managed to pop up. Every. Single. Time.

It had been months since that initial argument the day he returned. You had been a fool who planned on confessing your love to him, planning on asking him to marry you. Then he called you a gluttonous leech, and Festus proposed a week later. It should be history.

And yet, right on cue, you spot a light blonde head of hair making his way through the crowd quickly as you and your fiancé stand quickly, the crowd of cameras dispersing at the engagement party resumes its flow.

You tried not to sneer about the sheer amount of money these people threw at everything. Just a couple months ago you had been starving, and now you can only watch as dozens of tables were set up with ludicrously decorated desserts that wouldn’t actually be eaten. “Never eat the food in front of them. Makes us look bad.” Festus has told you before your first party with all of them.

“Might I go to the restroom really quick?” You ask him, trying to move around with his arm tightly wrapped around you.

“Of course.” He smiles, giving your hip a tight squeeze before his eyebrows pinch together. “Let’s greet Snow first. I’m sure your old best friend would love to see you.”

Wish I could say the same. You bite back the remark on the tip of your tongue with a pleasant smile, allowing Festus to lead you to where your old friend was finally cutting through people. He had a grim look on his face, he always did these days, and if you didn’t know better you would assume he was upset.

“Snow.” Festus smiles, “glad you can make it. I know game keeping has been keeping your attention these days.”

Something in your stomach clenches at the words, no matter how many times people spoke of it you still could not believe that he was helping with the games.

You feel his stare in the side of your head, but you keep your eyes firmly on Festus, playing with his hair a bit as you play the role of lovestruck girl. Festus glows at this, eyes lighting up as he looks at you.

Whether or not he knows you’re using him as an excuse you can’t possibly care, he likes that you’re rubbing it in Snows face all the same.

“How could I miss this…. Joyous occasion?” Every word is clipped, and you try not to roll your eyes. “It’s wonderful that you’re family is able to take the young medic in.”

You know the underlying meaning beneath the words, snapping to glare at him. A smirk slides onto his lips as his eyes spark with excitement, it takes you a minute bro realize you had just fallen into a trap he laid out. To get you to look at him.

“Well I’m no freeloader.” You bite out. “I’ll obviously keep working in the hospital.”

Festus barks out a laugh at this, hand tightening on your hip as his other moves to hold his stomach, pure humor on his face. “Oh darling. How outrageously funny that was.”

“How was that funny?” You ask, blanching a bit.

“You’re not going to work! How would that make my family look?” Festus laughs, leaning to kiss your lips. You try to kiss back, something tightening in your throat as a sharp sting begins to form in your eyes. Do not cry. Do not cry.

“I’m going to go grab a drink. Keep our friend entertained will you?” Festus smiles, squeezing your hip once more before moving to walk away, leaving you with Coriolanus.

You risk one look to him, already seeing that he was staring right at you, and take a small sip from the Champagne in the flute as you think about how to get away. You decide on “I do hope you enjoy the party. I’m going to make my way to the ladies room.”

And for a second you think you’re brilliant, turning on your heel to walk away quickly but he is fast, taking three easy steps and cutting into your path.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“We just did.”

“Did we?”

“What do you call that whole conversation with my fiancé if not talking?” You put on an airy smile, and fear freezes at you at the sheer anger in his gaze. Panic settles in, and you stand straighter, choosing to play offense. “Besides. You’re the one that warned me to stay away. What was it you said? ‘Or suffer the consequences’, wasn't it?”

His eyes shutter but otherwise he does a good job of playing calm, using one hand to pull imaginary lint off his jacket. “I believe so. But maybe I’ve decided I was wrong.”

“You weren’t wrong.” You snipe. “I was a freeloading wretch and now I’m not. Problem handled. We can go our separate ways and never speak again-“

“Festus was the one that paid you, wasn’t he?” His voice is low, but his eyes are screaming at you as he leans closer. “To help pay for rent. It was Festus.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” You did. And he knew it, which was answer enough.

“I’m sorry you-“but you’re gone, dashing to find the bathroom.

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

The door to the Snow Mansion caught a little, letting some of the winter air in with you, your teeth chattering as you did your best to shut it. Managing to push all your body weight into the door to finally get it closed before you puffed hot air into your palms, the sack you carried heavy in your hand as you hear someone call your name.

Then he’s there, surrounding you in what little warmth he had, arms wrapped around you as you try to ease the shivers.

“Come in. We are burning some of mothers old romance novels for warmth.” He smiles, grabbing your hand and leading you to the fireplace where there were indeed pages from novels burning quickly.

“I brought this-“ you smile, holding up the bag of the goodies you managed to smuggle out of work. “It was someone’s anniversary and they had tables of food. I grabbed what I could before they threw it all out.”

A smile breaks out across his face as his cousin and grandmother both gasp and move to surround you. Before you know it you are all huddled close to the fire, eating quickly to try and ease the hunger, Coryo sitting close to you.

Once all the food is gone his grandmother retires to bed and Tigris goes to heat up water, leaving you with Coryo by the dying fire.

“I…. I always imagined small family dinners. Always wanted it for my own family, eating close together rather than a large table.” You admit, pulling your legs close to yourself. “Never did I imagine this though.”

“One day I’m going to get us out of this.” He mumbles, one hand reaching to hold onto one of your own. “And we will have that.”

There was that feeling of happiness rising in your chest as you looked at his determined face, leaning to kiss the corner of his lips softly. “I look forward to it.” And you believed he could make it happen, you truly did.

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

You could learn to love him, you were sure of it. Somehow someway you would fall in love with my Festus, provide him a child that would inherit his families vast fortune and you would see to it that your kid never had to worry about starving.

You would rake yourself over coals before letting your child do any of what you had to do.

Like right now, fake moans filtering from your lips as Festus had his way with you on a random desk in a study room you did not recognize. Not that it was surprising, this family liked their secrets.

Once he was done he smiled at you, kissing you quickly as he fixed his pants and tucked in his shirt. “Fix yourself up. We have an engagement party to get back to.”

And with that he was gone from the room, leaving you to fix the skirt and sink to the floor, using the side of the large oak desk to lean on.

The sound of the door opening barely draws your attention, sighing out as you stare at the bookshelf, trying to piece your nerves back together as you always did after Festus.

“Are you alright?” The tone was a mix between your old friends comforting voice and the new Snows voice, and you tried not to roll your eyes.

“I’m fine.” You snap, your spine stiff. “Go back to the party.”

“I should be saying that to you.” He mumbles, moving closer and sliding to sit next to you. “It is your party after all.”

“Yeah? Is it?” You mumble, scooting over slightly to get away from him. He merely follows you, sliding right next to you once more.

Before you can yell at him he is holding out a cloth napkin, filled with those crème cookies that filled the tables out there. Macarons, Festus had called them. But you hadn’t had one. Rich people liked to starve.

“Come on. We both know you want one.” He smiles.

“Does it have poison?” You snipe, remembering the reason he had been sent away in the first place. He had given that Lucy girl an advantage in the games. Poison.

“No, not for you.” He smiles, like you hadn’t just completely tried to chase him off. Then he grabs one and shoves the entire thing in his mouth, making a small laugh slip from you before you bite it down, rolling your eyes. “Do you remember my 13th birthday?”

“No.” Yes.

He had stolen sandwiches from his school lunch and you had somehow managed to steal chocolate chip cookies from some party you had been working at. You ate together in the park, huddled by a tree so no one would see you, whispering all the things you wanted to see in the world.

“It was by far one of the best birthdays I had ever had.”

“One of?”

“Well my favorite birthday was the one before the war. I got so many gifts my parents made me a playroom.” He smiles.

You try not to let the words sting, what were measly cookies to a playroom. That was the life he belonged in. Luxury.

“You won’t be working then?” He asks after a moment of silence. “I always thought you liked being a medic.”

“I haven’t been an actual medic for long.” You sneer, you had only earned the honor while he was gone. Before that you simply volunteered every morning before your actual job, taking lessons whenever you could scrounge up money.

“A short lived career then.”

“What do you want me to say? My husband won’t allow me to work then I won’t work. It’s simple.”

“I would need my wife to work.” He shrugs.

“Why? You wouldn’t want a freeloader?”

“No. I would be running for president of Panem. And I believe that a medic for a wife would help my votes.” He states bluntly, eyes catching yours as your own widen.

“I’m sorry?” But he doesn’t respond, instead he holds out that damned napkin of cookies again. And you snatch one quickly, turning away the slightest bit to eat it.

“You’ll think about it?” He asks, eyes never leaving you.

“Think about it? There is nothing to think about.” You laugh, wiping sugar from the corner of your mouth before using the desk to help you stand and stepping over him.

Before you could fully escape his hands snatch your calf, pulling you down until you unceremoniously fall into his lap. “I told you to stay away from Festus. His family is not-….. he won’t give you what you want.”

“He’s paying my rent Snow. I’m just fine.”

“What happened to family dinners? Or the 6 kids running around.”

“I can have that with him.”

“Can you?” He lets you go then, knowing his words hit the mark when your face falls.

You leave the study, trying to pretend things are fine for the rest of the day, but his words cling to you like a skin of a snake.

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

You would have loved the atmosphere of District 12’s underground space, the dancing and music, laughter falling through your ears and the best of their dancing jolting down your spine with every stomp and clap.

Though he never understood your fascination with the districts back then, during the games he was beginning to understand slowly, and seeing this he could.

“Let’s go get a drink.” Sejanus laughs, pushing him to the bar as he imagines you twirling through, stomping and clapping at the right times.

It’s that night, drunk and a bit out of it that he lets the words he had been holding back for years slip. Sejanus had been grousing on and on about how he knew Snow was a good guy by the fact that his closest companion had been a young student healer rather than a Capitol clone and Snow tried not to bristle as how easy Sejanus laughed off your history.

You had worked for everything, and yet the man in front of him made it seem like you had chosen the healer life out of pity, rather than your hardwork and dedication.

Then the words slipped, “She’s a rare one and that’s why I love her.”

His friends eyes widen, and so does snow, both breathing in for a second before a wave of laughter fills them as Lucy’s voice fills the room.

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough

It had taken you 10 minutes to sneak out of the Creed mansion, and another 15 to walk to Snow mansion where he had asked to meet you.

He being Coriolanus, through a telegram sent directly to you earlier in the day.

The door sticks a little, just like it used to, but the rest of the place had been professionally cleaned and you kept to the front rug in the entrance so as to not drag mud in.

“What are you doing?” He asks, coming around the corner to look at you in the entrance. “I’m in here, let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait to see your panic at the clean floors, so you rush to take off your shoes before tiptoeing to the main sitting room he was in.

“You said it was urgent.” You mumble, looking around at all the papers strewn about. Some designs of outfits and dresses, some of creatures and set ups. “What is all this?”

“This, my dear, is the 11th annual hunger games.” He smiles, and you try not to shudder at how easy he says dear.

“Oh I see, you’ll be making the tributes wear extravagant gowns in the arena then?” You hold up a sketch of what looks to be an evening gown designed for district 3.

“Tigris will be styling and dressing them before the games now.” He explains, moving closer to you. “For if they wish to be performers then we shall let them. Give them all a fighting chance.”

“Like Lucy?”

He doesn’t answer, instead moving to pick up another sketch. “And now, once they are in the arena they will all wear the same uniform.”

“They won’t die in their own clothes?”

“They’ll die at the Capitol wills it.” He sneers, taking a second to regain his composure. “But this isn’t why I have brought you here today.”

“Okay….” He grabs your hand, pulling you to the desk and showing you plans and sketches. “I need your medical advice.”

“For?”

“For a poisonous sea creature.” You rear back at that, but he is quick to snatch your hand. “I just need to know how to prolong the death.”

“I’m not helping-“

“Please. I need you.” He admits, his hand still on you. “I always need you.”

“Coryo-“ it’s the first time you’ve called him that in forever, and he can’t help but rush to you, pressing his lips to yours quickly.

You kiss back, although your common sense is screaming at you to stop. And soon enough the kiss is deepening, and he’s shoving all the documents off the table to place you upon it, making quick work of stripping you down while trying to keep his lips to you at all times.

And you were ashamed to admit you found pleasure for the first time that night, allowing him to pull that pleasure from you over and over and over.

High infidelity

Put on your records and regret meeting me

I bent the truth too far tonight

I was dancing around, dancing around it

“He’s a mad man….” Festus mumbles, hand clenched on your knee. “A mad genius but a madman.”

He was right of course, you could do nothing but blink as the games unfolded before you, surrounded by his peers and coworkers as they all cheered and booed at the tributes.

You couldn’t pay attention, the gore beginning to get to you as well as the fact that Coryo kept glaring over at you and Festus from his podium in the center, eyes narrowing as a sneer coated his mouth.

You hated these moments, when you were anxious about the affair and when Festus was in the same room with the two of you. Don’t do anything stupid, you silently plead.

But when has Coryo ever played stupid? No. Everything he did was smart, three moves ahead.

“How about a wager?” He smiles to his friends, and you bite your lip. That scheming look not good.

“Yeah?” Festus smiles. “My moneys on district 2. Girl.”

Vivi, was her name. She had 2 sisters at home and was playing viciously. She would not win though, she had been bitten by a snake with slow killing venom, you would know since you helped Coryo make it.

“No. Money is far too boring.” Coryo smiles, ever the Capitol player. “How about we wager…… the healer.”

Festus freezes, hand tightening on your thigh in a searing grip that you know has Coryo seething under his calm exterior, those blue eyes lighting with a challenge. He hated when Festus was rough, which was more often than not.

Coryo preferred to be…. Rough in the sheets and gentle every other moment.

“You want my fiancé? Don’t you have whores for that?” Festus laughs, but there is no humor behind it.

“I don’t want a whore. I want a wife.” Coryo smiles, holding out his hand. “District 4, Mags.”

People begin whispering and smiling at the challenge, and you realize why Coryo had been talking too loud then, because Festus would look weak to back away now.

Festus risks a look to you, narrowing on your shocked look before taking Coryos hand. When the blonde walks away your fiancé leans in, “we will be discussing this later.”

After he won, if he won. He would make your life hell.

High infidelity

Put on your headphones and burn my city

Your picket fence is sharp as knives

I was dancing around, dancing around it

“Your mood swings make my head spin,” you admit, laying on the mattress lazily as Coryo sits leaning on the headboard, tracing his finger across your exposed back. “One moment you’re rutting into me like you hate me, the next your murmuring love sonnets.”

“Do the Creeds actually have money?” He murmurs, fingers dancing across your ribs. “Or are they pretending just as I had been for awhile?”

“They have money, loads and loads of it. So much that they burnt some of it for fun the other day to see how long it took to burn.” You mumble, keeping your eyes closed.

“Then why do you still look starving?” He asks, moving closer to curl around you.

“Because they only eat one meal a day, and it’s more of….. well they don’t like gluttonous people.”

“Surviving is gluttonous?”

“The rich have never made sense.” You admonish. “They starve themselves to prove they can, no sugar or dairy. No this or that. They don’t know hunger like we did.”

“I thought you were marrying him to stop that hunger.” He mutters, a bit of anger in it.

“I also have a roof over my head and warmth. There is more to it.” You sigh, not wanting this to be another argument as it was every week. “There’s nothing we can do Coryo. I get married after the games.”

“They talk about you like you’re a pet.”

“To them I am.”

Oh, there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

And it's never enough, it's never enough

“So this is what he does now?” Festus sneers, whipping his tie off as he storms into his room, dragging you in with him.

The games would last another night it seemed, and Snow sent everyone out as he was getting ready for the big finish.

“He is making it all one big game. Placing wagers and gambling. It’s bullshit!” You try not to roll your eyes at his outburst since he had been all about it before Coryo called him out.

But apparently you still somehow rolled your eyes and his face falls into pure rage as he begins charging for you. Fear coats your system as his hand latches around your neck, cutting off oxygen.

Before it could get worse there is a knock on the door.

“YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!” His little sister calls, turning on his screen to reveal the games, where many of the players are fighting a very large creature in the body of water.

“What is that?” Festus gasps.

“A sea monster.” You breathe out, watching with a small amount of excitement mixed with disgust as Mags plunges her spear into its eye.

Lock broken, slur spoken

Wound open, game token

I didn't know you were keeping count

Rain soaking, blind hoping

You said I was freeloading

I didn't know you were keeping count

But oh, you were keeping count

You married him on April 29th, a year later he ran for president and to no one's surprise he won.

You became First Lady of panem. And would of course bear tons of children.

He kept his promise, eating close together every night, making sure all his kids were well fed and never knew the hunger you both did. And when your youngest was blasted in the tabloids for her ‘pudginess’ Coryo made sure to send the writer and his family to District 7 and the very next year the oldest daughter of the family was chosen in the reaping.

You lived in constant disgust and amazement, the battle never ending.

You helped him come up with ideas for creatures and implemented healing and medicine into the games to at least give some of those kids a fighting chance.

“Remember when I warned you to stay away?” He asks one night, watching you from his spot on the bed as you get air at the window.

“Quite vividly.” You laugh, breathing in the night scent in his shirt as he lay naked save for a sheet. “Said I was a freeloader.”

“I was trying to push you away.”

“Gathered that.” You nod, watching him extend a hand before shuffling across the floor and climbing across the bed until you reach his hands where he pulled you in for a warm kiss.

“You are a freeloader.” He teases, his lips still against yours. “You owe me so much.”

“Oh do I?” You laugh.

“Yeah! You owe me a can of beans, never got paid back for that.” He smiles and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll go get the dirtiest can of beans, expired, and it will be just like old times.”

Before he can say anything else you are pushing to kiss him again, falling into his warmth with a hum and letting him drag you under the sheet.

(Yeah. It stayed in the draft because I never quite liked how the story worked….. something always seemed off. I rewrote this 10 times back then, but since I am releasing my old drafts this baby is out now. )

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #Coriolanus angst #Coriolanus fluff #snow smit #snow smut #snow angst #snow imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #Coriolanus snow smut #Coriolanus snow angst #Coriolanus snow fluff #Coriolanus snow imagine

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lincolndjarin · 11 months ago

Text

fine art

javi gutierrez x moviestar!reader - installment #1 of sparrow's spectacles

main masterlist - other spectacles - kofi

summary : you were an up and coming actress, javi is your biggest fan, he'd do anything to have meet you.

word count : 3.9k

warnings, tags : dead dove do not eat, !! dark fic !! mdni 18+, noncon, stalker!javi, kidnapping, capture, stockholm syndrome, m&f masturbation, sex toys, briefly mentioned periods, exhibitionism, voyurism, so much internal thought processing regarding readers situation, briefly referenced suicide, reader is undescribed other than briefly being mentioned as young in her acting career, in my head she's late twenties, probs other tags i missed sorry. tldr: you have spent so much time with javi against your will that you unwillingly start fantasizing about him and give in to destructive urges in an attempt to escape him, everything is bad here.

a/n : is this stupid and probably bad? who knows, i have a terrible sense of self judgement lately so i'm just gonna post this and hope it's good. also can you tell that i blatantly stole the set from You LMAO. anyhow this is the first installment of my little 'horror' series. but it's less horror and more just odd little stories i wanted to write tbh

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

On days where you’re feeling particularly bored you list the things you can see. Unfortunately for you, your surroundings rarely change. Of course you could change that, if you asked him for something he’d give it to you, anything you wanted. Unless of course it was something he thought you could hurt yourself with or contact the outside world with.

You didn’t often ask.

Whenever you can have a conversation with him he always says the same thing.

“If you stopped being so stubborn you might actually be happy.”

“I would do anything for you.” “Then let me out.” “Anything but that.”

“It’s not as terrible as you make it out to be. It isn’t an actual cage, it isn’t so bad.”

So you don’t talk to him unless you have to.

But some days you’re just so painfully, agonizingly, bored and you can’t help yourself. So you scream at him, or you pound on the unyielding plexiglass, or you hold your hand up against it, hoping he’ll touch the other side and you can briefly imagine yourself having physical contact with another human being.

Sometimes you’ll even play his games.

You’ll read the scripts he slides through the small square opening in the cage that can’t be more than a foot wide, and act out scenes with him simply because it gives you something to do and for fucks sake you’re desperate for something to do. It’s so easy to get caught up in him, if it wasn’t so easy you’d probably let yourself do it more often, thankfully, it’s so fucking scary. If you spend too much time in the box you’re worried that eventually you’ll forget that you aren’t a doll and you'll grow to like your box. So you do your damndest to maintain a wall between the two of you, but when that wall is glass it is destined to break eventually. So you scream and you fight until you get tired, and then you let the walls down as you rest, before returning to your struggle. And everytime you let the walls down they take longer to put back up.

At the end of the day it never matters how you treat him, he loves you all the same.

Even on days where you scream your throat raw and throw your furniture against the walls, if you ask him to get you takeout from your favorite restaurant, or watch a movie with you, he always will. You asked him about it once. Why didn't he just make you do what he wanted? Why didn’t he just make you obey? He had looked genuinely offended, as if he couldn’t believe you thought him capable of such a thing.

And he told you that he loved you.

More than anything.

That you were his most prized possession.

That he would never do anything to hurt you, it would be like if he were angry and he threw a priceless vase, the only person it would hurt is himself.

You had nodded as if he was making any sense and you’d turned back to the movie he’d picked out.

You were a vase.

You were a collectible.

A priceless, collectable. He kept you in perfect condition and never took you out of the box. Not even to play with you himself. A small, rather demented part of you, is starting to wish that he would. Of course you don’t want him to force himself upon you, you aren’t that far gone. (Yet.) But it’s been so long since you’ve touched another person. You would give your left arm just to be held. If your calendar serves you well, it’s been just over two years since you last saw someone who wasn’t Javi.

And Javi wouldn’t touch you.

Not ever. You were too perfect to be defiled in such a way. He would sometimes hold his hand against the glass when you held up your own, he even kissed you through it once. (Although it had been rather awkward and neither one of you ever talked about it again.) But he never touched you.

Sometimes you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you’d met Javi in a social setting. He is rather handsome, and though you hate to admit it, when he isn’t leering he’s almost charming.

Almost.

Everyday you slip further into the fantasy where Javi does something to break up the monotony. Is that his goal? To make you so desperate for human connection that you eventually snap and beg him to touch you? You shudder as you wonder how long that would take. After the first year you stopped wondering what would happen when he got bored of you. You know deep down that that will never happen. If anything his devotion for you only continues to grow with each passing day. If it’s possible he probably loves you more now then he did at the start of your stay here. Despite everything he takes care of you, in his own strange sort of way.

Like how he tracks your cycle, always making sure you have anything you need on those days. Sometimes he even knows it’s starting before you do, he’ll bring you baskets with blankets and candy and any other little trinket or gift he saw that made him think of you.

Jewelry, little plush toys, and books. Anything to try and make you feel anything other than the misery that constantly loomed over you as you waited for his next visit. He never goes more than a few days without seeing you and he always apologizes when he does. He returns with your favorite shampoo or lotion to make it up to you, but it never really changes how you feel about him. It’s nice to fantasize a world in which you enjoy your only source of company but you’re careful to never let that fantasy bleed into reality.

If he were actually your partner you’d have locked him down ages ago. A part of you knows that he doesn’t want that kind of relationship with you though. He doesn’t want a girlfriend, you’re much more than that. You’re more like a goddess in a cage to him than an actual human being. A beloved pet bird. It’s clear he feels something more than simple love for you. It’s a devotion, a conscious effort to worship you.

You are to be kept in pristine condition.

Of course that doesn’t mean he can’t look.

Two and a half years.

That’s how long it took for the looking to escalate into something more. You were watching a movie.

50 First Dates

You had picked it out, Javi liked action movies but would never complain when you wanted to watch a rom-com. You were on your bed, curled up under the blankets in a hoodie and sweatpants. You haven’t worn makeup since he took you, you rarely brushed your hair, you never put much thought into your appearance, and Javi wouldn’t give you a mirror.

You had one, a long time ago. Within the first week you’d smashed it, threatening to slit your own throat if he didn’t let you out. All that resulted in was you no longer being allowed to have breakables. Plastic cutlery and paper plates were wordlessly passed to you from that point forward.

You had been watching in silence, he sat on the couch outside the cage like he always did and it wasn’t until you heard a shuddering groan that you turned around to see him kneeling beside the cage, one hand pressed up against the glass, steadying himself, the other wrapped around his cock.

You were frozen in place.

What are you supposed to do in that situation?

You watched, slack jawed as he took his time. His gaze made you feel naked, like he could see through the layers of blankets and baggy clothing.

He had looked you in the eye when he finished. Briefly staring wide eyed before his eyes squeezed shut and with a long, drawn out moan and a strained cry of your name. His cum painted the glass and before you could form any sort of response he was already stuffing himself back into his pants and standing. You want to say something, anything. Something to hold him accountable for what he just did, but you can’t think of anything, and he’s already leaving.

Before you can even blink he’s gone, without so much as a glance in your direction. And you’re left alone, in the lamp light, unable to escape the sight of his filth on the glass. Covering your head with a blanket as you waited for it to be late enough for the power to cut out and leave you in a safe, and comfortable darkness.

A part of you hoped that the white speckles would be gone when you woke up but you weren’t that lucky.

You faced away from that wall, with your head buried in a book until you looked at the clock and knew it was almost time to face him again. When he returned he had an aura of shame around himself, his arms were full of grocery bags and his eyes were red rimmed and teary.

“I’m so sorry- I just- I love you so much, I don’t know what came over me.” If this was a normal relationship and the two of you had maybe gotten into an argument or something you would have forgiven him. After all he looked genuinely remorseful as he stared at you, going through the bags before setting down several takeout containers with labels you recognized. He had gone out and gotten all your favorites. Your favorite fast food place, as well as a high end chinese restaurant you loved for special occasions, and a clear plastic case with a slice of your favorite flavored cake from a small bakery near your apartment that you frequented. (You’d never asked him to get you anything from there before, you’d never even mentioned the place to him.)

Through his mumbled apologies he set down your favorite bubble tea flavor and a water bottle.

He had passed everything to you through the opening in the cage with trembling hands as he sniffled. Once you had everything he sprayed the drying remnants of his release with Windex, pulling several paper towels off the roll and wiping it until it was as if it never happened. By the time he was finished his cheeks were red and big tears rolled down his face.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Before you can stop yourself you’re comforting him, as if he’s the victim in this situation.

“It’s not okay, I don’t want you to think that that’s why you’re here.” He mumbles sadly, letting his forehead hit the glass. Through your disgust for your own words you sense something else.

Opportunity.

The only chance you’re going to get for escape involves him unlocking the door. Something he hasn’t done since he put you in here in the first place. You’ve tried in the past. Not often, there weren’t very many chances, you had everything you needed here, running water and a bathroom, any other sustenance was provided by him through the little opening. There was so rarely an opportunity, and when there were he always anticipated your plans before you got to put them into motion. But you’ve never tried deception. You think you would have, considering you’re an actress but it had never crossed your mind until just now. You can’t half ass this though. If you decide to do this you will get one chance to do it right.

Go big or go home.

“No really, it’s okay. It’s sort of… flattering.” His face drops the second you say it and regret starts creeping in. You’re going to die here. He’s going to keep you here until the day you die and no one will ever know what happened to you. A young starlight, taken out in her prime.

“It’s not, it’s disgusting.” He tosses the paper towels away, sniffling to himself as he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, swaying anxiously back and forth. You take a seat on your bed across from him, fighting the urge to put your hand on the glass. You don’t want to lay it on too thick, he’ll see right through that.

“It’s fine, it’s- it’s natural.” You’re struggling to find the right words that make it feel real. At one point you were a rather talented actress but you’re out of practice. “Seriously. Especially from you. It’s really sweet.” Fuck, are you doing too much?

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he chews his lip as he stares at you, you can tell he’s skeptical. He should be. You so rarely speak to him and when you do it’s never to be kind.

“Actions speak louder than words.”

Someone said that in a movie Javi picked, you had sat and let him read the scene to you afterwards.

He wants an actress, you can give him that. You can perform, as long as that’s all it is. If it’s a performance you can keep your wall up. You stumble off the bed, your legs feeling like jelly as you pull open the drawer on your nightstand.

This plan feels stupider by the minute but you need to commit.

He didn’t gift you sex toys the way he did with other little things to make you happier. But they were always just sort of there. In their original packaging, shoved in your nightstand drawer with a few batteries he’d left as well, they’d been here when you woke up in the cage. You doubt you’ll be able to relax enough to do this without a little help, and you have to be convincing. If you aren’t believable he’s unlikely to trust you in the future. If you fuck this up now you’ll never get another chance.

It’s a pale pink rabbit. You’d probably never buy something like it for yourself, it looks… expensive. The silicone is smooth against your fingers as you rip open the packaging, twisting the base open to pop in two batteries. Rushing in an attempt to not lose your nerve. When you gather your courage you risk a glance up at him, just fast enough to watch his tongue dart out and wet his lips.

So he does want this.

Good.

Pressing the button on the toy makes it buzz to life.

Okay.

This isn’t so bad. It’s just masturbating, if you do this for him you can take advantage of the obvious attraction he has for you. Even if it doesn’t work immediately, eventually this ends with him letting you out, or at the very least letting himself in, which is all you need.

So you get back into bed, and you lean on a stack of pillows before really focusing on him.

And you ask him the question he didn’t bother to ask you.

“Is this okay?” You hope the trembling in your voice comes off as endearing.

His throat bobs as he nods. Maybe he doesn’t mind that you’ve been laying it on a little thick. Maybe you’ve denied him your affections for so long that he doesn’t want to risk rejecting any advance from you. No matter how out of the blue it seems/.

You push your sweats down to your ankles before kicking them off the bed. No time for embarrassment or regret now, if he senses hesitation none of this will be worth it. He’s moved to be sitting on the couch directly outside the cage now. His knees pressed together as he sits with his hands in his lap, looking almost comically polite.

No sense putting off the inevitable.

It’s been a while, there’s a camera in the corner of the cage so you don’t masturbate often, and when you do it’s late at night, once the lights are off and you can hide under your blanket. You can’t do that now though, that would defeat the purpose.

You leave the toy off as you shove it down the front of your panties. Pressing the soft head of it against your slit, finding it surprisingly easy to tease your entrance with it.

Are you wet?

It’s been a while, that’s why.

Javi certainly hasn’t wasted any time. If he were sitting any closer he’d be fogging up the glass, his hand is shoved down his pants, his face already flushed red. His usual rigid posture is lost as he leans back into the couch cushions, refusing to tear his eyes off of you. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you push the toy into you, holding back a gasp as you swallow. At least it feels sort of good. Good enough to make you wish you’d swallowed your pride and used this before today.

Your body moves instinctually as your free hand reaches forward to push your panties down and turn the vibe on in one motion, the silicone attachment pressing against your clit as you press the toy deeper into your pussy. It’s a little too easy to relax suddenly. Javi now slowly strokes himself, his cock in his hand, looking painfully hard as he squeezes the base of his shaft, almost as if he’s scared of blowing his load too soon.

Good.

The less time it takes the better.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you angle the toy, letting the tip of it brush against your g-spot and drawing an authentic moan from you. Fighting the urge to cover your mouth in surprise, you repeat the motion. The combination of sensations making your toes curl and your back arch into the mattress.

“Fuck-” Your voice catches in your throat, your fingers twitch against the button to turn the vibrations up a level.

Once you find your rhythm it’s easy to forget about the nerves and what’s at stake. It’s easy to get lost in the sensation and the sight of Javi shuddering as he gasps. It’s easy to focus on the attractive parts of him for a brief moment, to make things easier. And it’s easy to wonder if his cock would feel better than the toy that hums and makes your body tense up deliciously.

It’s actually terrifying how easy it is.

It’s enough to make you horrified for just a split second. He wasn’t lying when he said you could be happy if you stopped fighting. Twisted into the pleasure you’re feeling is something else. Relief. Relief for the peace you find when you stop fighting him. You could feel this good all the time if you wanted, you and Javi could have your favorite food for dinner, you could watch your favorite movies, and act out your favorite scenes.

You could feel good.

You could have nights like these where you watch him jerk off his pretty, thick cock and know that someone loves you enough to take care of you like this. You could let him buy you pretty things and toys that make you feel so so so good.

And that thought terrifies you.

If you stayed in this cage you would eventually become entirely complacent.

It might not be tomorrow, or next week, or next year, but eventually.

You will be happy to flutter about your cage once you’ve forgotten how to fly.

His pretty little bird.

It’s your orgasm that snaps you out of that living nightmare. You hadn’t even realized you’d still been fucking the toy, pleasuring yourself to that little daydream. This wasn’t a good idea and you shouldn’t have done it but it’s too late for that now especially when you’re groaning out his name as you remove the still buzzing toy, now slick with your wetness. Javi’s eyes are wide as he clearly can’t hold back any longer as he dirties his shirt and pants with his own release.

As you quickly reach for the toy, turning it off, you pull your panties up in a hurry. Maybe you should push your luck and ask him to come into the cage now. A sense of dread is settling in your stomach as you realize that you can’t be here much longer, who knows how quickly you’ll crumble if you keep letting yourself do this. It’s best to make this a swift process where you don’t have any more time to sink into the hell that is acceptance of these four glass walls.

You’re about to do it. About to tell him that he should join you, that it would feel better for the both of you if he was in the cage as well but you don’t get a chance to as he zips his pants back up.

“Go to bed, when you’re asleep I’m gonna leave you a gift.” He stands abruptly, giving you a reassuring smile before pressing his hand up to the glass. You don’t hesitate to crawl up the length of the bed and press your own to his, it’s brief but you can feel the connection here.

This is just the beginning.

After today you’ll put more effort in. You’ll make it happen and you’ll make it happen fast. You can put the time and effort in, it’s not like you have anything better to do. You’ll convince him that it’s real before you lose yourself entirely and when the day finally comes where he opens the door you won’t waste the opportunity.

You’ll leave your room.

You can figure out the logistics of it later but for now you take the sleeping pill he slides through the opening every night he visits. You don’t usually take it but you need sleep and this will be easier if he thinks you’re compliant. With a sip of your drink the little pill goes down and your eyes close.

And you dream that you’re a bird, flying through a blue sky.

You sleep better than you ever have before in the cage.

Until you wake, the lamp being on is the only indicator you have that it’s daytime. Your hair stands on end as you sit up. He was here. Things have been moved, little things, noticeable things. Your empty drink is tossed in the bin and it smells of cleaning supplies. He doesn’t ever come inside the cage, that goes against everything he tells you. Your head is spinning as you try to figure out what’s different. How long were you out? The pills have never made you feel this fuzzy before on the rare occasions that you’ve taken them, you do your best to focus but it’s difficult when everything’s so muddled. So you do the one thing you know will clear your head and you list the things you see.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Something’s wrong, different.

He said he was going to give you a gift. What the fuck did he do? Did he leave it in here? Was it too big to fit through the opening? Is that why he came into the cage?

You don’t catch it immediately, but there is a note taped to the inside of the glass.

I knew you’d learn to be happy : )

See you tonight.

Love, Javi

You look back around the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Oh.

i no longer have a tag list, follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on my writing!!

#lincolndjarin #javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi g x you #javier gutierrez #javi g fanfiction #pedro pascal #dead dove do not eat #tw noncon

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ioniansunsets · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Recently found you, and i LOVE your writing and ideas! Their very tasty, like high-quality chocolate &/or caramel!

I offer (potentially angsty) scenario(you don't have to do) with heartsteel kayn & Idol or k/da!Reader?

What if a stage malfunction happened during readers' (or kayns) show?? (Or a sabotage from a fan? Perhaps?)

(Bonus: & What if... reader or kayn got hurt?) Thank you if you choose to do this ask🩷 (Sorry ahhh-- this is my first time sending an ask)

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn x KDA!Reader Where Reader Gets Injured✖

✖ Word Count: 1.4k

✖ Tags: Established R/S, Mild Injury, Ends with Comfort, IDK if I'd even tag this as Angsty (maybe a tinge)

✖ A/N: I think its cute how Ahri, Akali, Evelyn and Kai’sa all technically can dash towards you with their actual in game skills LMFAO so cute...these girls would do anything to protect you. I think it’s very cute when a lover goes batshit insane with worry for you. Have mercy too, I’ve never been hospitalized, only visited people LMAO

Also thank you for asking this! I am so happy that you love my thoughts and words ><

✖ Wrote This Listening To: Drugs and Candy

----

There were always toxic fans. You knew that, and Kayn of course knew his fanbase were sometimes as batshit insane as him. But the past few weeks were great! Social media was abuzz with positive comments about you two, fans congratulated you at fanmeets praising how cute you looked with Kayn.

Everything pointed towards how the fanbase took the official announcement of you two dating well but of course, you know delusional, parasocial fans existed too.

What you don’t know, was how they got past security.

You don’t know how they sneaked past all the checks and stage tests.

Maybe it was on you, maybe you were training too hard and were too tired to notice.

Maybe the high of performing live on stage and all the bits and bops of things to do left it so you didn’t notice the creak of the bright lights above you. The lights in the same pink purple hues of Kayn’s hair. The last thing you remember was the crackle of lights, the screams of your fans, and all your band mates in a blur dashing towards you.

It was arguably just as bad for Kayn.

Sure he wasn’t there, he wasn’t injured, he wasn’t the target of the attack nor was he the one in the hospital but there was nothing worse than hearing that you were still out cold, uncertain of how hurt you actually were.

There was nothing worse really, seeing the clips circulating online of what happened being reposted by all sorts of accounts. The blood that flowed from you onto the stage, oh god he didn’t even know humans could bleed this much.

There was nothing worse than knowing that he was stuck on tour and couldn’t be by your side.

There was nothing worse than not being able to call you and check on you because according to Akali you were STILL in the ER right now, you’re still unconscious and the doctors have no updates. How! It has been at least 4 hours since your opening act. Since the incident.

There was nothing worse, than fighting with his bandmates and managers, begging to go back to be by your side, and only after Alune stood up for him saying how “ The Heartbeats would understand why Kayn was missing. Let him go or he would just sneak off at night and do it anyway.” That management allowed them to postpone their weekend show so he could book a midnight flight to you.

There was nothing worse, than sitting alone in the private airport lounge, checking socials for updates and finding out HIS fan was the one that was caught on CCTV being the perpetrator, the one that did this to you, the love of his life. They even wore a jacket with Rhaast’s icon sewn onto the back, almost mocking him. Sure you were the one physically hurt, but the way his emotions were all over the place, the way his heart refused to calm down, the way he haven’t felt so much like throwing up since he left his old band. He hated this.

Hands tightening around his already cracked phone, the only reason he hasn’t angrily thrown it against the wall was because Akali messaged him telling Kayn how you were stable now, you lived fine, you were still sleeping but you were out of surgery at least. He swallows hard, quickly picking up his small luggage as he runs over to the gate to board his plane. Kayn breathes heavy, only thoughts about being by your side when you wake up keep him walking and keep the absolute rage and chaos Rhaast has at bay. The flight couldn’t be any longer to him.

He ran, the second the Taxi dropped him off at the hospital he phased through walls and booked it straight up to your room, leaving Akali to sigh as she signs him in. The way his hands shook as he slowly opened the door to your ward. Feeling like it was somehow rude to phase through this one way although one, you were still unconscious and two he already violated the privacy of half the hospital.

“ My little demon…This is all my fault.”

Kayn slowly walked to your side after he steps in, watching and noting how you had your eye patched up, how bandages trailed down your body, how pale your skin was. He was going to throw up again, seeing you this way. Ahri who was in the room watching over you let him know you could still see of course, and nothing plastic surgery can’t fix about the scars. You would be fine after a week or two of rest. The shards of glass from the strobe lights missed all the important bits, only scratching up your brow, cheek and collar. Ahri offers Kayn a small sad smile before leaving to give him time with you. The other girls in K/DA has some cuts and bruises saving your from the falling light but otherwise were fine.

It was another hour of your steady breathing and the beeping of machines around him. To Kayn, it felt like hours. Inconsolable hours where his thoughts went wild. Rhaast kept at bay from trashing the place solely from how weak and shaky your breathing was. So when the beeping finally started to pick up Kayn was standing up, hand holding yours, calling out to you frantic and concerned as you slowly blinked and opened your eyes.

“ Oh my god you’re finally awake baby.”

You watched your boyfriend cry, silent tears falling as he spoke over and over about how he should have curated his audience more, warned them to not pull shit like this to you. Anger about how could his “obsessive fans” not know that hurting you would hurt him just as much. Frustration about not being in the audience this time to save you. Sorrow about seeing how much pain you were in right now because of him. Anger once again from Rhaast this time about how incompetent your security was for letting a mistake like this go unnoticed and finally…overwhelming relief that you were ultimately ok. It was new, seeing him so scared, so worried, no doubt all of these emotions were because of just how much Kayn loved you but still, you felt bad making him worry so much. Finally he updates you, telling you about what happened, how you would be ok, he would make sure of it.

“ I…I’m sorry you had to go through this because of me. If you want to leave me because of my fans I will totally understand.”

You watched his voice crack as his hand grasps yours tighter. Your lover’s brows furrowed as he thinks hard. Biting his lip so hard you could almost see it bleed.

“ No Kayn! I would never! It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault, my own crazy fans could have done this to me too y’know. Plus if I breakup with you, they totally won.”

You reply, throat a little dry from not speaking so long but you had to tell him. No way you’re letting some insane fan ruin your performance, your day and your relationship. You watch him finally smile a little as you speak, the corners of his lips barely curving, tears stopping at your frantic attempts to make sure he knows just how much you love him back. No way in hell or heaven would you give up what you have with him because of some lunatic. Especially after seeing just how much he loved you, flying here for you? Putting his work behind for You? How could you let this man go.

“ Hey, at least we can get matching eyepatches now?”

At your comment, he lets out an exasperated laugh.

" I’m sorry, I should be the one making you feel better not the other way around. Here.”

You watch as Kayn slips a finger under his eyepatch, pulling it off carefully before bending down to give your bandaged side a small kiss. Hands uncharacteristically gentle as they worked their way around your hair and all the gauze to put his eyepatch on you. Giving you another quick kiss on your lips before pulling away.

" Looking good darling."

" Only because you style me so well!"

Yeah, it will be ok, the two of you were motivated, hardworking idols, a setback like this meant nothing. As he smiles again at you, the signature cheeky, prideful smile you’ve come to love from him. Your heart flutters. Yeah, something like this won’t stop you from loving him.

#I THINK THIS WENT OK #I love kayn........i dreamt of heartsteel kayn last night so here we go more kayn x reader #SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE A MONTH Oh my god im so sorry #I HOPE ITS WORTH THE WAIT........#Kayn League of Legends #Heartsteel!Kayn x Reader #Shieda Kayn #Kayn League #Heartsteel Kayn #Anon Answer #Heartsteel!Kayn #Kayn x Reader #Kayn LoL #KaynLeague #K/DA Reader #SCENARIO

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thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago

Note

"Oh my gosh do you sound like a sim to them??"

Me trying to place myself in their shoes:

"Why the fuck do I sound like a villager in Animal Crossing-- ARE THEY HEARING ANIMALESE WHEN I SPEAK?!"

(A.k.a I saw the previous ask and thought wait a minute. Two different worlds. Languages so similar but so different....... We're basically speaking animalese in another game/world lmfao)

(Bonus: Creator!Reader knows this and takes full advantage as their payback. Traveller magically understands and speaks back causing further pyschic confusion. Pretty sure soke brains have been melted among linguistic students in Sumeru)

-Vine Boom

VINE BOOM MY BELOVED IM SO LATE TO ATTEND TO YOU!! :'(

It has been a minute and yet, you remain my love!! Thank you for your patience, have a little scenario as my thanks for that and submitting the cool idea <3

Me @ you: ♥ ( ॢᵕ n ᵕ (꒡ᵋ ꒡ღ) mwah! /p

this gif is just really cute thats why its here.

also i have very little to add so its short but only bc im ✨uncreative✨ atm and ur ask alone is funny enough lmao, so once again, a scenario bc vine booms just a genius all on their own ✨️

◇

😭so you mean 😭 as revenge 😭 for this awful deed 😭 done to your speech 😭 you just start EMBRACING IT 😭😭😭PLEAASEEE-

PLEASE the traveler understands it!! 💀

Also if anyone reads this im so sorry ive flooded the sagau tag with language shenanigans LMAO

◇

Ever since you realized that the entirety of Teyvat sounds like Sims to you, (and the subsequent awful reckoning that you sound the same to them 😭)

You have finally mentally recovered enough courage, and desperately shoved any embarrassment deep into your soul, to try and think of what to do about it

♤

You quickly found that people had 3 types of reactions to your speech,

1. They try to understand the nonsense like you trying to understand their Simlish, it really doesnt work, you wish you could tell them to give up and just gesture at you instead:

(ALHAITHAM he keeps trying then giving up then trying again lol, Diluc, ZHONGLI, Sara, Albedo, Candace, Dehya she thinks she’s gonna get it THIS time she swears-, Eula, Gorou, GANYU she feels bad lmao, Jean, AYAKA, keqing, kuki, Nahida, ningguang, AETHER, Thoma, xinyan, XIAO)

◇

2. They act like you when you hear animal crossing characters speak 💀 you can see the “omg so cute” sparkle in their eyes:

(KAZUHA, kokomi, barbara, KAEYA, ZHONGLI again lol he tries to hide it but you can see the tiny smile everytime you walk over and start ranting at him bc ur bored, Faruzan, GOROU, AYATO, YAE MIKO, keqing, LISA, mika, mona, KLEE literally loves you and you can tell shes always trying to get you to say something lol, Ei (archon), Rosaria she always SMIRKS and ur just- 😳, CHILDE the little shit giggles at ur misery, LUMINE AND AETHER U CANT TRUST EITHER OF THEM- , THOMA, SCARAMOUCHE BUT HE’D NEVER ADMIT IT BUT HE ALWAYS IS OBVIOUSLY TRYING TO HIDE A TINY SMILE AND GOES A LITTLE PINK-!! SAME FOR XIAO LMAO)

◇

3. You know that tiktok audio thats like Isabella from Animal Crossing singing, and then someone’s like “uh-huh! YEAH! OKAY!!” yeah like that, but to you LMAO

(ITTO, Bennett, KAVEH, heizou, VENTI, Nilou she like nods after everything you say and makes sure you’re treated well in every conversation aw, qiqi, KLEE, Raiden (puppet) + Ei (archon), SHENHE no explanation needed, CYNO too, LUMINE, YELAN, yoimiya, yunjin)

♧

Alright i got tired sorry not everybody’s there lol^

So no matter the reaction, they all are a little bummed nobody can get you,

…but then of. Fucking. Course.

LUMINE/AETHER as ALWAYS get SPECIAL TREATMENT

(there’s not a single person throughout all the nations, the archons, the allogenes, doesnt matter, who hasn’t felt a LITTLE pang of envy for this- bc as cute as you sound, goddamit they USED to understand you when you weren’t physically here, before you overcame the Universal Barrier AKA the computer screen lol)

AND THEY GET TO UNDERSTAND YOU.

The Sumeru linguistics department is grinding their teeth, Alhaitham straight up glares every time they translate for you lmao, Zhongli’s eye twitches at least once everytime they do so, Kazuha is literally trying to bribe them with cool places he’s seen that the traveler hasn’t so they’ll share the secret of how to understand you, Ningguang gets 10x chillier when they’re helping convos w/ you, Ei looks like she’s fucking pouting-

☆

Aether is just like 🤨?? For what?? I’m helping???

So confused he never gets what’s going on lol

✨

Lumine, on the other hand, is FULLY aware and smirks every time she’s so smug about it LMAO

^ the embodiment of the cat surrounded by knives meme ^

☆

Ahhhh my exhibition is April 6th u guys!

May I finally rest in peace when that day comes 🪦

Cant wait to graduate and just have a regular job and not academia + deadlines 😭😫

Hope you guys have had a nice week or two!

Look out for more posts after the 6th :>

Safe Travels,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist

Short one but hope its fun my beloved!! :)

#so cursed #take ur revenge yes vine boom the way u think #everytime i think a little too hard abt ur anon name i giggle bc its from the blunt lang au lmao #my askers big brains>>> anything i post #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #my asks #genshin imagines #gender neutral reader #genshin isekai #genshin sagau ideas #genshin god reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #god i never remember all the tags i need to put dammit

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yanderecandystore · 2 years ago

Note

Hey!!!! Hope you doin ok.

I was wondering if you could write headcanons for the yandere senpai where he gets jealous of all the time you are spending with you’re friend and not him

Thanks for the attention and have a great weak!!!

Is this referring to my old post? [🌧️😤♥️] This one? Because if so then HELL YES!! (but also, if it isn't I'm sorry, I would totally be down to write about a more sweet senpai, cause this guy is mean-)

My favorite flavor is "the senpai actually does like the mc", thank you for requesting this. Have a great week too, boo! I hope you'll enjoy the newest menu addition, Opera Cake! I'll make a profile for him later on X'D

TW/Tags: He can be a bit of a jerk, be patient with him // delusional/in denial // anger issues // light cursing because the author has an dirty vocabulary // bad communication (from you and him lmao) // dangerous jealousy // mentions of stalking // very controlling // sorry for the long ass wait

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Bitter Coffee [Yandere-Tsundere!Male!Senpai! x GN!Reader - Headcanon]:

🎇 Let me set the stage for a quick sec! 🎇

(This is not a continuation nor a prequel, but it does involve the same idea of the post I've mentioned before, which by the way, is old and has some cringey text!)

Christopher was many things, including socially unaware, or at least socially awkward. Yes, the guy was smart, handsome and that edgy grumpy aesthetic could be pretty charming- He looked like a half-dead, lanky librarian with a bad eyesight and that was probably why a lot of people flocked to him.

The man wasn't goth, but he was gothic, ya know? The man was built like a tree and somehow, people just seemed really interested in him! He never really understood why, he just wants to be left alone!! Please!!

He hates having people surround him constantly and talking way too loud, way too close to his face all the time- Seriously, they won't get a kiss doing that? (Which by the way, ew?! Ew. Is what he would think).

He is a very distant person, and he seems to purposefully push people away from him, but he tends to not do that with you- Most of the time.

You were a stalker, it was quite simple, even if he DID make an effort you would still follow him, wouldn't you?!

You were annoying, frankly he knew all about your… "Admiration". Seriously, you're not being sneaky, sugar cube. You were more persistent than the other ones, which was probably how you managed to weasel your way into his life.

… No, that's not true, although he is as friendly as a cactus to everyone including you, he really appreciates your company. You weren't really all that bad at all, but you had a way to make him frustrated that he didn't know how to describe.

So when he sees you avoiding him recently he feels like you're just trying way too hard to make him worried for you- Frankly, he thinks your game of cold-shoulder is dumb and should stop right now!-

Chris didn't think you were doing it on purpose at first, well, to be honest at first he was glad to have his own space for a few days! Especially since he was already busy studying, he could be a smart person but he studying was a focusing nightmare to him-

Then later, after the test week, you still seemed very distant… He thought you were finally focusing on your education like you always complained about, hell, he even came to you one day and told you how proud he was! Even inviting you to study in his house!! He never does that!

Oh… But you didn't understand why he was so happy, and he didn't understand why you rejected his offer… He was wrong on his assumption, then? Or did you really not want to spend time with him?

"As expected, I don't even know why I assumed you would be studying, let me guess- You were too focused on another random piece of media this week? Do I know it? We could talk about it on the way out, like always right?" He wasn't the best with words, and neither with his tone. Yet he was genuinely expecting you to talk to him about it, like you always do!... You didn't. You answered in a hurry and scurried away.

Maybe you were just in a hurry, maybe if he was lucky he'll be able to catch you to walk with him home.

You didn't, but worse than not finding you was seeing you walking around with one of your so-called friends. Mylo, was it? Well, it could be worse… Annie was a LOT more annoying to deal with.

Always so possessive of you, it didn't seem like a healthy friendship at all yet you never took his words seriously… Always so protective of you, as if a leaf couldn't fall on your head that you just break under pressure! [Y/n] is their own individual, ANNIE!!

Says the mf following you two-

Mylo was a lot less direct about his discomfort regarding your crush, well… Your friend had his own motives, and of course he would NEVER do anything to hurt his best friend! But he couldn't bring himself to be mean towards Christopher, maybe he just simply couldn't be mean to anyone perhaps…

So interactions between these two were often civil, polite, yet very not pleasant. Chris never understood how you could be friends with those two, they were clearly obsessed with you.

Wait… was.. Was that why you haven't been able to spend time with him at all?! Because of GODDAMN MYLO?!

"HEY!!" He yelled out as he made his previously hidden presence known, acting as if he just came close to you know and that he hasn't been following you two for a long time now-

Despite your clear confusion since technically the route is fairly different from the one you usually take to go home- He brushed it off by simply placing his right arm above your shoulders and around your neck, being in the middle between you and Mylo.

Who, by the way, noticed it but didn't even try to change the situation.

"Ah, I missed walking around like this! [Y/n], why didn't you tell me you were going this way before? I was planning on going to that ice cream shop you always told me about- Where have you been lately, by the way?"

He is very not subtle about this, he is trying but he can't lie about how his true intentions here is trying to deviate you from walking with your friend. Oh, you were going to his home to play games? So he'll come too, obviously, and if Mylo doesn't want that then too bad! Guess Game Friday will have to be another day!!

Oh… Mylo doesn't… think it's a bad idea to have you two over… That wasn't really the plan, especially since Chris doesn't like to be in someone's house that he doesn't know well enough.

".....ffffffFINE!! Great even!!" He was fuming, it was very obvious how displeased he was with the situation, but he would be damned if he backed down now!

→ Christopher Hill:

He is a dumb-dumb, he'll take a long time to realize he is jealous and then proceed to do everything in his power to make it everyone else's problem.

He doesn't even know he likes you so much, or that all the bad things he says about your friends could be attributed to him.

He finds them possessive and obsessed with you, but he goes out of his way to insert himself on your little "friend hangout" even if it pains him to no end. In this scenario, I mentioned Mylo who isn't very confrontational, and actually is very interested in hanging out with your crush (he is very curious about why you like this twig of a human being so much… maybe he understands it a little bit…).

Annie is almost the complete opposite, she finds Chris's game of cat and mouse with you really unhealthy and wishes you could fall out of love for this guy already- I-It isn't love!! It's just a stupid crush on a stupid guy that never treats you how you deserve to be treated! Annie is very likely to start arguing with Chris over the smallest of things (but never addressing the actual issue in your presence, you don't need to see them at their worst like that…).

Christopher is very awkward with his words, and part of him knows he'll end up losing you for his own condescending tone and overly grumpy attitude- So he doubles down on his bad traits to try to protect himself from the inevitable. But the other part of him thinks you're just playing around, trying to provoke these reactions out of him on purpose, trying to make him jealous because you're so obsessed with him you want to see him be in your shoes for once, is that it?!

Sugar cube, you have NO idea how aggravating it is to suddenly not be in your spotlight, to be ignored without a warning. And for what- Your weird friends?! Oh it just brings out the worst in him.

In the case he gets to spend time with you even in your friend's presence (I'll use the previous scenario for example) he'll be attached to you like a bug, all those previous annoyances with your sudden touch seem to jump out of his mind- He becomes very clingy especially since your friends are very touchy.

Game Friday Night won't be the same with him there, and that goes to every other special friend time you guys may have- He isn't subtle, he doesn't know how to, but he does know how to make you feel guilty. You haven't talked with him in so long! What were you thinking?!

But of course, he won't be AS obvious about it as he doesn't mean to put the blame entirely at you, because it's not your fault, right? It's Mylo's fault, and Chris just needs to get back to the previous schedule-

Where it should be just you and him, the two dummies in their "will they won't they" FRIENDSHIP!! He just needs to take their place, you want game nights? Why not play with him in his house? His bedroom is a lot bigger than yours and Mylo's combined- But if luxury isn't the problem then maybe you'll appreciate the variety of things you two can play.

If he finds your friendships to be really taking a toll on your life (if you continue to ignore him) he might have to turn his offers from demands to orders, sugar cube! Of course he would never do anything to hurt you, but he is literally doing this for your own good, and if you continue to be so childish he might think you've been completely influenced by your friends.

Christopher is a lot more demanding and controlling than the other characters, not above being brutish with you if it means you'll actually listen to him for once! The initially petty, stubborn jealous man can turn into a controlling, raging angst if you don't be careful enough.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #yandere oc #choco stuff #yandere x reader #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request #yandere senpai #yandere crush #yandere crush/senpai #yandere tsundere #yandere male #gender neutral reader #yandere senpai x reader #yandere oc x reader

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darling-heffron · 26 days ago

Text

Guys I think the new release day will have to be Sunday, lmao. Third week I have forgotten about the chapter, I'm sorry, Sol and I are terrible. I hope you enjoy the late edition!!

Esra✨

Taglist: @malarkgirlypop , @mellow-human , @next-autopsy

Chapter Nine: It’s All Fun and Games

Sam’s POV

Sam quickly found that for anything to really stick into Mars’ brain she had to make it interesting.

The young girl tended to zone out when Sam was trying to explain complicated and boring drills. Marleen loved to talk about her family, typically her brothers. During her childhood growing up on her big property she often played games with her two older siblings.

Sam knew of children's games but in her upbringing she didn’t seem to play them, mostly because she never had any friends to play them with and even in her youth seemed to isolate herself from everyone else.

Mars’ voice pulled the older from her thoughts, “I actually think I was the best at ‘Sneak up Granny’, I have a knack for being stealthy.” The blonde boasted. A huff of amusement passed through Sam’s nose, unbelieving that this girl could be quiet for two seconds, let alone long enough to sneak up on someone.

“Yeah, sure you were, Bam.” The nickname had become even shorter but Sam for some reason couldn’t help herself, “So, how do you play ‘sneaky grannies’?”

Mars laughed at Sam whose brows furrowed, unsure of what was so funny, “You're hilarious!” The girl managed to say through her hysterics. Once she had sobered herself, wiping the tears from her eyes, she sighed.

“It’s ‘Sneak up Granny’, first of all. Secondly, you really don’t know how to play? What about in school?” Marleen asked, but the tall girl replied with yet another shake of her head.

“Do you want to play? Is that why you’re asking?” The young blonde’s eyes grew wide with excitement.

“No.” Sam shut down the idea before Mars had a stroke, “It would just help me imagine it better.” The older girl lied, knowing she was using Marleen’s schoolyard games to ease the lessons into the shorter girl’s memories.

Mars’ eyes squinted with suspicion. But Sam gave her the smallest smile back and it seemed to work the trick when a huge grin broke out on the younger girl's face.

“Well, someone is ‘Granny’ and they stand ahead of the group and you try to sneak up and tag her, when she turns around you have to freeze. If you get caught moving you get sent back to the start.” The blonde explained as Sam nodded along, “When she turns around she holds up her fist as she searches for someone near her to tag, if you get tagged, you also get sent back to the start.”

“Like this?” Sam held up her fist and Mars confirmed with a nod.

“Well, how about when I raise my hand like this,” she demonstrated, holding out her closed fist, “It means stop. Just like in the game.”

“Oh, I like that!” Mars agreed happily, “We should practise!”

Marleen quickly picked up the new skill. Sam would walk ahead and hold up her fist until she wanted the young blonde to follow. When Sam relaxed her hand into an open palm with her fingers pointing to the sky, Mars would walk forward to join the girl.

The more time the girls spent together, the more Sam implemented drills and survival techniques into games for Mars. She was picking up what Sam taught her quickly. They spent the day coming up with ideas to help Mars remember all of the things Sam wanted her to learn.

“Do you think we should make camp?” Mars asked, not because her feet felt like they were going to fall off or anything. She just thought it would be best to look for firewood in the last remaining hours of sunlight.

Sam looked around, they were still deep in the forest and other than the random group they came across a day ago, they hadn’t really seen much else.

“Sure, I’ll set up the tent. You want to grab wood?” The taller blonde asked, but when she heard no reply her head shot up. A tightness overwhelmed her senses as if someone had struck a blow to her gut. The feeling was relieved when she saw Mars skipping away from camp, stopping only to pick up fallen twigs and sticks from the ground.

The older girl couldn’t shake the feeling that Mars had given her when she thought something had happened to the young woman. Never in her life had she felt that inherent fear. Sam chewed her lip as she gathered logs of her own and set them in front of the fireplace so that the girls had somewhere to sit.

“Everything ok Sam?” Mars asked when she arrived back to camp. She threw down the armful of sticks she was holding, before dusting her hands off and sitting down on the logs Sam had placed.

Samantha sat next to the girl, sorting through the kindling and bigger wood they would burn later.

“Fine.” She replied but she was still so busy in her own thoughts to give Mars a proper answer. The older woman gathered the tinder into a small bundle, piling twigs on top. She struck the flint and allowed the flames to grow, eat away at the set campfire and provide warmth.

“I love campfires.” Mars hummed in delight as the fire roared hot, she held her hands out soaking in the warmth it provided. “My family and I would do summer camping trips to Lake Shelbyville.” She reminisced fondly.

“I think they were my favourite thing about summer break. Everyone would squeeze into the car and then we would have a road trip. I would always have to sit in the middle because Brendan and Rowan would fight each other. We would do ‘I spy’. And then my favourite part was choosing a campsite. Dad and I would scout ahead to find the most perfect spot.” While Mars chatted Sam put more wood on the fire so it could continue to burn.

“Sounds nice.” The taller girl said as she continued in her task.

“What about you? Did you go on family holidays?” Mars asked, turning her body to face Sam.

The older woman chuckled coldly, her father took holidays but that was to get away from her. Sometimes she would live in her house for months without knowing the whereabouts of Robert. The nanny would be there when she was too young to be by herself. As soon as she came of age to be legally alone her father stopped hiring the lady who cared for Sam since she was a baby.

Sam would remember coming home during her summer holidays to enough money on the bench to last her months, no note, no communication from her so called father. Then she usually spent her time off studying or fighting.

The tall blonde looked over to the cheery young woman, a wide grin on her lips. She waited with anticipation for Sam to answer her, and the older girl didn’t have it in her heart to tell her the sad reality of her life.

“My family was never the camping type.” Samantha put it gently and watched as the younger girl's smile faded into a sad expression.

“Oh.” The melancholy noise fell from Mars’ mouth. Her expression turned quickly, a smile grew on her face as she spoke, “Hey, but we get to camp now!”

Sam chuckled, the girl was forever an optimist,“I guess we are.”

“Sucks we don’t have anything to make s’mores with, I was crowned best s’more maker in the family.” Mars bragged and the older girl couldn’t help but smile, “Oh, you liked that did you?” The young blonde jabbed Sam in the side, only to be startled when an odd yelp/scream sounded from the taller woman's throat.

Sam covered her mouth in shock as Mars gaped up at her friend. “What was that?”

“N-nothing.” The older girl stuttered out, she had never made that noise in her life.

“You’re ticklish!” Marleen was thrilled with her finding, the older girl was ticklish. Sam who had killed multiple rabids and appeared stoic at all times, was ticklish.

“I’m not.” But the girl's movements said otherwise as she guarded her sides, “Don’t even think-“ Before she could finish her warning, Mars had lunged at her, hands outstretched and fingers wiggling.

Laughter erupted from the typically straight faced woman, which only seemed to egg Mars on, giggling as she did so. Tickle fights had been a sibling specialty in her childhood- something in the way Sam spoke about her family and indicated she was an only child.

Mars finally ceased her attack on the poor blonde who had tears streaming from her eyes due to her laughing so hard.

“You’re a menace, Bambi!”

“What can I say, with two older brothers you kinda have to be.” Marleen laughed, thinking about the countless times she had sneak attacked the boys. “Haven’t you had a tickle fight before?” The young girl enquired, she was intrigued to know more about the elusive Sam.

“No siblings.” The older woman replied, her eyes trained on the fire that still burned brightly.

“Your parents didn’t want anymore?” Mars knew she was pushing but she couldn’t help but investigate further.

“My parents didn’t want kids, it just took them having me for them to find out.” The malice in her voice was hard to conceal. Sam forgot herself and the company she held.

There was a beat of silence before a soft sniffle, the taller girl glanced over her shoulder to find a grief stricken face. Mars looked as if someone had shot her beloved pet and made her watch, her mouth hung open and water filled her eyes.

“Oh! Marleen, I didn’t mean- uh.” Sam stumbled over her words unsure of how she was going to comfort the young woman.

“Don’t cry, it’s ok. See, I’m fine.” Her reassurance didn’t seem to be working as the tears spilled over and ran down Marleen’s face.

With no idea of what exactly to do Sam went against all her instincts and laid her hand on Mars’ back. It felt awkward as she rubbed circles trying to comfort her.

“There, there?” Sam cringed at herself, who the fuck says ‘there, there?’

With one deep breath the older girl lent in and wrapped her arm around Marleen’s shoulders. The young girl didn’t hesitate, burying her face into the crook of Sam’s neck.

“At least they figured it out before they had more, right?” She gave a breathy chuckle, trying to lighten the mood but all it did was make the small blonde hiccup.

“Oh, god. I am so bad at this.” Sam mumbled under her breath.

“Don’t say that!” Marleen sobbed as she softly hit Sam in the chest with the back of her hand. Suddenly the younger girl pulled away, staring up at Samantha with red eyes, a blotchy face and a snotty nose. The taller girl bit her lip trying not to laugh at the sight of her.

“What?” Mars asked as she swiped away the tears streaks from her cheeks with her hands.

“You’re a goose.” The older girl shook her head and wiped away the remainder of the tears the Bambi had missed. Mars sniffled, before she chuckled.

“I’m not a goose!” Her words were defensive but the smile she had on her face told Sam that it was all in good fun, no real resentment or anger.

“You shouldn’t cry for me though, Mars. Really. I’ve wallowed in enough self pity to last me lifetimes.” The older girl gently bumped their shoulders together.

Marleen’s brows drew together as she huffed, “How could they not see how amazing you are?”

Sam was truly defying her nature as she smoothed down the misplaced hair on the younger girl's head, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

The older girl had put her family far behind her, they were not her priority anymore. She had spent so much time just trying to be seen by them, she had lost herself completely. Sam had set herself a new goal, one that she had wanted to accomplish the day all of this had started.

Sam wanted to be free.

“I’m sorry for crying, I know you don’t like that-“ The shorter girl began, “It’s just so sad. Having to come to terms with the knowledge that your own parents didn’t want you, regretting having you. That’s-“ Marleen caught herself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rub it in.”

She let out a sigh, unsure of what to say next.

“You apologise too much.” Samantha noted.

Mars’ POV:

The routine the two women had fallen into was a fast paced one. Up with the sun, walk till sunset then set up a little camp and sleep. It was very physically demanding but that’s how they spent the past few days.

Marleen trailed behind, huffing and puffing while she attempted to catch up with her companion.

“We’ll need to stop for supplies, there's a small town up ahead.” Sam’s voice sounded and Mars nearly groaned out in relief. Stopping in a town usually meant slowing while they searched, which gave Marleen time to stretch out her sore limbs.

“You know the drill?” The taller girl asked, they had done this so many times before, but this time was different. They had been practising new hand signals and in theory Mars had been picking them up well, but it was now time to put it to the test.

Sam raised her fist and Mars knew what she needed her to do. The young blonde crouched down behind a fallen structure as she watched her friend creep forward. Samantha led with her gun, scoping around each corner making sure the coast was clear before signalling to the petite woman who patiently waited behind her to move forward. They continued this strategy as they made their way into the heart of the city.

The town was eerily quiet, by now they would’ve come across at least a group of rabids, or even a small group of people. But nothing. The city was silent. Sam’s brows furrowed, something in her gut told her this wasn’t right. She flexed her closed fist open to signal for Mars to come forward. She waited for the sound of quiet footsteps behind her and then the heat of Marleen crouching down.

But it never came.

Her heart dropped, whipping her head over her shoulder. Marleen was nowhere to be seen. “Mars?” Sam whispered loudly. She turned back to where she last saw the younger blonde.

“Marleen!” There was more urgency to her voice, “Fuck.” Sam cursed, standing from her position to get a better look of the area.

“Looking for this?” A cold voice echoed from behind Sam. The girl’s heart dropped as she swung around again, weapon raised. A tall man with a long scar down his face held Marleen flush against him, his arm wrapped around her neck and gun pressed to her temple.

“Mars.” Sam’s mouth dropped in shock, and for the first time in her life her hands shook with fear, but not for herself, for her smaller friend who was held captive.

“Give me everything you have and you will get her back in one piece.” The man growled, tightening his hold on Marleen’s neck, she whimpered in pain. Her hands clasped around the man’s forearm trying to loosen his grip, she had to stand on her tippy toes so that she wasn’t fully engulfed into the man's large arms.

“Who said I want her back.” Sam asked nonchalantly, lowering her gun. She watched as the poor girl’s eyes widened with shock and tears welled.

“You’re together.” The man’s eyes scoured her with suspicion.

“Hmm, not really.” Sam said in a bored tone, taking on more of a relaxed stance. “I was kinda forced into looking after her. But I’m not too fussed about her outcome. So, bye.” The taller girl turned on her heel and took two steps forward. She heard the man relax as well, he sighed in frustration, like he was about to let Mars go.

In a quick movement, Samantha swung back around and sprinted full force towards the unassuming pair.

In surprise, the man stepped back letting Mars go altogether. Sam pushed the young girl out of the way as she dived towards the man. Even though she was smaller than him, she hit him in a way that made it impossible for him to stay on his feet. Sam straddled the man’s upper body, her knees pinned down his arms by the crook of his elbows as she forced all of her weight forward.

The scarred man cried out in pain as her fists started to fly, pummeling into the man’s face and head. Sam screamed as she crunched his nose back into itself, her fingers delved into his eye sockets and ripped his eyeballs from his skull.

The man hollered in pain but still Sam never ceased her onslaught, she retrieved her knife from her boot slicing the man’s tongue from his throat. Only then when the man was gurgling on his own blood did she sit back on her haunches. Sam watched him slowly choke to death and then still.

A sobbing noise pulled her from her trance. She glanced over to find a horrified Mars, her hands covering her mouth as she dry retched. Sam looked down to find herself covered in the man’s blood, her own knuckles were open and bleeding themselves.

“Mars.” Sam started, but the girl only shook her head holding her hands out for the taller girl to stay away from her.

“He was going to hurt you. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m not one for leaving survivors. He would’ve done it to someone else, I couldn’t let him do that. He was clearly alone, so no one else was hurt. Mars, you have to believe me. I saved others, I swear.” Sam never had talked so much in her life, but she found herself trying to explain her ways to the still shaking girl.

“I-I, I under-st-stand.” The petite girl mumbled out, “Maybe next time a heads up would be nice.” Mars tried to joke but her skin was still so pale.

“We should move, someone, or something probably heard that.” Sam finally got off of the corpse she sat on. Mars nodded looking away from the scene. The taller girl bent down and looted the dead man, as Mars glanced around the area, trying her best not to think about how her friend was currently raiding a body.

Sam didn’t find much on the man, a few more knives, matches and other smaller things he had in his pockets.

“You know, I do care about you, Marleen.” Sam told the girl as they continued their scavenging. Mars looked over to the older girl, shock etched into her features. “I was lying, a little reverse psychology never hurt. Well, I mean apart from him, but-uh.” Sam tried her hand at a joke only for Mars to look horrified all over again, she was clearly thinking about the horrific attack.

“You need a better weapon than just your knife.” Sam slung her backpack from her shoulder and rummaged around in her bag until she found what she was looking for.

“But I like my knife.” Mars clutched the small weapon to her chest.

“Were you able to get it out in time to fight off the man?” Sam looked up from her kneeling position on the floor.

“Uh-no.” Mars went to say but then conceded and agreed with Sam, “He came up so quickly I didn’t really have time to do anything, not even scream.”

“Then you will have this gun, more of a deterrent than the knife. Wave it around, make it seen. No one will really want to mess with you.” Sam took the bullets out of the weapon and put it back into her bag.

“Why are you taking the bullets?” Mars asked, watching the taller woman fiddle with the weapon.

“Are you gonna shoot people?” Sam countered.

“Uh-no.” Mars said again just like she had started before, making Sam laugh.

“A deterrent.” She confirmed as she handed the now empty gun to the young blonde, who tentatively took it into her own grasp.

“Deterrent.” She whispered as she trailed her fingers along the sleek black metal.

The girls had found a jackpot of supplies, they eagerly took their fill and then safely ventured out of the city and back into the safety of the woods.

Sam had found a small creek to bathe in and wash the remainder of the blood that covered her skin. She returned back to camp to find Mars had started the fire and set up their tent.

“Thanks, Bam.” Sam ruffled the hair of the girl who sat in front of the fire cooking. “What’s on for dinner?” She asked as she sidled up next to Mars.

Over the time they had spent together the girls had gotten surprisingly close. It was odd for Sam, she had never had friends before but now understood why everyone wanted them so bad. Someone was always there for you to confide in, not that Sam ever shared anything that personal with Mars, but the smaller blonde seemed to be able to divulge her stories and thoughts with Sam. Which she appreciated, shockingly.

Sam had never really had anyone in her life which she could trust, but she found herself leaning toward the young girl she had saved. But she was still worried, because in turn of never having anyone in her life, she didn’t know what it was like to lose someone. The fear of letting anyone close enough to hurt her walled her off to truly letting the young girl close. Her wall she had made since she was young held fast, and she wasn’t ready to let someone in. Sam didn’t think she would ever be.

“Beans!” Mars groaned. The one thing the world seemed to have in supply was beans. No matter where they searched, or for how long the majority of the food they found was beans.

“Great, that means your farts will keep me up all night.” Sam huffed, but the smile that tilted her lips broke her annoyed tone.

“I do not fart!” Marleen swatted at the tall girl who chuckled.

“You chuff like a chimney!” A laugh sounded from the older girl's throat as a look of pure horror appeared on Mars’ features.

“Samantha! Do not tell lies!” But Mars was laughing along with the older woman. She watched in awe as Sam threw her head back in hysterics clutching her stomach as she shook with laughter.

The girls ate in silence until it was broken by Mars who wore a serious expression, as if deep in thought, “That wasn’t you today.” Sam didn’t need context; the girl’s face said it all.

“On the contrary, that was my true form. I have killed a lot of people Mars, more than you think. I’ve done terrible things. I’m not a good person.” The taller girl sighed, she hated herself for what she had done, but it didn’t mean she would change what she did.

“But were they innocent? The people you killed.” Mars asked. Though she was only met with silence from the older woman. But Mars could see in her eyes that what she had said was true.

“Exactly.” The smaller girl confirmed.

“Mars, I think it’s best if we do find someone else to take you. I’m not good for you. What I did today put you in danger.” Sam's words hung heavy in the air. Mars could feel the tears already welling in her eyes.

“You were only trying to protect me.” She tried to reason, but Sam shook her head, she had made her decision.

“Yeah, but did I? Sure, the man’s dead, but I made you witness something unspeakable. Next group we see, if they look good, we should part ways.” It was settled, Mars couldn’t fight Sam when she had already made up her mind. If the older girl was anything, it was stubborn.

“Why are you pushing me away?” The smaller blonde scrambled for some form of semblance.

“Bam, it’s for the best. Trust me.” But Mars was just the same as Sam, stubborn.

“Says who? You? You don’t know what’s best for me.” This was the first time Marleen had raised her voice at her friend, but she couldn’t help it. At this point she was grasping at straws.

“I actually do. I know myself and there are better people to help you on your journey.” Though

Mars wanted to stay, Sam knew they weren’t meant to stay together in the long run. Samantha wasn’t meant to be with anyone, it just took her longer than normal to realise it.

The young blonde had blindsided the normally sharp girl. With her kindness and sweet nature, Sam almost forgot herself and her own temperament.

“Bullshit.” Marleen spat out, “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Sam gave a small smile, one that held so much regret. She had allowed Mars to get close cause it felt nice. But she let the younger get too attached, and she was the only one to blame.

“I am sorry, Mars.” Sam patted the girl’s knee before she stood. Making her way into the tent, she settled down for the night. Marleen didn’t come back into the tent until it was dark out, after she had cooled off. The sniffling girl made her own nest before crying softly to sleep. Sam waited for her breathing to finally turn even before she rolled over and let one single tear drip from her eye before she collected herself again.

Sam couldn’t be weak, not for herself but for Mars. She deserved better than this.

Woah Sam went rage mode, and she's kinda scary, poor Mars had to watch that as well. I couldn't imagine seeing someone get their whole eyeballs ripped out, but I mean I guess it works 😬.

Esra ✨

#band of brothers #hbo war #easy company #hbowar #joe liebgott #lewis nixon #band of brothers #david webster #joseph liebgott #eugene roe #sol and esra au #Sam Jackson #Mars Finch #Zombie AU #BOB AU #who wants their eyeballs gone?

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