#here's to this year being better than...whatever the hell last year was | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celestie0 · 4 months ago

Text

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

➸ masterlist

“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it.

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket.

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.”

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible.

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you.

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks.

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age.

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.”

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him.

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you.

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation.

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time.

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes.

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–”

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–”

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you.

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden.

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut.

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.”

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating.

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw.

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes.

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie.

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape.

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you.

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist.

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now.

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives.

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains.

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

[the end]

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

➸ masterlist

2K notes · View notes

solelifauna · 2 months ago

Text

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 4

Unemployment was not on your bucket list.

The rest of your shift dragged on, each minute weighed down by the persistent presence of Dick, Cass, and Damian. They loitered, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. It was unnerving, knowing they were there—observing, calculating. You tried your best to ignore them, focusing on the customers and getting through the shift, but their eyes on you were impossible to shake.

Eventually, you glance at the clock. Your shift is finally coming to an end. A wave of relief washes over you. Soon, you’ll be out of here. You’ve been expecting a call from Alfred any minute now, either letting you know he’s “on the way” or already outside waiting for you. You clutch onto that thought, hoping for a quick getaway.

But that’s when you feel it, a firm hand on your shoulder. You flinch, startled, and whirl around to find Cassandra standing right behind you, her eyes sharp and her smile almost unsettling in its warmth.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her tone gentle but somehow–wrong.

“Can I–um–help you?” you ask, your voice betraying your unease. Cass is just as overtly intimidating as the others, if not more so. You know who trained her, you know what she's done, what she's capable of.

“We’ll take you home,” she says simply, the statement hanging in the air like an unbreakable decree.

You blink, not sure if you’ve heard her right. “What? I—Alfred’s picking me up,” you stammer, trying to figure out why the hell they’d want to take you home instead.

Cass’s smile doesn’t falter. “Change of plans.”

You glance past her toward the table where Dick and Damian are waiting. They’re already standing, Dick’s usual smirk plastered on his face, while Damian looks like he’s already irritated by the mere suggestion of you being in the same car as him.

“Uh..” You contemplate walking home, imagining the quiet and cool Gotham air being far more appealing than sharing a car with these three. Maybe it’s not that far to walk? Maybe you’ll survive the trip on foot? But you know better than to argue with them—not when Dick is involved.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. “Okay, I guess. I still need to get my bike though.”

Cassandra hums in approval.

The walk to the car was stifling. Dick led the way, his usual playful grin in place, but there was an intensity behind it that made your skin crawl. Damian followed closely, his silence more oppressive than any words he could’ve said. When you reached the sleek black car, one of Bruce’s more extravagant vehicles, your hesitation grew, but there was no turning back now.

As you slip into the backseat, you find yourself next to Damian, who's already glaring out the window like you’re the most offensive thing in the car, and the leather seat that smells faintly of expensive cologne. Cass takes the passenger seat, her calm demeanor oddly comforting despite the situation, while Dick slides into the driver’s seat.

The car hums to life, and soon enough, you’re speeding through the streets of Gotham. The tension inside the vehicle is thick, almost unbearable. You stare out your window, watching the city blur by, trying your best to disappear into the seat.

“Y/N,” Dick’s voice broke the silence, far too casual for the tension in the car. “You didn’t tell us you were working at that cafe.”

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to say much. “Didn't think I needed to? Why does it matter?”

Dick’s eyes flicked to you in the mirror, a glint of something dark behind his seemingly easy going demeanor. “It seems as though there's a lot of things you haven't told us (Y/n), hmm?”

He just completely ignored your question, and like an idiot, you dignify his question with your own response.

“I don't know why you in particular care, considering you haven't bothered to in the past four years.” You remark, crossing your arms.

Dicks smile only widened as he cooed at your response. “Oh I don't care (Y/n), but you can't just do whatever you want, right? Your last name’s still Wayne last time I checked, do you know what that means?”

His eyes flicker to you, staring at you through the rear view mirror. You just shrug nervously, you had no idea where he was going with this.

“It means you’re not allowed to just fuck off and do whatever you want. What happens when you’re working and a rouge or random criminal recognizes you? It’ll be our job to drag you back.” He says smiling all the while. Dick doesn't really curse, not like this anyways, and it's starting to scare you.

There was something sinister beneath his seemingly friendly demeanor. The way he was talking about you, it made you feel more like a possession than a person. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, eyes flicking to Damian and Cassandra. None of them seemed to be fazed by Dick's words. It was like they all understood something you didn't.

"Look," you muttered, "I just needed the job, okay? I didn’t think it was a big deal."

He just nods, “Which is why you'll be putting in your two week’s notice.”

Hold the phone.

“I'm sorry what?”

“I'm sure I spoke clearly, didn't i?”

“I'm–I'm not quitting my job.”

“Yes you are. In fact, you're going to call your boss and let them know right now.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you thin–”

“I'm not asking (Y/n).” He says, a certain edge to his voice. “Call your boss.”

You’re scared. You don't know why he’s doing this. Shaking, you pull out your phone, staring at the screen as if it could somehow save you from this situation. You know they won’t let you get out of this. Not with the way Dick’s smile is hovering on the edge of something dangerous, not with Damian’s silent approval and Cassandra’s eerie calm. The power dynamic is suffocating—this isn’t a request; it’s an order.

“Call,” Dick says again, his voice now a warning.

You swallow hard, your fingers trembling as you scroll to your boss’s number. You want to refuse, you want to stand your ground, but the fear of what would happen if you did keeps your rebellion at bay. You press the call button, and the phone rings in your ear.

“Hello?” your boss answers, their voice friendly and unsuspecting.

“Hey Daniel, it’s Y/N,” you say, your voice shaking. “I—I’m sorry, but I have to put in my two weeks’ notice. I—uh, I can’t work here anymore.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “What? Y/N, is everything okay?”

No. “Yeah, it’s fine,” you lie. “I just… something came up, and I can’t keep the job.”

Your boss hesitates, clearly concerned. “Are you sure? If this is about needing time off, we can work something out—”

“No, I’m sure,” you cut them off, glancing at the rearview mirror, where Dick’s eyes are still watching you with that unsettling intensity. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

You hang up before they can ask more questions. There’s a sick feeling in your stomach, like you’ve just lost something.

Dick hums in approval. “Good. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You don’t respond. You’re too numb, too angry to even find the words to fight back. The rest of the car ride is silent. When you finally arrive back at the manor, you slip out of the car without a word, making a beeline for your room. You can hear them behind you, talking quietly amongst themselves, but you don’t care. You just need to be alone.

The worst part was, you didn't even get to go back for your bike. Gotham wasn't exactly known for its secure parking spaces, especially for a bike left unattended for hours. By now, it was probably stolen or stripped for parts. Another loss to add to the growing list.

You collapsed onto your bed after a long, hot shower, letting the steam wash away the dried coffee and lingering bitterness of the day. The frustration and humiliation clung to you, but you tried to push it all aside as you buried yourself in mundane distractions. Homework? Done, though half-heartedly. Your phone? A welcome relief, a way to escape the reality of what your life had become.

The phone call with your friends was a lifeline. You started by relaying the bizarre events of your day—Dick showing up at your workplace, forcing you to quit, the awful encounter with the Karen who’d thrown coffee in your face. Arya and Ethan were outraged on your behalf, their voices rising with indignation as they expressed disbelief at how ridiculous your life had become.

“What is wrong with him?” Arya had exclaimed after you explained how Dick had basically forced you to quit. “It’s like he gets off on controlling you.”

Ethan chimed in, his voice laced with sarcasm. “It’s the Wayne family, what do you expect? They think the world revolves around them.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics eventually, giving you a break from the heavy reality of your situation. Arya’s excitement over the girl she liked responding to her Instagram story was a welcome distraction. She went on a rant about how this girl was clearly the one, and you and Ethan couldn’t help but exchange amused glances over the phone. Arya’s giddiness was infectious, and soon the three of you were laughing—deep, real laughter that made you momentarily forget about everything.

But, as with all good things, the fun came to an end with a knock at your door. You sighed heavily, already knowing what was coming.

"Master (Y/n), it’s time for dinner."

The familiar voice of Alfred carried through the door, his polite yet firm tone unmistakable. You groaned, dragging yourself off the bed with all the enthusiasm of someone heading toward their own execution. Dinner meant facing Dick, and after the day you'd had, that was the last thing you wanted to deal with.

You swung open the door, forcing a smile for Alfred, though you knew he could see right through it. "Hey Alfie, how was today?"

Alfred smiled, ever the picture of calm. "All good in a day's work, Master (Y/n). Might I inquire how work today was?"

You couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of work. "It... it was alright," you said, though the weight of your words made it clear that was a lie. Alfred’s raised brow told you he wasn’t fooled.

"Well," you sighed, the reality sinking in further as you spoke, "it doesn’t matter anymore anyways. I quit today."

Alfred’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But my dear, I thought you adored working there? Whatever did happen?"

You couldn’t hold back the bitterness in your voice as you answered, "Dick."

Alfred’s eyes softened with understanding, and the sympathy in his gaze was almost too much to bear. "Ah, I see. I’m sorry you’ve had to do so," he said, and you could tell he genuinely meant it.

"It’s not your fault, Alfie," you replied, feeling a pang of guilt for dragging him into your mess. "Which is why I wanted to ask if I could have dinner in my room today? I don’t think I’ll be able to stay civil with Dick sitting there."

Alfred gave you a sad smile, one that only deepened the dread in your chest. "Usually, it would be more than allowed," he began, his voice gentle, "however, today your father has requested that you attend dinner no matter what."

Your heart sank. "What?"

"Yes," Alfred said with a hint of regret in his voice. "Unfortunately, you don’t have much of a choice today, my dear."

You stared at Alfred, dumbstruck. Since when did Bruce care whether or not you were at dinner? He barely acknowledged your presence most of the time, and now suddenly it was a demand?

Alfred gave you one last apologetic look before he turned to leave, his footsteps fading down the hall. You stood frozen in place, disbelief washing over you.

What the actual fuck is happening?

Tag-list!!:

@sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323 @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @erikasurfer @toast-on-dandelioms @hazbinlove @h0neysiba @shycreatorreview @ch1cky-093 @kore-of-the-underworld @krazy-kattzz @ceramic-raven @randomlyappearingartist @bleep-bloops-world @hasty-desert @bellethesleepypotato @lilyalone @delias-stuff @amisupposedtomakesenserightnow @soriansick @vanilliona @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @vanessa-boo @kitsutsugikuni @mottysith @beeaskewwrites @starsdotalk @yandere-fetish @mybones537 @mochien0tfound @black-swan-blog27 @phoenixgurl030 @meowmeeps @tatsuri-zomushiki @sereinitysmind @l0g0phobe @alias-sam @fairygardenprincesss @chocolatesweetsdestiny @lunaastars @fandomsanstuff @anakilusmos @d3ad-ins1de @marsmabe @leiiasurez @lafemmii @space1crow @niggrrooo @yandere-enthusiast @eyeless-kun @instantmiraclekryptonite @jsprien213 @phoenixflames498 @fantasyhopperhea @glasscurrents @chemicalwindexbottle @alishii @shortnsweetsposts @caffeinatedvigilantewriter @hellcatsworld @wrenbirde @viviyene @lilyalone @fanfanfantic @cooki3dough @soriansick @anuttellaa @paperhermits @minshookie29 @nervousalpacalady @staarflowerr @expctron @cherrypills0d @foggyv-oid @mybones537 @redkarmakai @badluckinfrench @the-rouge-robin @cheeseburgercasserole @horror-lover-69 @pinkluv29 @twismare @ghostdoodlen @thatpersonnamedrook @xjesterxjacksx

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere cassandra cain #yandere bruce wayne #platonic yandere #neglected reader #neglect #yandere Stephanie brown #batfamily #batfamily x reader #batfamily x neglected reader #female reader #fem reader

2K notes · View notes

seokgyuu · 5 months ago

Text

The Sweetest Thing

All your life you’ve been your sisters’ punching bag. Never good enough. Never fully accepted. When your mother makes one of them choose you as her maid of honor you reluctantly agree. Semi-vacationing in Tuscany with your ‘beloved’ family, you meet two handsome strangers one night and let them do whatever they want with you. Too bad you didn’t ask for their names first.

Pairing: Heeseung x F!Reader x Sunghoon

Genre: Strangers to ???, Porn with Plot

Warnings: CHEATING!!! reader is hooking up with her sisters’ fiancés, sisters are horrible and suck, mentions of past verbal abuse, reader is somewhat a pervert (she defo is), heeseung & sunghoon definitely are perverts, heeseung & sunghoon are mean, they have nothing good to say about their fiancés, alcohol consumption, adult content MDNI! smut warnings under the cut

Word Count: 9.2k

a/n: and here it is!! my little box of filth. i wanna give a shoutout to @c-oupsie for hyping this up and telling me to keep going, ilysm!! and also @chwepen for beta-reading!! sending you smooches. <3 now everyone, please enjoy this sausage fest.

Taglist: @skzenhalove, @haelahoops, @deobitifull, @shiningnono, @jakeswifez, @slut4hee, @gyuhanniescarat, @branchrkive, @doublebunv, @capri-cuntz, @jaehyuniewifeu, @whateverhoon, @c-oupsie

Smut Warnings: threesome, dom!heeseung, dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, lowkey public sex, p in v sex, throat fucking, unprotected sex (be smarter than this pls!!!), degradation (usage of the words: whore, slut, filthy, stupid (only indirectly?)), praise, tit job, mc is described to have big tits, sunghoon can carry mc, manhandling, cum eating, cum play, shower sex, consensual sex taping, pls tell me if i missed any!!

Pastel colors are slowly but surely becoming your greatest enemy. You can’t count how many different patterns and matches you have seen on this day alone - and the preparations for this wedding have been going on for months.

In all honesty, you didn’t even want to be here. As pretty as Tuscany is - this is the last place you want to be at right now. You would rather sit at home and play a game, would rather sleep in and not have your mother be all over you, pressuring you to do better in a job you never wanted in the first place.

It is your sisters’ wedding. Yes, sisters’. They are both getting married at the same time, same place. Just the grooms are two different men (even though you wouldn’t put it past them to share a man for convenience). Men, you haven’t even met yet. Men, that your mother and sisters kept on swooning over. Look, it is no surprise your sisters got lucky in that department; They are extremely conventionally attractive and they love doing fun things like going out and spending money on things they really didn’t need.

You grew up with them being six and seven years older than you, making them already inseparable when your mum decided to push another one out. Getting along with them sure as hell wasn’t an easy task, in fact it still isn't. It’s pretty clear you only got the job as Linda’s maid of honor because your mother threatened her to do so. There was probably a very heated rock, paper, scissors round going on between your sister dearests to decide who got to have you.

And now you are here. In warm, beautiful Italy with yet another color scheme to look over and authorize. You surely didn’t sign up to suddenly become the wedding planner as well.

“Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks,” you say to one of the florists who are just now setting up the arrangements for the rehearsal dinner happening tonight.

It’s hot, so hot that you have to take shelter every ten minutes because of the fear of burning up. You don’t usually like to spend this much time outside - let alone in the scorching hot sun, so this is rather the change for you.

When the florists leave to get another load of flowers, you decide to take this as the next round of shade and air conditioning inside the resort your sisters have chosen for their special day.

It’s insanely beautiful. High ceilings, incredible murals on the wall, a big round table in the center of the entrance hall with a crystal vase on top, filled with flowers that would make the florist outside turn green in envy.

The air inside immediately cools you down and you take the moment to sit down in one of the arm chairs in the lobby to calm yourself. Only a week. That’s all you need to survive. A week with your sisters and their fiancés, soon to be husbands and your and their families. Guests would arrive the night before the wedding and as soon as the reception was over - you could finally leave and hopefully not see your sisters for another year or so.

“Ah, there you are.” You close your eyes for a second.

“Shouldn’t you be outside?” Linda and Liza are standing in the lobby in their designer sun dresses, very obviously judging you for not being where they want you to be.

“I just came in to escape the heat for a second, that’s all.” You explain as you open your eyes again. The two certainly don’t look happy. In fact, they roll their eyes and flick their perfect hair over their shoulders.

“Okay, well, time is up. If this wedding doesn’t go according to plan, it’s on you.”

“You don’t want us telling mum you don’t care about your big sisters, do you? She’d be so disappointed knowing you aren’t doing your job right.”

Your fists almost immediately ball into fists. How many times have they been like this over the three days you’ve already been here? You honestly lost count. One week. Just one week.

“I was just about to go back outside, don’t worry.”

Anger well hidden away, you stand up and present them with a fake smile, moving to go back outside.

“Oh and, Y/N?” Linda’s voice feels like a ray of ice hitting you, “try to look a little bit more presentable when talking to our staff. We don’t want them to think we can’t actually afford being here.”

Your sisters giggle happily all while you bite your tongue once more. One week. Stay calm. One. Week.

Something about the Italian sky seems different. Maybe it’s because you’re not close to a big city, but the stars shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them. It feels like a movie; the stars and moon so visible with no cloud in sight, the small street of Arezzo you’re currently sitting in - a small restaurant with a small menu but a nice older man that speaks decent English. A glass of wine standing on the small table beside you and the first bit of peace you’ve felt in days.

It’s when you take your next sip of wine you see them.

Two men straight out of a magazine walking towards one of the free tables next to yours and sitting down. There is nothing you can do but stare. Both of them have dark hair, one of them a bit shorter than the other. They are dressed elegantly, designer shoes and pants, blazers hanging over their chairs. Even if you wanted to - you could not possibly say which one was more attractive.

What a nice way to end a horrible day, you think. Smiling, you finish your glass and immediately order the next, not entirely used to drinking so much, but not caring since you are miles away from home and no one here knows you anyway. The waiter nods and then proceeds to go over to the newcomers. The one with the slightly lighter hair and the mole on his nose orders in perfect Italian, with just enough of an accent for you to know they aren’t from here. Your choice of table appears to be perfect for watching them, listening to them converse in a language you understand.

And it all stays innocent like this - they talk about their flight and about friends - until suddenly the conversation sways.

“I honestly- fuck, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, you know?” The one with shorter hair says and his friend sighs, taking his wine glass and finishing it in one go. Impressive. There was at least half left in yours.

“I don’t know what to tell you. We committed and now we’re fucked.”

“Just that we aren’t getting actually fucked.”

They look at each other before they laugh, shaking their heads. Meanwhile, your ears perk up.

“Fuck, I really don’t know the last time she let me hit it, Hoon. I think I’m going crazy.”

“Yeah, same here. Like, yeah, we fucked once the day before her flight. But literally only missionary and she didn’t suck me off.”

“Again? Dude, is she ever even putting her mouth on it?”

“Nope. Ever since we got engaged she’s like this fucking prude. Is yours like that too?”

“Yeah. I got her flowers and her favorite chocolates and she still wouldn’t even jack me off, like fuck, if it’s gonna be like this forever I can just go cut my dick off.”

Jesus. These two seem to be in very happy relationships. Makes you almost feel better to not be in one. Even if your mother would beg to differ. She’s been desperate for you to find a match for ages. For whatever reason, really, considering her two golden girls were about to get married to rich and handsome heirs.

“Just one good blowjob, man, that’s all I want, really. I miss getting some good fucking head.”

The way short hair looks at mole - with so much understanding and pity, you can’t help but chuckle. Chuckle loud enough for them to take notice.

Their gazes burn on your face before you even see them. But when you do your smile dies and instead makes room for horror. They heard you laugh at them. Even worse, they know you’ve been listening. Shit.

Thankfully, you are three glasses of delicious white wine in and the fourth one is almost empty. Which means you aren’t the sweet little wallflower you’d usually be. Scary, how alcohol can change people.

“Oh, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.” You apologize, placing your hand over your heart.

“Agreed.” Short hair says, his eyebrow raised. Now, with both of their eyes on you, it seems like they are even more attractive. Perfect faces with pretty eyes and soft looking hair. Handsome men in unhappy relationships that fail to give them what they need. It’s almost comical how the switch in your head turns over, how the persona you normally never let anyone see until you’re in a secluded space comes out and gives you the courage to speak your next words.

“I just couldn’t believe my ears,” you let your finger glide over the rim of your glass, eyes on the two men with your tongue slipping out to lick over your bottom lip, “how anyone would be opposed to having sex with you.”

Oh.

Sunghoon and Heeseung’s ears perk up just like yours did earlier. Eyes widen slightly as they understand the innuendo in your words.

They think about the same thing - the last time they took a girl together. Probably during senior year in college. Back then, they used to do that regularly. Having almost the identical type in women. Instead of having to let her choose, she’d get them both.

But it’s been years since then. They are in committed relationships now, about to get married. And still - neither of them can deny that you fall right into their usual prey, or well, the prey they’d chosen back in college before their parents had picked out their wives for them.

It’s the way you look at them, the way your eyes say so much more than your words. It is also the way both of them feel like they are 22 again with nothing but getting their dick wet on their minds. One thing about Heeseung and Sunghoon - they always worked perfectly in a pair. Back in college and now, too. They can almost read each other’s minds at this point, only a short exchange of looks needed to know neither of them gave a single fuck about anything right now.

“Want to sit down with us?” Sunghoon asks and points at the free chair opposite them. You smile.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

The very small bathroom stall is crowded with three people, but you make it work.

Sunghoon is holding your head in place, his cock buried so deep down your throat he’s seeing red. You’re perfect. The sweetest thing on the outside, and a filthy little whore behind closed doors. You literally begged him to thrust down your throat without paying you any mind. You wanted, no, needed him to use your throat, to act like you were nothing but his little fuck toy. And, shit, he was more than happy to do exactly as you asked.

His hips are moving in rapid speed, his groans music to your ears. Drool is running down your chin and dripping onto your knees. He is not holding back, he is just doing whatever he wants with you and you are throbbing. Throbbing around Heeseungs fat cock that is fucking into you with no care in the world.

Heeseung is sitting on the toilet seat, his hands on your hips, cock rapidly leaving and entering your sopping hole. His head is literally spinning at how fucking good you feel. He bets you’d also sound fucking perfect if only Sunghoon’s cock wasn’t in the way. He can tell by the way you are already squeaking around his best friend’s cock, how your pussy is continuing to spasm around him after you already came on his cock once before.

“Take it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Heeseung breathes out, hips speeding up and your eyes roll back into your head, your body seemingly on fire. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been fucked this good by a strange or, in this case, two strangers. All you know is that you’ve already cum before and that Heeseung surely will get you over the edge another time. He’s thick and veiny and he fills you up so good there was nothing you could do but cum after only a minute of him fucking you like an animal.

“Shit, look at you,” Sunghoon groans, one hand now wrapping around your throat, his eyes glossy as he stares down at you, still fucking down your abused throat, “you’re a perfect little fucktoy, aren’t you? Enjoy being used by two cocks, huh? Fuuuuuck, you’re gonna make me cum, fucking slut.”

Heesung feels you squeeze around his cock, feels the way you suck him in even deeper.

“This filthy little thing likes when you talk to her like that, Hoonie. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.” His head tips back and his mouth drops open as he focuses on his pleasure, already fantasizing about stuffing you with his cum. He moves his hands up, squeezing your perfect tits over your dress and you moan around Sunghoon’s cock, tears streaming down your face. Every touch, every thrust, every word is getting you closer to another high. With Heeseung’s hands on your breasts you can freely move your hips now, bouncing up and down on Heeseung’s cock, matching his thrusts perfectly.

There is no chance Sunghoon will last much longer. Your mouth, your throat - he’s scared he already developed an addiction to them. Maybe it’s the long time he hasn’t experienced anything like this, but right now it feels like no throat has ever taken his cock so well before.

“Where should I cum, huh? Down your throat? On your pretty face?” Sunghoon groans, his cock twitching over and over before he finally pulls out, jerking himself off so you can answer the question.

“Cum on her tits, look at those fucking perfect tits, bro.” Heeseung decides to answer for you and Sunghoon smirks as he watches Heeseung get your tits out of your dress for which you thankfully don’t need a bra. Your perfect tits bounce free now and Sunghoon nods, eyes glued to them and how they bounce now that Heeseung continues to fuck into you, your back now arched against him.

“Fucking hell, such fat fucking tits,” Sunghoon is in a trance, mouth dropped as he jerks himself off with the help off your spit and his precum.

“Tell him to cum on your tits, slut, come on, tell him how much you want his cum all over you,” Heeseung whispers into your ear, his cock still continuing to ram into your g-spot like it has never done anything else.

You moan loudly, eyes flying open and Sunghoon almost doesn’t need you to say anything - your fucked out face could well be enough to make him cum.

“Pl-please g-give me your cum, want it a-all over my tits, pl-please, need it so bad!” You cry out and Sunghoon feels his orgasm hit him, thick spurts of cum landing on your tits and neck, some even on your lips that you hungrily lick off of them, only making another spurt come out of Sunghoons cock.

“Holy fucking hell, shit,” he groans, falling against the stall door, his chest heaving.

Heeseung, meanwhile, grabs your hair and tilts your head back as he does his final thrusts, filling your pussy with his seed, white making you feel warm inside and tipping you over the edge, milking him for all he has with your own orgasm, high pitched moans escaping you as your toes curl and your hands grip the material of your dress.

Once he’s done fucking both of you through your orgasms, Heeseung helps you up, his cock slipping out of you. You’re a little shaky on your legs and Sunghoon catches you before you can fall, his eyes immediately going to your tits that are covered in his cum. He licks his lips.

“If we had more time I’d take you to my room and fuck those tits until they are covered in even more layers of my cum, baby.” He mumbles, one finger scooping up some of his release and shoving his finger in your mouth, watching in awe how you eagerly suck it clean.

“Holy fuck, you’re perfect.” Heeseung has put his cock back into his pants, considering to get it back out just to have you lick it clean of your and his juices. He decides against it mainly because he knows there isn’t much time. He and Sunghoon have to get back to the hotel, their fiancés probably awaiting their return.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sunghoon says, but you shake your head, only putting your tits back into your dress and stepping back into your panties.

“I wanna keep it for a bit, keepsake if you will.”

Both men are silent. Where the fuck have you been before they got engaged to the sisters from hell? For a second they contemplate just keeping you. Using you for when their soon to be wives were being difficult again.

Obviously, though, this was just a fantasy not meant for reality.

Perhaps it’s well deserved. Having the worst morning all week, the day right after you fucked two strangers in a restaurant’s bathroom. Two engaged strangers. It’s not a surprise that you didn’t care about the blurred lines of their… relationship status, considering you’ve had quite a few hook-ups with married men who were out of town and needed someone to fulfill their needs while their perfect trophy wives were sitting at home waiting for them. Not the proudest thing you’ve done, but whatever gets you cumming.

Today, your sisters seem to have it out for you especially. You blame it on the nerves, after all their perfect fiancées are about to arrive today. Everything needs to be in order, their dresses, their hair, their nails, everything.

You’ve become their personal stylist, nail artist and hairdresser all for nothing more than a chuckle at the way your shirt rises up and shows your stomach that they love to comment on. It’s a win-win situation, for sure.

“Can’t you see you’ve made a mistake!” Liza screeches, pointing at her (to your eyes) perfectly drawn eyeliner. You blink at her and take a deep breath. Six days.

“I apologize.” Quickly, you move to fix your error, but your sister slaps your hand away and rips the pencil out of your hand.

“No, thank you. I’ll do it myself, like everything else, you useless piece of trash.”

Six. Days.

Since there is no point in responding to her, you only nod and turn to Linda who is currently checking herself out in her hand mirror.

“Anything I can do for you?” You ask, feeling ridiculous. One could think you’re their personal assistant and not their younger sister.

“Just get out, Heeseung and Sunghoon are about to arrive and I don’t want them seeing you first thing, imagine their shock.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon.

Something rings in your head. Had they ever mentioned their fiancés names before? Probably - why else would they be so familiar to you.

“Alright. I’ll be by the pool then.”

Neither of them deems it appropriate to even slightly acknowledge you before you leave the room.

A huge sigh leaves you the second you step out of Linda’s room and instead head for your own. Just a quick change into a bikini and down you go. A few hours in the sun, maybe a couple laps in the pool. Another bit of peace while your sisters are occupied. Sounds like the perfect morning to you.

Just that, when you reach your room and change into said bikini - you notice a bruise right above your hip. Your eyes widen at the sight, moving closer to the mirror to inspect it. There is no other possible reason but what happened last night.

“Shit,” you mumble, looking around your clothes for this one light pink scarf you could easily wrap around your hips as some sort of cover. The last thing you want is for your sisters to see this and ask questions. Bad enough you had the face and figure you had - imagine their outrage if one of these was even further damaged!

For as long as you can remember your sisters had been your biggest haters. No matter what you did, if you changed your hair or your wardrobe, they’d be mean to you about it. To them, you were nothing but an unwanted addition to a family they had deemed already perfect. Neither of them had ever wanted another sibling, especially not six and seven years apart from them. Suddenly, you were the center of attention, had your mother cradling you and loving you and not giving them the attention they were sure they deserved.

Even now, at their grown ages, about to get married, they couldn’t seem to get over it.

From an outsider's perspective their lives were fairly more successful than yours. With great jobs in high positions, a perfect routine that included gym visits four times a week, and of course their perfect soon-to-be husbands. If it weren’t so frustrating it might have been funny how they literally kept them from you - kept everything from you. Blocked you from their socials to not be associated with you, living in their own little bubble, acting like you didn’t exist.

So, expect your surprise when Linda called and asked you to be her maid of honor. You had only accepted because you know your mother would be devastated if you didn’t.

That all seems like an okay trade for the view of the hotel pool right by the beach, your body rubbed in sunscreen and your sunglasses on top of your nose listening to music and enjoying your moments without a sister (or mother) around to tell you what to do.

But your life wouldn’t be yours if your peace weren’t suddenly interrupted by the high pitched laugh of one of your sisters floating through the air and reaching your ears. It hadn’t even been half an hour. Maybe, you think, they won’t even come over. After all, they had hidden you away from them for as long as they had been together. Perhaps they wanted to wait til the day of the wedding next week to finally introduce you.

Curiosity gets the best of you at last. Who are these men they’ve been gatekeeping from you, who have been nothing but your mother’s pride? Slowly, you turn into the direction of the high pitched laugh, opening your eyes behind your sunglasses.

And the world around you seems to shake.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, moving quickly to get up. Panic arises within you, sheer ugly panic that has your body shaking. This can’t be true. This can’t be happening! You move to throw your phone and headphones onto the lounge chair, your eyes darting back and forth between here and your sister’s location, finally freeing yourself of all the things that can’t get wet to jump into the pool. It seemed like the only way not to get noticed by them.

There are several other people in the pool and the splash of you jumping in had been drowned out by the sound of a child laughing and screaming. You stay underwater for a good while, thanking your strong lungs, and only come back up when you feel like enough time has passed for them to have left - only to be met by absolute horror.

They had taken seats right next to your stuff. In their bathing suits from Chanel or Prada or whatever, they looked breathtaking. Not that they would ever get into the pool. It wasn’t them, though, who made your blood turn cold and the insides of your stomach threatening to say hello again - it was their fiancés.

Short dark hair, beautiful faces. One with a mole on his nose. The other with clear shock in his eyes.

The men from last night.

As if to remind you further, you feel the bruise on your hip suddenly starting to throb with pain. You wince and look down, noticing your make-shift cover up being gone. Wonderful.

Your sisters notice you now, their eyes widening when they see you in the state you’re in. Dripping with water, your hair pushed back out of your face, your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy bikini. They had always envied you for your breasts - not that they would ever admit this. But seeing them right now made them even angrier, after all Heeseung and Sunghoon were right here and could see those monstrosities!

And yeah, they see. See your body in that bikini that is leaving nothing to the imagination. See your tits almost falling out of the bikini top - tits that were covered in Sunghoon's cum not even 24 hours ago. They see your pretty face, your long eyelashes, droplets of water sliding down your soft skin.

Heeseung and Sunghoon don’t realize the gravity of the situation yet, right now all they think about is how they’ve hit the jackpot because you’re in the same hotel as them. Right now, neither of them knows who you are besides the girl they’ve fucked the night before.

“Y/N!” Liza screeches, “get out of that pool right now, you look ridiculous!”

Linda gets up and grabs one of the towels next to her, throwing it into the Pool. She wants you to cover up, needs you to cover up.

It is then that Sunghoon and Heeseung slowly understand. Your name. They have heard that name before. Time and time again.

“Mum made me pick my ugly little sister as my maid of honor, Hoonie, can you believe her?”

“Ugh, Y/N, called today. Wanted to congratulate us. Can you believe her? I bet she is so jealous, Hee, she could never get a man to stay. She’s just… too…. ew.”

You’re their sister. Their little sister they have nothing good to say about.

You. The girl from last night. The girl who potentially could become the best fuck of both of their lives.

If they had been able to, they would have looked at each other. But they are too mesmerized by you getting out of the pool with the towel wrapped around your body, or at least around your upper half. They can still easily see your legs, your perfect thighs, the little bikini bottom that does almost nothing to cover up your ass, can see the bruise that is a clear indication of what happened last night. It’s safe to say they are both growing harder in their trunks. Relatively bad timing.

“Sorry, I told you I would be at the pool,” you mumble once you get out, grabbing for your stuff.

“I don’t think so, I would have remembered that!” Liza hisses, her arm sneaking around short hair. So, he must be Heeseung. Heeseung who had his cock buried inside of you mere hours ago and whose cum was most likely still inside of you.

“Just go back upstairs,” Linda shoos you away with her hand and you let your eyes wander to mole next to her. Sunghoon, then. Sunghoon who had been craving a mouth around his cock, Sunghoon who had his cock in your mouth, who had cum all over your exposed tits.

Your body heats up and you quickly turn around to leave.

“It was nice to meet you!” Sunghoon calls after you and you swallow hard, not turning back to them before you leave.

Dinner that night is horribly awkward, to say the least. The fact you’re even allowed to participate is insane. Your parents are delighted to welcome you once you sit down, your sisters and their fiancés showing up a little while after you.

As it turns out, the two men had insisted you’d join them for dinner. Judging by the way they look at you, you feel like they’d rather have you be their dinner.

Nothing could have prepared you for this. For the utter want you see in their faces, the utter want you feel in your bones. It makes all of dinner extremely awkward, makes you press your thighs together, shove around your food on the plate because suddenly your appetite is for something entirely different.

But you know you can’t. The first time, so you tell yourself, was fine because you didn’t know who they were. You even go as far as to blame your sisters for this, after all they had never bothered to show you what Heeseung and Sunghoon look like.

Now, it’s different. Now you know who they are. And as much as you despise your sister’s, you don’t think you could do this to them.

… Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Because the second you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and find yourself pressed against yet another stall door, you know you’ve been lying to yourself.

It’s Heeseung, his hands on your hips, digging into the bruise on your side, having you moan in no time.

“What are the fucking odds, hm?” He whispers, his breath hitting your face. You open your mouth to answer, but Heeseung dips forward, his tongue sliding into your open warmth, his lips pressing down on yours. It doesn’t matter what you thought of before, doesn’t matter who he is. Your body is taking over, melting against the strong man, against his chest and arms.

Heeseung kisses you hungrily, like he has been starving for days. He had wrapped his hand around your wrist and yanked you into the one bathroom stall for men, had claimed you as his for the next few minutes.

“We-we can’t!” You cry out, pushing him away, but Heeseung only grabs you harder, turning you around, your chest hitting the door and a gasp escaping your mouth.

“If we can’t, why are you so fucking wet, baby?” His fingers are inside your cunt the next second and your eyes roll back, hips already chasing his touch. He smirks behind you, shoving your dress up with his free hand. Your backside is a sight to behold and he licks over his lips before landing a slap to your right ass cheek. You squeak.

“I guess bathroom stalls are just our thing now, aren’t they?”

Just that this one is spacier. You’re pressed against the door that leads right into the open restaurant. You can hear the people outside, can hear the sound of cutlery meeting plates, of glasses clinking.

“Hee-Heeseung, yo-you’re my sister’s fiancé!” You tried again, even though your hips were already bouncing on his fingers. Heeseung chuckled lowly.

“Don’t tell me now you care about the fact I’m in a relationship. It seemed like yesterday you couldn’t wait to get this taken cock shoved into your pussy.”

He’s not wrong. You bite down on your lip and turn slightly, looking over your shoulder into his dark eyes. God, he’s beautiful.

“Please,” you pout then, and his smirk comes back, his nimble fingers freeing his rock hard cock. You lean back against the door, your cheek pressed against the cold wood, your hands on either side of your head. Your pussy is dripping down his fingers and once he removes them, you’re already impatient to feel his huge cock fill you up.

Wiggling your hips, he lands another slap on your ass before shoving his cock into you, both of you groaning once he bottoms out.

Then, he doesn’t show you any mercy. One of his hands sneaks around you, pressing down on your mouth to keep you quiet as he fucks you right into the door. He is panting, staring down at the way his cock slides in and out of you over and over again. His other hand fishes for his phone in his pocket, halting his thrusts for only a second to concentrate on opening the camera on the phone and hitting record.

“Need to bring Hoonie something to jerk off to later,” he grins as he continues to fuck you, your moans getting numbed only by his hand. He just feels too good. Feels like no other cock you’ve had before. He’s big, wide and so god damn veiny. Every vein seems to drag along your walls, seems to push you closer to the edge. Your eyes are rolling back as your ass bounces off his hips, as his thrusts become sloppier with every second. He needs to cum soon and so do you. There isn’t much time for this, no time in fact. But he’s been craving you, and so has Sunghoon. Thank all the luck in the world for him to have won that rock, paper, scissors round.

“God, you take it so well, you’re such a good little whore, aren’t you? All ready to go when I need to get my cock in you, fuck.”

Heeseung’s words make your pussy spasm around him, his next groan deeper than before. He changes the angle slightly, fucking into you faster and harder, his orgasm getting closer with every little squeeze of your pussy.

“Gonna cum so hard into your pussy, gonna have you sit at that table with my cum trickling into your panties.” He breathes into your ear and bites into your earlobe after, causing you to triple over the edge and cum hard around his cock - taking him right with you.

He curses as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, his cum filling you up, warming you from the inside.

Planting kisses on the back of your neck, Heeseung pulls out, watching his release drip out of you.

“I could get used to this,” he says and puts your panties back into its rightful place.

It doesn’t stop there. And it also doesn’t stop with Heeseung. But while Heeseung is more daring (coming to your hotel room at night, sending you pics of his dick after a shower, telling you to send him a voice note of you cumming), Sunghoon decided to take his time to make his move. You know it’s coming. You just don’t know when.

Heeseung is like a wild animal - he can’t get enough of you. He wants to have his hands on you, his dick in you and his cum all over you as many times as he can. But the week only has seven days, and you only have four more to go until this whole thing is over and they are married to your sisters.

Four days until you won’t be around them all the time, four days until Heeseung won’t be knocking on your door at two in the morning asking you to get on your knees. He fucks you like he owns you, like he knows your time is limited. It is, after all. He leaves marks where it is hard to spot them, kisses you in places no one has ever kissed before.

Yes, the nights with Heeseung are special and steamy and perfect - and yet you wonder where Sunghoon is in all of this. You see the way he looks at you, and you did get a dick pic from him the night you and Heeseung fucked at that first dinner, courtesy to him seeing the video Heeseung took of you. And that is the thing, Heeseung films you. He films you when you’re on top of him, when he’s behind you, when you got his cock down your throat, when you’re bouncing up and down his cock. All of it goes straight to Sunghoon, all of it leads to Sunghoon cumming all over himself in the bathroom and sending you a picture of it. He never leaves his room, though, never does anything about it.

It’s day minus three til the wedding and you’re at the beach with everyone. The other maid of honor has arrived, and so have the two best men. Jake and Jay, they had introduced themselves as and judging by the way they were looking at you… they knew exactly who you were. If you weren’t so busy with Heeseung, you’d gladly have slipped into one of their rooms at night.

You’re laying on your towel, happy to have everyone around you be busy with something that isn’t you. Your book is in your hands, the words getting more and more raunchy, your thighs pressing together. Perhaps this isn’t the best place to read smut, but it’s not like you have any control over when these scenes happen in the book. You just know every word hits you deep and has you biting down your lip. Even with the soreness still left between your legs from last night's visit, you feel yourself growing wetter with every sentence.

“In broad daylight, sweetheart, really?”

The voice makes you flinch, your book flipping closed as you turn around, spotting Sunghoon standing right above you. He is wearing a slight smirk on his lips and you feel your cheeks heat up. Not just because he caught you with your book but because he’s standing there in nothing but his trunks, a cup of iced coffee in his slim hand. His chest is defined, so are his abs. His arms look strong, toned, like they could throw you against a wall and hold you there. You swallow the lust that is daring to come up.

“What do you want?” You hiss, sitting up and looking at him.

He hasn’t really talked to you much. Too busy giving you looks and pretending like he didn’t when your sister or parents or any other already arrived wedding party approached him.

“What would I want?” Sunghoon asks back, tilting his head. The view he has from up here, your tits sitting in your bikini top, looking as delicious as they always did. It takes all in him not to drag you up and take you in front of everyone.

You snort and roll your eyes, turning back to your book.

“Well, if there is nothing you want, you can leave me alone.”

He watches you, how you lay back on your stomach, how you open the book and look for the page you just read. Licking over his lips, he roams his eyes over you. At this point, he has lost count of how many times he’s looked at you. How many times he has waited in the bathroom at night for Heeseung to send the videos, the pictures. As much as he was jealous, he enjoyed looking at you as he used his lubed up hand to get himself off. Except… for the last two days. He hasn’t sent you a picture of him with his cum all over his torso or thighs for two days because he simply hadn’t let himself reach climax. He’s been edging himself for all this time, waiting for the right time to unload all of his seed… preferably on you.

It doesn’t feel like enough. Just getting to watch you through a screen, imagine what you would feel like. Your mouth, he remembers. Vividly. Your pussy… he can only wonder. Only guess when Heeseung sends him those videos or when he tells him before they head down to breakfast.

Letting his eyes wander over your frame, your neck and back, your hips and ass, your legs…

“Get up.” He says. You don’t move.

He growls.

“I said,” his voice is low and warmth gathers at your core, “get up.”

It is when you still don’t move, Sunghoon feels his patience run thin. He places his iced coffee on one of the tables next to the lounge chairs.

Then, he is quick to pull you up, both his hands on your hips, a yelp coming out of you as he skillfully gets you on your feet. You stare at him with wide eyes and your mouth agape. Oh… your mouth. He has to restrain himself - already half hard in his trunks. Sunghoon looks around, sees his fiancé in a conversation with your mother. An idea flashes before him and he smirks slightly, alarm bells ringing in your head. What is he planning?

Not even a second passes when he grabs his iced coffee and spills it all over himself.

“God, watch where you’re going!” He yells, making all of your family members and their friends look at you. This little shit.

Linda immediately jumps to her feet.

“Look what you’ve done!” She screeches and you press your lips together, acting the part of the guilt ridden sister.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You defend yourself, but your sister just shoots you a deadly gaze.

“My darling, are you alright?” She is looking at Sunghoon now at his coffee stained self. He shakes his head.

“I really wanted that coffee. And these are my favorite trunks,” he sighs, “come on, Y/N, you’re gonna get me a new coffee.”

“I can get you a new coffee, babe!” Linda tries, her fingers wrapping around Sunghoon’s arm. It fills you with a sense of triumph when he moves out of her grip.

“You didn’t do this, honey. She did. Go back to your lounging.” He says it to her, but looks at you. And, god, you don’t think you’ve ever been more aroused in your life.

It starts in the elevator up to his room. His hands are on your tits and your tongue is in his mouth. He groans when he feels you grabbing around his cock, hand swiftly inside his swimming trunks. There are no words being exchanged, only moans and sighs and gasps as he presses you against the wall, your kisses getting deeper and heavier by the second.

Sunghoon has never wanted anyone as much as you right now. His cock is begging to be freed, leaking into his trunks. His thoughts are spiraling, a part of him just wants to push those skimpy bikini bottoms to the side and just fuck you right here, no matter if someone could walk in at any second, the other wants to take his time, bring you to his room and explore every inch of you.

When the elevator stops at his floor, he drags you out, glad no one is around to see as he pushes you against the wall next to the now closing elevator doors, his hand immediately moving between your legs. He moans at the wetness already there. Well aware you haven’t been in the pool or the ocean today.

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking wet.” He mumbles against your lips, pulling them into yet another heated kiss just as his fingers slip underneath your swimming suit, making you whimper. Your hips roll against his hand and he bites down on your bottom lip, fingers getting closer to where you want them, need them, the most.

But he pulls away, grabbing your hand and leading you to his room, getting the keycard out of the small pouch he had in the pockets of his trunks. You watch as he opens the door, watch as impatience and need radiate off him and another feeling of triumph, of confidence overcomes you. He is actively choosing you over your sister. He wants you not her.

Once you’re inside and the door is closed, you find yourself stuck between him and yet another wall, or in this case, door. His first mission is to get your tits out, his hands losing the strands of your top, the little fabric falling onto the floor a second later. He licks over his lips.

“I’ve been dreaming of these, baby,” he whispers, “come on, get on your knees.”

You do as told instantly. Dropping to your knees, eyes focused on him and only him. On how he now shoves his trunks down slowly, his cock, hard and red at the tip, springing free for you to admire. Your pussy starts throbbing. How badly you want him inside you, how badly you want him to fill you up with his cum, joining Heeseung’s from last night.

“Open up, slut.” Again, you obey. Your mouth drops open, tongue sticks out and Sunghoon’s cock twitches at the sight. This is what he has been dreaming about. Your mouth around his cock, your perfect heavy tits naked and oh-so ready to be painted like that first night.

“Good girl, so, so obedient.” He moves closer, right hand around his cock as the left is leaned against the wall, helping him keep his balance. Slowly, he brings the tip of his cock to the tip of your tongue, watching as you lick over it immediately. His eyes don’t leave yours when he begins shoving it in, his chest heaving. There is a good chance he might not last long, but he won’t let you leave this room without his cock having been inside you and if that means going again right after his first or second load.

You take him like a pro. Feel him slide down your throat, hitting the back of it before going even deeper. You choke just slightly, breathing through your nose. He stops only when he is fully buried, his breath getting heavier with every passing moment.

“You take it so fucking well, what a good little whore.” Sweat is pooling at the top of his forehead, his knees about to give in. He begins to move his hips slowly at first, but when you tap his thigh, he takes it as a sign to go harder. And, shit, does he go harder. Throwing his head back as he brings both his hands to your head, holding it in place as he thrusts down your throat over and over again. His balls hit your chin whenever he moves to bury himself again, his moans and groans nothing but music to your ears.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” He groans in pleasure, pulling his cock out and the next thing you know there is cum all over you. Your tits are full with his seed, your neck, your chin, your face. You gasp slightly, staring at him with your lips swollen from the roughness of his movements. He breathes hard, hand around his cock to hold it steady as waves of his pleasure make more cum land on your tits.

“That’s right, look at you, fuck,” his eyes are glossy watching your tits covered in his cum, his cock not losing any of it’s hardnes even after the amount of cum he just left on you. It’s not hard to notice. Your fingers scoop up a bit of it, sucking them clean and not letting him out of your sight. Sunghoon feels like he might have reached heaven.

“You’re so fucking filthy,” he grumbles, pulling you up by your arms and crashing your lips against his again. He pulls you to the bed and pushes you down, watching your cum-covered tits bounce as you fall. You know what he wants and you slightly sit up, your elbows behind you, watching as he moves on top of you. His eyes are still so full of hunger, of need, of pure and hot lust.

His cock slides between your tits, his hands pushing them together around it. Then, he begins to thrust again. Just like he had wanted back at the restaurant. Fuck your tits covered in his cum, add a little more.

You feel like the luckiest woman on earth with him like this. Using you to get off, his cock fucking your tits like a madman, whimpers and moans and groans, his head thrown back as he enjoys the feeling. It is even better than his imagination. Every second feels like he’s gonna ascend any moment now. His skin is tingling with desire and he wonders if it’ll ever stop. Right now, he thinks, he could probably go on for hours, for days. Just you and him and your tits and your mouth and your pussy.

When he looks down again, sees the way you look at him, see the way his cock looks sandwiched between your breasts, Sunghoon can’t help but cum again, less than before but still enough to cover your chest and neck, adding even more paint to the already perfect canvas.

Exhaustion is starting to spread through his bones, but he’s ignoring it. Instead, he pulls you up with him again, kissing you hard, fingers now finally finding their way into your bottoms again. He shoves them inside you immediately.

“Sunghoon!” You cry out, fingers gripping his strong shoulders as he places you on his lap, straddling him. He fucks you with his fingers, hard and fast. Your pussy squeezes them, your arousal dripping onto his bare thighs.

“So, so wet. So fucking filthy with my cum all over you. Tell me, baby, are you a whore?”

“Y-Yes!” You squeak. He grins wickedly, adding a third finger to the two. You cry in pleasure, bouncing up and down on his long, perfect fingers.

“So eager to be called a whore. Fucking a taken man, two taken men. Your sister’s men. Aren’t you ashamed?” He breathes into you ear and you moan again, nails digging into his skin.

“N-No!” You answer and he laughs quietly, thumb now pressing down on your clit. You feel the first tears starting to pool in your eyes.

“Oh, but you should be. Such a dirty fucking whore, full of cum, getting her pussy fucked by her sister’s fiancés fingers,” He chuckles, “and soon his cock.”

You reach the edge just then. When he promises you his lengths, when he tells you how ashamed you should be. As if you don’t know. That’s what makes this whole thing so ridiculously hot.

He fucks you through your orgasm, kissing your mouth again, tongues slashing against each other in a heated fight. You need him to fuck you. Right now. And as if he could read your mind, Sunghoon picks you up, hands underneath your thighs, lips never leaving yours and brings you to the spacious bathroom.

First, he fucks you in front of the mirror. Makes you watch yourself, getting fucked like a cheap whore by his sister’s soon-to-be husband. He makes you lick his cum off his fingers, thrusts them as deep down your throat as his cock is penetrating you.

Your pussy might be the best he’s ever had. The second he was buried inside of you, he knew he was done for. Knew this couldn’t be the last time he did this. Every bit of you, he wanted for himself. He even thought about asking Heeseung to back off, which he knew his best friend never would. Not with you. Not when you were this perfect. Fulfilling their every need, letting them do with you whatever they wanted.

When he gets you in the shower, he washes the drying cum off of you softly. He’s still inside of you, his still not fully satisfied cock. You squeeze around him, throb around him. You need him to do more, he knows it as well as you. But he’s gentle. Uses a sponge to get every bit of his seed off your body, his lips kissing your cheeks, lips, nose, neck and breasts. It’s almost too soft for you.

This is supposed to be about nothing but sex. He is supposed to fuck you, call you names while you’re at it and then disregard you. Instead, he’s being gentle.

That is, until the door outside opens and your sister’s voice interrupts the softness. It makes room for yet another wicked grin and Sunghoon’s first thrust inside of you for minutes. Your hand flies to your mouth covering the pathetic whimper that would have come out. Sunghoon’s eyes sparkle.

“Hoonie? Are you in the shower?”

He begins to thrust again, his hands on your hips, staring into your eyes as he gives you his fucking all. Your eyes roll back.

“Yes, darling. Your stupid sister managed to get me all sticky with that coffee!”

Your pussy fluttered at the words. He grinned wider.

“Oh, like it when I call you stupid?” He whispers into your ear, cock twitching rapidly as he bites into your neck, hips showing you absolutely no mercy.

“Ugh, I am so sorry about her! She’s not just a klutz, she’s also insanely dumb. I can’t wait to never see her again after this is done.”

Perhaps these words would have hurt you, if Sunghoon wasn’t railing you like the god he was. Every thrust was smooth and yet hard enough to make your toes curl. He made quick work to lift you up, your legs now wrapping around his middle as he continued to fuck into you, moaning into your neck to drown out the noise.

“Yeah, she is a real piece of work,” he finally replied, his eyes staring into yours as he smirked.

“No wonder she can’t get a boyfriend! Who would ever want to be with that?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, pressing his body closer to yours, kissing you again, his tongue licking sensually over your bottom lip. It makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Anyway, where did she go? I didn’t find her in her room.”

Sunghoon reluctantly parts from you.

“No clue. She got me a new coffee and stormed off like the big baby she is.”

He grabs your tits again, squeezing and massaging, nipple between forefinger and thumb, leaning down so he can put it in his mouth and suck and bite down, your hand on your mouth pressing down harder.

You explode around him. Squirt like a fucking porn-star, liquid shooting out of you and down his legs, mixing with the water of the shower. Sunghoon’s knees are once more about to give in. He moans against your lips, hoping Linda didn’t hear and at the same time also hoping she did. Your climax makes him cum for the third time that day, his hot semen filling your spent pussy, painting it white like the clouds.

“That, she is indeed,” Linda laughs, “anyway, we’re gonna go get dinner in the city, baby. I’ll be at Liza’s room, love you!”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer and Linda just leaves. You feel like no words were even needed to understand.

Once you’re sure Linda is gone for good, Sunghoon and you step out of the shower. It’s quiet between you, quiet and somewhat heavy. You don’t like it one bit. You’re quick to grab your bikini and put it back on, relieved to know you most likely won’t find your sisters back at the beach where you’re headed now.

You don’t turn around again when you leave the bathroom. And you also don’t expect Sunghoon to say anything. Still, when you open the door to leave, you feel just a tiny bit disappointed that he doesn’t hold you back.

How utterly pathetic of you.

Heeseung doesn’t come for you that night. You wonder if it’s because of Sunghoon and decide it most definitely is because of Sunghoon.

Yet, the slightly younger male doesn’t come to seek you out either.

Tonight, it’s just you.

And perhaps, you think, that’s just how it’s supposed to be.

to be continued...

header & divider credit to the wonderful @wongyuseokie <3

1K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 7 months ago

Text

Fall for Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't think he's good enough for you, but still wishes he could be your guy. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Longing, insecurities, "just friends" (for now), Steve is a good friend, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: We'll call this a Friday Feels inspired by a nonnie.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a special kind of torture for Bucky to watch the person he loved flirt with someone else.

To be fair, he couldn't say for sure that you were flirting. Being friendly? Yes. You had a warm and welcoming personality, the kind he was drawn to the moment you two crossed paths months ago. One of the things he loved about you was how genuine you were. It was only natural that you pulled others in as well. Your compassion, charm, beauty, everything called to him.

You were the whole package, inside and out.

“What the hell am I doing here?” He muttered. He hadn't wanted to go to the bar, but Steve assured him it was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. Not a lot of patrons on a night like this. Somewhere no one would bother them. He added at the last second that you were going.

Bucky grabbed his leather jacket to go as soon as those words left Steve’s mouth.

Instead of having a drink with you like he wanted or just talking, he simmered in silence in a booth while you stood at the bar. He narrowed his eyes as the guy you were talking to moved an inch closer. A bit too close for his liking.

Steve said his name was Will. They had met each other at some point in passing. Short blonde hair and a trimmed beard. Ex-military, but still built like he had a war to fight. Behind the guy’s blue eyes lurked pain, guilt, and regret that most would miss due to his general stoic demeanor. Bucky could relate all too well to horrors that haunted even the strongest of men.

But when Will looked at you, his eyes lit up. They held a sense of longing. Hope.

Once again, Bucky could relate all too well because that was how he looked at you.

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” Steve said, grabbing a beer from the bucket and setting it down in front of him. “Just talk to her.”

Bucky took a swig, but didn't take his eyes off you. He was afraid if he looked away that Will might convince you to leave with him. “Talk to her about what?”

His best friend sighed. “You know what.”

Steve knew how he felt about you. Talking about his feelings wasn't easy, but he had to tell his best friend. And it wasn't the first time Steve encouraged him to speak up. He said you had the right to know so the two of you could figure out how to move forward, whether as a couple or just friends, instead of dancing around it.

But how could Bucky admit how he felt when he didn't deserve someone like you?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

“We're friends,” Bucky stated. The words tasted as bitter as the beer he sipped. No, not bitter. He couldn't feel that way just because he had a piece of you when he wanted all of you.

Was he selfish for that?

He nearly shattered the bottle in his hand when you giggled at whatever Will said. Something akin to jealousy settled in his chest and he had no right to feel that way. The two of you weren't together. You were single and didn't owe him a thing.

But he knows if you gave him a chance, he’d treat you well. Better than any other guy before him. He would do his best to make you happy. Maybe that wasn't enough.

“Will is a good guy, but he isn't you, Buck. You’re still one of the best guys I know,” Steve said.

“You don't have to kiss my ass, punk,” he muttered, immediately regretting it. He was only trying to help and God knows he had done more than enough for him over the years.

Steve shook his head. “And you don't have to feel sorry for yourself, jerk.”

“I’m not,” he whispered. Maybe he was. He was sorry for so many things.

As if you sensed his sadness, you looked over your shoulder and met his gaze. You smiled at him, the kind of smile that stole the very breath from his lungs and made his head spin. He wanted to believe it was a smile you reserved only for him. And the softness in your beautiful eyes, he imagined he could see his future in them.

Could you see the endless love he had for you in his?

His heart ached when you turned away and put your hand on Will’s arm. Of course, you were attracted to the guy. Why wouldn’t you be? The thought of you kissing him though, being intimate with him? He felt sick enough to finally look away.

Bucky glanced at his distorted reflection in the beer bottle. A long time ago, he would've called himself handsome. Not because he was full of himself, but because he knew himself then. He knew how to walk the line between confidence and cockiness. He was full of life and wonder once. Now the weight of his sins showed in how he carried himself.

Sins you never judged him for.

“Jamie? Are you okay?”

Steve nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was so lost in his mind that he hadn’t heard you call out to him. He should’ve known since you were the only one who called him Jamie. When he looked up from his seat, he saw that you were no longer standing next to Will as he was still at the bar. And there was nothing but concern in your gaze as you set your drink down on the table.

“What? What happened?” He asked, not smooth at all.

Your eyes flickered to Steve and then back at him. “I asked if you’re okay. You don’t look too well.”

“Not feeling so great,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. “This place…”

“Oh,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him. He inhaled, your sweet scent soothing the pain in his heart and making it race all at once. “Well, why don’t we head out? There’s no reason to stay if you don’t want to stay.”

He gently smiled. You were always willing to go with the flow and change plans if things ever got too loud or too much for him. “I’m fine. Besides, you just got your drink and you haven’t had a chance to play pool with Sam or Natasha,” he argued. He didn’t want to spoil your night.

You put your hand on his arm, but it seemed different than when you touched Will’s arm. This was tender, soothing. “If being here is making you uncomfortable, then I don’t feel like sticking around. They’ll understand. Steve, please, back me up on this.”

“She’s right. You two should go,” Steve said, conveniently leaving himself and the others out of the equation.

Bucky spared Will a glance, who was now talking to the guys he went into the bar with. He swallowed hard before the next words left his mouth. “What about your new friend?”

“You are my friend, Jamie,” you said. He winced inwardly at the reminder. Friends. You were just friends. “Don’t worry about him. Let’s just go. How about a movie at your place? Something low-key so you feel better.”

“You sure?” He asked, wondering just how eager he looked to leave with you.

“I’m sure,” you smiled, making his heart warm again.

“Okay. You convinced me,” he said. Not that it would’ve taken much. Your smile could bend the will of just about anyone.

“You know, I hear healthy conversations are also good to help people feel better,” Steve chimed in, earning an elbow to the side from Bucky.

You raised an eyebrow and slid out of the booth. “Yeah. Sure. Jamie and I can have a healthy conversation and you all enjoy the rest of the night.” You offered Bucky a hand to help him out. He didn’t want to let go. “C’mon. We have a movie waiting for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky teased, proud of himself when you giggled.

Steve gave him an optimistic smile and he couldn’t help but return it. He wasn’t sure if Will had given you his number or if you planned to see him, but maybe he’d take a chance and tell you he had fallen for you. Maybe, if he was lucky, you had fallen for him, too.

Just maybe.

And maybe, just maybe, this could be a thing? Did Will give you his number? Will Bucky say how he feels? What's going to happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

2K notes · View notes

nopanamaman · 19 days ago

Text

What's up with the Reizners (Kolya & Nikita)?

Better late than never: the loredump on Nikita and Kolya Reizner is finally here!

If you read my blog, you may already know some of this information. But it's always nice to have things organised.

So let's talk about them.

Childhood

Nikita and Kolya as kids.

Nikita and Kolya grew up in a small countryside town, with Nikita being older by three years. Their mother was a nurse, their father a factory worker.

Nikita was always positioned as an example for Kolya: he was the smarter one, the one that knew how to get along with people, the one that could stand up for himself. Kolya, on the other hand, was absent-minded, meek, and showed little interest in communicating with others.

This made him an easy target for bullying. Sometimes Nikita tried to ignore it, sometimes he stood up for him. Kolya would have preferred if he stuck to the former - having his brother defend and then scold him for not being assertive enough was more degrading than being picked on.

University

Kolya always enjoyed tinkering with electronics, so he went for an electrician degree. He wasn’t an exceptional student, but he enjoyed it significantly more than school. People didn’t bother him nearly as much.

Nikita enrolled in the biology department of a pedagogical university. He worked hard to get rid of his countryside accent and blend in with the more “educated” crowd.

He joined the admission committee after his first year, which is how he met Nadya: she was applying to the philology department of the university. Their relationship began shortly after.

Joining the stalker business

Kolya wanted an escape from society more than anything. And the anomalous Zone outside the city called to him, insistently so.

It was a time when the border was significantly less tight, when big stalker groups were still prevalent, but already on their way out. He met Victor Kazarin in one such group. The latter was still a young stalker, with only a couple of years behind his belt.

Still, under his guidance, Kolya’s abilities developed incredibly fast - he was a total natural. And it wasn't just his sharp talent, it was the way he walked the Zone, the way he loved it with all of his heart.

Experiencing a sense of freedom and levity isn't uncommon for stalkers. But to Kolya it went far beyond that. To him, it felt more real than anything else in the world, it was the only place that felt truly alive.

When Nikita found out about Kolya’s side gig, he was mortified. How could his slow, empty-headed brother survive in those conditions? How could he ever navigate that dark criminal business? He had to keep an eye on him.

After realising he cannot talk Kolya out of it, Nikita joined the same group. He never developed a strong sense for the Zone’s anomalies, but his biological knowledge paid off in a major way. Despite not having a medical degree, he knew more than enough to take on the rare doctor role.

After finding somewhere he finally felt complete, Kolya was once again treated as a clueless, incompetent child.

When the big group was showing signs of deterioration, Victor offered the brothers and several other stalkers to leave and form a smaller, more tightly-knit team. His connections from working in the militia (local police) created a solid basis for finding potential clients and covering things up.

Nikita's arrest

Maybe somebody snitched, maybe Kolya’s behaviour raised suspicion among his day job coworkers - whatever the reason, his house was searched and numerous artefacts were found.

But what would someone as soft and careless as him do in prison? Somebody as naive and weak could never last there, Nikita thought.

So he did what he had to: acted like the artefacts found in the younger brother’s apartment were his and then aggressively resisted arrest - just for good measure. Hell, maybe he would have managed to get away.

But he didn’t. As opposed to other stalkers having their scars bestowed by the Zone, the one on his neck was the result of a police confrontation. Nikita did not expect them to open fire when he ran. He was surprised he lived at all - the bullet grazed uncomfortably close to the carotid artery. He lucked out.

Kolya had never felt that insulted. He tried to come clean about being the real culprit. But Nikita knew how to be convincing; Kolya didn't. And Kolya felt no gratitude.

Breakup with Nadya

The breakup in the Mill.

Nikita was given 4 years in prison, but got parole after serving just 2. He immediately returned to helping injured stalkers.

Nadya waited for him through all his prison years. Considering how their relationship was going, some part of Nikita secretly hoped she wouldn't. She was a very self-conscious person, one that was infatuated with someone who seemed so much more confident than her. To the point where she felt like without his guidance, she’d be completely lost, and useless, and stupid.

Nikita both liked it and didn’t. Who wouldn’t enjoy a beautiful girl obsessing over them? But dealing with all of that baggage was inconvenient, it was tiring. Was it even worth it? Sometimes he wasn’t sure.

Still, things looked sweet on his release. Everyone, Kolya included, seemed glad to have him back.

Then, several months later, Nadya announced she was pregnant.

Nikita didn't want a child, especially not one that would have an almost guaranteed mutation. He proposed an abortion, but the woman refused. His reasoning that she usually took as gospel did not work. And no matter how much Nadya cried or pleaded with him, no matter how much she tried to convince him it would be okay, Nikita refused to take that burden upon himself.

There was no easy compromise. He left.

Kolya didn't have much of an opinion about Nadya. He didn't have much of an opinion about most people. And really, he didn't feel particularly bad for her.

However, hearing about what had happened made him repulsed in a quite satisfying way. The brother that always knew best, the brother that was so condescendingly self-sacrificing, had finally levelled himself with the rest of the earth's scum.

Months later Nikita would seek out the maternity hospital Nadya gave birth in. He wasn't registered as the father - he could not access any information about her. He couldn't contact her himself either.

Her acquaintances refused to talk with him. But eventually, one of them caved.

Nadya was pregnant with twins. Died while giving birth. The offspring was transferred directly to the institute. And that was it.

Raising Sergei and Sasha

It was a dumb death. A misstep. Kolya wasn’t sure what he felt when he saw Victor’s body turn to mush. It was so instant and so simple. Natural. Kolya’s breath halted, but just momentarily.

They had a plan prepared long in advance in case something like this would come to pass. Sending Sasha and Sergei to the orphanage was not an option, everyone had been well aware of the state of those systems. Instead, Victor Kazarin would live on, if only on paper.

They held a funeral of sorts: to onlookers, it was just an uncharacteristically big visit to the grave of Maria Kazarina. That was where Kolya informed Sergei about the plan. Him and Nikita would help raise the siblings until Sergei turned 18 and could become his sister’s legal guardian. Of course, they’d help him afterwards as well.

Kolya and Nikita raising Sergei and Sasha.

Sasha was fascinating to Kolya in a “child of the Zone” way, but he wasn’t very interested in her on a personal level. To her, he was the strange spaced out uncle that had cool electronics around the house and took pictures of her and Sergei. He also played the guitar like her dad used to.

Kolya and Sergei had a lot more to talk about. Kolya’s calm demeanour helped Sergei feel more at ease despite the terrible circumstances. Even with his ditzy nature, Kolya provided a certain sense of security and comfort. Kolya always considered Sergei a good kid, though he did believe his treatment of Sasha was too overbearing, especially considering his own relationship with Nikita.

The latter, on the other hand, was much closer to the girl. She liked to play with Nikita even before her father’s death, so the adoptive uncle role came to him naturally. Sasha grew very attached to him, especially since he was significantly easier to talk to than Sergei. Nikita, in turn, was happy to have Sasha around.

The Grinder incident

The group heading out to the mission in the Mill.

Beyond the Grinder lies the wishing room. At least, that’s what they say. It’s a rumour impossible to confirm or disprove. Can you really pass the whole stretch of the tunnel before your legs, your arms, your face, your whole body disintegrates? You don’t know. Do you want to find out? Probably not.

The natural human instinct for survival can only be superseded by total desperation – or apathy in equal measure. Did Kolya have enough of any? Neither Sergei, nor Olya knew. They didn’t know why he had to enter the Grinder, either. Was that what he had wanted from the start? When was “the start”? Maybe it didn’t matter.

They could not follow him. And that alone was good.

#parties are for losers #loredump #deepest lore #kolya #nikita #nadya #sergei #sanya

439 notes · View notes

yestrday · 7 months ago

Text

: ̗̀➛ YANDERE SALARYMAN IS A FOOL FOR YOU .

ahhh, looks like you caught the attention of an overworked white collar! who is truly the victim here, you or him?

( yandere, perverted man!!!, nsfwish but no s3x, hes creepy :(( ) + thanks to my bbg for being my beta reader mwah mwah

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who is constantly overworked to the bone by his abusive boss. He's clocked in so many overtime hours that human resources is beginning to suspect something, but his co-workers keep pushing their work onto him that he can't help but go overtime. Working days always seem to be like this— constant yelling by his shitty boss, papers jamming the printer, co-workers dumping more work on him before time-out, the side-eyes and whispers of women directed at him in the elevator, and somehow always forgetting to bring the lunchbox his roommate made for him. He's a pushover with no backbone, so he spends most of his nights banging loudly at his keyboard and cursing his own spinelessness.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who's just a walking black hole of negativity. It's already bad enough that he's been dealing with a lot of mental baggage from his childhood, but this stupid fucking black company is making him this close to fucking losing it.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who only wants to go pick up a coffee after work and sees you manning the cafe. Just a sweet little thing, working their student debt away at the new cafe's that opened up near his workplace. He tells himself that it's all part of your job to smile and be polite but fuck— your sweet grin's making his hands go clammy and his voice tremble.The line behind him shoots him judgmental glances because the creep is blushing and sweating and stumbling over his words but if you were ever annoyed, you don't show it on your face. No one’s been this nice to him, but when your fingers brush over his shaking ones when you hand him his order, electricity spikes from his fingertips and sends his heart into overdrive as you flash him another service smile. He has never believed in a god before, but upon meeting you, he might as well declare himself religious.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who feels super guilty about drooling over you when you're several years younger than him. You're just a college student trying to finish your studies while he's a white-collar slave about to enter his 30s. The contrast between you and him is like heaven and hell, and he curses himself for being such a stupid filthy pervert as he palms himself to your Instagram page he's managed to find.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who is once again tired and about to die from another night of overtime, heading out to catch the last ride home and surprised to see you closing up shop. You brighten when you recognize him as one of your regulars (he could give two shits about the black coffee he was ordering when he was too busy ogling you). He stammers and shrinks when you ask him about how he's doing out of concern. You mention his eyebags and his pale skin and his overall sickly demeanor and you fret over him as you two walk to the station. He's at a loss for words when you force the ham and cheese croissant into his hands and tell him to eat up, before waving at him with a grin as you enter your bus.

Woah. So like. You're in love with him, right?

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who goes fucking crazy over this interaction. He knows, he knows, he knows, okay?! You’re just nice like that, but his affection-deprived mind is going into overdrive and can’t help but overthink. But he has to stop himself. You’re probably only like that because you pity him, huh? Whatever’s on his pallid face and baggy eyes must have had you pitying the minimum wage salaryman. … This pity act is probably only to make you feel better about yourself, handing croissants out to whichever near-death white collar you see on the street like some sort of good Samaritan. Well, he doesn’t need it! You can fuck off with your—

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who finds himself in front of the cafe again, nervously adjusting his tie and wiping his clammy hands on his slacks before pushing the doors open. You’re on the morning shift today (haha wow what a coincidence) and the grogginess from waking up extra early today is wiped clean after you look up from the tabletop you’re wiping and shoot him one of your megawatt smiles. Fuck fuck fuck why’d you have to be so damn cute! A man could get the wrong idea, you know?!

“Espresso for Doppo!” Your bright voice rings throughout the cafe and the salaryman has to gulp down his anxiety as he makes his way to the counter. His neck grows hot as he feels glares boring into the back of his head, and the only relief he has is your sunny smile when he picks up his order. “Thanks again for your patronage! Quite the regular here, aren’t you? All staff’s been ecstatic over a Matenro member stopping by here.”

Ugh… The staff knows him? Not only is an insignificant water flea like him taking up a space in your mind, but there are others as well? What could they be possibly saying about him? He nervously laughs, eyes darting around the place as he fidgets. “Uh, ah, y– you know me…?”

He can feel the look that you’re shooting him right now, and he wants to dig a hole for him to hide away in. “Of course! Matenro, the winners of the first Division Battle… waaah, I was so ecstatic when I saw you for the first time! You guys were so cool. I was even cheering you on during the second Division Battle.” You sigh sadly. “Well, Fling Posse’s good, but a Shinjuku local’s gotta stay loyal, y’know?” Oh, so it’s just about being loyal. What was he even thinking, getting his hopes up that maybe you liked Matenro, liked him, for their rap. Stupid, stupid, stupid— “Oh, but don’t get me wrong though! I love the way you guys do hiphop. Especially your screaming shtick, Kannonzaka! Can really feel the pent-up stress from Chuohku all the way to here, haha!”

Doppo shrinks into himself, using his work bag to try and hide the shaky smile that’s been threatening to break out onto his face. To… To think the cute barista he’s been crushing on for a month now is a fan of him… This kind of stuff only happened to Hifumi, not him! He doesn’t… He’s not quite sure to handle the situation. Instead he nods as you gush over Matenro and at the end, finally squeaks out a tiny little, “Th– Thanks!”

You shoot him a pitying look. Clearly all that rap about his pent-up stress and rage is clearly stemming from somewhere. Sighing and looking at the building in front of you, you see the skyscraper’s soulless windows and architecture and sigh. “Enjoy the coffee then, Kannonzaka. Being a black company worker is stuff but!” You shoot him a grin and a thumbs up. “I’m rooting for you and Matenro!”

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who’s reeling from your compliments and praise. Oh… Oh god. You– You liked him! Actually liked him. And, and you said you were cheering for him too! Well, him and Matenro, but still! He goes back to his apartment feeling more chipper than usual, something that his roommate notices. The creepy smile matched with the dark laughter as he enters their apartment isn’t exactly charming, but he’s happy to see him happy nonetheless. He thinks that he’s been wearing that gloomy look for far too long and he’s glad to know that he’s found someone to brighten up his days.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who has gained some courage to hold longer conversations with you. When you’re working the night shift and run into him after closing up, he’s glad to know that you take his dry humor very well. As the two of you silently walk together to the station, he can feel his heart beating so fast that he might near collapse. He wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks and swallows down the anxiety in his stomach. It’s already weird to see a near 30 man walking together with a fresh-faced uni student alone and at night, so he might as well not add more to his creepiness.

YANDERE! SALARYMAN who has to bite down his tongue when you press up against him in the jampacked train. You smell like coffee and pastries and he— he tries not to sniff himself— probably smells like sweat. A sudden lurch of the train has you clinging to him to maintain stability and oh god oh god oh god you smell so fucking good shit. He suppresses the urge to sniff your hair. Instead, he (oh gosh he was really about to this) shakily wraps one arm around you, his palm on your lower back to offer you more support. You smile at him so sweetly, as if the dirty old man didn’t have the agenda of just trying to feel you up. Oh… oh gosh he can feel the dip of your lower back… trailing to your—

He hopes you don’t feel the tent down… there. Though with how tightly you two are up against each other, he highly doubts that.

“Bye Mr. Kannonzaka!” You cheerily wave to him as you both part ways at your stop. Though he is unable to match your energy, he waves you off with a faint smile before you bound off to your home. His eyes linger long as your figure disappears into the distance and he’s left all on his lonesome.

— Then he runs off to the nearest bathroom. People cast him weird glances as he rushes off to the farthest bathroom stall and sits on the toilet, burying his head in his hands as he tries to make sense of the numerous thoughts rampaging in his head.

Oh god. That just happened, didn’t it? Something straight out of those perverted doujinshis that happen on trains. And he was the ugly bastard, wasn’t he?! The weird, creepy, scummy ones preying on innocent girls that don’t deserve their fantasies. He was a hopeless case. He should do the entire world a favor and make away with himself, but then he couldn’t see your pretty face in the hell that he was going to. You didn’t deserve this—

His phone dings. He checks the text notification that comes from you.

[Your Name]: heya ! just curious about what brand your bag is. felt it on the train and dats sum serious quality leather!

He screams into his hand. The man in the stall beside him angrily knocks on their shared wall to shut him up. He rack his brain to try and figure out any possible way to properly answer without rousing suspicion until you send another text.

[Your Name]: just kidding~ (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

…

… You’re going be to the death of him, you. Youngsters these days.

you thought this was a general yandere fic, didn't you?! get hypmiced!!! /matenros you/

#yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere #male yandere #hypnosis mic #yandere hypnosis mic #doppo kannonzaka #yandere doppo kannonzaka #hypnosis mic x reader #yester.writes

1K notes · View notes

loverafey · 2 months ago

Text

fake dating rafe ! kook bsf!reader

ꕀ warnings - none, sfw, gn terms! wc - 748.

upon realising that rafe had to keep up his appearances in the business meetings he had to reluctantly attend ever since the death of his father, going all alone in those meeties and especially the parties after felt so, so wrong with no one clinging to his arm. not that he cared, really. but it did irl him that everyone had a partner in these overly fancy meets and he was just there, new and incapable in other’s eyes probably.

so he sought you out, his best friend. you being a kook and the next to inherit your father’s business made things better, some people in the meetings would already know you as well. easy work.

“c’mon, it’s just temporary.” he had coaxed you in so sweetly, a smug grin always playing along his lips, as if he knew you’d give up. how couldn’t he? he knew you better than anyone, having been your friend for years. “after all, who would not wanna be my partner, yeah?” you had playfully smacked his arm at that, attempting to ignore the heat crawling onto your face.

now at some boring event consisting of only business owners having come up to discuss deals and all that stuff you could care less about, your arm was hooked around his, wearing an outfit he had picked just for you. it matched his suit — a shade of dark blue. it was hard not to acknowledge how this little idea of his made your heart flutter. but hey, it was all simply for the sake of appearances, right? just a temporary fake dating, maybe only till he finds a real partner.

that thought made your heart feel heavy for whatever reason.

“want a drink, baby?” rafe’s eyes were focused on you for most of the time as he purposefully called you that, not interested in whatever deals people tried to brief him about this evening. you just looked so stunning that it hurt, and all he wanted was to swoop you up and give you a big kiss — but what if that were to ruin the friendship between you both? fuck it.

“too into this role, aren’t you?” you retorted as an attempt to tease him, unable to hold in a smile as you nodded at his offer, following him.

“don’t have anything else to do here after all.” he scoffed, fetching you a drink before leading you away from the hall, fingers gently holding onto yours as he tugged you away from all the people inside and towards the balcony of the cruise you all were riding, a sense of relief overflowing you both at the natural breeze, so much better than the sheer suffocation within.

“boring business, yeah?”

that night was rather uneventful after that, except the occasional banter between you both. you didn’t know what you were expecting. he might have been your ‘boyfriend’, but it only lasted till the event ended.

or so you thought.

you were startled awake by the noise of little rocks hitting your window in the middle of the night a few days after that. still in a state of sleep, you hesitantly walked over to your window, catching the sight of rafe standing down there, grinning.

“rafe, what the hell?” you spoke as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake anyone else up.

“what? can’t even visit you anymore?” he sounded bummed out to say the least, a somewhat grumpy pout present on his face. rolling your eyes, you muttered something under your breath and silently wandered down the stairs until you met him at the porch, instantly tugged by his hand, pulled closer to him.

“what’s up?” you sighed, a hand instinctively reaching up to cup the side of his face. he was quick to lean into your touch, as if desperate, eyes fluttering shut.

“couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you after the party…” he huffed, his hands slowly coming to rest on your sides, keeping you there.

“yeah?” you smiled, failing to suppress a giggle as he nodded and tilted his head to press a kiss on your wrist.

“c’mon, we gotta be sleeping together to make our fake dating more effective.” he persisted, not giving you a chance to speak as he dragged you over to his truck, and you let him, still in your pajamas.

“and maybe try kissing too?” he snickered, looking at you eagerly. of course you gave in, once again. after all, he sure did know you better than anyone else.

#sun.works ★#rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #obx x reader #rafe fanfiction #had to repost bc it wasn't showing in tags :( !

464 notes · View notes

remlionheart · 2 months ago

Note

Hello beautiful

Can I put in a request where Megumi and reader both have a partner but are fully attracted to each other and Megumi of course plays it stoic, indifferent etc. but then something happens( I haven’t figured out what event exactly, maybe they get drunk at a party?I’ll leave it up to you 🤍) and they succumb to their needs( a little coercion from Megumi oops) and Megumi is just so pussy drunk, whiny, non sensical blabbing mess and reader baby traps him 🥴🥴

I just need Megumi so bad, he plagues my mind every second of the day… I need therapy and Jesus. Thank you if u decide to go with it, love everything you do 🤍🤍🤍

Hi pretty ♡ Sorry to say - no Jesus here, but maybe this can be therapy for both of us bc I’ve been thinking about this ask heavily since I got it. And what better time to start a depraved lil drabble than at midnight on the night of a full moon? 🌙✨

((as always, all characters are aged up to 21+, if u don’t enjoy that feel free to scroll along ♡ all trigger warnings are in the request itself, lemme know whatcha think, luv u ✩࿐࿔ ))

⋆˙⟡MDNI ⋆˙⟡

Megumi’s new girlfriend was sweet, kind, cute. Always by his side no matter what and tonight was no exception.

She was smiling at you with her hand wrapped delicately over his arm, asking you how you’d met your date… who was also, at your side and wrapped around your arm. He was cluelessly bantering back and forth with her while you and Megumi exchanged the same pointed look.

It was subtle, the way his blue eyes lingered on your boyfriend’s hand placement, watching him gently squeeze your hip as he laughed at a joke that two of you had missed entirely.

You'd only been been dating this most recent fling for a few weeks - it was hardly anything to be jealous of, but the fact Megumi had noticed at all gave a sick part of you satisfaction. It was an unspoken rivalry you had with him, one that you typically found yourself on the losing end of. He’d fuck someone, so you would too. He’d date someone, so you would too. He’d show up to this stupid fucking party with a date, so you would too.

It was the same pitiful dance that you'd been doing for the last year and a half, your feelings for him always right on the tip of your tongue but never at the right time.

Watching his girlfriend rest her head on his shoulder as the four of you continued on with your mindless banter was your own personal hell and yet, you said nothing. Instead, mirroring them, clinging onto your own date harder as you pretended to care about whatever work story was being tossed around.

The night carried on like this for the next hour or so as the once small house party started to evolve into something rowdier. The music getting louder and the living room getting more and more crowded as you knocked back three more drinks.

You were dizzy, trying not to lose your balance while you excused yourself from your group to go venture upstairs in search of a bathroom. Your boyfriend had offered to come with you, but you insisted that you were alright, shooing him away with a smile as you told him to go get another drink.

He seemed to be enjoying himself and you didn’t want that to end just because of your pathetic urge to chase after someone who clearly didn’t want you back.

Your footsteps came to a clumsy pause, a small, drunken laugh escaping you as you entered the bathroom and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your red dress was shorter than you remembered it being when you left, your hair just as perfectly disheveled as your thoughts. You steadied yourself before taking a seat, letting the music from downstairs provide you with a comfortable sense of privacy.

You had just washed your hands and were in the middle of throwing your hair into a bun when the door opened unexpectedly. Your ankle almost sprained from how quickly you’d whipped around, your heart stalling in your chest as Megumi looked back at you with the sound of the lock latching behind him.

“The hell are you doing, Fushiguro?”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his arms folding over his chest as he rested his back against the door. “Since when do you date coworkers?”

You almost laughed you were so stunned, your posture straightening a bit as you continued to keep your attention focused on your reflection and not on him. “Since when do you care who I date?”

“I don’t,” he shrugged, “just don’t want to hear you complain about it later when things don’t work out.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a stupid smile at how annoyingly apathetic he had to be at all times. “And you felt it was necessary to follow me into a bathroom to let me know that?” You countered, finally turning to face him.

It was the first time all night that you’d seen his stoic demeanor start to waver.

His eyes narrowed as he raised his brow at you, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “You’re drunk.” He quipped, taking a slow step towards you. “Just because your boyfriend’s careless enough to let you go running around by yourself doesn’t mean I am.”

Your throat was suddenly dry at how close he was to you, his tidal wave eyes flooding your senses as they dragged down to your lips.

“Your girlfriend’s downstairs.” You reminded him, desperately trying to ignore the heat that was gathering at your center.

“I know,” he breathed, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck as he held you in place. “But you’re right here.”

“Megumi…” Your voice nearly trembled, your insides catching fire at the feeling of his lips grazing yours. “We can’t…”

Your protest was hardly convincing though - not with the way your body was having its own private conversation with his. Practically begging to be touched as he wedged his knee between your thighs just to see how much temptation you could withstand.

He knew you wanted this. Knew that you thought about it just as much as he did, if not more. You’d always followed him around like a lost puppy. Always mirrored whatever he did like your intentions weren’t glaringly obvious. He’d been fighting to restrain himself for the last year and a half. Did everything he could to not succumb to the carnal urges that plagued him every time you showed up to his house in the shortest sundress he’d ever seen. He kept himself busy with other girls - lied to himself and pretended that it wasn’t you he was thinking about when he closed his eyes and thrusted into them. But you were everywhere, not just tonight and not just right now, but always. A constant thought in the back of his mind. A task he couldn’t ever mark as complete. A gnawing, agonizing, need that he couldn’t fight for one more fucking second.

“I’m so tired of it always being someone else,” he said against your lips, letting out a heady little exhale at how submissively you were staring back at him. “I want it to be you.”

The coiling tension in your lower abdomen felt like it was going to snap as the firmness of his knee pushed at just the right angle, giving your clit a much-needed brush of friction while his words swirled lazily through your mind.

He was right- you must’ve been drunk because there was no way he was prompting you to grind on him. No way that he was parting your lips with his tongue. No way that his grip was tangling into your hair as your hips began to rock rhythmically against him. No way that he was helping lift your bra over your head all while a mere staircase separated the two of you from your partners.

There was simply no way any of this was real.

His mouth was warm against your skin, kissing and nipping across your collarbone while his hand palmed at your chest. “S’fucking pretty,” he praised, his gaze pointed at the way your dress had nearly hiked all the way up your hips as you kept riding his leg.

“Show me what you do when you’re alone thinking about me,” he panted, “just like that, don't fucking stop.” His voice was sinful bliss trailing back up your neck, your dress now only covering your midsection as he pulled the straps of it down over your arms so that the top half met where the bottom half had ridden up.

You were dangerously - pathetically, close to cumming, not caring at all who heard you as your nails dug into his shoulder blade. Your needy little clit still pushing and pleading into his leg. “More,” you begged, “please - this isn’t - fair.”

“It’s not fair?” You hated the moan that slipped out at the sickeningly sweet way he mocked you. “Poor thing." His mouth was warm and torturous in the shell of your ear. "You know what I don't think is fair?"

The whimper you let out was all the answer he needed though.

His fingers wrapped delicately around your neck - an odd sense of security laced into them despite the way they were cutting off your oxygen. “I don’t think it’s fair that I have to want you this bad.” His other hand suddenly roaming along the curve of your hip. “I don’t think it’s fair that I have to pretend not to care when you do dumb shit like dangle new men in front of me.” His lips returned to yours, catching all the little whines that were escaping you. “And I really don’t think it’s fair how hard I’m about to fuck you while he’s downstairs waiting for you.”

It definitely wasn't the sentence that should've brought you to your breaking point, but it did. His grip tightened on you, fingertips digging perfectly into each side of your neck making your vision blur and your center ache. Your moans were every bit as broken as your thoughts, your eyes not leaving his while he nodded back at you.

"That's it." His grasp slowly began to release, loosening up with each whine you let out for him. "Cummin’ so easily for me.”

The room was still hazy, electricity dancing along your skin as he gently helped bring you to your feet before turning you around. You watched him from the reflection in the mirror, a dizzy smile cutting across your face while you watched him slip your dress all the way off and bend you over the counter.

"Fuck," he groaned, admiring the slick glistening off of you as he undid his belt. He ran two fingers between your folds, his mouth slightly dropping open at how sensitive you were to his touch - the cute little noises he could coax out of you by barely doing anything and the way your back arched so perfectly for him.

"Look at me," he breathed, placing a firm hand on your shoulder as he lined himself up with you.

His eyes trailed back up to yours, his tip carefully prodding at your entrance while he watched the desperate little expression that had taken over your features. "God damn," he hissed, his breath hitching in his throat at how faithfully your walls were swallowing him.

You were so wet, your brain and body both completely enamored with the sight and feeling of him sinking into you. The waiting game you'd been playing was well worth reward and you were enjoying every inch of your prize.

He was stretching you so tenderly, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Though he'd told you to look at him, he seemed to be the one having a hard time maintaining your stare. His pretty blue eyes were glazed over, his composure starting to leave him the longer he looked at you.

"Oh my god," he groaned, "why do you feel so fucking good?"

His rhythm became harsher, both his hands grabbing onto your hips as he used you to his liking. “You know how many times I've thought about doing this, huh?" You weren't sure where your moans ended and his began, the rest of the world slipping away as he continued to blissfully bully his way into you. "Look at you, so pouty and pretty. Taking me like such a good girl."

His words made you clench, your cunt nearly suffocating him as he kept letting out more incoherent praises. He was just as lost as you were, just as dazed-out and unaware of his surroundings. The only thing keeping him grounding was the sound of you whimpering his name and how it kept getting needier and louder.

He wanted people to hear. Wanted everyone in the entire house knew that he had you bent over with your tits pressed against the counter and your ass flushed firmly against him. Wanted them to know that it was his name you sang out when you came.

“Megumi -” you whined, “right there, ohmygod, right.. the - re.”

Your walls spasmed around him, little hearts and stars suddenly filling your vision as your eyes rolled back. “Please,” you begged, chasing the blinding white light of your release as far as it would go, “cum inside me, please - fuck, don’t stop.”

He knew he shouldn’t. Knew you weren’t on birth control. Knew you well enough to know how desperate you were to keep him around. He knew all the risks. Knew what a terrible fucking idea it was and yet,

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he grunted, his movements just as needy and out of control as yours. “For me to fill you up,” he was losing himself to the thought, “to go back downstairs with me dripping down your leg? Yeah, I bet you fucking would.”

It was the worst idea. Every reasonable part of him screaming at for him to stop.

“Y - es! Please, please - ah~!”

But the sound of you begging made that reasonable part of him disappear entirely, replaced by an absolutely unhinged part of him that he didn’t even know existed until that very moment.

He wanted your belly to swell, wanted everyone to look at you and know that it was him who had bred you and that it was him who would do it again and again. He was going to make the whole world know you were his and it made him fucking feral.

He groaned, chest heaving as he gave you one last punishing thrust, burying himself as deep as he could as he twitched inside you. His breath hitching in his throat, his mind only filled with you and your body only filled with him.

A beautifully damning warmth coated your walls while you shot him the prettiest, haziest smile he’d ever seen. Both of you slowly returning back to reality.

He carefully pulled out of you, watching the mess the two of you had made spill out of you as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around to face him.

His hands were warm against the sides of your neck, thumb placed firmly under your chin to tilt your head up towards his, “Next time you decide to shove another guy in my face,” he said, “you better make sure they’re not dumb enough to leave you alone with me.”

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

#thots and prayers ── .✦#rem writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #megumi smut

484 notes · View notes

hellisharchive · 11 months ago

Text

The Most Divine

➤ Drabbles of how Lucifer and Adam would fight over gender neutral reader!

➤ 18+, NSFW

♡...... LUCIFER would take notice of you immediately in the Hotel, from your voice to your body to your eyes, you were beautiful in every sense of the word. He treated you like royalty, like you were the best thing he could have found ever in all his billions of years of existence. He never made any moves on you though, the mental scars from Lillith leaving him still fresh in his mind and heart. You two were both really good friends though and he wouldn't trade that for the world.

♡...... ADAM would take notice of you during your first year in Hell as you were out during extermination day. He hates sinners with his very being due to a certain fallen angel, but something about you enamored him. He managed to find you alone and decides to take his chance. He hit on you and he ended up throughly fucking you in exchange for being spared this year.

♡...... LUCIFER makes sure you're ok after extermination day, you tell him that you ran into Adam and that he spared you, but not the true reason why. It made Lucifer incredibly angry as he knew you were lying, but played it off as he didn't want to be too overbearing and controlling. He was just concerned for you as Adam wasn't the best guy, regardless if he spared you or not

♡...... ADAM decides to watch you from heaven, keeping it a secret from Lute as she would surely scold him and never let him live another day without her disproving self. But seeing you talk and laugh with Lucifer made his blood boil. How dare you move onto that bastard after you just got fucked by the original dick? He didn't expect his attraction to you grow this bad, but it every passing moment when he didn't have important shit do, he watched you and Lucifer be all buddy-buddy.

♡...... LUCIFER would finally confront you about Adam, feeling jealous that he would be so much better in bed than that man. He knew he would treat you right. He watched as you stared up at the sky, knowing you were missing that angel for some odd reason. You admitted it right away, the guilt eating away so badly it was hard to contain. You did miss him despite him really being a terrible person, you did miss him. He shushed you and told you it was ok and that he wasn't mad, he was just concerned if he hurt you in anyway.

♡...... ADAM would reach his breaking point when he sees Lucifer tllt your chin up and say that he would always be there for you. Always make you feel better and always make you feel loved. He couldn't take it. Watching the scene play out with a hug, you two parted ways. Watching and waiting until Heaven's mistake was alone, the first man opened up a portal to Lucifer lounging on his couch on his phone when he looked up, not surprised at the sight before him.

♡...... "Well if it isn't the first man. Been a while since Eden? How've been? Fucking my people you swore to kill every year?"

♡...... "Shut the hell up! You stole Lillith from me. You stole Eve from me. You will NOT steal them from me!"

♡...... LUCIFER stood up then, despite his shorter stature, he walked right up to Adam with a smirk. He wasn't going to back down. He wasn't scared of this asshole. Even if he was scared to let you in, he still loved you very much and didn't want you wasting your time here in Hell with this man.

♡...... ADAM simply looked down at him, letting his anger be very known to the fallen angel. The key word is fallen. He was a traitor to everything good, and Adam would show you everything good and more if you let him instead of Lucifer.

♡...... "You think they were screaming your name? Last night, we were going so hard they cummed multiple times on my face just from my tounge" It was a lie, you both never had any sex at all, but he wanted Adam to feel intimated.

♡...... "That's a fucking lie. I've been watching them and you laugh and joke but never fuck. At least I actually fucked them unlike your coward ass. How's Lillith by the way? She really seems to love being with you, prick"

♡...... LUCIFER was going to quip back as the snide about his ex-wife especially upset him, but the door opened and you walked in sleepily and asked what was going on while rubbing your eye. Every one of you froze as the situation was becoming apparent to you as you woke up. He watched as you started to panic, knowing that this situation got too out of hand. You rushed up and demanded what was going on in a half sleep state. He was too angry to fully appreciate how adorable you were like that.

♡...... ADAM didn't feel threatened by your prescence at all, in fact, this was going to work in his favor. Smirking, he sauntered up behind your smaller form and wrapped his hands around your shoulders, leaning down and asking in a soft voice if Lucifer ever fucked you. You said no and shook your head. He could tell by the fact that you were shaking that you were very anxious yet thrilled at what was happening. He knew you liked Lucifer, he was just too much of a pussy to take what he wants. It's ok though, more for him.

♡...... LUCIFER hated how Adam defaulted to sex instead of what a real relationship is and its far more than lust. It was always being there for them, helping them, ensuring they were safe and loved. Not someone who fucked them and stalked them. But the ruler of Hell would play his game. Walking closer to your caged in self, he got right up in front of your face with a certain type of smirk you've never seen him wear before. However, his attention was turned above your head to Adam as the taller angel rested his head on top of yours.

♡...... "What's big shot doing now huh?"

♡...... "How about this? We both fuck them at the same time and see which one of us they like better"

♡...... "Deal"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader x lucifer #lucifer x reader #adam x reader #reader x lucifer x adam #lucifer x adam #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader

1K notes · View notes

cjlouwho · 4 months ago

Note

Prompt: I've been thinking about a mixture of posts on here and I'd really love Tommy going to talk to Eddie because, maybe Eddie isn't being a great friend? I've read some people think Eddie would fall in line with Gerrard (due to being in the army etc.) and I'd love to see a Tommy/Eddie argument!

When Eddie got a knock on his door at 9pm on a Tuesday, he wasn't sure who to expect. He hadn't gotten a call or text from anyone, and he hadn't ordered any food. He figured he'd be arguing with Jehovah's Witnesses, asking them why the hell they were knocking on his door so late? Usually he'd avoid them altogether, but a little piece of him felt like arguing, so he swung the door open with a dramatic sigh.

He was surprised to see Tommy on the other side of the door, hand raised in a fist, ready to knock again.

“Oh. Hey, Tommy. I wasn't expecting you, was I?”

“Um, no. Can I come in for a sec?”

“Sure.” Eddie moved out of the way so Tommy could come inside, closing the door behind him. “Want a beer or something?”

“No, I really can't stay long. I'm heading to Evan's after this.”

Right. Buck. He should've known he'd be getting a visit from Tommy. Buck hadn't exactly left work, or Eddie, on good terms two days ago. Things had been tense for a few weeks now, actually. Everything had slowly been bubbling up until Buck finally burst under the pressure and was sent home early for insubordination. He'd actually been told not to return until he could learn proper chain of command, and if he couldn't learn within a week, he should start searching for a new career path.

“Is Buck the one who sent you?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tommy shook his head. “No. No one sent me.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “So you're not here to kick my ass?”

“Should I be?”

“I don't know,” Eddie answered honestly. “I don't know what you've been told.”

It was kind of a ridiculous sight right now, if you asked Eddie. Two grown men, friends for months now, standing awkwardly in his living room. Neither making any effort to sit or get more comfortable.

“Evan's been having a rough time with Gerrard,” Tommy started. “Sounds like he's Gerrard's main target.”

Eddie shrugged. “Gerrard likes to push buttons. Buck's buttons are easy to push.”

“Last week he asked Evan if he'd like a bra to go with the apron he wore while cooking.” Tommy tensed even as he spoke the words. “That doesn't just sound like pressing buttons to me.”

“He's a wannabe drill sergeant pissed about the fact he never made it through basic training. You do what he says, keep quiet, use your manners, and make him feel like he's the most important person in the room. That's how you get through a shift.” Eddie moved to sit on the couch, but Tommy remained standing. “You know how this works the same as I do,” he added.

“Yeah, I do,” Tommy agreed, although his voice was a bit more commanding now. “Probably better than you do, actually. Doesn't make it okay.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Why are you here, Tommy? I'm tired.”

“To try and stop you from becoming me, you idiot. I've been where you are. I've sat beside Gerrard and watched him treat person after person like nothing but garbage. I kept quiet, I made him feel important, I followed behind him like I was his damn puppy dog. I called him sir, I did whatever he asked, I laughed along with his jokes. You know what that made me?”

Eddie was starting to get annoyed. “What?”

“Him. I was no better than him.”

Eddie's eyes darkened. He stood back up, taking a step toward Tommy. “Are you seriously comparing me to that piece of crap?”

“If the mustache fits.”

“You need to get out of my house now,” Eddie warned. He could feel his body filling with the same boiling rage that got him thrown in jail a few years ago. He didn't need that to happen again.

“You repeat to me what Gerrard told Evan two days ago and I'll go,” Tommy offered. “Tell me what Gerrard said that finally made him explode and I'll leave.”

“Or I can call the cops on you for trespassing,” Eddie replied, moving to the door and opening it.

Tommy made no effort to leave. “Go for it.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Eddie's chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. When Eddie realized Tommy was never going to back down, his shoulders slumped. “Come on, Man, just leave.”

Tommy doubled down. “Tell me what he said,” he demanded, speaking each work slowly and carefully.

“H- He... God, Tommy.” He looked away from him, unable to maintain eye contact as he recalled the event. “Buck fell while we were at a scene, bruised his tailbone. When we were sitting down to eat, Buck moved slow. He winced when he finally got seated... Gerrard saw and said th- that maybe if he... if he spent less time taking and more time giving he wouldn't have so much trouble.”

“But,” Tommy beckoned for him to continue.

Eddie took a deep breath. “But he should have expected Buck to be the woman.”

Tommy nodded. “There it is.”

“Listen, Tommy, I-”

“He could've really used someone sticking up for him. One person to step in and tell Gerrard he'd crossed a line. I get that Hen can't do anything right now. She can't risk not getting Mara back. And I know Howie can't do anything to lose Mara. But you could have said something, Eddie. You could have been there for him, but you weren't.”

And there was the anger again. “Why the hell is it on me?!” he exclaimed. “I've been going through my own crap, and it's not like you or Buck have really been around to help me out.”

“Oh, you cannot be serious right now.” Tommy's posture straightened, his body somehow becoming even wider and taller. It would have caused Eddie to pause and think about what was about to come out of his mouth if he wasn't so mad.

“Yeah, I am serious. I've needed people too, Tommy, but you guys have been too busy with each other to even notice.”

“You made the mess you're in right now, Eddie!” Tommy yelled. “You did that! You screwed up and it's on you to fix it! But Evan didn't do anything wrong. He sure as hell didn't deserve to be talked to like that, and now his job is on the line because you decided keeping the peace with a piece of scum like Gerrard was more important than speaking up for your supposed best friend. So, yeah, that's on you!” Tommy began to make his way to the door, ready to push past Eddie on his way, but Eddie wasn't finished.

“Hey!” He yelled, shoving Tommy back so he couldn't leave. “I've been trying to fix everything on my own! Trying to get my own life back! Hell, I just got to talk to my kid for the first time in over a month!”

“And who you think got Christopher to answer the damn phone?!”

It felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of Eddie's lungs. He stood there, his mouth hanging open as he tried to find the right words to speak. “I... Buck's been talking to Christopher?”

“Every day,” Tommy confirmed. “He calls or texts. Facetime's him every once in a while too. He's been telling Chris how you're doing, trying to get him to call you or text you. He even suggested writing you a letter.”

“I didn't know that.”

“He didn't really want you to. Christopher had promised him the next time you tried to call, he'd answer. Evan's been like a kid on Christmas Eve, excited for you to tell him how it went after you two talked.”

Eddie didn't know what to say. He wasn't angry anymore, just incredibly disappointed with himself.

“He's always had your back, Eddie,” Tommy said, making his way out the door. Eddie didn't stop him this time. “It'd be really nice if you had his.”

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #evan is there in spirit 🙏#hope this is okay!

411 notes · View notes

catbolt · 25 days ago

Text

— PRETTY

[SOUNDTRACK] Pretty - The Weeknd || ▶︎

Sylus doesn't take breakups lying down. Well... maybe lying on top of you.

[TAGS] sylus x female mc, angst, smut, rough sex, ex-boyfriend!Sylus, cheating (with him) (on Zayne eek), dubcon sorta, choking, Evol, mentions of blood, glasses sylus bc it's soooo hot

[A/N] my debut fic for LADS (have not written for genuinely years so forgive any rustiness, first time doing any smut also, so i was frankly a bit light with it.) More angst than smut tbh as that is my comfort zone hehe. 100% inspired by "pretty" by the weeknd from my sylus playlist

plz reblog and share or comment if you want! Feel free to leave any thoughts or feedback as this is my first time writing in a while :)

[WC] 5.1k

songfic 1/?

Sylus’ call comes unexpectedly. As his calls always did, but especially this time, considering the last time they talked she had cursed him out and damn near trashed his house, saying she was done, telling him to delete her number. He had sat on the couch with an impassive stare, arms crossed, legs splayed leisurely, completely silent. This had just enraged her even further, and she had thrown a pillow at him, desperate for some kind of reaction. He had caught it and set it down next to him calmly, continuing to refuse to give her even a morsel of proof he cared.

Whatever the two of them had had, it was over. She thought she had made that extremely clear. So her eyebrows furrow in confusion and annoyance when his name comes up on her phone screen. Sylus wouldn’t be the type to beg for her back, so what could he possibly be calling her for? Especially when he knew she was going on an out of town mission?

Especially when he knew Zayne was on this mission with her?

Against her better judgment, she accepts the call and leans back in her chair in her hotel room, mouth drawing into an irritated grimace. “What.”

The line crackles with his dark, familiar laughter. “Hello to you too.” “Talk,” she spits.

“I’m on a flight,” he says. “To where you are. I’ll be landing in an hour. Let’s see each other.”

“I don’t think so,” she retorts immediately, seething at his audacity-- how he could possibly be calling her right now as if what had happened last week was nothing.

“Ah. Let me rephrase. That wasn’t a question,” he says sternly. “I will be seeing you when I land. Consider this a courtesy heads-up.”

“You don’t know where I am,” she responds. “I am not seeing you. It’s late and I have work tomorrow.” “Don’t piss me off.” He snarls. “I don’t like being underestimated. I obviously know exactly where you are.”

She grits her teeth, realizing she should have anticipated that, but quickly regains her composure. She’s used to the back and forth with him. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to see me.” “Of course not,” he says coldly. “I’m here on business. I just happen to have a free night.” His voice softens. “And I’d like to spend it with you.”

Her hands curl into fists. “Don’t act like I didn’t tell you to your face to never contact me again. What the hell are you doing?”

Sylus doesn’t respond for a moment, and then the silence is broken with his chuckle. “You didn’t block me. So it seems you weren’t as adamant about that as you acted.”

Her cheeks redden with shame. He’s obviously right, she didn’t block him-- something had stopped her, even though she knew she should have. In the back of her mind, she had maybe fantasized about him calling her desperately, apologizing, begging for her back, and her crushing his hopes coldly like he had done to her so many times before.

“It doesn’t matter. You know I’m with Zayne now,” she says matter-of-factly. “You have no right to see me. I’m with somebody else.”

“I said don’t piss me off,” he bites, the simmer of irritation beginning to seep into his voice. It gives her a shiver of satisfaction knowing that she’s able to get under his skin even just a little. She leans into the receiver. “In fact, I was just on my way to his place now. It was a long day... we definitely both need to rest up together.”

The line falls quiet, and then Sylus finally replies, voice icy and measured. “You can’t possibly think I’m buying that, are you? Please, princess. I told you I’ll be there in an hour. Doll yourself up for me. I’ll take you out.”

The line drops. She scoffs, shaking her head. She’s pissed that he saw through her lie about Zayne-- he’s still working late, and there’s no way she’ll be seeing him tonight. She wonders what gave it away. Was it that he’s got men spying on them, or was it that her voice betrayed a hint of halfheartedness when she lied?

Her heart thuds, and her mind snaps back to the situation at hand. One hour. She sits still in the seat, completely unsure of her next move. Deep down she knows whether she likes it or not, Sylus will be on her doorstep right when he said he would. It’d be fruitless to attempt to escape him when he has eyes everywhere. So her plan... should be to fend him off.

Her resolve was always weak when it came to that, but she tries to steel herself, taking deep breaths, recounting all the times he had ignored her, pushed her aside, forgotten about her. She tries to channel that resentment into a cold hard shell around her. She won’t be weak again. Not now. Not when she’s found someone good and kind who’s shown her that she’s worth time and effort. She won’t “doll herself up” for him. It’s her turn to show she doesn’t care.

The hour ticks by in a second, and there’s a steady knock on her door. Her heart sinks-- she had hoped that somehow his plans would have been foiled by some unexpected flight delay, but he was right on time as always. She sits still on the corner of her bed, unmoving.

“Don’t make me pick the lock,” he chides softly. His voice is muffled through the wood, but the gleam of amusement shines through. She buries her face in her palms for a moment, and then slowly walks up to open the door just a crack.

He pushes it fully open with a strong hand, smirk playing on his lips already as he looks down at her. “Still in your uniform,” he chides. “You want to wear that?”

“You are not taking me out.” She responds coldly, turning to walk over and sit at the coffee table again, not meeting his gaze. She needs to maintain distance.

“If you’d rather stay here, we could make that work.” Sylus shuts the door quietly behind him and then leans his back against it, posture casual in a way that sends a spike of annoyance through her. This is why they broke up in the first place-- he was always so motherfucking casual about everything, even her, face betraying not a sliver of his true feelings.

“What do you even want from me?” She snaps, eyes glued to the coffee table. Anything to avoid looking at him. “I told you I’m with someone else. I’m not interested in restarting anything with you.”

“When did I say anything about that?” He chuckles, clearing the room in a few swift strides and sitting on the loveseat opposite her. He’s wearing a casual sweater and sweatpants-- even his glasses, which he usually doesn’t. His hair is mussed up a bit, and she notices light bags under his eyes that give her pause. Something’s definitely up. She doesn’t know what, but doesn’t want to ask. She can’t invite more conversation if her goal is to get him out of this room.

“I just want to take you out,” he murmurs, head now resting in his hand. “Is that a crime?” “Yes, when I’m spoken for by another man, it is.” She glares at him. “What about me being with someone else do you not understand?” “Does he make you feel pretty?” Sylus drawls, red eyes flickering with a hint of contempt. Her breath catches slightly, not anticipating the question. “What--”

“Does he?” Sylus pushes, leaning forward in his seat. “Does he make you feel beautiful?” “I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“No.” he cuts her off. “He doesn’t.”

She’s stunned into silence. He leans back again, chuckling and pushing up his glasses, a motion that unfortunately sends a familiar fire coursing down her body, through her chest to her abdomen. “You didn’t fight me when I came in. You didn’t yell, or tell me to leave. That tells me all I need to know, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she sneers back.

Suddenly Sylus’ hand is gripping her chin hard, forcing her head to meet his eyes. He’s closer than she had realized, his eyes staring deep into her own. “He can’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus rumbles, his thumb tracing her jaw, expression an inscrutable mask.

In a moment, she finds herself sprawled out on the hotel bed before she can think. His Evol-- he can throw her around how he pleases, she reminds herself, mind flashing with memories she’s tried to forget of all the compromising positions her body’s been twisted into at his whim. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed across his chest as he looks down at her. She feels the heat of his gaze like two laser pointers as they examine her, lingering on every part of her. It's as if she’s under a scientist’s microscope. His gaze is unfeeling, but still somehow red-hot, and she can’t help the way her chest heaves up and down, feeling so observed.

He takes note of her body’s involuntary reaction. “He can’t make you feel like this by just looking at you, can he doll?”

“Fuck you,” she barks, face flushed with shame as she backs up on the bed, increasing the distance between the two. He smirks. “You’d like to?”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that what you’re here for? Sex?”

“No,” he muses, sitting down at the corner of the bed, looking at her. “Though I’m not opposed. I wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Her breath is coming out ragged. She can’t hide her anger much longer. “How are you acting like nothing happened? We--I-- I don’t love you! I don’t want you! What about that is so hard for you to understand?”

“Liar,” he hums in a sing-song tone, brow quirking as he meets your harsh stare cooly. “I don’t understand it because it’s a lie, sweetie. If I touched you right now your body would tell me the truth. But I already know it.” His face is smug. She wants to slap him.

“Just-- just because I might still be attracted to you doesn’t mean I would ever do anything with you again, Sylus. I have morals,” she spits.

In a red flash, he’s on top of her, a finger pressed into the center of her chest, other hand braced on the headboard. Her body convulses involuntarily in shock of his sudden proximity as well as the feeling of his skin-- even just his fingertip-- pressed against her.

He grins at her reaction. “That’s my girl.”

“Get the fuck off me,” she hisses up at him. He lowers himself so his lips touch her earlobe, so his chest is pressed against hers. “No,” he whispers simply.

At this distance, she can see even more strikingly the weariness in his features. His skin is rough. His eyes are tired. There’s a small pimple on his cheek, a hint at the fact he must have been skipping his skincare routine that he’s always been so adamant about staying on top of.

For a moment she relishes in the thought that his undone-ness is because of her. Her instincts get the better of her, and she ensnares a fist in his sweater, pulling him down even lower, tilting her head to whisper in his ear, now--

“You look like shit. Are you sad about me?”

He reels back in surprise, eyes clouding for the first time with something other than smugness, brows momentarily twitching, betraying his facade. His hand wraps around her throat, holding her into the pillow, the touch gentle but forceful. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds her steady. His mask is on before she can double back.

“Can’t a man have an off day?” he chides her. “Maybe I haven’t slept so well. I was just on a long flight. Sue me.”

“Doesn’t look like it was just a day,” she responds instantly. “Looks like an off month. Are you finally regretting being a dick?”

He sneers, hand twitching around her throat, but he remains gentle. “I’m not a dick.”

“You are a huge fucking dick,” she spits back. He leans back off her, rising into a kneeling position, smirking down at her, releasing his hand from her neck It’s then she realizes she’s been holding her breath even though he hadn’t been choking her.

“Then why are you still lying here under me? If I’m such a dick?”

“You’re just gonna use your Evol to put me back. It’s no use fighting you,” she retorts, but inwardly she knows she could have at least tried to struggle, shame rising in her stomach.

“I’m not buying that, sweetheart.” He absentmindedly hooks a finger in the top of her uniform and pops the top button open with one hand. Her face flushes involuntarily at the gesture. “W-what are you doing?”

“Seeing how long it’ll take you to shove me off. If you really do hate me so much as you say.” He murmurs, finger sliding down to pop open another button.

Her body freezes, her breath stilting into uneven inhales and exhales. It’s as if Sylus’ Evol is pinning her down, restraining her movement, but he isn’t-- he’s barely restraining her, only his finger on her body now, wrapping in the cleft of her shirt and undoing yet another button. Yet she can’t find the strength to move, eyes hazing over with the familiar lust she’s always had for him, and something further-- adoration, as she watches his face concentrated on her body. Even in this disheveled state he radiates, makes her heart swell against her will, beat hard and insistently like it’s pressing up against her ribs.

“Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down slowly to kiss at her jaw, lips warm and soft. She chokes back a sigh, clenching her teeth at his touch but still inexplicably unable to move. “You know you want this.” She doesn’t respond, grappling with herself, memories of Zayne rearing, his soft and measured touches, in contrast to Sylus’ raw aggression. Finally, hearing Zayne’s voice in her head, she snaps herself out of her paralysis, hand coming up to push Sylus back, palm flat against his chest. “W-wait.”

He stops, eyes searching her face silently. “I--I--” she stammers, eyes wide, not able to get any words out.

“Shh,” he murmurs, tracing a thumb across her lips. “I won’t make you ssay it.” He focuses on her, and then she feels heat flood her senses, a key sign he’s using his Evol again, in the other way. Her vision darkens, and she knows here, in this quiet black place he’s taking her, she can’t hide from him. It’s a place where she can only be honest. She feels her back arch as the feelings burst out of her-- I need it, I need you, make me yours, I miss you-- she feels a pang of relief that he’s removed the burden from her of saying it, of forcing her to betray herself, betray Zayne, out loud. But the shame eats away at her, corrosive like acid, as she looks into Sylus’ eyes, watching them glimmer as they decipher her hidden thoughts.

Sylus focuses, attuned to her mind and body, feeling the words of her consciousness rush in as if uttered directly into his ears, proving what he already knew-- that he still has her wrapped around his finger. “Let me have you,” he purrs, fingers wrapping around yet another button.

Her resolve crumbles with her deepest desires surfaced by his Evol. He makes work quickly of the rest of the buttons, tearing open her shirt, exposing her bra. He growls at the sight, eyes narrowing.

“You want this... don’t you?”

Her response is choked in her throat, but manages to slip out despite her better judgment. “Yes,” she moans, and that’s all he needs to hear. His mouth meets her collarbone, sucking attentively. “Good,” he murmurs between kisses. “I’m not fond of sharing, you know.”

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she mutters, her body’s reaction to him involuntary (or so she convinces herself.) “I’m still not... your girlfriend, or anything like that. I don’t even like you.”

“Who said anything about you being my girlfriend?” He mutters, mouth working over her neck now. He smiles into her skin. “Ah. Do you think I came here to get you to be my girlfriend again?”

“No.” She snaps, blushing furiously, her hands landing on his arms that are braced on top of the mattress as he leans over her. “I didn’t say that. I’m just reiterating what should already be beyond clear to you.” “I’ll tell you what’s clear to me,” he murmurs, pulling back for a second, his deep blood-red eyes boring into hers. “What’s clear is... this Zayne guy doesn’t seem to be able to handle this beautiful gift he’s been given, and it seems like this gift herself knows she isn’t being cared for properly. Enjoyed properly.” He hooks a finger into her bra strap. “Or else it wouldn’t have taken her only five minutes to crumble.”

“I’m not going back to you,” she spits out.

“You never left,” he says softly, a half smile rising on his chapped lips.

Suddenly she’s being flipped onto her back, her face smothered in the pillow below her, the sensation of a cold hand gripping the back of her neck, fingers encircling it with practiced ease. His weight presses her down, pins her deep into the blankets. With his other hand he deftly unlatches her bra from the back, and then tugs off her pants, leaving her exposed with just her underwear on. She whimpers, feeling the air smooth over her hot skin.

“He doesn’t do this for you, does he?” Sylus drawls, an arm snaking under her hips to pull her upward on her knees, his other hand still pressing her head and neck into the pillow. Her cheeks burn at this new position, knowing how vulnerable and bare she is. She stays silent, a flicker of anger mixing with desire.

He roughly yanks down her panties, and before long she feels a calloused thumb between her wet folds. She bites into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar warmth of pleasure surges over her. She curses herself internally for letting herself become so pliant, so weak in his hands.

“Seems like I’ve got my answer,” he mutters, thumb pressing against her clit. She bites back a groan, teeth impaling her bottom lip. She can hear his usually stoic voice growing thicker and deeper with his own building arousal, a sound which only makes her feel weaker.

“Now sweetheart, I don’t have much time.” He bends down by her ear, leaning over her, hot breath sending a shiver down her body. “I’d love to take care of you slowly, bit by bit, but I wasn’t joking when I said I was here on business. I have some pressing matters to take care of that need my attention, after this... matter right here.” He slaps her ass, hard. She yelps, drawing a rough chuckle from his throat.

“I only have time for one round, unfortunately, so I’m going to ask for your input.” He purrs into her ear. “Don’t say anything else-- just be good, and answer my question. I don’t have time for your backtalk.” The flat of his hand smooths over the spot he slapped, sending bolts of heat through her abdomen.

“Fingers, my mouth... or all of me inside you. Choose.”

She tastes the tang of blood from where she’d bitten her lip earlier as she opens her mouth to speak, voice hoarse. She whispers something unintelligible into the pillow.

“Speak up, love,” he murmurs, gently easing up his hold on the back of her neck.

“All of you...” she mutters, embarrassment making her cringe, face pressed into the side of her pillow.

Suddenly Sylus spots her bleeding lip, and his brows furrow for a moment. His hands scoop her up so that she’s positioned up off the pillow, on her knees, his chest to her back and arms securely around her waist. He uses one hand to tilt her chin up and to the side. “You’re bleeding, honey. Bit your lip?”

“What does it look like,” she responds gruffly, still not wanting to give him the pleasure of agreeable answers. His thumb skates across her bottom lip, dabbling in the blood there. She winces. “Were you trying to be quiet?” he murmurs, examining his thumb that’s now flecked with her blood.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, leaning down to kiss her softly, the metallic acrid tang of blood mixing between both their tongues. “Don’t do that,” he whispers softly into her lips. “I don’t want you to be quiet. You know that’s not what I like.”

The moment is more intimate than the previous ones they’ve shared tonight, and for a moment she softens a bit, her heart giving an uncomfortable fluttery lurch at his kiss, at his gently murmured words. But the moment is gone quickly, and his hand finds the back of her neck again, fingers pressing into her skin. “Remind me of your choice?” He says through clenched teeth.

“All.. all of you...” she says through a soft gasp. His face is so close to hers that all she can see is the slope of his jaw and a burning eye that’s trained on her bottom lip.

He nods curtly, and then lays her back into the mattress, her face finding the pillow again, her back arching as he nudges her knees further apart, his own legs coming between hers. As she hears the sound of his belt buckle unfastening and his low, deep breaths, she feels the shame and regret already churning in her stomach as she lies there, spread and prostrate, waiting.

“Don’t think about him,” Sylus says darkly, as if he’s reading her mind. She feels his large, muscular hands grip her waist, as if to steady her mind, to bring her back to earth, back to this moment. “He’s not here right now. Think about me.”

She stifles a moan as his fingers drift between her legs again, spreading her wide open. Her throat feels tight, and her entire body is covered in goosebumps. She trembles in anticipation, unable to deny the feeling.

“He won’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus snarls, his hand returning to her hips, digging into the flesh. His voice is angry this time, and then her eyes blow wide as he sheaths himself completely inside her in one sharp thrust. A strangled sound tears itself from her throat, a sound she hasn’t made in a long time. He stays there, back hunching over her, his arms shaking, his knuckles white as his fingers press bruises into the skin of her waist and hips.

He starts, his pace brutal, and she can immediately detect something in the way he thrusts, in the way his hands are so rough as they move up to her breasts, gripping her from behind. Rage. His hips snap against her, sending nearly painful daggers of pleasure through her belly. She gasps each time he pistons in and out of her, unable to see him behind her, face still pressed into the pillow. “He can’t make you feel beautiful like this..” Sylus spits between grunts as he buries himself deep, again, again, again...

“Sylus,” she chokes out, eyes hazy with pleasure, the world around her vignetting, falling dramatically out of focus. “I want to see you-- let me turn over--” she babbles.

He pulls out with a harsh grunt, and then flips her over onto her back at her request. She takes him in fully now, eyes raking over him, torso bare and sweater discarded on the nearby couch, his pants at his knees, his face contorted in a mess of lust and fury, glasses slipping lower and lower on his nose. It might be the most upset she’s ever seen him look, even more upset than when they’d broken up.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says harshly, gripping her hips again and aligning himself with her dripping entrance.

“Like what--ah!” She hisses as he enters her, cutting the conversation short. He resumes his unrelenting pace, coming down to his elbows, inches of space between them as he ruts into her.

“Like you’re fucking examining me--” he sneers between thrusts. She protests, her hands finding his shoulders as she’s pulled deeper and deeper into pleasure. “I’m not examining-- hah... I’m just looking at y-”

His hand clamps over her mouth. “Don’t talk,” he snarls. Her eyes widen. Something’s snapped in him, his demeanor different, whatever cold exterior he’d managed to build cracking undeniably now, revealing the twisted feelings layered underneath. His muscles ripple with unrestrained emotions, and sweat beads on his brow as he snaps his hips into her.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he mutters. “I don’t want to hear that I look like shit. I don’t want to hear you ask me why I’m angry as if it’s some fucking surprise to you.” With each thrust it’s somehow more intense, the friction and heat between them growing exponentially. Her hands find his hips as he pistons into her, scrambling for purchase on flesh that’s now slick with sweat. “Of course I’m fucking angry,” he hisses. They’re face to face, inches apart. “I’m angry that-- you’re gone-- I can’t--” he lets out a strained noise that sounds almost like he’s in pain, his abs clenching as he holds himself back. “He can’t make you feel like this... he can’t...”

His hand is still clamped over her mouth, and she breathes through her nose, the restriction of air making her heart speed up with adrenaline. He fucks her deep, and it takes more of a toll on him than she knows it should. The way he’s sweating, the way his face is still twisted with anger and anguish and desire, the way his free hand grips her waist possessively as he ruts into her-- it’s not the physical exertion making him act like this. He’s genuinely upset in a way that he’s never let her see before. “Sylus,” she pants, her orgasm building deep in her core, like a coil of fire. As if the noise triggers his memory that his hand is still over her mouth, he removes it suddenly, holding her waist instead. He looks away briefly, eyes finding where their bodies connect instead, eyes black with lust as he thrusts into her. She can see the way he’s starting to go quiet, the way his rhythm is staggering. She knows he’s close too.

“Do you still love me?” He blurts out, still not meeting her eyes.

She doesn’t expect the question, and she doesn’t know how to respond. She evaluates a thousand possible answers at once, her brain overloaded with pleasure and confusion.

His head falls, weak, as he continues rutting into her. “P-please...” he says, his voice breaking.

She’s stunned. Almost as a reflex, she sits up a bit, gaze lacing with a newfound concern. “Sy...?”

“Say it,” he groans, his pace becoming more erratic, the unpredictability of it driving new spikes of pleasure through her. “Say you--”

“I love you,” she whispers softly, before she can stop herself. “I love you, Sylus.”

His body hunches over as he comes, as if on command at her words, and her own orgasm follows quickly, her hands seizing the sheets for a moment in a brutal grip before latching on his waist again. She gasps, holding him close, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as she feels his warmth fill her, feels his body jerk with exertion and pleasure. Her hands find his face, cupping his jaw as he weakly thrusts himself through the aftershocks, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself upright over her.

The moment flickers with a liminal quality, and she feels like she’s trapped in limbo, some hellish purgatory of confused emotions. She’s said those words she can’t take back now, and now the two of them are floating in the dead space, less than lovers, a lot more than friends. He’s weak in her arms now, completely undone, whatever mask he once wore in pieces, ground to dust under the weight of her confession. He lies there atop her for a minute that feels like an hour, as she strokes his hair, confused by her own tenderness but unable to hold it back. And then he tears himself away from her. He’s buttoning his pants, pulling on his sweater, wiping a wrist across his brow and readjusting his glasses. It’s as if they hadn’t done what they just did, like they’re strangers again. She lies there almost in shock still, attempting to cut through the foggy haze of afterglow and form more coherent thoughts.

“I have to go,” he mutters under his breath, his voice still betraying some of the turmoil in him. It’s softer than he usually sounds, and more uncertain.

At his words, she snaps out of it. “Wait,” she blurts. “We-- we need to talk about this. You can’t just go after that!”

“I have to.” He says quickly, organizing his messy hair in the mirror. “Don’t have time.”

“Don’t have the time?!” She says incredulously. “You can’t treat this like some one night stand!”

“I never said that,” he mutters, looking at her. His eyes drift down her body, to her entrance, staring at the evidence of their encounter. She flushes, clamping her legs shut. Sylus clears his throat. “I never said it was,” he repeats. “I... I’ll call you. We can talk later.”

“When later?” she says hoarsely.

“When I can,” he replies, tone smoother now, regaining his usual impassioned quality. She notices, and it pisses her off. “You can’t just do what you always do,” she snaps. “You can’t just run away again and act cold. Like this doesn’t matter.”

He pauses in the doorway, and exhales a small sigh. “It matters,” he says quietly.

And then he’s gone.

#sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lads #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #qin che #cat writes #sylus qin #lads fanfic #lads smut #lads angst #sylus angst #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus smut #songfics

311 notes · View notes