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iceunhie · 5 months ago

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— PUSH AND PULL : honkai star rail.

premise. as someone who's always believed in the term “try and try again,” (peak delusion, you know) rooting yourself in their heart has always been your goal, no matter the cold rejections and curt declines you receive. however, even you have your limits; perhaps this little push and pull you two have going isn't worth your time after all... but what happens then, if the chaser becomes the chased? (oh, how the turns have tabled.)

...or, when you play hard to get with them.

— ft. sunday, aventurine, jing yuan.

warnings: angst n fluff, messy messy, these boys are in love but are wayyy too chicken to admit they actually adore you, genderless reader.

a/n. inspired by @/xiaowhore's playing hard to get headcanons! my holy trinity 😇 n MY FAVES RAHHH

NEXT : BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX

SUNDAY is perplexed. very much aware of his qualities which enlists him as one of the finer (finest) bachelors of Penacony (he was the Robin's one and only blood, and was also the head of one of the main guiding forces of the Family, after all), sunday isn't sure he's ever come across someone as.... tenacious as you.

foolish, to be more precise, for he cannot for the life of him comprehend exactly why you are the way you are with... him.

no matter his respectful declines of your invitations to promenade around Penacony (re: going on dates), you really didn't know how to leave him be. though he hasn't exactly said he hated it, sunday was, admittedly, rather... affronted. your gifts, in particular, were your loud declarations of your affection (that make his wings flutter more rapidly than he'd like); but sunday was rather inconvenienced at the whole thing.

nonetheless, he does still accept them. reluctantly, mind you. not because he was fond of your constant shower of affections, which seemed so permanent that he began to look forward to them got used to it. to your credit, your gifts were very much to his tastes. (Robin once gave him a rather soul-searching look when he found himself wearing the gloves you gifted, light blue and white in color. he still uses it, just not when his sister is in the vicinity.)

in fact, perhaps he may have gotten too comfortable. little by little, your constant intrusions on his time have thawed a way to his heart; making sunday look forward to your jovial greetings and grandeur elaborations on your day, and such a thing makes him feel scared sunday needed to nip this in the bud, and fast.

so he confronts you, abruptly one day as you give him his newest gift—a jewelry box for his earrings. (surely, the rapid thumping of his heart was due to his irritation at your constant persistence, right?) “i'm afraid this can no longer continue. i am flattered by your... fancy for me, but i do not wish to enter a relationship in the near future.”

the utter silence that follows is torture to him—but he endures. he tries not to look at the momentary flash of hurt on your face. you seemed to quickly recover, though. giving him a simple smile (it didn't reach your eyes. it shocks him how his chest ached at the realization) and shaking your head when he returns the gift to you.

“i understand, mr. sunday.” the formal usage of his name instead of your chipper ‘sunday!’ makes his face twitch. “but please, keep the gift. think of this as my last declaration. it... would do me a great comfort, just this last time, if you accepted it instead.”

(if he had grabbed your hand at that moment as you left for the door, would he regret it?)

when you leave, sunday thought it would put the conflicting feelings in his mind at ease—but it doesn't. a week and two days counting, true to your word, sunday receives no flagrant gifts, nor little messages on his phone that tell him to take care of himself, to eat, and to make sure to remember to check up on Robin.

instead, contrary to the feeling of ease, regret follows him instead.

it's at two weeks and five days counting when sunday could no longer stand the sight of papers that stacked atop his desk and the image of you leaving for the door replaying in his head far too many times for him to count, that he contacts Robin.

and she, once hearing about the situation, gives him a very, very enlightening talk. (of course, not without giving her brother a lecture of the lifetime. part of him felt shame to know that his sister knew of his... turbulent love life, but she was the only one who he could trust, anyway).

“absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she says. “but in your case, brother, your heart has already decided it's course, right?”

sunday eyes the smooth velvet of the jewelry box you gifted, ruminating. his earrings lie there, carefully pristine and beautiful, gold and silver intertwined. he has worn them without fail, clean and spotless. (of course it was. such a design so intricate was only chosen by you. the thought makes his ears warm).

the next days are agonizing. vigor renewed and epiphanies well-spent, sunday spends the rest of his time after finishing his duties researching and painstakingly finding the best jeweller he can find (even employing the suggestions of a certain gambler, much to his dislike), and spending a god awful amount of time revisiting and rechecking which spots you like, which places you enjoy, to the point it comes up in Penacony's headlines that sunday is interested in someone.

surely, it should've reached your ears by now, yes? sunday panics. your preferences are well-accounted for, and he's sure the Bloodhound family members that report to him have to tell you that the person he had in mind was you. even Robin, who was your closest friend, has probably told you already.

it's embarrassing to admit, but; to hell with it, the day he meets you after three weeks and sees you having a pleasant chat with aventurine, of all people, sunday thinks his heart had shattered into little pieces and stabbed themselves into his body. not so much as sparing him a glance, moreso.

so when, finally at his wits end, sunday chooses to corner you at the dewlight pavilion and spills out how he has royally screwed up in the worst way possible, no one is surprised. at this rate, you would be swept up in the charms of that wretched gambler, and what sunday lacked in, aventurine more than made up for.

“wait, don't go to that gambler just yet.” he's breathless, he's chaotic—and something in his heart squeezes when you finally look at him. “i... i wish to take up your time now, if that's possible.” (he wishes he would take up your time forever, really, but that was still too early).

you eye his getup. all of your gifts, lined on the man you spent so long chasing after—you see the gloves you gifted, the tie with not so much as a single crease, and the earrings that shine more brightly in the light of the pavilion. (it suits him. like you) it was as if sunday had completely surrendered himself to you, had all but decided to proclaim that he was yours, and this was nothing short of a plea for you to hear him.

“please.” he says. almost begs. “i can't bear not seeing you anymore. allow me to correct such a damning mistake.”

and if you were skeptical, the way sunday looks at you would dispel any doubt you could ever have. (his wings, they were fluttering.)

(months later, after a nerve-ending confession, many days of dinners, shared gifts involving matching jewelry and promenading to your wishes, it dawns on sunday he was absolutely dancing to your tune. did he regret it, though?

....no, most certainly not.)

if AVENTURINE were to be honest with himself, he saw you as a useful “friend” rather than a romantic interest. was it bad of him? of a sort. but risk cutting himself open and letting someone he might grow to care for know about all the ugliness that follows his life? no, he's fine as it is, thanks.

the first thing he notices is that you're kind—though he distrusted most of his colleagues and preferred none to get close to him, aventurine, in some morbid moment of curiosity, instead allowed himself to bask in your attention. instead of curtly disparaging you, he flirts back at your compliments (the way your face heated up in return was far too endearing that he can't help but want to kiss you he finds it amusing) and consistently texts you a “did you get home safe” or a “i bought you this because it reminded me of you”; at this point, it was like you two were dating.

was it leading you on? yes, but he supposes it was a win-win; he could send you those tiny bits of validation that was enough for you to stay respectfully at a distance while he probed at your intentions. unlike others who attempt to garner his favor, you're genuine, and you seriously take the time to know him. because you always text back with hearts, always reassure him, tell him to stay safe and wish him luck at every gamble, every high stakes bet he finds himself in. you even complimented his perfume once (and, if he had to be honest, he could not stop thinking about it all day—because that perfume he commissioned exclusively was based off of your own favorite scents and it was extremely embarrassing that he loved hugging you knowing that you loved the way he smelled and that it felt extremely domestic).

(sometimes, he doesn't reply. for months on end. suddenly the golden-haired man you love goes cold and you know then that aventurine ghosts you and then returns when he's in need of a friend—never a lover. it hurts you, but at the very least, you know he cares in his own way.)

and, if aventurine had to be honest, it was killing him from the inside bit by bit. as if to drive the knife deeper, you never danced around what exactly was going on with you two. you never ask why he ghosts you, then sends you a bundle of gifts all of a sudden and then rapidly spends time with you and repeating the cycle. no, you were consistently by his side, so warm and so caring—so unlike him—that aventurine wonders if it's really all right to open his heart to you.

if, by some chance, he actually wanted to be with you, would you treat him even more sweetly than before? aventurine thinks you would—you were beautiful in your entirety, and he was practically undeserving of you. he imagines himself kissing your hand and having you in his arms—and that feels like ice cold water being dumped onto his head, because you could do so much better and yet, why him?

so when aventurine hears about how a certain doctor was visiting you for some unknown reason, his already fragile sense of security in this little will-they, won't they crumbles.

and when he finds out that you were staying over with ratio? something twisted lodges itself in the little brushes of his heart, coiling and coiling—making him feel green. aventurine is aware you and the doctor are good friends, and ratio was the one who even told you to make a move on him! how could he just—suddenly interrupt?!

(was it dramatic? extremely. but knowing his friend and the person he secretly adores might end up together? you can't really blame him.)

he supposes this can be attributed to him. it was an egregious mistake, a blunder aventurine made—he never gave you a clear sight of whether he truly loved you or not and now you're slipping away from him.

so, he does something very unexpected.

at 3:00 AM in the wee early morning hours, aventurine practically barges into one Dr. veritas ratio's home, demanding what the hell was going on between you. and as if he had expected it, his doctor friend merely gives him a shrug in return.

“perhaps they were simply getting fed up by a certain IPC member—who is clearly head over heels in love with them—giving them mixed signals.” ratio's tone is stern, and aventurine definitely knows that the look he gives him is the one he gives only to fools.

you idiot, the doctor seems to say. yeah, yeah, he is; aventurine ignores the clear pinprick at his dignity.

yes, he supposes he is the fool here. “ah.”

“yes, ‘ah,’ indeed. now, let me propose a question.” the purple-haired man says. “will you react in such a way when i tell you that in order for my friend to stop their anguish, i managed to get them to fraternize with one of my colleagues?”

“...what?”

“they will be having a meet-up seven system hours from now.” ratio shrugs. eyes aventurine, who's looking at him like a gaping, stupid fish. “i can only hope that no one would dare to disrupt.”

...it doesn't take him long to be rid of the gambler by then.

(a few hours later, you stop by the Intelligentsia Guild to see one veritas ratio with a smug smile, eyeing the fur coat draped around your shoulders, and the flushed and happy expression written on your face.

“did it work?” he asks.

you laugh, “splendidly.”

indeed, that gambler was a fool, and there's nothing more than dr. ratio loved than to educate such fools to shape.

“that will teach him.”)

as a quote unquote ‘old man’ who knows that he's well up in his years for a relationship, JING YUAN finds you to be quite amusing.

it doesn't take a detailed analysis to know that you were smitten with him, really. you're a complete open book by his standards—if your heated face and slightly airy voice whenever you were even placed in the same vicinity with the Dozing General was anything to come by. while flattering, he also shares the similar mindset of being too old for any love his way—and he could be mara-struck at any given time, and jing yuan does not wish such a life filled with anguish and pain for the one who may steal his heart. but, worry not, brave suitor of the Arbiter General! unlike the other two above, this man has the experience of millenia, and is open-minded and aware that you truly wish to be perceived as a potential lover.

in fact, jing yuan's recent favorite habit is sneaking off the Seat of Divine Foresight purely to freak you out, watching you scramble up your words, seeing the heat crawl up your nape and bloom all across your face. adorable. you certainly knew how to appeal, that's for sure.

(“heh, it seems i've found a new place to stay in so that the Diviner Fu won't grill me alive when she sees me.”

and when he's rewarded with a bashful and speechless look in return, a smile and your, “i'm glad, general.” it surprisingly lightens up his mood by more than he expected.

that, in turn, gives him a frightening 30% energy boost; fu xuan was utterly shocked to see the languid man actually working and looking like he enjoyed it, for once.

“did something good happen today, jing yuan? why so enthusiastic?”

“i just felt like working more than usual, diviner Fu. i seem to have my energy levels at a high.”)

now, jing yuan is considerate and perceptive first and foremost, so there's a high chance that out of all the men here, he is the most open to giving you the chance to pursue him. he does inform you beforehand that he has no plans of accepting your confessions in the future, and that is where the ‘hard to get’ part comes in.

it's like playing a confusing romance visual novel with a fickle love interest—you never really know what you're doing, whether it's something jing yuan would like or not, and you don't know if he even thinks your attempts are moving his heart. (tldr: he friend zones you).

he maintains the same distance no matter his banters with you, no matter how many times you tell him that you'd help yanqing out with sword lessons. it's like he was just... treating you as he would a friend, and that you were basically stuck in the friend-zone forever.

(he keeps it to himself, but something warm stirs in his chest when he sees yanqing sleeping on your shoulder after training practice, with your arm protectively around the boy's side.

your sleeping face didn't make it easy to look away either; it's one of the few moments in which jing yuan shows just the slightest bit of reciprocating your pursuits; he brushes back the stray hairs covering your face, and drapes a blanket over the two of you.

of course, perhaps to tease yanqing, he also takes the calligraphy brush and makes a work out of his face, doodling all over it.

when you wake up, there's a lingering scent of ink and yellowed paper that fills your senses. when you turn to the boy beside you, you almost giggle out loud.)

it's a little disheartening—and while jing yuan did acknowledge that you were slowly, slowly burrowing yourself in his heart, he doesn't act on it fast enough, and instead lets the realization sit in his mind for a while.

it gets to the point where it feels as though he were preparing to distance himself, and even yanqing had asked if he was well. your visits with the Arbiter General also decrease, as he suddenly buried himself in his work even more than before.

he doesn't get to see you all that much afterwards, despite the lingering feeling of missing you filling his heart.

....that's until jing yuan hears word of a recent mara-struck incident involving the Sky-faring Commission; with your name listed among those heavily injured.

when he visits Bailu's clinic after yanqing urges him, jing yuan takes in the sight of you, littered in injuries from head to toe. your life, about to snap. he never even told you that you won; you did manage to steal his heart and for the first time in a long time, jing yuan allows himself to love.

so if, after three weeks later when you're finally healed up and ready to go, jing yuan brings you into his arms and drags you to let him sleep in your lap, you can't really blame him now, can you?

a/n: i love yearner hsr men,,, might do a pt 2 though. thinking of mayb ratio, jiaoqiu and f/heng next time...... sighs dreamily

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

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reignpage · 1 month ago

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Vice President!Sukuna

Quisling: crumbling defences

Contents: just a little insight into a day with modern au!sukuna and his president, there's cursing, slight sexual language (very minor), mostly fluff, a little angsty

“Having conducted semi-structured interviews with a substantial number of students and staff across all departments,” you prattle on, standing on the stage of Conference 3 in front of the other members of the Student Council and key senior members of faculty, “our research led us to conclude that security around campus could be improved in various ways, beginning with installing more lamp posts in certain areas, such as around the green house, which as you know has been targeted by the campus vandal informally known as ‘Cursed Womb’.”��

These meetings are always so tedious, and they last far longer than they should, always overrunning for reasons that escape you every time. As you summarise the weeks and weeks worth of work you’ve been doing into a short, snazzy powerpoint presentation, you can’t help but think about the mountain of paperwork waiting for you back in your room, covering the entire surface area of the desk until you’ve actually had to move onto your bed to work.

It’s an irritating stain in your otherwise clean and tidy room; you aren’t a messy person. Everything has a place and everything is in its place. But the class action against Professor Mahito has overtaken your life. When you’re not talking to the lawyers Sukuna has hired, you’re hosting support sessions with the other victims or writing up notes on every meeting, jotting down times and collecting as much evidence as possible.

“Y/n, if I may interject,” a shrill voice interrupts you, “are you suggesting that the disruptive behaviour of a deranged individual can actually be discouraged with a few light bulbs.”

Light laughter breaks out.

Your left eye twitches.

Some of the trustees and senior lecturers with tenure, and decades of research upholding Eden’s reputation, have been undermining you. They interrupt, disregard, and scoff at your suggestions. And you know it isn’t because your work is insubstantial or lacking in anyway at all. The simple truth is, they are friends with Mahito, and you are now their enemy.

When he slid his hand up your thigh during a one-to-one support session over time management, you could only shift uncomfortably, and clear your throat. You hadn’t said no, is Mahito’s rebuttal to the skeleton argument your team had sent to the courts. And now his other professor friends have been holding it over your head.

You didn’t say no.

That mistake is haunting you.

“Professor Jiro, respectfully,’ a pink-haired guy in the corner drawls, ‘research displays that crime rates decreases by a significant amount after increased visibility. It does, in fact, discourage criminal behaviour. And if you let my president continue, she’ll tell you all about how lamp posts are just one part of her overall plan to tackle crime on campus.”

He’s leaning back in his chair, a pen dancing fluidly between his fingers to a subconscious rhythm, spinning and pivoting effortlessly with a flick of his wrists. A habit of his when he gets restless and irritated.

You hate that you know that.

Silence befalls the conference room once more.

You clear your throat and gesture to the projected slide behind you. “We should install lamp posts across campus, especially through the field behind the Psychology department which many students have reported feeling uncomfortable crossing to get to the Southside Halls at night.”

And the presentation carries on as planned, still a little over time, but otherwise uneventful. The staff members file out, leaving you and the other council members to pack up.

“Hey, sorry to leave so soon, y/n, but I’ve got to help Gojo out with something,” your treasurer says.

She’s got an apologetic look on her face and you sigh.

“He’s not bothering you, is he?” You shuffle the papers in your hand. “Alpha Phi Delta has proven troublesome time and time again for the council, even before Gojo’s presidency.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Frat and trouble tend to go hand-in-hand, don’t they?”

The deadpan expression on your face is the only answer she needs and you wave her goodbye, watching her black figure weaving away, going god knows where to do god knows what for the sunglasses-wearing, second-biggest pain in your ass.

“She gets to go and I have to stay? Playing favourites, prez?”

And the first biggest pain your ass speaks up, leaning back in a chair a couple of metres away from you, having moved unnoticed by you somehow. He’s balancing precariously on the chair’s back legs, his legs draped over the table, and eyes sparkling at you.

You ignore him.

His eyes narrow. “Why’d you let that bald headed old man interrupt?”

You gulp.

“Did you get the minutes down, Sukuna?”

A ping goes off on your phone and, like a reflex, you pick it up. He’s sent you an email with a subject line titled, ‘Obviously.’ You resist the urge to smack him over the head with the stack of papers in your hands.

“You really shouldn’t let those old fucks talk over you like that.”

“Fuck. Off. Sukuna.”

He ignores you. “You coming to our hearing later? The lawyers got the warrant approved for the CCTV recordings.”

Your hands still and when you turn he’s looking at you with a firm stare, daring you to make an excuse not to come. He’s been like this the entire time, pushing you further and further and deeper and deeper into this protest, placing you at the centre of it all. You don’t want to be. You’ve done your part by making a statement and signing up as a defendant, and just that small step had forced you back miles.

People glare at you, whispering ‘liar’ and ‘whore’ to themselves, and the staff interrupt and ignore you, whittling you down into a little girl, instead of the President of the Student Council of Eden University.

Even some of the city papers have taken a stance against your cause, claiming that Mahito has contributed so much to the development of the university and his field, advancing understanding of the human psyche, that there's no way he could ever be the monster you and the other girls claim he is.

Sure, those hateful, short-sighted adversaries of the cause are far and few in between — most people have been kind, supportive, and passionate for your cause — but you can’t help but think about all the people that don’t believe you.

You’ve worked too hard to be disregarded.

“I don’t know.”

Sukuna scoffs, heat rising to his eyes.

“The losers getting to you? Is that it? They scaring you off?”

You can’t stand the judgmental tone of his voice, that undercurrent of anger weighing down every word like he’s pelting you with tomatoes in the town square. He has no right. Your chest begins to rise and fall with shallow breaths, your palms growing clammy, and you feel your cheeks burn.

“Fuck you. You don’t get to judge me! You don’t get to say my coping is right or wrong. You said it yourself. You’re only in this to have something to add to your CV, so that your political career will begin with a legacy of ‘fighting for the innocent and the voiceless’ and whatever other shit you’ve got.”

Everyone else has cleared out, maybe having done so way before this conversation began. It’s just you and your number one enemy staring at each other, the fire raging between your figures suffocating the large room, swallowing all oxygen.

You’re becoming lightheaded.

You hate arguing, hate shouting, hate all types of negative energy. It’s bringing tears to your eyes and you flush even harder. There’s no way you’d ever be able to face him if you cry.

Sukuna lowers his long legs to the floor, standing up to his full height behind the desk. He tucks his hands into his varsity jacket pockets and scans your body from the tip of your shoes to the top of your head. The look on his face resembles disgust, and you wonder if that’s what he sees when you look at him.

“If you seriously think I’m only in this for my career, then I guess I’m a bigger monster in your eyes than I initially thought.”

You inhale sharply like you’ve just been punched in the gut.

And he’s turning away, broad back growing smaller and smaller as he nears the doors. You take a step towards him like you can’t hep yourself. Your fingers itch to grab his jacket sleeve, to apologise, and explain yourself.

But did you even say anything wrong?

No, Sukuna’s manipulative. Always has been, always will be. This guilt wracking through your body is what he wants you to feel so you’ll cave, so you’ll devote yourself wholeheartedly to this class action. And once you do, surely the chances of success of the suit against Mahito and the university will increase, and he’ll win, and he’ll be set for every campaign he ever runs for the rest of his life.

You’re so sure of this, so set in your analysis of his character that you force your body to still. You don’t chase after him, you don’t even open your mouth to argue back, to have the last word.

He stops right before he opens the door, tilting his body ever so slightly to channel his words to you and you only.

“I wish you could see how strong you actually are. Maybe then you wouldn’t let them get the best of you.”

Your nails dig into your palm.

“See you around, y/n.”

———

Is it guilt that brought you to the hearing located in an empty office just a ten minute walk from campus? Or the sudden realisation that Sukuna’s right?

It can’t be the latter.

If society began accepting that devil spawns like Sukuna actually have moral high ground in some situations then the world will never know peace.

That’s what you keep telling yourself as you push the door open, cringing at the creak, and ignoring the eyes that dart over to you as you settle into a seat at the back. The place is full of students tonight — there are the girls who have been victimised by Professor Mahito, and the friends they’ve brought along for moral support. There are also lawyers and paralegals typing furiously to the side but they quickly become invisible when your eyes settle on a fiery pair already fixated on you.

He’s not smirking like he always does, like you had expected him to be. There’s not a drop of arrogance or amusement in his eyes, and that makes you feel worse. This hadn’t been a game from the start. Looking now at how he’s organised the whole thing, using his family’s money and connections to get something concrete going, you realise he’s been more into this than you have been.

One foot has only ever been through the threshold for you, if even that, but Sukuna? Sukuna’s had his feet planted firmly on the ground, placing himself at the forefront of the whirlwind. And you had shrugged off his efforts for justice as mere pragmatism and a feeding of his political agenda.

You’re a terrible person.

Mouth zipped and hands clasping each other, you sit there, watching intently every detail presented on the TV screen. Every CCTV recording available displaying Mahito’s advances on a terrified first year in the hallway, against a library bookshelf, in the park, and so on and so forth.

The evidence is so irrefutable, so in your face, you feel stupid you had ever doubted the class action. And looking around, the horror on people’s faces as they watch the real monster at work highlight just how necessary it is to put things on the line for the greater good. Sukuna had realised that and you didn’t.

Some kind of president you are.

Eventually the night draws to an end, conversations fizzle out and people file out one by one. The lawyers had given everyone a thorough talking to, advising everyone not to share any details about the case, the contents of the recordings, and to stay vigilant about any protestors who may be looking to deter the movement.

There's a sense of hope fizzling in the air, like a weight lifted. Still, there's a long way to go but there's no doubt in anyone's mind that the win is within reach.

You stand outside the office building, just at the top of the stairs, watching the last people disappear into the night. It’s a little cold, winter is approaching after all, but you’ve forgotten your coat. Some things just keep slipping your mind these days.

“Changed your mind, huh.”

Without needing to look, you already know who it is. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, with its low tone and deep cadence, a mocking undercurrent always running through every word, lacing it with something sweet and poisonous.

You glance at him. He’s wearing the clothes he had on earlier, hair ruffled slightly and you want to fix it. On the other hand, you’ve stopped by your dorm to freshen up, feeling a sudden need to be thoroughly scrubbed and cleansed. But you had mistakenly put on a thin sweater and tied your hair up, forgetting the time and place, like you could only think about what he was going to say or do when he sees you there.

“Yeah,” you begin, mulling the words in your head before speaking them into fruition, “I suppose, after much consideration, I realised you had a point.”

Sukuna laughs. It’s dark and menacing, the kind a sadist lets out in a horror movie. And it makes you shiver. You want to hear it again.

“What a long winded way of saying ‘you’re right, Sukuna’.”

The way he says it makes your eyes twitch. He’s put on a shrill, overly feminine voice and practically moaned his own name. That’s probably how all the girls he’s been with has said them.

A blush is rising to your cheeks and you descend down the stairs, feeling him follow behind you. “It’s just one time. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Yeah, well, it was good to see you there.”

You’re both walking down the road, you don’t dare acknowledge that his apartment is on the other side of the campus, and he doesn’t mention his intentions. Being side by side, this close, makes your palms sweat. His jacket sleeve brushes against your arm and you move to the left slightly.

Sukuna only moves in closer.

“Were you hoping I’d come?”

You hate the melancholy tone your voice has taken, the way you sound so hopeful and wistful. It’s pathetic. Just remember who he is, his true nature, how he hides behind a facade of propriety, of manners and kindness, the perfect gentleman.

Except perfect gentlemen don’t have tongue piercings which sometimes catch the light of the lampposts when he speaks.

And perfect ladies don’t stare and run their tongue over their teeth absentmindedly either.

He shrugs and the jacket presses against you. “Wanted to win our little stand-off, of course, so yeah, I guess I did.”

“You won this one but this’ll be the last time.” You huff. “Mark my words, Ryomen.”

He looks down at you, a thoughtful look on his face as he scans your features. You see his jaw tense and you know he’s rolling his piercing like he rolls a pen between his fingers. When you raise a brow in question, he only lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug.

It’s irritating you that he’s being mature. You want him to poke and prod like he always does. You want to watch him crack his neck as a way to control his real thoughts and feelings, want to see that challenging smirk, the burning embers in his eyes as he sizes you up, like a snake does with its prey.

You just want to see him in his true form.

Well, if he won’t poke, then you should do it. Set nature back on its course, reset the balance of right and wrong, and ensure all is right in the world. So you stop. You literally stand stiff as a board, falling behind a metre before he realises you’re not beside him.

A muscle in his jaw ticks, you see it flex under the streetlight. It highlights every sharp edge, chiselled features, and makes his threatening eyes even more alarming.

“Give me your jacket.”

Sukuna scowls. He looks confused.

“I want your jacket.”

“Get your own,” is all he says before he turns back around and continues walking, flashing you the Ryomen and 13 on his back. You don’t move. He notices and stops, letting out an exasperated groan, hands on his hip like he’s dealing with a child.

“I swear to god, not even Yuji is this much of a pain in my ass”

You don’t know who this Yuji person is but you don’t care. You’ve made your stance clear. Sukuna being all nice and wise makes the hairs on back of your neck stand; it’s just plain wrong. You don’t want a friend out of him, you want an enemy. You need him to be your enemy, because anything else, anything more, would be disastrous.

Sukuna must have seen something in your eyes, whether it’s just the steely determination or your inner thoughts, but whatever it is it makes him stalk over to you. His long legs take him to where you stand, just at the edge of a circle of light, and he’s stepping away from his own light and embracing your shadows. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and thick muscles. It’s easy to forget that he's an athlete when he’s always slouching and lazing around.

Craning your neck, you watch him watch you. He’s tilting his head to the side, assessing the situation and it feels like it lasts for hours, but only a couple seconds pass before he takes off his jacket and throws it over your face. Pulling it down, you see he’s already walking ahead.

It smells good. Like burnt wood and cherries. You’ve smelt this scent in passing, when he breezes past you to shake hands with a guest lecturer, or in the hallways when you pretend you don't know each other. But now it’s right under your nose, so strong and overwhelming you feel like you might start swaying on your feet.

How ridiculous.

You wear the jacket, zipping it all the way up. It’s still kinda warm from his body and you curse at your tits for aching at the feel of them rubbing against the material. With fast feet, you catch up to Sukuna, who's wearing a plain black shirt, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.

His short sleeves reveal thick arms, veiny and tattooed. Having seen him leave Uzumaki, the tattoo parlour your friend works at, and been told directly via text that he has ‘many’ tattoos, you shouldn’t be surprised at the sight of the thick lines encircling his wrists and peaking through the collar of his shirt.

And you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about what his tattoos look like under his shirt.

“Take a picture.”

His drawl knocks you away from your silly thoughts. You scowl at him and distract yourself by untying your hair and tucking your own hands into the jacket’s pockets, fiddling with your hair tie. It felt necessary to have an extra boundary between you and him. The jacket's engulfing you; it's both too big and too long.

“I was just wondering how you managed to convince everyone you’re such a good guy when you’ve got tattoos like that.”

You stumble when his elbow nudges you suddenly.

“You always so judgey? Think people with tattoos are all degenerates, is that it?”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him back. He doesn’t budge. “No, of course not. But I’m just saying, you have tattoos, pink hair and a tongue piercing, and yet when I complain about you to my friends, they all insist I’m the problem. It’s like you’ve got them fooled.”

He’s grinning now. “You talk about me to your friends?”

You ignore that. Your words seemed harmless enough in your head but somehow he’s managed to twist them into something that works in his favour. You hate him.

The dorm is in front of you now, and you both slow to a stop, just on the grass. You take off the jacket and hand it over to him with a mumbled ‘thanks’ and awkwardly shuffle your feet. It feels wrong to just leave it at that, so you look up at him and clear your throat.

“Thanks for all your hard work with this class action, by the way. And I’m sorry for accusing you of not caring or whatever.” You, the ever eloquent president of the student body representatives, are stuttering like you’ve never spoken a day in your life.

Sukuna looks amused.

“You’re welcome, or whatever.”

It’s still not enough.

You need to hear him say one word. Just one word that’s been bugging you the entire day. He needs to say it so you know he’s forgiven you, so that there’s no bad blood, none more than usual, so that you can face him tomorrow and scowl at him again like you always do and not feel guilt. You need to know where you stand with Sukuna.

“Thanks for walking me back, too. That was,” you bite your lip, “really…nice…of you.”

He’s trying not to laugh, you can see his eyes crinkle at the corners, even as he presses a hand to his mouth, hiding the grin that’s definitely there. You’ll let him have this victory, just this once.

Sensing your growing irritation, he exhales through his nose like he’s just had the greatest laugh of his life. “Yeah, you’re welcome for that too.” You gulp and he smiles, sharp teeth on display. “See you tomorrow, bright and early…prez.”

You exhale too.

And then you’re nodding and turning away.

You reach the reception doors and feel a sudden itch. Something that makes your hand pause and your head turn.

He’s still standing there.

Hands in his jacket pocket, and head tilted at you.

You ignore the fluttering in your chest. Sukuna’s standing there because he has a penchant for watching girls in the dark, you remind yourself. It’s definitely not because he wants to make sure you get in safe. Everyone might think he's a gentleman but you know he isn't. You learn that lesson a long time ago. The hard way.

With a blush on your cheeks, you look away, paying no attention whatsoever to the little wave he gives you and you disappear inside the building.

Sukuna is not a gentleman.

You repeat that to yourself on your way up to your floor and again when you receive a text from him saying,

Sweet dreams, prez.

He just isn’t.

#jjk x reader #jjk sukuna ryomen #jjk fluff #jjk crack #jjk angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna crack #sukuna angst

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ohodie · 1 year ago

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SECOND THAT

luke castellan x reader

★ “i’m restless, i’m wrestling with the song that you love, it’s been stuck in my head”

ABOUT - luke castellan is the only one at camp who sees right through your perfect and poised persona; and all he wants is the satisfaction of ruining it.

WARNINGS - smut, mentions of choking, both the reader and luke are TERRIBLE but luke is much worse lol, swearing, written from the perspective of a deranged luke, penetration, only loosely proofread.

A/N- i have NEVER written and posted smut before EVER. like i get close but i never go all out. so… no hate guys 😘 also i feel like this is a bit ooc for luke so just pretend he’s actually insane and terrible guys!!! if you ignore his incoherent ramblings, it’s PWOP sooo… anyways this might be the first and last time i ever write smut who knows

luke castellan is no amateur when it comes to pretending to be something else. growing up, the only thing that mattered to luke was receiving praise or recognition for being ‘great’ or ‘honourable’ or whatever.

when you live your whole life pretending to be a perfect person, you kinda start to believe you really are a perfect person.

and if everyone you meet also believes you are indeed a perfect person, what’s the harm in continuing to pretend?

at the end of the day, both parties gain something. you get the validation and acclaim that you truly deserve, and they get a role model they aspire to at least halfway resemble.

luke is the sweetest guy at camp- everyone loves him. and he deserves it, doesn’t he? he deserves their praise and love and respect. gods, he should be rewarded for pretending to be so admirable for so long. he’s entitled to it.

you, on the other hand? you don’t. you don’t deserve an ounce of the praise luke has worked so hard to receive.

to luke, you’re vermin. behind your polite smiles and sweet words, there’s darkness. there’s an evil lurking within you- he’s sure of it.

he sees it during early morning sparring sessions, watching from the wings while you tactfully dodge every attack that comes your way. and when you eventually falter, he sees how your eyes turn cold and your smile fades.

he sees how you take a shaky breath, brushing yourself off with your bony hands before flashing a toothy grin. he feels nauseous when you extend your arm out to shake the hand of your opponent- because how the fuck can they believe your little act?

your gentle kindness and bashful charisma is so obviously fake. of course, he’s not pissed that you’re acting; everyone at camp is acting to an extent. but you’re going all out, and he can still see through it. what pisses him off, is that nobody else seems to recognise how truly malicious you can be.

maybe it’s because you’re pretty. luke is no stranger to getting special treatment based on his appearance, and neither should you be. maybe that’s the whole basis of your appeal. it seems to be the only thing holding your pathetic little facade together, considering your sloppy acting skills.

if you were ugly everyone would be able to call out your bullshit straight away, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about sharing the spotlight. honestly, the only reason why everyone loves you so much is because half of them want to fuck you, and the other half want your attention or approval- not that it’d be worth anything.

it was the last week of spring, meaning only the year-rounders and a few of the older kids were at camp. you just graduated high school, and arrived at camp early.

of course, you just had to return to camp prettier, taller, more confident, and with a fancy college acceptance letter. maybe you were much smarter than you let on- but it became very apparent that your intelligence wasn’t the reason you got accepted into NYU once he learned what you were studying.

“oh, i’m getting a degree in art history,”

seriously? art history? that’s gotta be the funniest thing luke has ever heard in his entire life.

“really? why art history?” he asks politely, watching your every move as he awaits your dumbass explanation.

you shrug cheerfully, looking around at the few other campers scattered around in a tight-knit circle as they wait for you to tell them about your ‘lovely’ 18th birthday and ‘eventful’ senior year.

“i don’t know, my mum works with a lot of artists, so she said it’d be a good conversation starter,” you say cheerfully, as if it wasn’t the stupidest thing to ever exit your mouth.

luke can’t help but let out a little giggle, before instantly lowering his head to offer some non-verbal apology. but to his surprise, you laugh along. “yeah, i really wanna score a job at the MET or something. i don’t mind either way,”

luke nods politely, letting the conversation continue without interrupting with a snide comment or unsolicited laughter.

he plays along as the conversation continues, pretending he doesn’t want to grab you by the throat and push you against the wall, demanding you to confess. demanding you to tell the fucking truth; that you’re a manipulative sycophant who’s bound to end up in rehab for getting addicted to designer drugs.

why is he the only one that sees you for who you truly are? gods, if he knew any better he might be charmed. you were naturally picturesque- or at least you seemed to be. the way that you were sitting on the grass with your hair draping over your body; you looked gorgeous. but you always look gorgeous, that’s your best quality after all.

of course all of camp half-blood was fooled- you were to pretty and kind to be lying. maybe it was better to let them keep on believing that you were this perfect image of a girl.

but he’d still appreciate the satisfaction of seeing you for who you are- seeing you in your rawest form.

and then suddenly, he saw it. some athena girl asked you if you wanted to go on a run with her later, to which you politely declined. of course, you kept your composure, told her that you had to take a nap, offered her a sympathetic smile and a ‘maybe next time’. but she didn’t see the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head as soon as she looked away.

luke was astonished. you really were getting sloppy, huh?

and yet, nobody else saw it. nobody else saw the look of disgust on your face as soon as she finished talking. he was seething- how on earth could everyone be so blind?

luke looks around at the group of people surrounding him, his eyes darting back to you ever 5 or 10 seconds. they all look at you with awe- as if you’re the most precious thing on earth.

fuck that. he was going to put you in your place.

a few hours pass, and it was finally time for everyone to walk back to their cabins.

luke spots you walking alone to your cabin, your face dimly lit by the moon as it shines over the camp. he’s so overwhelmed with anger, he couldn’t fathom caring about the consequences of whatever situation he was about to put himself in.

he quickly catches up to you, meeting your walking pace as he shoots you a friendly smile.

“hey, y/n. you got a minute?” luke asks, still adorning that charming smile. you smile back at him, nodding your head ever so gently, as if it would fall off if you moved it too fast. like a rusty elvis bobble head bought 1976 that resides on the dash of your grandmother’s busted car.

“yeah, why?” you hold your hands behind your back as you walk beside him, slowly approaching your empty cabin. luke shrugs his shoulders. “oh, i just had a little question. mind if we talk in your cabin?” he asks.

you nod, opening the door for luke and letting him walk through. you close the door behind him, before leaning your back against the wall. luke stands in front of you, his cheery demeanour vanishing as he crosses his arms.

“why the fuck are you such a little bitch all the time?”

you furrow your brows, mirroring his posture as you cross your arms defensively. “excuse me?”

luke rolls his eyes, letting out dry laughter as he looks you up and down. “you heard me,” he adds, watching you anxiously begin to pick at your lips with your freshly manicured fingernails.

“do you have a problem with me or something?” your whole body feels tense as you continue picking at your lips, your eyes locked onto his.

“yeah, i do have a problem. i’m tired of your little ‘nice girl’ act. it’s getting fucking annoying,” luke scoffed, taking a step closer towards you. your eyes darken, before shaking away your hostile expression.

“are you sure you wanna do this right now, castellan?”

“is that a threat?”

you pull your fingertips away from your lips, shifting your weight to the other side of your body as you cross your arms once more. you let silence fill the room before finally speaking up.

“listen, luke. everyone pretends to be someone they’re not. you and i just tend to do it more than others-“

luke cuts your off, taking another step forwards. “fuck off, we are not the same.”

you roll your eyes, banging your head against the wall as you groan irritably. “so what? are you gonna go around spreading cheap lies about me now?” you ask tiredly. luke shakes his head, slightly shrugging his shoulders.

“nah.” he replies curtly, his voice blunt and expression vague. “mkay, then what the fuck is your problem?”

luke takes another quick step forward, tightly holding your chin in his hand as he lifts your head to face him. “you’re my fucking problem.”

you let out a dry laugh, staring into his eyes as you attempt to intimidate him. “you’re such a loser.” you whisper, refusing to fight back against the way he’s gripping your face.

he stays silent, biting his lip as he looks over your form. “and you’re a brat.” he retorts.

“are we just going to keep throwing insults back and forth all night, or are you gonna explain why you’re so obsessed with me?” you ask playfully, cupping his face in your hand as an attempt to patronise him.

luke is stumped. to be fair, he is entirely obsessed with you. and he has been for years now. and now he has you cornered, watching your weak attempts at asserting dominance over him.

luke was over it.

suddenly, luke leans in, harshly pressing his lips against yours. you retract your hand from his face, pressing it against the wall as you feel his body moving towards you.

he wraps his other hand around your neck, only gently gripping it as to not alarm you.

luke is surprised by how you sink into his grip, pulling away to see your closed eyes and swollen lips. when you wipe your mouth and look at him with those hauntingly innocent eyes, he’s almost fooled.

you scoff, smirking as you tear away from his grip and take a few steps back. “is that all you wanted?” you say confidently, watching him turn around to watch you carefully pace around the room.

he shakes his head, groaning quietly as he walks over to you once more.

luke purses his lips, trying to suppress any sense of genuine attraction to you. but when his eyes gaze over to your red lips and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but let his mind wander.

“if you’re done, you can leave, castellan.” you say irritably, leaning against your bed frame.

it goes straight to his dick when you call him that, especially when your voice sounds so hoarse and cocky. he feels as though he’s finally accomplished what he’s been yearning to do for years now. he’s seeing the real you.

he couldn’t dare squander this opportunity now.

he pushes you down onto your bed, watching how your hair flows over your newly made bedsheets as your head hits the pillow.

“but you don’t want me to leave, do you?” luke says lowly, hovering over your body as his hand hold your wrists together above your head.

“i don’t care what you do, castellan.”

luke groans, pressing another rough kiss against your lips. you kiss back for whatever reason, and your firsts relax within his grip. it was almost as if you got off on the idea of someone calling out your bullshit. or maybe you got off on the idea of somewhat hating your guts. either way, luke knew you were more than eager to continue.

he let go of your wrists, before biting your bottom lip. your mouth opens slightly, offering entry to his tongue, deepening the kiss.

you hand cups his face, while the other grips his shoulder. after a few moments, he pulls away and begins sucking at the skin of your neck, leaving purple marks on your delicate skin while you let out hoarse whimpers.

his hands begin to fiddle with the fabric of your shirt, causing you to push his body forwards as you position yourself to sit on his lap. you take off your shirt, throwing it away as you run your hands down his back.

luke looks down at your chest, growing more aroused at the sight of your lacy little bra. it’s as if you knew someone was going to see it.

you feel a hardness growing from under his jeans, poking against your upper thigh as you slowly grind against his lap. luke let’s put a low moan, continuing to bury his face in your neck.

“i fucking hate you,” he growls, gripping the sides of your waist with his hands as you move against him.

“don’t care, take off your shirt,” you demand hurriedly, running your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you.

luke rolls his eyes, before taking off his shirt. he quickly presses another series of harsh kissses against your neck, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as you push your chest up against his. you giggle softly at his incompetence, before he finally unhooks it and ravenously pulls it from your chest.

luke pushes your body backwards onto the bed, trailing kisses down from your neck and onto your tits. you let out a quiet moan, before biting down onto your hand in order to stifle the sound. his large hands knead your left breast, while the other grips the area just under your right breast, resting on top of your ribcage.

luke’s hands slowly move downwards, hip thumb tracing circles against the side of your hip as you gently grasp onto his hair. his fingertips gently pull down your shorts, leaving you in only your underwear.

he rubs his thumb over the wet fabric, before tilting his head to look up at you. “pathetic,” he mutters, smirking at your flushed faced. you groan, burying the back of your head further into the pillow as your back arches involuntarily.

luke’s thumb massages your clit from over the soaking fabric, watching you squirm in response. he lets out a dry laugh, before pulling down your panties and tossing them onto the floor.

“luke…” you moan quietly, closing your eyes as your hips jerk into the mattress. his fingers trace your wet folds, before letting his thumb rub circles against your clit and forcing two fingers inside of you.

you whimper before pursing your lips, rolling your head around as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out. he quickens his pace, pressing down harshly against your clit while beginning to suck on the skin of your upper thigh.

luke holds down your hip with his free hand as you begin to squirm.

suddenly, he stops.

you look at him with a confused expression, your face red as he pulls his fingers out. he chuckles at your disappointed face, before taking off his pants and boxers. you stare at his length unashamedly, biting down on your bottom lip.

“so fucking needy.” he says lowly, his voice horse as he softly begins to continue massaging your clit. you moan, feeling your back arch as he positions himself in front of your legs. he forcefully spreads them open as he teases your folds with the tip of his erect member.

you let out a little whine, your voice trembling as you try to move your hips against his length.

luke rolls his eyes at your poor attempts at penetration, before slowly pushing his cock into your entrance. you let out a breathy, high pitched moan, your hands eagerly gripping your bedsheets.

he gradually pushes in the entirety his length, continuing to rub circles into your clit. luke tightly grips your waist as he begins to slowly pull out, before jamming himself back in. you let out a breathy yelp as you body moves with his thrusts.

like continues relentlessly pushing in and out of you, massaging your waist as his thumb gradually increases the speed of its attack on your clit.

you try to steady you breathing, your face flushed as lukewarm continues to deliberately overwhelm your body.

“mm… luke, i’m gonna…” you mutter, your hips jerking upwards. he smiles at you, amused by how blissed out you look taking his cock. “so soon?” he teases, rapidly moving against your body.

you let out a stammering series of whimpers as your back arches upwards, feeing yourself suddenly release. luke grins, continuing to rub circles into your clit as he rides out your orgasm.

luke slowly retracts his thumb, repositioning the hand to gently grip your hip. he begins to slow down his movements, before quickly thrusting into you repetitively. you squirm, the movements of your hips constrained by his grip.

suddenly, he pulls out, releasing onto your stomach. see? he was a gentleman.

luke gazes over at the girl he just reduced to a panting mess as he stands up and puts his clothes back on. he smiles at you as he zips up his jeans, before kneeling besides you as you turn your head to look at him.

“i wont tell anyone how fucking pathetic you are, don’t worry, princess.”

you nod, staring at him as he continues to look at your defenceless body. “such a pretty girl,” he hums, cupping your face in his hand before kissing your forehead.

he reaches over to your discarded underwear and gently pulls them up your legs, the gesture acting somewhat as a peace offering. he takes a step back, simply taking in how endearingly stupid you look.

you slowly sit yourself up, grabbing your camp t shirt and putting it on. “goodnight, luke,” you choke out, your voice hoarse and breathing shallow. he nods, smiling softly as he turns to walk away. “night, princess.”

#luke castellan enemies to lovers #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader smut #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo x reader #pjo tv show

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ramhaiba · 1 month ago

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𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋, 𝖫𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗍. 2

Pairing- Yandere Rintaro Suna x Reader

Masterlist . . . Part one

"For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real. It’s me.”

Contains- Serial Killer! Suna, oral (f receiving), dubcon, semi-public fingering, groping, choking, biting, manhandling, riding overstimulation, marathon sex, mentions of necrophilia/noncon, implied somnophila, baby trapping(?) A/N- sorry for the long wait guys, writer's block can be a bitch

Sleeping with him was the biggest mistake of your life-

No. letting him ‘help’ you was the biggest mistake of your life.

Ever since you two had sex, he’s been sleeping in the same bed as you. You did attempt to persuade him to sleep on the couch once again but he simply responded with

‘We both saw what happens when I sleep on the couch, sweetheart. Besides, sharing the same bed might bring back some of those ‘dear’ memories you lost.” As you predicted, it would be challenging to sneak out of your room at night, especially when Suna’s arm is wrapped around your waist, his chin tucked on your shoulder, and his stern back against your chest.

You thought about lying to him, telling him you’re getting up from bed to use the bathroom but really you’re planning to find his car keys and drive away from this nightmare. But what if you take too long and he gets suspicious? Last time you got lucky when he misunderstood your attempt to steal his car keys.

You hate that you spent the entire week with him, pretending to be in a loving marriage, kissing him sweetly, and sometimes bathing with him. But he hasn’t fucked you since the first time- well with his dick at least.

If he thinks you look too cute in a nightgown- which you always do, he’ll push you down on the bed, scrunching up your silky slip-on onto your breast and shamelessly make out with your cunt, fingers holding your thighs down and apart to keep you from squirming away. He never fails to give you an intense orgasm. You're so addicted to his touch that you don’t know how you’ll be able to cum again once you escape from him...While on the topic of escaping, you’re finding the idea of freedom too difficult to obtain by yourself. You’re gonna need help.

“ So- I remember you mentioned before that we were still friends with twins from high school” You blurted out while having dinner with your ‘fiancé.’

“ Yeah, Osamu and Atsumu. What about them?” Suna asked nonchalantly. “Well, I think you should invite them over. I think it’d be good for me to meet someone from my past” you suggested.

“ It’d be hard to contact them because the service in this place is horrible” Suna claimed, leaning back in his chair. You let out an instant “oh” with a noticeable pout on your lips.

Then you heard Suna sigh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Okay. There is this part of the house where the service is somewhat usable. But it’s on the roof so I don’t want you following me there. Your body is still sore which makes it difficult for you to stay up there without falling” Suna pointed out.

He’s right. You’ll probably hurt yourself if you try going on that roof. So the idea of stealing his phone to call for help isn’t possible.

“You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you, Rin” You complimented. “ Yeah well, I gotta keep my wife happy” Suna got up and kissed your forehead before retreating upstairs.

You waited impatiently for Suna to come back down. A sick part of you wishes that he’d accidentally slip off the roof, breaking his neck because then you’d be freed from this nightmare. But he only takes twenty minutes to come back down, placing his phone back into his pocket as he walks towards you.

“So? Did they say yes?” you questioned. “They said they would love to stop by. But I had to make Atsumu promise he wouldn’t bring another hookup over. I better start cooking dinner because those two guys know how to eat- especially Osamu” Suna replied, giving you an endearing pat on the head as he went to prepare for their arrival.

You hadn’t seen any pictures of the twins prior before they arrived, so it was quite intimidating when two muscular tall men stood at your doorstep. The dark-haired one holding a classic bottle of wine. While Atsumu opened his arms to you, giving you an unwelcomed hug.

“There is our Y/n. It’s been too long since we saw ya” The bold twin one cooed, his arms around you tightened.

“You’re one foot in and already flirtin’ with my fiance- don’t you have any shame, Atsumu?” Suna replied, subtly informing you of the difference between the twins.

So if the blonde, somewhat pervy, twin was Atsumu. The other one must be Osamu.

“I ain’t flirting. I was just being friendly to a friend who’s gotten into a terrible- just terrible accident “ Atsumu pouted.

“I decided to tell them your situation. I hope you don’t mind” Suna commented, smiling innocently.

It’s unsettling.

They’re completely lying to you- you’re not friends with them. How are they so eerily confident then? How can these two lie straight to your face and pretend that you’re Suna's fiancé?

Because you’re not. You’re not his fiancé.

Right?

Dinner with them made you even more confused. They’re doing the same thing that Suna did. Reciting old stories about your so-called past together. It’s getting more difficult to distinguish what’s the truth or not. Yet Atsumu’s words manage to slip you back into reality.

“You should really be thanking me. If I didn’t set you two up in college- y’all would not be getting married.. at least Suna wouldn’t be” Atsumu teased.

“I thought we started dating in high school?” You spoke up, pointing out Atsumu’s mistake. Rather than Atsumu getting embarrassed for making such an innocent mistake.

Atsumu got nervous.

If you weren’t already so superstitious during dinner, you wouldn’t have noticed how he blinked away, how forced his laughter sounded, and how his brother deadly glared at him.

“Would you pardon us? I think I have to remind Atsumu about some manners” Osamu asked, seeming all friendly while his jawline clenched, a fist under the table.

Suna clicked him, glancing at a nervous Atsumu and then back at Osamu.” Go ahead,” Suna replied.

You were left alone with him once again.

You and your fiancé-No. He’s not your fiancé. You and your demon.

“You’re lookin’ a bit nervous, sweetheart. Are you feeling okay? Just say the word and I can get these idiots to leave any time” Suna suggested. “No- they don’t need to leave. I just need to go to the bathroom to freshen up. That’s all” Your laughter sounded a bit too forced, sweaty palms pushing you up out of your seat. “Don’t take too long” Suna mumbled, watching you march quickly out of the dining room.

This is your chance.

You can ask- no- you're going to beg the twins to help you because surely, they wouldn’t want to risk being an accomplice for a serial killer.

You followed their distant voices, words too unintelligible to understand. Eventually, you ended up in front of the door connecting the garage to the summer house. Luckily, they left the door slightly ajar, allowing you to hear their conversation clearly.

You were about to walk in before you heard Osamu say

“Are you a fuckin’ idiot, ‘Tsumu? At this point, Suna not gonna let either of us have a turn with her” Osamu argued with his brother.

“Shut up- shut up. I’m a fuckin’ volleyball player not an actor” Atsumu huffed. “Yeah and I own a restaurant but I know how to keep my story straight,” Osamu remarked.

“I don’t even know why Suna cares s’much about keeping up this whole game” Atsumu commented.

“he’s just gonna kill her like the rest.”

Your heart is racing because your last hope of escaping this n nightmare just revealed they could care less about your life- fuck they could be worse than Suna. Instinctually, you step away from the door, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. But that’s when you feel a stern chest against your back, stopping you from backing away. You slowly turn your head and notice Suna behind you, his eyes glued on the view of the twins arguing about whether they’ll still get a ‘turn’ with you after Atsumu’s mishap.

“Rin-“

“Quiet. It’s always amusing to watch the twins argue, right? “ Suna replied, his hand tilting your face to watch the twins, his chin resting on top of your head, forcing you to watch the truth unfold.

“You know he does sadistic shit like this all the time. Just try to have fun with her while she’s still alive” Osamu huffed.

“I didn’t come here to play an actor. I just wanna fuck her before Suna finally cuts her up or whatever sadistic shit he plans to do with her” Atsumu groaned.

“ Yeah, well, there's no way in hell he’s gonna let you have a turn with her if you don’t play along correctly. You’d be lucky if he even lets you fuck her corpse”

Atsumu hummed, his once annoyed attitude slowly disappearing as he looked lost in thought- until he made the comment

“I wouldn’t mind that at all actually.”

You want to stop listening but Suna won’t let you. “Please, just let me go and I won’t- I won’t tell anyone” you muttered, voice cracking. Suna laid his forehead on your shoulder, you could feel his smile on his skin.

“What about our wedding?” he cooed, voice teasing, his hands wrapping around your waist, tips of his fingers sliding under your waistband.

“Rintarou, please- I-I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything just don’t hurt me” you begged.

“I don’t like when you call me by my first name, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble” Suna commented, a soft pout on his lips. This time his hands are traveling further down the inside of your pants until his fingers are tracing over your covered slit. You wish you could fight his touch but you’re too scared to upset him.

“Rin, I don’t wanna pretend anymore. I just wanna go home” You’re starting to cry and he doesn’t need to look at your face to know that tears are pouring out of your eyes.

You act like you’re strong but the second you’re faced with a challenge, you crack like glass. So easy to read. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much.

“You wanna go home? Go ahead and ask the twins for help. But I don’t if they’ll be that compliant” Suna suggested. He’s right. He’s always right.

“I like you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so infatuated with a person like this before. So I’ll give you two choices. You could either go beg the twins to take you away from this ‘hell house’ or

you can become my pretty wife”

You don't want any of that. You want to run far far away. But he’ll catch you like he did the first time and then he might actually kill you.

“So, what will it be, princess?” He repeats, forcing you to break from your silence. That nickname, it always appears when his true colors are shown. You're starting to hate that word because now you associate it with danger.

“How do I know you won’t kill me,” you ask, in the quietest voice, afraid of his answer. He chuckles at your question, raises his head from your shoulder, and smiles.

“Because I'll never get bored of you.”

That’s all it takes. You nod your head, not wanting to hear yourself agree to stay. To be his, forever.

He leans over, lips almost touching yours, narrow eyes with an unwearying stare forcing you to look at him.

“You know how to keep quiet, don’t you Mrs. Suna?”

That’s when his wandering fingers finally slip beneath your panties and you’re reminded that Osamu and Atsumu are right behind the door in front of you. “Rin, not here” you begged, squirming to get out of his grip, only for him to hold you tighter.

“Why not? Atsumu would probably wanna hear, that fuckin’ freak” Suna laughed. Just as you were about to utter an argument, you’re cut short by the painfully slow pumping of Suna’s fingers, thrusting into your cunt. You feel weak.

Instead of telling him to stop, your words cut into a breathy moan and Suna is forced to lean over to your ear.

“ Careful, princess. You don’t want them to hear you.” He whispered a reminder, tongue poking out of his mouth to lick a stripe down your neck, causing you only to tighten around his long thrusting fingers.

“ Try to argue with me but I can feel how wet you are. Maybe you’re the crazy one huh? Or maybe it’s both of us. Guess we're soulmates then” he’s talking more than he usually does. Maybe because he knows you're scared to get caught.

Or maybe he’s drunk on the success of your agreement to your engagement. Doesn’t matter because he’s only getting more confident, pulling down the neckline of your shirt as long as your bra with his other hand, groping the soft skin of your breast all while his thumb is massaging your clit.

Fuck- you’re so close and he’s so fucking hard, forced to grind his painful erection against your back.

You feel pathetic when you're uncontrollably humping his ruthless fingers, chasing your high.

When you hear him chuckle from behind you, most likely realizing your movement- he has no right to sound so fucking sexy.

“Can’t believe you were begging me to stop, aren’t you just the prettiest liar.” He mumbles.

And you’re finishing on his fingers, legs shaking, eyes tearing up, your hands covering your mouth muffling uncontrollable moans.

Suna slowly pulls his hands out of your pants, bringing his drenched fingers into your mouth, disgustedly making you clean his fingers, tasting yourself.

He spins you towards him, leaning over to wipe off your smeared make up, fixing your appearance for you because you are all too stunned by what has just occurred.

Just on time, Atsumu and Osamu are opening the door, both surprised to see you.

“ Holy fuck- how long were you two standing there" Atsumu called out. You both turn around to look at them, Suna wrapping one arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side.

“We just walked in actually” Suna lied for your sake.

“ Well…Wow! look at the time- “ Atsumu said, checking his watch, pretending to read the time. “It’s getting late, ain’t it? I’m a bit too tired to drive…guess me and Osamu gotta stay over the night” Atsumu whistled.

Holy fuck- Atsumu and Osamu still think they have a chance with you.

You’re beginning to tremble at Suna’s side, fully not trusting him to protect you.

“I’ll call you two an uber,” Suna says blankly.

You could see Atsumu grit his teeth, not knowing why he wasn’t getting rewarded for his ‘efforts.’

“Well- can we at least visit tomorrow” Osamu questioned, trying to hint if they’ll at least have a chance to fuck your dead corpse.

Sick mother fuckers. Just like Suna- maybe even worse.

“Next time we’ll see you is at our wedding” Suna smiled passively aggressively, knowing he just pissed off the twins.

Atsumu is about to open his mouth, most likely attending to spoil the truth because Suna ruined all of his ‘fun.’ But Osamu stops him by gripping the back of Atsumu’s shirt.

“ No need to argue with an old friend. We’ll leave… just call us next time when we’re allowed to come over” Osamu sighed.

Then they proceed to leave. Not without Atsumu forcing you into a hug, his hand dangerous lying on your lower back, a final act of perversion. They leave and you’re left alone with Suna and his narrow eyes are locked on yours.

“Could fuck you here or on the bed. Pick one”

There is no option to deny him. He is going to be your husband after all.

“Bed.”

He’s not even letting you walk there, probably thinking you’ll move too slowly for his liking. So he's picking you up effortlessly because of his muscular arms, delivering you to the bedroom before and tossing you onto the mattress. He’s on top of you in a heartbeat, his hands tugging off your clothes, not caring if you’re telling him to slow down because they’ll rip.

He’ll buy you a new one- fuck he’ll buy you anything you’d want as long as he gets to fuck that tight pussy of yours.

Your heart is slipping at the sound of his belt unbuckling, too nervous to look at the sight of him sliding down any of the clothes covering his hard cock.

“Fuckin’ you raw, yeah? Doesn’t matter anymore since we’ll be married soon” Suna clicks his tongue, holding his heavy cock in his hands, pressing his leaking tip against your hole.

You shake your head frantically, “Don’t please Rin- don’t do that to me” you shuttered.

“ What? Ya afraid you’ll conceive the devil’s reincarnation? For what it’s worth, princess, if the devil is real.

It’s me.”

Without another argument he’s forcing himself into your shameless cunt causing a gasp to slip out of your mouth, not waiting for you to adjust until he’s fucking you into the bed. You’re holding onto everything but him. And he doesn’t like this- it’s not wife behavior is it?

So he leans over and painfully bites into your collarbone, “ hurt me back.” He commands.

And you give him exactly what he wants, slipping your hands under his shirt, digging your nails into his toned back, causing him to only get fuck you harder like it a competition on who can break the quickest.

You’re not holding back your moans- thankful for the lack of people near you, only giving Suna the privilege of hearing them.

Once you orgasm for the second time that night, he’s switching positions and forcing you to take him on his lap, his back resting on the bed frame.

You know what he wants you to do but you’re already so tired, you drowsily shake your head, hoping he’ll stop, and let finally you sleep.

Except all you do is annoy him, hissing under his breath as his hands grip your hips, forcing you to bounce on his cock, overstimulating your insides.

“ Slow down, Rin-“ you asked, knowing he won’t let you stop but at least the idea of slowing down seems possible.

“You wanna go slow, princess? Then you gotta do it yourself” he commented. You hesitate before nodding your head, thinking it’s a better option than letting him fuck you relentlessly.

His hands go behind his head while yours leans over on his thigh, slowly pushing yourself up, sucking in your breath and you sink back down.

Suna whistled at the sight of you fucking yourself on his cock, acting like the perfect wife.

He’s moving the hair out of your face before wrapping his hands around your neck, freaking you out as he lightly squeezes the sides of your neck. The action is causing you to stop your movement.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asked, tightening the grip around your neck, making it harder to breathe, a growing light-headed.

Your hands are shaking as you’re lifting yourself up and down on his cock. It’s humiliating, knowing you’re getting off because of him- how easily he has control of your body

“Say you’ll stay” he pants, chest heaving, feeling your cunt squeezing on his cock because of his husky voice.

“ Say you’ll stay forever. Can’t ever leave my side, princess. Dont think I can live without this pussy” he asks, face flushed.

“ I’ll stay—Rin” you managed to croak out with the tightness around your neck.

That’s all he needs until he’s leaning over to your torso, hands moving to grip your waist, forcing you to stay still on his cock, cumming deep into your pussy.

You think that’ll be it for tonight until he’s pulling back and kissing you, tongue slipping into your mouth, hands moving to grope your breast again until he’s hard once more.

He’s manhandling you until you’re on your hands and knees. He's behind you, watching your legs shake as he guides his cock back into your stuffed pussy, fucking his leaking cum back into you.

You’re screaming from overstimulation, tears soaking the bed sheet under your eyes, hands gripping onto the bed sheet. You feel like you’re being crushed when he presses his chest against your back, his arms wrapped around your lower stomach, cock bullying your insides.

He’s never this energetic.

And you’re also never this honest, finally admitting to knowing the truth behind this charade. But you tell him you’ll stay isn’t something he believes in.

“ Bet you’re thinking about leavin’ when I’m asleep, yeah?” He huffed against the nape of your neck.

“You’d probably find a way to kill me first though. You’re not dumb enough to think I won’t find you” he uttered, talking to you as if he’s not fucking you into oblivion.

“ Doesn’t matter if m’dead or not. I’ll always be with you- every second til the day you fuckin' die, you'll be thinking about me. dreaming about me. haunted by me. So don’t you dare test me. Just be good and I’ll be good back. I fuck you good as well” he adds, his finger rubbing your swollen clit while his hips are forcing you to the edge, squeezing his cock so hard he can’t pull out to cum- not like he was going to do in the first place.

Suna lifts himself and rolls you to the side, admiring your fucked out expression, how you’re staring at the ceiling, chest heaving as you recover from your intense orgasm.

“ Maybe if fuck a baby into you. You wouldn't be able to leave,”Suna commented, the lack of playfulness in his tone suggested to you that he was actually serious about the idea of knocking you up.

“ I'm not - I not planning on leaving— I won’t do it, Rin. I’m telling the truth” you babbled, crying at the idea of going another round, hands frantically wiping down tears that felt never-ending.

Suna chuckles because for once, he believes you. He leans over and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“I’ll be nice and give you a morning-after pill I got laying around somewhere afterward, yeah? I’ll take care of you, but you gotta take care of me,” he cooed.

You are too cute. So much more innocent than Suna is- never committing the horrendous crimes he’s done. And he thinks you begging him to spare you from sex is so much more exciting than you begging him for your life.

But to you- it feels like you’re begging for the same thing. You’ll die if he fucks you again- that your body is too overstimulated and exhausted.

That doesn’t stop him- nothing will really, from getting hard, thrusting into you again. You don’t know when he stopped fucking you- was it after you passed out the third time? Or did he continue ever after that? When it’s over, you’re half awake, back leaning on his chest, his hand ushering you to take the suggested birth control in his hand. Then slowly tilt the glass of water down your mouth. While you manage to drink the refreshing liquid, you get a glance of the mess between your spread legs, cum shameless dripping out and you wish you never met him.

You’re awake and you don’t feel physically dirty, the evidence of cum wiped off your legs by Suna while you were sleeping.

If he hadn’t marked your body with his teeth and hands, you’d almost pretend last night was nonexistent. Plus the aroma coming from him cooking from the kitchen downstairs only ruins the fantasy even more.

Maybe you’ll run away one day and get away with it. But you can’t say you could ever truly escape, Suna.

Because that would just make you a liar.

taglist @fynn1issshh @kodsuken

#yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarō #suna x reader #yandere smut #yandere suna #suna smut #yandere suna rintaro #yandere suna x reader #suna rintarou

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hoonatic · 6 months ago

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sunday mornings | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: sunday mornings are best spent slowly. but there are sheets to be changed and a beautiful boyfriend to stare at. pairing: idol!sunghoon x reader (established relationship) genre: domestic fluff + some hurt/comfort. it was only supposed to be tooth-rotting sweetness, but the sad demons within me won a bit, i fear. word count: 1364 note: this was also supposed to be shorter than it is, but what can i say? i’m a yapper. (also can’t believe i’m writing a fic again but needed to get this one out i guess) enjoy!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the sun had risen, but you certainly hadn’t.

after weeks apart, you finally had your boyfriend back in your shared apartment, in your shared bed. it was a sunny, summer morning with no (real) responsibilities to take care of. you were happy, drowsy, and with the love of your life. you just wanted to bask in the moment.

“baby, get up. i need to change the sheets.”

sunghoon obviously did not share the sentiment.

you ignored the slight tugging at your sleeve, choosing to flail your body and turning back to him dramatically. you knew you’d regret that soon enough, given the unhinged level of impatience your boyfriend had. but if it got you a few more seconds of peace, then so be it.

a loud screech of your name and one “wake upppp!!!” later, you felt the regret seeping into every pore of your body.

“hoon, it’s so early. please…”

“it’s almost 9:30. i’ve already showered and i’m all ready to spend the day with you!”

as you continued to ignore him, the tugging became more and more aggressive. soon enough, you felt your entire upper body being lifted. but two could play the petty game - you kept your eyes shut, refusing to look at the thief stealing your sleep.

“baby, how could you rob me of seeing your beautiful eyes?”

“i dunno, maybe the same way you’re robbing me of my beauty rest???”

“beauty rest??? if you get any more beautiful, i’ll have to start dressing you in full-body armor.”

the cringe made you peek open an eye, “you’ve been spending way too much time with heeseung.” but all you could see was his big grin.

“maybe so, but it finally got you to open your eyes, so the full-body chills saying that gave me were worth it.”

“hoon,” you groaned and closed your eyes again, “i just changed the sheets last week. i can change them tomorrow or something if you really want. you don’t want to just laze around together today?”

he didn’t respond as quickly as you’d expect. the silence forced your eyes open - he was biting his lip and staring at you with an unreadable expression. but before you could ask what was wrong, he spoke first,

“that’s exactly it though…”

“what do you mean?” you were fully awake now.

“you spend enough time alone, maintaining this home,” he started, “i’m away all the time and i haven’t been able to help out. this is one of the rare chances to finally start pulling my weight around here. please let me have this?”

you could start to see the guilt swimming around in his eyes and you hated it. “hoon, you act like you’re a deadbeat boyfriend leaving me to do everything alone. baby, you have a job that you love, are amazing at, and that pays our bills. if that means i have to do the sheets, that’s okay.”

“but you have a job too.”

“because i’m stupid and want to work. seriously hoon, don’t let these things bother you. you give me everything and more than i could ever ask for. we are in this together.” you were stroking his cheek at this point. seemingly satisfied with your response, he nuzzled into your hand, grateful for the comfort.

“are you feeling a little better at least?” you asked, voice patient and hopeful. he nodded and turned to kiss your palm, making you giggle a bit at the ticklish contact. he then shook his dark hair, damp locks lightly spraying you before suddenly pulling you out of bed.

“i’m feeling amazing and like i can take on the world…which includes these bedsheets! now get up so i can change them quickly and spend the rest of the day spoiling you with the love and affection you’ve been starved of.”

you wanted to argue with his statement and accuse him of tricking you out of bed, but knew you shouldn’t. you understood him more than anyone in the world, so you were going to give him this…even if the bed was really, really warm.

so you got up completely, choosing to stand closely in case you could help in any way. but his notorious stubbornness fought you off, gently swatting your hand any time you tried to pry the fitted sheet up.

“baby,” he scowled at you while holding a pillow, “just stand there and look pretty. let your big ol’ boyfriend take care of this for you.”

“big???” you almost saw the moon with how far you rolled your eyes. “your biceps grow half a millimeter and suddenly you–” before you could finish your statement, you felt the impact of the pillow to your face.

“hey!”

“that’s not what your stickers were saying whenever i sent gym selfies to you.”

damn, he got you there. you kept your mouth shut, glaring at his laughing silhouette while he continued to move about. choosing peace, you decided to let that go and finally take the chance to admire your boyfriend.

not only were his arms looking magnificent with every movement he made to change the sheets, but you could just tell how he poured his heart into everything he did. from the bedsheets to his career, he never half-heartedly did anything. he was humming their latest comeback song as he took on the folding of the fitted sheet, and his pride in his passion radiated off of every cell in his body. you were so proud of him, and you could feel your own body almost burst out of pure affection.

after a few minutes, the used sheets and pillowcases were all neatly in his arms, ready for the washer. you giggled a bit before speaking, “leave it to you to make even dirty sheets look clean. i’ll start setting up the new sheets.”

you could tell he wanted to argue, but he knew better.

while he got the washer running, you finished putting down your fluffiest comforter - you had bought it while he was away. you wanted him to have the best during the well-deserved time off he had.

“hoon!” you cheered excitedly when you saw him approaching the doorway. dragging him to sit down in the middle, “try out the new sheets! i bought them for when you came back!”

sunghoon ran his hands across it and patted them a few times for good measure. wordlessly, he grabbed you by the waist and settled your body between his legs. he hugged you loosely, yet lovingly, staring up at you with his chin on your torso.

“thank you, i love you.” such simple, yet meaningful words. you felt butterflies in every corner of your soul.

after a few more comforting seconds of him playing with the hem of your shirt, fingers lightly dancing across the skin that peeked out from under it, you decided to have a bit more fun.

you quickly took his hands off your back and pushed him to lay back into the bed. you grabbed both sides of the comforter and wrapped him up in it. the best part of it all? he just let you do it, purposely laying limp with a big, curious grin on his face.

“there!” you exclaimed, jumping onto the blanket burrito that was your boyfriend, “now you’re trapped with me forever.”

“it’s not being trapped if i want to be here.” with only his face free, sunghoon smiled up at you, fangs practically piercing your heart with love. you became too flustered to speak, so you took revenge on him instead, planting kisses all over his face.

for a second, you thought he’d shy away a bit. but instead he stuck his head out even more, turning his face to give your lips more access to any piece of untouched skin. you took advantage and continued to give loud, happy pecks, your hands squishing his face. he was finally basking in the moment you had been begging him to all morning, happiness reaching the crinkles of his eyes.

yes, the eventual tour would come soon enough to steal him away. but for now, you were content. for now, this sunday morning was for just you and him.

#sunghoon #enhypen #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #enha #sunghoon fic #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #my writing #jesus im so sorry for all the tags #also i hope this fic made sense i tried real hard to get it out on time for an actual sunday morning LOL

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ceesimz · 7 months ago

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I'm a Star, How Could I Not Shine?

This is just a lil soft blurb I got the idea to write tonight, I still have my other story in the works and I'm loving creating it :)

Life was hardly fair, that much you knew. But it seemed like the last few months had been especially harsh on your girlfriend. And it was a hard watch, almost agonising to see her come home a shell of her true self everyday.

Today, though, it reached its peak.

Work was being a lot kinder to you; you typically had a lighter load than Alexia but the past few weeks had kind of been a breeze, you were promoted to a new branch and it was a dream to be there. So, as you watched on from the sidelines as the media tore Alexia apart, inventing new reasons to needlessly hate on her, you were doing your best to make life at home a safe haven for her.

Today was Friday, and your plan was to come home from work and get all the chores out of the way, before ordering food in so that there was as little as possible for Alexia to have to worry about. Maybe you'd run a bath for her, give her a massage, or let her have some alone time before falling asleep with your chest to her back as you ran a hand softly through her hair.

What you weren't expecting, however, was to find a familiar figure in a black tracksuit curled up on the sofa, soundly sleeping.

You froze in the doorway, unsure what to do next. The first thing you thought was just how much the sight concerned you. Alexia wasn't meant to be home for a number of hours yet, her day was filled with meetings after she'd had training in the morning. Tie that in with the fact that she was adamant in never taking naps, ever, as well as how she always followed her schedule to the second, and your body was wracked with worry from head to toe.

Long story short, this only alluded to unimaginable things consuming her right now. You didn't even want to think about it. If it hurt you this much, and you weren't even the one experiencing all she was, then god only knows how she's feeling. Hopefully you can coax it out of her.

Instead of disturbing her right now, you backed out of the room and headed towards the kitchen. Once in there, you off-loaded your bag and your jacket onto the dining table, before opening your phone and putting in the order for dinner. Then you took a moment to compose yourself, to come up with a way to approach the delicate situation currently festering in the lounge of the apartment.

Alexia could wake up and be in one of either two moods: she doesn't really want company as she needs time to process what's pacing through her mind, or, and you're not sure if you preferred this one or not, she'd be in such an utterly wrecked state of mind that she would just melt into your arms and unload weeks, if not months, worth of bottled up emotions. You knew the latter would happen at some point, but you definitely didn't think it would come about so soon.

Really, this wasn't how you expected the night to go, you just assumed that Alexia would complete her work day before coming home, speaking very few words for the rest of the evening. It wasn't out of displeasure, it was how she processed things. Until the pressure built up inside her and exploded, she would keep pretty schtum about how things were going for her, and no matter how much you tried to shake her out of these habits, it was just something about her you had to deal with.

But now, with somewhat of an idea built up in your head, you slip your shoes off and put them on the rack by the front door, and walk back towards your sleeping girlfriend. As you get closer to her, you spot the scowl to her brow and slight frown on her lips - even as she sleeps, she still can't catch a break. She looks perturbed and uncomfortable, like there's things she can't quite shake off, and it breaks your heart.

With a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sleeps on her side with her face slightly covered by her hood, you gently nudge her.

"Hey, Ale, wake up. It's me, wake up." You whisper, leaning down to place a kiss on her temple. At the affectionate touch, she jolts awake, breathing a little heavy. "Hey, it's only me."

"Oh." She muttered, rubbing her eyes and sighing. "Por qué estás aquí?"

"I just got home from work, it's half four." Wrong thing to say.

She sits up in shock, looking at you agasp, her stomach churning with dread. She never missed meetings, she never missed any kind of work, period.

"Mierda. Lo siento, tengo que irme, ahora." Alexia jumps up and rushes to grab her keys from the kitchen, but you grab her hand and stop her. "No, amor, I-"

"Ale, take a breath. Slow down." You say, standing up and taking her other hand. Her eyes are everywhere but you, her body language is tense and radiates anxiety. "Look at me. Hey, mírame, Ale."

"Amor, you do not understand, I am missing a meeting ri-"

"No, you are here with me, and you need to take a minute. Just a minute, if anything. Please." You plead, dropping her hands to cup her face and get her to look at you. "Sit down with me, relax for a moment. I won't hear otherwise."

A reluctant nod later, she sits down with you on the couch, though she perches on the edge like she could take off any second. You don't doubt that she won't.

"Sorry." She states a quiet moment after, her hands coming to cover her face as she sighs heavily yet again.

"For what, Ale?" You ask, shuffling closer to her side and draping an arm across her shoulders. She shrugs, making you frown, so with your free hand you delicately turn her head to face you. "Take the day off. Anyone can see you need it."

Her nod isn't so hesitant this time, and that's terrifying in itself. The ease in which she agreed to skiving the rest of her schedule is so unnerving that you're not entirely sure where to go from here. You were expecting more of a fight, expecting her to be hard work for the night, but here she was just giving up in front of you. Near enough relinquishing her role as if it wasn't such a mental battle for her.

At her agreement, you tug her into you and she follows easily, resting her forehead against your collarbone and breathing out shakily.

"Let me look after you tonight, Ale. You don't have to apologise, not for anything." You whisper, scattering light, caring kisses across her cheek.

You pull down the hood of her jumper and, finally, see the full effect of what the month's brazen nature has done to her. The bags under her eyes are more prominent than ever, there's a permanent frown line etched onto her forehead, and she's a worryingly grey colour. Her face gives off a perturbed look, and to be honest you didn't think it was possible to be able to visibly see the aftermath of a mentally degrading few weeks.

Right now, it seems like sleep is the best option for her. And fortunately for you, and for Alexia, the restaurant you ordered from won't deliver your dinner for another forty or so minutes. It's a small miracle you'll happily take at this time, and if Alexia was in the right mind she'd probably laugh, because the wait time normally drives you crazy. You've never been more grateful for it though.

"Why don't you sleep some more? I got us some food, it won't be here for a while yet and I really think you need the rest." You suggest, tucking a few wisps of hair behind her ear.

"You... you will stay here?" She questions in such a childlike manner that it splits your heart in two.

"Yes, I'll be right here, Ale, I promise. I'm not going anywhere, ever." You tell her, and that's when she meets your eye. The look she gives is devastating, it's filled with all sorts that would take you the rest of the night to unpack. And, quite frankly, Alexia isn't ready for that.

You urge her to lay down just like she was earlier, except this time you take the place by her head and let her rest it on your lap. It's now that you're carding your fingers through her hair, not in your bed. It's now that Alexia finally breaks, as sniffles sound through the room sporadically.

"Tan cansada." She uttered, almost unintelligibly, as she covers her eyes with her hand and buries her face in your stomach.

"It's okay. You can relax now. It's just us here, and you're safe. You're gonna be okay." You reasurre her, and you mean it with every ounce of your being. How could you not, when the light of your life has been dimmed by clouds of disdain from people who aren't even aware of the joy she brings you?

Alexia may come across as a force to be reckoned with, but after all, she's just your Ale, the one that cries at animal shelter adverts on TV and smiles like a fool at the little things like when you bring home her favourite snack as a surprise one day. She's a sensitive soul, but that's what you love about her. Everything she does, she does it with her whole heart, and you'd sooner be six feet under than to let your love for her go untold.

"I love you, Ale, and I'm really proud of everything you do. Everything."

"Even when I am not strong enough to go to one meeting?" She mumbles insecurely, stealing a glance up at you with one eye.

"Especially then. You are strongest in your weakest moments, when you're afraid to ask for help but you do it anyway. So, I'm always proud of you, and I always will be. I swear by that."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #woso one shot

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ultralightpoe · 2 months ago

Text

Slim Pickens - Tyler Owens

Authors Note: Not me writing this smut on election day..... anyways enjoy! Cause I have no clue what happened to me.

Word Count: 5080

Warnings: SMUT, stranger tryna get laid and Tyler not having it.

Requests: OPEN

Main Masterlist ~ ~ Halloween 2024 Event

[Thank you for the gif @chrishemsworthsbitch ]

Enjoy!

“Guess I'll end this life alone

I am not dramatic

These are just the thoughts that pass right through me”

There was a simple saying that been passed down from generation to generation, and you knew it all too well.

‘No use crying over spilt milk’.

Your grandma used to say it whenever you had boy problems back in middle school and your mother took up the saying when you went on to middle school and in both of these stages in your life you hadn’t quite understood what they meant.

Now, sitting cross legged on Tyler Owens hotel floor as he repeated those very words to you, you knew them all too well. And by the look of his smug smile in your direction as he got ready for the day you knew he knew his words struck a nerve.

“Now don’t get cranky at me, sweetheart.” He warns, pointing at you as he kicks his boots closer to the bed so he can sit on the end of it to put them on. “I warned you he wouldn’t be worth it last night when you left.”

The ‘he’ in mention was some guy named Jake that you had matched with on Tinder last night, and who you had dumbly agreed to meet up with. It had been a long week of storm chasing and dealing with Tylers crappy music in the truck and you just wanted to relieve some pressure.

“He quoted shakespeare.” You try to defend only for him to laugh at you.

“You sleep with every guy that quotes shakespeare?”

“Guys who quote Shakespeare are hotter than guys who haven’t touched a book in their life!” You snap back. “And-”

“It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” He interrupts, shoving his feet into the boots with a small look in your direction. But you were too focused on staring at the floor from exhaustion.

“Mkay Yoda.” You sigh and his hands fly up in the air from lack of belief.

“Seriously?”

“And I mean he was hot.” You continue, falling back to lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling as he finishes with the boots and moves to get his bag together. “Honestly he kind of reminded me of you. But then he had to talk. And he just kept ruining it.”

“How so?”

“He was all ‘You ever seen a jet, Sugar’? And can’t forget ‘There is almost nothing better than the high feeling of flying through the air….almost.’ And it was-” You finish off the sentence with a loud groan as you slap your forehead making him laugh.

“Did he not know what you do for a living?”

“Oh, you mean chase storms and kill them? No. Why would he? That would involve him asking me a question.” You seethe before Tyler comes into view, standing over you with that smug smile you hated and loved so much.

“Alright, come on Sugar. It’s time to go.”

“Tyler, I’m gonna die alone.” You groan, closing your eyes before covering your face. He is having none of it though, reaching down to grab at your forearms, hauling you up with an ease that makes your skin flush. His hands are warm on your skin and the way his thumbs circle your flesh has images of your nasty daydreams flashing through your mind.

“Enough of that mopin’. We got storms to chase and I ain’t got time to tell you that you’re never gonna die alone.”

“Cause you don’t believe it?”

“No, cause the chances of us dyin’ in a tornado together are far more likely.” He laughs, deep and throaty as he leans down to scoop you up by the waist, taking a second to slap at your back thigh before exiting the hotel. “Cate will also kill us if we’re late again.”

“All the douchebags in my phone

Play 'em like a slot machine

If they're winnin', I'm just losin'”

“Not to be that guy…” Tyler starts, his voice already filled with annoyance. “But is now the time to be checking your phone?”

His hands were tight on the wheel as the truck raced through the fields, efficiently tracking down the storm that had caught Cate’s eye. And while you normally took the passenger seat next to Tyler after fighting with Boone for it so that Cate could take her own ford with Javi, today she had taken the seat and you were in the back with Boone who was just as upset by losing his special spot next to Tyler.

It had been a rough day, between realizing one of the cars were completely broken down in the hotel parking lot and Boone nearly breaking his pinkie while trying to fix it. Let’s just say the hood of the truck came down a little too fast. Not only that but you had gotten stuck in the bathroom of your room until Tyler had to come save you in your towel, treating you like you were plague victim number one ever since.

But the best part of the day so far? The introduction to Scott loservains new team, conning poor victims one at a time.

“Hey man, I’m tracking our filming.” Boone argues, already offended.

“I’m making sure Javi has the same stats as us.” Cate argues.

“Not talking to either of you. I’m talking to little miss lovestruck in the back.”

“Hey!” You snap, immediately closing your phone. “Mind your business Tyler.”

“You’re in my truck. My truck is my business and everyone in the truck is my business.” He snaps back, shrugging his shoulders. “And besides, the more you let those fools win the more you lose.”

“How do you even know I was texting a guy?”

“Because Sugar, I know you.” He snaps, casting you a quick look from his spot at the wheel before turning back to the road.

“I think if you focused less on me then you would be able to drive better.”

“I think if you focused less on the boys in your phone you wouldn’t be bitchin’ and moanin’ at me all the time!” He snaps back making you gasp as Cate and Boone switch their attention back and forth between you both.

“Should we be worried?” Cate blurts, landing her gaze on you with her eyebrows pinched together in worry.

“Not unless Tyler can’t learn to mind his own damn business!”

“I’ll mind my business when you stop makin’ it my business!”

“FINE!”

“A boy who's jacked and kind

Can't find his ass to save my life”

The bar that sat 3 blocks away from the current hotel the team was staying at could only be described as a dingy cowboy bar, and considering you were mad at a certain cowboy this was the perfect place. Surrounded by dozens of cowboy hats, none of them belonging to ‘Mr. Can’t Mind His Own Business’.

He currently stood at the other end of the bar, closer to the live band as the dance floor began to fill with line dancers. Even that far away he was still being a pain in your ass with the way he glared across the floor every time you looked over.

“You two don’t fight a lot. This is weird for you.” Cate chuckles, spinning her bottle of beer on the counter sat in front of you both, hearing the glass ring on the wood of the counter. “It sends the entire vibe of the group off.”

“It’s his fault.” You huff, scratching at the label of your own bottle as you avoided looking in his direction again. “I honestly don’t know where his freakout came from.”

“You don’t?”

“No!” You huff, slapping your hands on the counter. “We were fine yesterday, I told him about that date with the aviator-”

“Oh that Jake guy. He was kind of cute.”

“Thank you. Anyways-” You take a quick inhale of air before looking at her. “We were fine and then today he was fine when he came to help me out of the bathroom but the second the door to the bathroom opened he got pissy.”

“Do you know why?”

“No, I assumed he had been getting hounded by everyone all day. He must have been stressed.”

“Hmm.” She hums out, taking a look around the bar as you sit and mope. “I’m sure you both will get over it soon enough.”

“Slim chance. I am gonna ignore him forever now.” It’s obviously just you being over dramatic but you were angry and embarrassed that he would call you out like that in front of the group. “Besides, if he didn’t want me talking to him about all that boy stuff he should have just told me. I don't know where his boundaries lie unless he sets them.”

“Damn, that’s deep.” She nods before tilting her head. “They should have put you on the shirt.”

“That’s what I said.”

“And yet they-”

“Excuse me for interrupting ladies…” A new voice joins the group, making you both turn to the figure. A tall man with bruises along his jaw and a scratch right above his eyebrow. A black cowboy hat paired with a black shirt. A fine specimen if you could say so. “I just saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life and I had to come say hello.”

“Well would you be pickin’ here?” Cate smiles.

“There is no wrong answer.” You hum out, tilting your head like a cat assessing prey.

“Then can I say both?”

“Oh, look at that. Even with a map leading to the answer he still managed to mess it up.” You snipe, giving Cate a knowing look as you both grab at your bottles of beer and move to make your exit.

“Wait wait.” He reaches a hand in front of you to try and stop you from passing. “Not a great start. I know that. So let me just start over, yeah?”

“Oh… I didn’t realize I did do overs.”

“Then what can I do to be granted one?”

“Is there a problem here?” Leave it to Tyler Owens to enter this scene, giving his best glare as he inserts himself between you both with his back to you so he can glare down the cowboy.

“There is no problem here.” The cowboy smirks, and you are shocked to see just how brave he was. Then it clicks, the bruises and the hat. This was a bull rider. “You got a problem, bud?”

“Oh yeah I have-”

“LET’S DANCE!” You interrupt, sending a glare to Tyler before pulling the bullrider to the floor as Tyler rolls his eyes.

Before you can make it too far his hand reaches out to grab your elbow with a knowing look, and even when he is mad he still holds your arm with a gentle ease and traces the skin with his thumb. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Well that’s interesting…. Cause it’s MY business!” You scoff, pushing his arm back and moving to the dance floor with the stranger.

“Oh, it's slim pickings

If I can't have the one I love

I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'”

It was only fair, since there weren’t many options of men you would just lower your standards and have fun with this idiot for the night.

He had two left feet, and was pressed against you the entire time but not in a hot way, more so a sweaty mess kinda way. And you would have abandoned him already but every time you looked for an escape you saw Tyler and his glare, there was too much at stake here. You could never admit Tyler was right. In YOUR business.

So you ignored him and turned back to the stranger, just in time for this waste of space to press his lips to yours. It was awkward, the way your noses pressed together and how hard he smashed his lips to yours. There was no rhythm, no preparation or molding together. It was just his lips devouring your face as you tried to lean back. But the further you tried to get away the more he leaned with you.

When he pulls back he keeps his hands on you with a sharp smile. “Wanna go back to your place?”

There wasn’t many options, and the one option you truly wanted would never happen let alone the fact that you were fighting with him so you would make do with what you had. “Sure, let’s go.”

“Just to get my fixings

Since the good ones are deceased or taken

I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'”

Telling Cate that you were heading out with him was easy, she made you promise to update her that you were okay, which was easy to do. You managed to avoid any conversation about Tyler in his truck, which was hard because Mr. Bull Rider was dead set on asking about him.

“What was that guy with white hats problem?” He asked, and you changed the conversation to the music he was playing. Then he tried the “You guys ever date or somethin’?”

That one was harder to change since your throat got clogged up thinking of the answer. It’s not like you never wanted to date Tyler, in fact he was all you dreamed of. But it wasn’t meant to happen. Tyler wasn’t yours.

So you simply started giving him directions to the motel like he hadn’t asked. And by the time you made it to the destination you had hoped that the conversation had passed as you unlocked the door.

“This is it. Home sweet home….. For a little.” You smile, allowing him to look around while you take your shoes off.

“So you live in a motel?”

“When it’s tornado season, yes. We travel around but when he find a specific spot we try to stay.”

“You follow tornadoes?”

“Yes, and we chase them. And if there is destruction we try to help out the communities.” You explain, picking up the tornado shirt with Tylers face on it so you can show him then debate it at the last second you drop it down. “It’s fun.”

“I’ll bet.” He nods before allowing himself to sit on your bed. “We doing this?”

“Oh. Straight to the business.” You mumble, a little shocked as he begins unbuttoning the black top.

“Sorry, did you want to talk or something?”

“Well no- I just-” You couldn’t tell if you were thankful that the door opened in that second or absolutely furious as Tyler appeared with that fake innocent smile.

“Hey Sugar,” He starts, letting himself in fully and shutting the door. “I just wanted to come make sure that bathroom door was all taken care of for ya’.”

“Tyler, is now the time?”

“Oh, please. It’ll only take a minute.” He chuckles, walking past you both to get to the door. “Wouldn’t want you getting stuck in there again.”

“Tyler, what on eart-”

“Hey man, we were kinda in the middle of something here.” Stranger boy snaps out, scooting so he was right on the edge of the bed, his face pinched between confusion and anger.

“Hey, safety first.” Tyler laughs, the sound fake and bitter as he leans down to check the hinges of the door while you just blink in shock. “Ah I see the problem here.”

“Tyler.” You hiss.

“Just give me a moment.” He murmurs, working on the hinge of the door while you glare. “Just a minute……”

“Dude.” Stranger boy sighs and you are wound between shock, anger and embarrassment.

“I can’t believe this is happening,.”

“There she is. Good as new.” Tyler smiles, standing to swing the door. “Look at that. Bet you’re glad I did it.”

“Tyler. Out.” You snap, moving forward to grab parts of his shirt to drag him out the door and slam it on him. “Now where were we?”

But it’s no use, since the door reopens with Tyler giving yet another innocent look. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. I forgot my screwdriver here.”

“Tyler, grab it and then leave. And leave the key.” The fact that you were even in this moment was so bizarre.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna get going… but let me write my information for when you get rid of dumbass barbie over here.” Stranger cowboy mutter, grabbing the pad of paper from the desk and writing his stuff down before moving forward to attempt to kiss you but Tyler is there, patting him on the back aggressively with a slight shove.

“Sorry to see you go bud.” He smiles, a tense and angry smile before throwing an arm around your shoulder. “But we’ll be fine here.”

And you watch the bullrider leave, the door shutting before you whirl on him.

“Jesus, what's a girl to do?

This boy doesn't even know

The difference between "there," "their" and "they are".”

“I can murder you.” You seethe, shoving his arm off of you and taking a couple steps away from him. “Matter of fact, what’s stopping me from doing so?”

“I just figured you might want help with the door-”

“Enough with the bullshit Tyler Owens!” You yell, whirling on him with your hands on your hips and a heavy glare. “What on earth were you thinking? After your fit today and that scene I’m starting to think you have lost your damn mind!”

“Hang on now-”

“And what on earth-” You take a moment to snatch up the pillow from the motel bed to swing it at him. “WOULD MAKE YOU INTERUPT-”

“HE WAS TERRIBLE!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” You yell. “Look around for a second Owens! There aren’t many options. The ones that are worth it are already taken, the one that I want would never go for me. I don’t have many options!”

“AND WHEN AM I GONNA BE AN OPTION?!” He yells out, grabbing your wrists before you can hit him with the pillow again. “When do I get the chance to prove myself?”

“Oh stop.” You snap, moving to walk away. “Don’t mess with me about this.”

“Why would I be messing with you? Is it so hard to believe that I want you?” He follows, making sure to keep a hand on you. “Time and time again you rant to me about these men, how they suck and you hate them. And I keep waiting for you to notice me, to give me a chance. Cate tells me that you might just be nervous, or that our time will come but Sugar I don’t think I can survive this much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Your tone is gentle and you’ve given up walking away, choosing to turn to him and allow him a chance to talk. Your heart was thumping through your chest and you were struggling to catch your breath.

“Sweetheart, from the moment I met you I’ve been stuck. Comin’ in with all that attitude like you owned the world, which if you ask me you do, and you didn’t hesitate to put me in my place.” He continues, moving closer to set his hands on your hips. “And I just kept begging the winds to give me a chance. To give me a single shot with you.”

“Then why wouldn’t you say anything?”

“Why would you give me a chance?” He laughs, pulling you in. “But I need one now. I’m begging you for a chance here.”

And though no words are spoken you both know the answer, especially when you pull him in with your hands on the back of his neck to attach your lips to his. And unlike the kiss in the bar this one felt perfect.

There was awkwardness. He tilted his head perfectly, pulling you chest to chest as his hat covers both your heads while his lips melt against yours. He takes his time learning the kiss, his hands rubbing up and down your back as you deepen the kiss some more. This is what was meant to be and you both knew it at that moment.

There is no objection when you begin unbuttoning his flannel, one at a time, never breaking the kiss as you push it off his shoulders and allowing it to fall to the floor before he reaches a hand up to throw the hat closer to the nightstand. He doesn’t waste time after he hears the thump of it landing to reach and lift his undershirt off, throwing it somewhere else as he makes eye contact.

“Please tell me I ain’t dreamin’ right now.” He whispers out as you begin to undo your own shirt to slip off before leaning up.

“I can’t tell.” You whisper back, leaning on your tiptoes to attach your lips once more, his arms wrapping around you to undo the back of your bra.

Normally when a man removes the bra it is thrown away and he doesn’t focus too much on any of it, but Tyler? He kisses around your jaw as he undoes the buckle of it before his kisses move down your neck while he drags the bra down until he can drop it, allowing his hands to roam. The feel of his hands sends shivers throughout you and yet they keep you warm as you try to back him to the bed.

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure.” You whisper back, undoing his belt as he kicks off his boots. “I want you.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear those words from you.” He grunts out, pulling you closer before falling back onto the bed and dragging you with him.

“Yet he's naked in my room

Missin' all the things he's missin'

God knows that he isn't livin' large”

It doesn’t take long for you both to strip, slowly and gently, until you are both bare. He doesn’t waste time kissing you gently before guiding you up the bed until you’re leaning on the pillow you hadn’t dragged away, kissing along jaw as you sigh out in relief.

He takes his time kissing down your neck, nipping a bit to pull out a breathy moan from your lips before moving further down to kiss and suck at your breasts. He grunts out at the way you wiggle, a breathy giggle passing your lips until a moan passes them the moment his tongue circles one of your nipples. The sound draws his eyes to yours and that sweet lovestruck look falls into one of ferocity, the heated light within them as your lower stomach tightening and your hands rushing to get some contact.

Once your hands find purchase he abandons your breasts, leaving them cold to the air, as he makes his way further down. Every kiss is followed by a lick, every nip is given a bushel of kisses to make up for it. He works your body until he makes it to your thighs, spreading them open for him to view, sending a shiver across your body.

“Tyler, please.” You gasp out, that tight feeling in your stomach begging for relief as your thighs beg to shut, but he is having none of it. Keeping them forced open so that he may give your inner thighs the same treatment he had given the rest of your body.

He gives up his torture with a growl before diving straight in to lick right between your folds. He keeps his hands around your hips to keep you pinned to him when your back arches as you moan out loud. He devours you, licking and sucking over and over with grunts and growls to match your moans.

He doesn’t relent until your moan hits near scream and your hands grip at the pillow, dragging it to your face to bite into as you reach your peak, entire body shuddering as you moan out.

He continues until you come down, pulling away to give you the smuggest smile you had ever seen from him, your entire body ablaze as you sit up to reach for him.

The other kisses were sweet and gentle, this one was two animals claiming each other. And he let you take charge, your speed and your lead. Tasting your own juices as you dragged him back down to lay over you.

“A boy who's nice that breathes

I swear he's nowhere to be seen”

He’s quick to flip you both over so that he’s beneath you and you are on top, a wave of panic filling you.

“Tyler….I’ve never-” You begin, hands landing on his chest as he gazes up at you with the softest eyes you have ever seen from him.

“If you don’t want to then that’s fine, Sweetheart.” He mutters, reaching over to grab where his hat landed and bringing it to set on your head. “But you might just need a little confidence.”

And he was right, with the way he was looking at you and the way the hat felt, suddenly you believed you could rule the world. So you lifted yourself a bit, keeping the gaze as you reached down to line yourself up to him, and with a loud moan you sunk yourself down.

“It's slim pickings

If I can't have the one I love

I guess it's you that I'll be kissin'”

His grunts were easily replaced by moans as you sunk down, his hands digging into your hips, letting you take a moment to adjust before guiding your hips slowly. You tilt your hips with each guide, struggling to catch the proper rhythm and getting pleasure nonetheless.

A moan escapes you as he guides you down at the same time he thrusts up and it’s like something clicks as you begin to find your own rhythm. Using your hands on his chest to keep yourself stable as you begin to speed up your movements.

Tyler gives in, enjoying your new pace, thrusting up into every bounce. Grunting and growling as his nails dig into your hips and he closes his eyes to enjoy the pleasure while you lean down to nip at his chest which makes him groan. “Darlin’...”

And that makes something inside of you burn, a feral moan passing your lips as you speed up, nails digging into his chest before he sits up to kiss you, helping you bounce on his cock with ease.

“Y-you’re…” He groans. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

His arms wrap around you, and he readjusts so that he was on his knees to thrust into you, pulling you down to meet him. The sound of skin slapping is alluring and your thighs clench to cage him in as you lose your breath and shut your eyes.

“Tyler.” You whine, nails digging into his back as something in you begins coiling, tighter and tighter until he bites down between your neck and shoulder and it all falls in an instant. All you can see is white as you bite down on your own lip, holding him tight to you as the waves of pleasure subside.

He continues to thrust before falling under the same spell that had you, keeping his forehead pressed into your collarbone as he spills his cum into you.

You both fall into the cushion of the bed, shuddering as he pulls out before closing your eyes to catch your breath from that experience. And when he wraps his arms around you it’s far too easy to fall asleep from his warmth surrounding you like a blanket of it’s own.

“Just to get my fixings

Since the good ones are deceased or taken

I'll just keep on moanin' and bitchin'”

It’s the feeling of him moving that wakes you a couple hours later, when the bed dips as he stands, making you blink in the dark to see what he is doing. Apart of you panics that he might be leaving, and this was just going to be a one night stand until he pulls on his boxers and turns back to come lift you.

“Why are we awake?” You croak, already feeling cranky at the fact that you had been woken up.

“I figured you’d want to shower, and this is when I normally do.”

“You shower at 4am?” You scoff, clinging to him as he sets you down so your feet touch the cold bathroom floor.

“Yeah. I figured out that no one else showers at this time-”

“Because it’s crazy.”

“Well since no one else showers at this time the water is always at its best pressure and warmth.” He explains, reaching in to turn it on. “Then I can get another hour or so of sleep.”

“Oddly genius.” You giggle, laughing when he shucks the boxers off as a pretend strip tease before hauling you into the shower with him.

“Moanin' and bitchin'”

He takes his time washing your body, lathering the soap over your body with gentle hands as his eyes traced over you over and over again like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

He let you do the same, the only words spoken never went above a whisper so you didn’t break the bubble and shampooed eachother before shutting the water off and using the towel.

When he swings the door open he makes sure to raise his eyebrows, a look of pride covering his face that makes you scoff.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I wonder what hot scoundrel fixed that for you…”

“Hmmm. I wish I knew.” You tease, “I might have rewarded him.”

A small growl leaves his lips as he scoops you up and hauls you to the bed once more.

“Since the good ones call their exes wasted

And since the Lord forgot my gay awakenin'

Then I'll just be here in the kitchen

Servin' up some moanin' and bitchin'”

You sit on the motel floor as Tyler works around you to get ready for the day, listening to you bitch and moan as he struggles to put his boots on.

“I’m so sore.” You whine, falling flat on the floor to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah? At least you never have to worry about dying alone.”

“No,” You huff out a laugh. “Now I just have to worry about you killing me.”

“Never.” He smiles, coming to haul you off the floor just to throw you over his shoulder and head for the door.

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