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starskq · 6 months ago

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I STILL HATE YOU / J.W

Pairing ◊ bratty!fem!reader x brattamer!wooyoung (ft. '99 line)

Genre ◊ SMUT, angst, ennemies to ???

Warnings ◊ SMUT (MINORS DNI), reader is a brat, harddom!wooyoung, they hate each other, fingering, rough, degradation, petnames (good girl, sweetheart...), oral (fem receiving), lots of angst

Word count ◊ 4,6k

Summary ◊ : You and Wooyoung hated each other, but your friends thought it would be a good idea to lock wooyoung's room to "sort things out"

a/n: just a sucker for dom Wooyoung 😵‍💫 enjoy! (not proofread)

You were part of this tight-knit friend group with Wooyoung, Yunho, San, Mingi, and Yeosang. Usually, you would have considered yourself lucky to be surrounded by such a cool bunch of people, but there was one glaring exception: Wooyoung. From the moment you met, you and Wooyoung clashed like fire and ice. You were both cocky, always trying to outdo each other with snarky comments and sarcastic remarks.

It wasn’t even like you had any reason to hate each other; it just happened. Maybe it was how Wooyoung always seemed so smug, with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. Or maybe it was how he would always find some way to one-up you, no matter what. Either way, the tension between you two was almost palpable, and it was clear to everyone around.

The others in the group seemed to take it in stride. Yunho and San would roll their eyes and laugh it off, while Mingi would try to play peacemaker, often unsuccessfully. Yeosang, on the other hand, seemed to find your constant bickering somewhat amusing, though he rarely got involved. Despite the tension, the group managed to stick together, probably because your mutual animosity oddly balanced the dynamic.

One Friday night, you were all hanging out at their place, lounging on his beat-up couch, debating over what movie to watch. Wooyoung, as usual, had a different opinion from you. He wanted to watch some action flick while you were in the mood for a horror movie. The debate quickly turned into a full-blown argument, with you and Wooyoung standing face-to-face, jabbing at each other with pointed insults, as usual.

“Why don’t you just admit your taste in movies sucks?” Wooyoung sneered, crossing his arms.

“Oh please, like you even understand what makes a good movie,” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

Yunho sighed loudly, standing between you two. “Alright, can we just decide already? It’s just a movie.”

San laughed, shaking his head. “You two are hopeless. Can’t even pick a movie without turning it into World War Three.”

The argument over which movie to watch was reaching a boiling point, and everyone in the room could sense it. You and Wooyoung were standing toe-to-toe, practically shouting over each other.

“I’m telling you, action movies are way more entertaining,” Wooyoung argued, his voice filled with exasperation.

“And I’m telling you, horror movies have way better plots,” you shot back, not willing to back down.

Yunho exchanged a knowing glance with San and Mingi. They’d had enough of the constant bickering and had been joking for weeks about taking drastic measures to put an end to it.

“Alright, that’s it,” Yunho said suddenly, standing up. “I can’t take this anymore. We need a break from your constant fighting.”

Before you could react, Yunho grabbed you by the arm while San and Mingi grabbed Wooyoung. You struggled, demanding to be let go, but they were determined.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” you yelled, trying to shake off Yunho’s grip.

“Let go of me! I’m not done here!” Wooyoung protested, struggling against San and Mingi.

Yeosang, who had been quietly watching the whole scene unfold, opened Wooyoung’s bedroom door. “In you go,” he said calmly, stepping aside.

Yunho and San practically shoved you both into the room and quickly shut the door behind you. You heard the click of the lock, and the realization set in.

“Are you guys serious?” you shouted, pounding on the door. “This is so immature!”

“Yeah, open the door! We don’t need this!” Wooyoung added, equally furious.

From the other side of the door, Yunho’s voice came through, sounding uncharacteristically stern. “You two need to sort this out. We’re not letting you out until you do.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned, leaning against the door in frustration.

“Oh, we’re very serious,” San replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re both our friends, and we’re tired of the constant fighting. So figure it out.”

Inside the room, you turned to face Wooyoung, who was glaring at you with just as much annoyance as you felt. You crossed your arms, refusing to be the first to speak.

“This is ridiculous,” Wooyoung muttered, pacing back and forth. “Like locking us in here is going to make us get along.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a jerk all the time, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” you retorted, not missing a beat.

Wooyoung stopped pacing and turned to face you, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Me? A jerk? You’re the one who’s always acting like you’re better than everyone else!”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I only act like that because you always have to be the center of attention!”

Outside, you could hear your friends laughing and chatting, clearly unconcerned about the drama unfolding inside the room.

“Can’t believe they did this,” you muttered under your breath.

“Same,” he replied, sitting down on his bed with a huff. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? How is this my fault?” you demanded, sitting down on the floor opposite him.

“You’re the one who always has to argue with me,” he said, gripping his hair in frustration. “You just can’t let anything go.”

“Because you’re always wrong!” you shot back, the argument feeling strangely familiar, yet different with no audience to play to.

You exchanged a heated glance with Wooyoung, who looked ready to explode. “This is all your fault,” he said, his voice low and accusing.

“My fault? You’ve got to be kidding me,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “If you weren’t such a pain in the ass, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, please,” Wooyoung sneered, getting up from the bed and stepping closer. “You’re the one who’s always picking fights.”

“Because you’re always so damn infuriating!” you retorted, matching his step forward until you were face to face.

The tension between you was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like something would snap. Instead, you both turned away with a huff, deciding that silence might be the best strategy. Maybe if you stopped engaging, your friends would see how pointless this was and let you out.

The silence stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable. You sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, while Wooyoung sat on the edge of it, staring at the wall. The minutes ticked by slowly, each second filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You could feel his presence, every movement and breath, making it impossible to fully relax.

After what felt like an eternity, the silence became too much to bear. You shifted, the slight noise breaking the uneasy peace. Wooyoung glanced at you, his expression unreadable.

“What?” you snapped, unable to hold back.

“Nothing,” he muttered, looking away again.

The frustration boiled over. “You always do this,” you said, your voice rising. “Acting like you’re so much better than everyone else.”

Wooyoung’s head whipped around, his eyes flashing with anger. “Better than everyone else? You’re the one who’s always acting like you have something to prove!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t constantly try to undermine me!” you shouted, standing up.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, standing up to face you. “You think you’re the only one who’s frustrated? You make everything so damn difficult!”

“Me? You’re the one who—”

The argument escalated quickly, voices rising, insults flying. The room seemed to shrink around you as the anger and frustration spilled over. You were both shouting now, words tumbling out without thought.

“You’re so arrogant!” you yelled, stepping closer to him.

“And you’re so damn stubborn!” Wooyoung shot back, closing the distance between you even more.

The space between you was electric, charged with anger and something else you couldn’t quite identify. The fight became more heated, the words more cutting.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “But you’re just a coward, hiding behind that smug attitude!”

Wooyoung’s eyes blazed with fury. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“Maybe because you never let anyone in!” you screamed, pushing him back. He stumbled slightly, then came back, his face inches from yours.

“Maybe because you never tried to understand!” he shouted, his breath hot on your face.

You felt a surge of anger and recklessness take over. “Why would I want to understand someone as pathetic as you?” you shot back, your words sharp and cutting.

Wooyoung’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Shut up,” he said, his voice low and filled with warning.

You met his gaze with a challenging look, the anger and adrenaline making you bold. “Make me,” you replied, your voice steady despite the wild beating of your heart.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Then, before you could react, Wooyoung grabbed your shoulders and pulled you toward him, crashing his lips against yours in a rough, almost desperate kiss. The suddenness of it stole your breath, and for a split second, you were too stunned to respond.

But then you felt a surge of heat, a mix of anger and something much deeper. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands moving to tangle in his hair as you tried to pull him even closer. It was a battle, not a kiss—each of you trying to dominate, to claim the upper hand.

Wooyoung’s hands tightened on your shoulders, his grip almost bruising as he pushed you back against the wall. You gasped, but it only made the kiss more intense. Your hands slipped from his hair to his back, clutching at his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongues and raw need. You could feel the anger in it, the frustration and the years of unspoken tension. But there was something else, too—a desperate desire, a need to finally break through the barriers you’d both put up.

You fought back, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him grunt. He responded by pressing you harder against the wall, his grip on your shoulders almost bruising. His lips moved against yours with a fierce intensity, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, demanding submission.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice breathless but defiant.

Wooyoung growled, one hand moving to grip your jaw, tilting your head back forcefully. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he muttered against your lips before biting down harshly on your lower lip, drawing a gasp from you, almost drawing blood.

You retaliated by digging your nails into his back through his shirt, trying to assert some control. But Wooyoung was relentless. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, his body pressing against yours, leaving you no room to move.

“Pathetic,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re always so desperate to prove yourself.”

“Better than being a smug asshole,” you shot back, twisting in his grip but finding no escape.

Wooyoung’s laugh was dark and mocking. “You like this, don’t you? Being put in your place.” His free hand trailed down your side, gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.

“Shut up,” you spat, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“Make me,” he countered, echoing your earlier challenge. His lips found yours again, even rougher this time, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, dominating every movement.

You bit down on his tongue, earning a growl from him as he pulled back slightly, only to return with even more force. His kiss was punishing, each movement designed to remind you who was in control. You couldn’t help but respond, your body betraying you as you arched against him.

“You’re such a brat,” he hissed, his lips moving down to your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks. “Always trying to fight me, but you’re just as desperate for this as I am.”

‘’Fuck you,” you repeated, though the words lacked conviction as a moan escaped your lips.

“Admit it,” he demanded, his hand slipping under your shirt, fingers digging into your skin. “Admit that you want this.”

“Never,” you gasped, tugging against his hold on your wrists.

He yanked your hands down, pinning them behind your back with one hand while his other hand slipped under your shirt, trailing down your stomach with rough, possessive movements.

“Let go of me,” you demanded, but your voice wavered, betraying your conflicting emotions.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Not until you learn to keep that mouth of yours shut.” His fingers found the waistband of your pants, slipping inside with a determined, almost punishing force.

You gasped as his fingers brushed against your core, the sensation both shocking and electrifying. “You’re such an ass,” you hissed, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“Such a dirty little mouth,” he taunted, his fingers moving with a rough precision that made it impossible to think clearly. He found your clit quickly, starting to circle it roughly. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson.’’

Before you could respond, his fingers pushed inside you, the intrusion rough and unyielding. You bit back a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but it was impossible to ignore the intensity of his touch.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and taunting. “You act all tough, but deep down, you’re just a needy little slut.”

“Shut up,” you managed to gasp, your body betraying you as you arched against his hand.

His fingers moved faster, rougher, each movement designed to break down your resistance. “Fuck. You’re so wet for me. Just admit it.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give in. “I hate you,” you spat, though the words lacked conviction.

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But your body says otherwise.” He added another finger, stretching you, making you gasp. “Look at you, so desperate and needy. It’s pathetic.”

You wanted to retort, to throw another insult his way, but the sensation was overwhelming. His fingers moved with a brutal efficiency, hitting just the right spots to make you squirm. The anger and hatred mixed with the undeniable physical attraction, creating a storm of conflicting emotions.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. “Admit that you want this.”

“Never,” you gasped, though the word came out more like a moan.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, and he thrust his fingers harder, making you cry out despite yourself. “Say it,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I… I want it,” you finally admitted, the words torn from you unwillingly.

“Good girl,” he murmured, a mocking smile on his lips. “Was that so hard?” He continued his rough ministrations, his fingers moving in a relentless rhythm that left you trembling.

The words were degrading, but they pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed around his fingers, pleasure crashing through you in waves. You cried out, unable to hold back, your hands gripping his arms for support.

Wooyoung watched you with a satisfied smirk, his fingers continuing to move inside you, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm. "That's it, sweetheart,’’ he murmured, his voice softening just a fraction.

You tried to catch your breath to regain some semblance of control, but Wooyoung was already kneeling in front of you, his hands roughly pushing your pants and underwear down to your ankles.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you stammered, though your body betrayed you with a shiver of anticipation.

“You think I’m done with you?” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks. “I’m going to show you what happens when you push me too far.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his tongue flicking against your clit with a precision that made your knees buckle. You gasped, one hand flying to his hair, the other bracing against the wall for support.

“Wooyoung, stop—” you started, but your words dissolved into a moan as he sucked hard on your clit, his tongue working you over with relentless, rough strokes.

“You’re going to scream for me,” he muttered against you, his voice vibrating through your core. “Let your friends hear how much you need this.”

“Fuck—no,” you managed to gasp, though your voice wavered.

Wooyoung laughed, the sound dark and cruel. “We’ll see about that.” He intensified his movements, his tongue moving in ruthless circles while his fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but it was no use. The combination of his rough touch and skilled tongue was too much. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and a cry slipped out before you could stop it.

“Louder,” he demanded, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. “I want them to hear how much you love this.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, but the defiance was slipping away with every flick of his tongue.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe later,” he said, diving back in with renewed intensity. His tongue moved faster, harder, and you could feel the pressure building again, even more overwhelming than before.

Your resolve crumbled, and you let out a loud moan, unable to hold back. Wooyoung smirked against you, his satisfaction evident as he continued to push you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” he murmured between strokes. “Scream for me like the needy little slut you are.”

You tried to resist, to stay bratty and defiant, but it was impossible. The pleasure was too intense, his dominance too overwhelming. With a final, desperate cry, you came, your body trembling as the orgasm crashed over you.

He didn’t let up, his tongue working you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a shaking, gasping mess. Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening with your arousal, a satisfied smirk on his face.

He stood up from his knees, his eyes dark with a mix of triumph and raw lust. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you again, his hands rough as they grabbed your wrists and pulled you toward the desk beside you.

“You think we’re done?” he growled, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “Not even close.”

You tried to muster some defiance, but the intensity of the situation left you breathless. “You’re such an asshole,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky.

“And you’re about to learn just how much of an asshole I can be,” he replied, pushing you forward so that your upper body was bent over the desk. His hands were on your hips.

Wooyoung didn’t waste any time. You heard the rustle of his clothes as he freed himself, and then you felt the blunt pressure of his cock against your entrance. He didn’t bother with gentleness; he thrust into you in one brutal motion, making you cry out.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his grip on your hips bruising as he started to move, setting a punishing pace. “Bet you love being fucked like this, don’t you?”

You tried to hold onto some semblance of control, to maintain your defiance. “Go to hell,” you spat, though the words were weak, almost drowned out by the sounds of his relentless thrusts.

Wooyoung laughed, a dark, mocking sound. “Already there, sweetheart,” he replied, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal rhythm. “And you’re fucking coming with me.”

Each thrust was rough and demanding, pushing you closer to the edge with a ruthless efficiency. You could feel the desk digging into your skin, but the pleasure was overwhelming, making it hard to focus on anything else.

“Such a dirty little slut,” he murmured, leaning over you so that his breath was hot against your ear. “Can’t even form a proper sentence, can you?”

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a broken moan. Wooyoung’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing even more forceful, and you felt the pressure building again, a coil tightening inside you. Wooyoung felt your tight walls pulsing around his cock.

“You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you?” he taunted, his voice low and rough. “Say it.”

“I—” you gasped, trying to fight the pleasure, but it was useless. “I’m going to—”

“That’s right,” he cut you off, his tone filled with dark satisfaction. “Come for me, you filthy brat.”

The words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a loud cry, your body trembling as the orgasm ripped through you. Wooyoung didn’t let up, his thrusts relentless as he chased his own release.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice filled with contempt and desire. “So desperate and needy. Pathetic.”

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could process the loss, he was moving you again, his hands rough as he pushed you toward the bed. You stumbled, falling onto the mattress, and he was on you in an instant, flipping you onto your back.

“Think you can handle more?” he asked, his eyes dark and challenging.

You nodded, too breathless to speak, your body already craving the next wave of pleasure.

“Good,” he said, positioning himself between your legs.

He entered you again, the angle different but no less brutal. Your hands clutched at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself as he pounded into you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge once more. He took your thigh and pressed it against your chest, thrusting deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his grip on your thigh hard enough to leave marks. “Such a perfect little slut for me.”

The pleasure was overwhelming, turning your mind into a hazy blur. You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as he fucked you with a relentless intensity, pouring all the rage from earlier into it.

“Can’t even talk, can you?” he mocked, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “Too dumb from getting fucked by my cock.”

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a series of incoherent moans. Wooyoung’s thrusts grew even more forceful, and you felt the pressure building again, another orgasm threatening to crash over you.

“You’re going to come again,” he said, his tone commanding. “And you’re going to scream my name when you do.”

You shook your head, trying to hold onto some shred of defiance, but it was useless. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming. With a final, brutal thrust, you came, your body arching off the bed as the orgasm tore through you, as you screamed his name.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. He continued to move, his pace never faltering, pushing you through the aftershocks and into another wave of pleasure.

By the time he finally came, his release hot and overwhelming inside you, you were a trembling, incoherent mess. He pulled out slowly, leaving you breathless and spent on the bed.

“See?” he said, his voice filled with mocking satisfaction. “All you needed was to be put in your place.”

You glared at him weakly, the fire of your anger not completely extinguished despite the overwhelming pleasure. “I still hate you,” you managed to say, though your voice was weak, more breathless.

“And I still hate you too,” he replied, his expression hard. “But at least now you know what happens when you push me too far.”

The room was filled with the tension of your unresolved hatred, the physical release doing nothing to ease the animosity between you. As you lay there, trying to catch your breath and regain some sense of composure, one thing was clear: the war between you and Wooyoung was far from over, but for now, you had been thoroughly defeated.

————————

Outside Wooyoung’s room, Yunho, San, Mingi, and Yeosang were still gathered, exchanging knowing glances and quiet laughter as they waited for the inevitable explosion of another argument. However, when the first loud moan echoed through the door, their expressions changed from amusement to shock.

“Did you just hear that?” San asked, eyes wide, looking at the others for confirmation.

“Yeah, I definitely heard something,” Yunho replied, raising an eyebrow. “That didn’t sound like an argument.”

Mingi covered his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. “I think they’re… uh… working things out in a different way.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened as another, louder moan filtered through the door, followed by a string of incoherent words. “Oh my god, they’re really going at it,” he said, looking both amused and slightly horrified.

Yunho shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, this is unexpected.”

San smirked, nudging Yunho. “Guess our plan worked a little too well.”

Mingi couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “Should we just… leave them to it?”

Yeosang nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I don’t think they need an audience for this.”

Yunho stood up, clapping his hands together. “Alright, everyone. Let’s give them some privacy. I think they’ve got enough to handle without us hanging around.”

San stretched, yawning dramatically. “Yeah, I could use a break from all the drama anyway.”

As they gathered their things, another particularly loud moan resonated through the door, making them all wince and then burst into laughter.

“Okay, that’s our cue to leave,” Mingi said, heading towards the front door.

“Maybe we should go get some ice cream or something,” Yeosang suggested. “Give them plenty of time to… sort things out.”

Yunho nodded, opening the door. “Good idea. I think we all need a break from this craziness.”

As they left the house, the moans and muffled sounds of pleasure faded into the background, replaced by the summer evening's quiet hum.

“You know, I always thought they’d kill each other before anything like this happened,” San said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Guess there’s a fine line between love and hate,” Yunho chuckled.

“Or in their case, a very loud, very thin line,” Mingi added, laughing.

As they headed down the street, leaving Wooyoung and you to your privacy, the group couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. It seemed that locking you two up together had definitely brought some unexpected results.

#kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #ateez #ateez jongho #ateez yunho #ateez seonghwa #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ennemies to lovers #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader

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acid-ixx · 4 days ago

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brutus: the only fucked up thing in the world is you

— masterlist !

let me pitch in another idea before i forget about it, but picture this: a oneshot (or mini-series) based off of "ma meilleure ennemie" where it's platonic yandere batfam x brutus! reader (inspired by jinx in arcane though) x yandere! conner kent. don't mind this at all, i'm trying to flesh out the reader's past in a shorter post 😭

you guys get the general gist. you get adopted by bruce wayne, neglected by the same father all throughout, hurt yet desperate to please your family. though instead of giving up and moving out; you take it in yourself to try to become a vigilante like them, without bruce's supervision you'd be out at night in your stupid costume and determine smile—

fighting crime with an (unsure) grin like your idol, nightwing, in gotham of all places.

in your measly trial of becoming a hero, you fuck up and nearly die at your first try by a criminal attempting to gun you down, if not for the familiar face of tim's best friend, a man you occasionally find yourself staring in awe at every time he visits.

you meet superboy face to face, he charms and saves you from nearly dying. it is him who helps and supports you with your journey, and for the first time in a while you feel seen.

not by your family, not by the vigilantes you idolize— but by the same hero seen as only a mere clone by most.

you quickly fall in love with him, he does so too. that's how your typical romance with the hero goes. it's through his willingness to always assure you that he's yours and that you'll never be alone with him that you dismiss the ache in your chest at another day being ignored by your family, by the flutter in your heart at how you met the one.

he kisses you like you mean the world, he holds your hand every time the doubt becomes too much, it's him who swipes your hair away from your sweaty forehead and tear-stained cheeks, just to let you nuzzle into his leather jacket; to feel and melt into warmth of his blazing chest.

and through it all, you're unaware of just how much he truly loves you from the start, how his heart beats for you and only you.

then one night, in a time where you're without your boyfriend who was in a mission in another dimension, is when you finally see them, your family, huddled together in one of the corners of the alleyway, struggling with a particular fight, that you decide it's high time that you disrupt the flow and help.

you try so, with one of your handmade weapons, but instead of it exploding successfully, out of reach in your family's perimeters, it inadvertently causes the buildings in the alleyway to collapse with its impact. it kills not only the criminals they're fighting, but countless of civilians in the process, and you're the perpetrator of it all.

... standing in front of the mess you made, blood on your makeshift combat boots. you always make a mess of things, that's why you don't belong, that's why you nearly died at your first night if not for your boyfriend saving you. and now, under the cast of the moonlight—

you're the villain in their eyes.

they don't even acknowledge how you share the same glinting orbs of the ghost that always stares at each and every one of them sullenly. they don't notice the familiar shadow your hair casts, or how you're shaking and silent all throughout the entire scene.

... as if it's the first time you bare witness to such a gruesome sight of gore and scattered flesh.

they don't see that, they don't see you, as always.

all they see is red.

red that stains at the crown of your head, all throughout the soles of your shoes.

bruce doesn't hesitate to beat you black and blue once he gets his hands on you, uncaring for the loud wails (he doesn't know you're crying for the people you killed...) and tiny whimpers that escape your throat, the others don't even pull him back, watching the scene unfold like they're mere bystanders rather than... heroes who could've saved you.

and just when you're about to make a run with one of the openings, he rips at your clumsily disguised mask and comes face to face with you, hoping that he finally sees his child.

but he doesn't flinch back, he doesn't even recognize you, let alone how young and naive you truly are to the cruelty of the world. he sees a monster, he doesn't hear you call him 'father' the meek apologies, or the sorry way your hand braces itself on the merciless impacts on your face.

only for your nose to crack and drip with blood either way, for your eyes to bruise into disgusting shades of purples, blues and yellows, until you're a mess of pierced, delicate skin and impalpable flesh.

you want to die the harder you feel your bones crack under the pressure, you want to die, even when someone finally ripped him out of his clutches and you, and when you had released another one of your smoke bombs that was actually miscalculated toxic fumes, forcing your legs to carry you to your vehicle, adrenaline consuming your entire being despite the tears and the pain that wreck at your body.

ever since then, you've run away. to a world unknown, a city you couldn't recognize, broken heart, broken dreams, broken body. every part of you feels broken.

you couldn't even confront conner in fear that tim has already told him of your situation, you break up with him through a burner phone and change your entire appearance afterwards in fear of being recognized by the very same people who destroyed your life. you try to overcorrect by wearing the opposite of what your vigilante persona wore. you want a fresh new start, a new lease on life.

you still want to be a hero like them.

yet there's a small voice in your head telling you violent thoughts that turn into harsh screaming, criticism, insults, yells at your pathetic being.

they rip and mock at you, the voices of the damned in that wretched day became silhouettes, your tormentors who grate at your ears every time you try to sleep in your molded bed in some shitty apartment in a shitty new city. they tell you it's your fault — it is, god, everything is your fault...! — you're nothing but a worthless mistake if it meant the bat was willing enough to nearly break his moral code just to teach you a leasson.

but you're not only a mistake, but also a monster who killed people too.

suddenly, it's hatred that dictates your actions and not misdirected hope. suddenly, the line between self-hatred and the burning jealousy at how easy it was for bruce to forgive his other children's mistakes as compared to yours; it all blurs into one intangible urge to hurt once more.

the longer the voices went on, the longer you stared at the twisting shadows and were condemned to paralysis in a rotting bed to repeat that scene of carnage over and over again— the more your head feels like it's splitting apart at the seams and you forget what love, what forgiveness, what grace feels like.

suddenly, you're adopted by a villain in one of your nightly escapades.

he knows of your crimes, of your misery and struggles, and he wants to transform you into his perfect sidekick, an easily manipulated puppet in the ruse of his crimes: you let him, you've nothing worth losing for anyways.

no family, no lover, nothing worth fighting for.

you're trained mercilessly, you wear a new face that speaks of only violence and havoc brought upon the plains of every known existing thing. you learn what it's like to let go, to only cherish people who find a use in you, who reward you through your attempts. if it means causing blood and pain to the world for praise, in a man who's willing to not condemn you but ro applaud you instead.

and all throughout, you slowly start to forget about conner kent, superboy, your first love, your only one. either by the hidden shame that torments your thoughts of what your ex-boyfriend would've seen in you, or the genuine thrill of the chase from policemen ready to gun down the new threat, you.

you forget what his touch feels like, the ghost of his fingertips pressing against your waist, his featherlight kisses on your shoulders, the texture of his jacket that wraps around your body like a hug, his raven hair tangled on your fingers, and even the feel and taste of his tongue on your mouth.

every intimate moment with him is replaced by the thirst for vengeance, by the still growing need to satisfy your new mentor, just to satiate the looming parts in the back of your head wishing for a semblance of a family member loving you back.

everything was fine, it was normal and you felt the sense of twisted love and satisfaction. you could live in this moment forever, but even villains accustomed to chaos need a new change of pace—

or rather, to relive what has triggered them to become who they are now.

so it's only when you step foot in gotham, yet again, to bring true carnage into the wretched city, with enough of your protege's convincing despite the concealed fear in the corner of your eyes, that you begin to fuck up even once more.

a/n: this is shit like dumpster fire trash conpared to my other works, and it's really short too uhm, but i need to establish smth in my drabbles because i'm prone to forgetting things a lot, courtesy of my dissociative amnesia LMAO. idk half of what i wrote, i speedran it, added tags and pictures and i already forgot about what i wrote. but this is just the flow of it all so i might cringe at this once i reread it tomorrow and possibly even delete this thing if i hate it enough. hope u guys enjoy this before it might go in the dumpster 😭

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nemesyaaa · 23 days ago

Text

now, we're free (gladiator au) // gladiator!rafe x daughter of the empreror!reader

summary ; you were much superior to him, the daughter of the emperor and the future of rome. you could have him killed just for a glance or a touch, but it felt like everytime you were with him, rafe was the one to holds the power. when fire met gasoline...

tropes/genre ; forbidden relationship. tragedy. good person, wrong time. bodyguard dynamic. slight of ennemies to lovers to etablished relationship. royalty/roman empire. bittersweet fluff.

warnings ; violence, war mention, blood, little age gap, angst, tension, death. suggestive content (not smut.). men are trash. abuse of power. corruption. minors dni.

author's note ; i think it's obvious that i watched Gladiator ii and i'm just obssessed with the whole movie.

— as a child of the Roman empire, Rome was your home but also the name of your tragedy.

the story began when rafe was assigned to your protection. it was obvious that the mission didn't delight him but it was the emperor's order and he could not contest it. he found it terribly humiliating for a soldier of his rank to be under the rule of a spoiled little princess like you. he had no desire to be your nanny or the victim of your whims. you already had a thousand servants for this.

SO this is why you weren't meant to love him. you were out of his league and much superior to him. you were literally the princess of an empire, what could it offer you that was better than what you already had? and despite his charming face, you weren't really attracted by his nonchalance and coldness, especially knowing that it was only reserved for you. with the others, he seemed more human. but with you, it was just a machine following orders.

because of that, you started provoking him on purpose, spreading chaos wherever you went only to see him running after you. if only you knew how mad you made him every time he's forced to apologize or take the blame for you, how miserable he felt when you push him on his knees just to tie one of your shoes or just for the pleasure of seeing him under your feets. he was so sick of you that he was holding himself everytime you call him to not killing you.

you were smart. damn, he hated knowing that there was a brain in your head that was giving you all these stupid ideas that were driving him crazy, that forced him to constantly follow your ass like a raging dog.

but one day, it was enough for him.

he was just tired of you treating him like a slave. you were perhaps the princess but you needed correction, to have a minimum of discipline. your education had to be redone and he was going to take care of it.

and the night you tried to escape from your room had been the perfect opportunity. you opened the door silently and so naively while rafe was waiting for you right here.

because he was your bodyguard for over years, he started to obviously know you because he was someone very observant. he didn't talk too much, answering the least possible, staying quiet behind you even when you were yapping for more than hours. he was watching you from behind, listening to you in silence. you will be surprised by how far he knows you, how he can predict every one of your moves.

“where do you think you're going? ”

“i'm going to the toilet. can i ? ” you replied sarcastically.

“now, you're lying to me. ” his voice raising through his gritted teeth.

“leave me alone. i need to go. ”

“oh no, i don't think so. you're not going anywhere with that sick annoying attitude with me. you know what i think? ”

“ do i need to pretend that i care ? ”

“ you're too much of a spoiled princess. no one dares to stand in front of you, to tell you no so guess i'm gonna be the first. " his scary blue gaze was fixed on you, literally judging you with all the hatred he had for you, making you feel even more little than you already were.

“you just said it, i'm the princess. you have no power against me. you're not allowed to speak to me like that. "

“there is no one there so i'm your only ruler. it means that i'm gonna do whatever i want. so go back to your bed. "

It was a bit insulting that he saw you only as a spoiled brat. and you then frowned, placing your arms on your chest contemptuously.

"what is that look? Or you hating me princess, or you just don't like the truth ? "

“fuc’ yourself.”

you tried to close the door but he blocked it with his arm. “ is that all you've got, princess ? so disapointed. ”

he was so much stronger than you as much as he was taller, towering over you with all his height. “ you're the only one who needs to be fucked. don't be happy about it, i'm not gonna be the one.”

“ sure. you're so afraid to be killed by my dad after taking my virginity. loser. ”

the smirk on his face was brighter. he entered your room before closing the door. as he walked, you were forced to step back until reaching your bed and falling into your sheets.

“ don't ask me for things you're gonna cry later. you're not that brave, princess. ”

“ why do you hate me so much ? ”

“ can't i ? if it was not for your dad, i will not be there. ”

his words were mean. they were like bullets. and you tried so hard to not be affected by them, to not let him see your emotions through the sparkles of your gaze.

“ but you're. i don't care how much it is against your will because you belong to me. you can hate me with all your guts but it's only a torture for you. because while i rule my world, you're forced to be there, to be by my side anytime, to focus on me, to watch me all day, to follow my orders. so if you want to be hard on me, i'm gonna be harder. ”

he laughed through his breath. he took his sword on his hands and swayed the blade just in front of your throat. “ i can kill you, princess. look at you…you're shivering when i'm all ready to cut your flesh. do you know what that means ? that you should be kinder to me because i'm tired and sick of your attitude. ”

“ you're my bodyguard. aren’t you supposed to protect me ? you really suck. ”

“ i'm gonna treat you well when you're begin to show me respect. ”

“ you're the only one who needs to show me respect. i'm your superior. ”

“ really ? but you see, when i'm looking at you princess...i see nothing superior. ”

you were so frustrated. but he was right, you were too spoiled to accept that someone doesn't follow your will. your eyes were glossy because of the upcoming tears, and your sensitive side.

“ playing the victim doesn't work with me. you were not that nice when you made my life a living hell. ”

“ i'm gonna report everything to my dad. and you'll be executed. ”

“ that's your will ? ” he said, leaning over you. you turned your face away, unable to looking at him but he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to keep your eyes inside his. “ i said. that's your will. answer me. i know damn well how that annoying mouth of yours can speak. ”

“ don't touch me. ”

“ you were this pathetic before i've even touched you. don't put the blame on me, your honor. ”

since that day, the tension between rafe and you has been high. you hated him but at the same time, you were so attracted to him. and the fact he was your bodyguard didn't help anything with your feelings. because he was always with you, you can't forget about him for a day which was pretty annoying.

rafe was also torn about you. because at the same time, he wanted you to die but also a part of him wanted you so badly. he was clearly ruining his life the way you made him feel.

one day, you felt sick and he didn't hear from you. and he was surprised to miss you. but what wasn't more surprising is that he took care of you during all your days in bed, letting your servants rest. “ you can do nothing without me, can’t you ? ”

and your long term relationship just started after he kissed you in your healing days. but at the same moment, your father sent him to join the new conquest.

your heart felt so heavy, beating in your ribcage like a drum. the war was over and rafe was on his way back home. he was coming back today with the whole army but you were still worried about the state in which you were going to find him. you were never sure about how he would come back to you. you were one of those desperate women who waited without messages, without letters whose hope was nourished by faith and conviction.

rafe was far from a weak man. he had all the rage and necessary strength that Rome expected from him. he was one of the best soldiers in the empire, one of the most valuable fighters and he surely had a promising future in the military career.

you were always afraid for him because the world was cruel and merciless, death spared neither gods nor mortals. at night, you couldn't close your eyes. you could never sleep properly since he left. you only had the smell of his clothes to comfort you, the memory of his voice and these words in your mind, the furtive reminder of his gestures swept away so quickly by a return to reality. you were in this unbearable and sad atmosphere which was called waiting and disarray.

your man always came home bigger to you. the war turned him into a beast. he was pretty huge and his muscles were fat, glistening from sweat and dirt. and you couldn't wait to be in his arms again.

before leaving that time, he had given you a priceless necklace. and since then, you wore it around your neck every day.

it was quite ironic. you the wife of no one, you the woman born with the title of princess, you the woman destined to rule an empire, you fell in love with a man of a rank clearly below yours. you knew that these feelings towards rafe were forbidden to you, that this love was doomed to failure, that only the suffering and the darkness of this union would remain. but you couldn't fight it every time you saw him. you were unable to resist the man who constantly haunted your thoughts.

“Princess, you are beautiful.” commented one of your many servants as she finished your tangled braid which she had punctuated with flowers and pretty jasmine scent.

you smelled good. you were coming back from a divine bath filled with body oils, and you were wearing one of your mother's wonderful dresses. you were her portrait. your father loved to tell you that. and it always made you happy because you never really knew her.

you had grown up in a man's world, ruled by men. even if there were all these gods and these offerings, it was to men that the real power here on earth belonged. but they were all corrupt, all deceptive and arrogant.

your father had burst into your room, a smile lighting up his face as he discovered you so pretty, covered in the thousand and one graces offered by royalty. you were the true treasure of Rome in his eyes.

“look at you, the most beautiful of all.” he began as he approached, a hand on your shoulder.

he coughed before clearing his throat. you quickly understood that he had something important to tell you.

"you know, I'm starting to get old. I have to think about a future governor...I can't abandon Rome without a successor. ."

“Give me the throne, Dad. I deserve it. Doesn’t it belong to me as your sole heir?”

"I know, I know. but my daughter...you know very well that women do not govern."

“but aren’t you the one who decides? you can change that.”

" Enough, I have chosen my successor and it will be the general. he more than anyone deserves this title for his loyal services to the empire and his honors. you should listen to me because I am talking about your future husband. "

your eyebrows arched furiously above your eyes. you took this decision as a betrayal, a total indifference. your father's negligence was one of your worst enemies. you hated his coldness so much.

"but father…”

you didn't like this general. your heart was sealed for another. for rafe. you had given it to him the day he had proven himself to deserve it. at first, you thought he was like the others, that he hoped to obtain royalty by dating you, but he had always been disinterested in your princess side, and the noble blood that flowed in your veins.

“speak your mind, your grace. don't let me with that look of you. you know, i can't fight those pretty eyes. "

“why me? you can choose so many women, so why am I the one you want?”

you had seen his irritable smirk at the corner of his lips. he was positioned above you, and you could feel the warmth of his breath pressing lightly on your hair.

“you want to see me with someone else? Are these your orders, princess? if it is your will..."

"It's not my will...I'm just being realistic. How do you plan to get my father to accept this relationship? You'll be killed before you can even talk to him."

"you think I can't be as dangerous as him? Who kills these men on the battlefield, who returns with his hands covered in blood, who sacrifices himself for the Glory of your father ? I made him a glorious emperor so I would have the princess, the happiest of women.”

you sighed with heavy chuckles. your eyes were locked in his. he had your hands between his fingers that were covered with bruises. his touch was so gentle for someone who kills and fights almost everyday. he couldn't hurt you, even if it was the will of gods.

“ rafe. i have a question for you. ”

“ say it. because it would be your last words before i kidnap you for the rest of the night. ”

“ promise me to always return to me. do you understand, rafe cameron ? you can't die. you can't die without my consent. you're mine, you're my soldier. ”

“ are you crying ? ”

“ answer your princess. ”

your eyes were full of tears, your voice cracking. your loyal protector stood up and placed his lips on yours.

you could feel how sincere he was with you and that was what killed you the most. your heart was in panic but you preferred to ignore the signals.

could we condemn you for wanting to be happy?

when the army returned, you were at the gates of the palace with your father surrounded by the senate and the royal guards. everyone was there, the crowd was so loud that the orchestra was lost in the cheers. you didn't want to appear too emotional but you could almost cry from the feeling that overwhelmed you when you finally saw your lover's face.

he was so radiant under the burning sun of Rome, in this armor of glory which made him much prestigious. he still had wounds from the wars but you were eager to nurse and heal them later. his face was coating with dirt and bruises, bleeding cut on his cheekbone, a bit of a crooked nose and his hands were filled with dried blood. his pecs were bulging and hard against his top. his look was wild and broken, the blue of his pupils piercing you through the crowd. you felt the heat stronger in your skin when his glare scanned you from toes to head. he spat a stream of blood out of his mouth to the ground before smiling at you with red lips hovering his bloody teeths. you didn’t take your eyes off him. It was probably the only thing you saw.

while your father praised the main hero, the general and your future predestined husband, you smiled brightly to Rafe.

“ come greet the general. ” your father said, and forcing you to face the situation.

“ princess. " the old man took your hand gently, putting a kiss on it before making a step back to respect the distance between you and him.

“ general. i'm happy to see you alive. "

" and i'm happy to see you again. you're always so beautiful. "

jealousy was a very cruel feeling which currently exploited all the members, and all the energy of rafe. he couldn't stand seeing you with someone else, he couldn't stand looking at that smile on your lips when you were talking to someone else. he loved that dress, but he hated the effect it had on this man. you were his. and if he agreed to be your secret, he nevertheless refused to share you. he was so conflicted that he tightened his grip on his sword. fortunately his sword was strongly attached in his sheath because otherwise it would slash this general's throat.

the blood pressure increased by anger had caused the veins on his hands and forehead to throb. he took two steps closer, before stepping back when he saw your warned look.

no, you didn't want him to do that. he had fallen back into his place, pressured by your anxious face. his lips were pursed, his teeth lightly biting his mouth. the blue of his eyes were scary, as his jaw muscle was tightened.

you then decided to slip away to the banquet. you didn't like these parties and big ceremonies. it was always so pathetic. you had joined rafe in your private garden out of sight.

the first thing he did when he saw you running towards him in your long dress flying in the wind was to pick you up from the ground to kiss you. “ there she is…” it was so good to see you again. rafe loved your taste, the way your lips swollen under the weight of his, the little wet moans of your mouth brushed by the slap of his tongue against yours.

if it was such a sin, why did you feel like you were in heaven?

his lips were rough and rebellious, slightly damaged but terribly addictive.

you hated that feeling of doing something wrong, when you were right by his side.

when he put you back on the ground, you were nervous. your fingers touched each other in frustration. It was hard having to tell the one you loved that there was a man who was going to marry you. it was as hard as looking into his eyes at that moment.

and then the sores on his face, he had already suffered.

“I have to tell you something…” you started.

he had only listened, with a vague response, waiting for you to speak your mind.

"I'm going to marry the general. My father decided it."

“what?” he spat. “what did you say? ”

he wasn't mad at you, but he wasn't feeling well. it was inconceivable to him. just the thought was fatal to the soldier.

"you heard...I don't like this man at all but I can't go against my father."

“but I do.”

“rafe. be serious.”

"i am. . i fucking am. so don't rafe me."

“don’t raise your voice at me. ”

“don’t ask me to stay calm!” he screamed back. “because this is not going to happen. "

“I’m your princess!”

"you're sure? because you just told me the contrary."

you tried to raise your hands to shut him off with a slap but he grabbed your palm before you could even touch him.

“where are your manners, princess?” he mocked. “ slapping your guard ? isn't it an abuse of power ? i thought i disciplined you. ”

“you know that’s not what I want!” you defended yourself by retorting violently.

he rolled his eyes, taking a step back as if you had broken something in him and he no longer had the patience to listen to you. to tell the truth, he was already tired and you came with a new problem.

“How do I know when I’m the only one fighting?”

" Excuse me ? "

"it's so easy for you. you're a spoiled little princess, you never need to do anything. you order, and you get everything on a silver platter. you never need to fight .even when you want someone.”

"you accuse me of a life that I never chose? You are unfair to me when I always choose you. I never fought, right ?what do you do with all these suitors that I pushed away for you, of these days that I spent waiting for you, of all these jewels that you gave me and that I wore, what do you do with my feelings ?what do you do with all that? All the things i've do for you? So this is what I am to you? This spoiled girl who uses you? Why would I do this? Give me one good reason to do this to you.”

he had his back turned to you, and your voice was weakened by emotions. you weren't well, your stomach was upset. and rafe spiraled. he didn't even look at you.

“How should I prove my loyalty to you?”

“ I know Rome is your home but we should run away. "

"you know I will be found. and you will be executed. you can't run away with someone like me."

"It's your choice. You can stay here and live your whole life with a man you don't love, or leave with me and be happy.”

“ You know, I can't leave ! I can't Rafe, I promise i can't. ”

“ Bullshit. ”

His words hung in the air for a long minute, before you back hugged him, your cold hands on his strong warm chest.

Your effect on him was still working because he was unable to pull you away. He was tense under your touch but not against, just frustrated.

He was always so weak with you. You were just a woman but every time you were around, it was like the best moment of his life.

“ I'm just afraid. ” you admitted. “ and you should too. because someone's gonna lose this fight. ”

“ I can't die without your consent. Do you remember ? ”

“ Will you also stop going to war for me ? I'm begging you. ”

“ So you know how to beg princess ? Interesting. ”

“ Surprised ? I've just learned from the man who always begged me. ” you teased in a playful tone.

“ The General was right. You're very pretty in that dress…”

“ I was wondering when you're gonna tell me. It was very long without you. I've had hard times in your absence because i was just thinking of you all day. ”

“ And now i'm back. You're really thinking of me all day ? ” He asked, pulling you closer to him, before sliding a hand down your tummy, making her way between your thighs. “ even there ? Yea, i can feel it, princess. You really missed me don't you ?”

“ We're in public. ”

“ Yea ? Should put them a show then. ”

Last night, you slept well. Maybe because you felt less alone now that Rafe was home. Everything seemed more comfortable, your blankets warmer, your pillows softer.

While you expected to see one of your servants when the door to your room opened, you were surprised to find that it was several guards.

“The emperor asks for you, your grace. " the commander had declared. "You'd better get dressed. "

“Give me a few minutes.”

Naive and carefree that you were, you didn't see the harm in this request even if it seemed strange to you. You just hoped it wasn't just about your future union with the general.

Quickly, you put on a decent outfit and followed the guards to the throne room.

Your world had collapsed when you discovered Rafe chained at the wrists and feet surrounded by guards like a prisoner.

“rafe!” your voice cracked both in your throat and the large room. you ran towards him but were held back by two soldiers.

what had to happen happened. no one escaped their fate. everyone was forced to endure it. your cheeks were covered in tears as you fell to your knees.

you only had to look at your lover for a few seconds to hear each fragment of your heart crystallize before exploding into pieces in your chest. the pain was heavy, a sharp and stabbing torture like a dagger plunged into the vital organ. you could barely breathe. the vision of his bruised face stuck in your mind. but above all this distressed look.

you were guilty. you had been unable to protect him, unable to save him. you had been helpless. and you felt selfish.

" enough ! " your father had proclaimed.

“leave him, dad. I beg you...take my life, not his. " you replied.

“it is not me who will decide his fate, nor you, my dear child. but Rome. "

" No ! No ! not the arena. everything but not that. "

your father’s smile was sadistic, so imperial in the face of your tears.

you had never felt so much hatred towards him as in that very moment.

“ You disrespected me by playing around with one of my soldat, you humiliated me ! But maybe it's my fault. I let you have too much freedom. But now, it's over. I'm gonna punish you and you will perhaps learn. You're gonna marry the general right after the death of your boyfriend. and remember, you can hate me with all your guts, don't forget that you're the one who chose his faith by sneaking around with him. ”

“ I love him, dad ! He's the only Man i want. ”

“ Instead of making your apologies, you're still defending him. Don't forget who you are. You're maybe my daughter but I will not hesitate to kill you. But if i do this, you're gonna be happy to join your lover and happiness…is something i can't no longer give you. ”

Rafe's jaw was tight. he had already struggled so much since his arrest. his muscles were tired. and anyway, he was now a captive. the chains were too heavy.

he was also suffering from his new injuries. his rage was gradual and intensive, his breathing was ragged, completely in rhythm with the movement of his arched mouth. blood was streaming down part of his lip down to his chin. there was so much anger in his system that the fat of his muscles were vibrating.

his eyes were distorted with hatred and pain. his blood vessels were dilated and red. With the chaos in his head, all his inner voices arguing within them, he was about to explode.

he knew the arena. everyone knew this place. it was the favorite spectacle of emperors, where gladiators faced each other to the death. life was rarely granted. it was a massacre consented to by the people, governed by freaks.

Most of the time, gladiators were war slaves, criminals, traitors. they were rarely people of high rank.

At nightfall, you waited until it was dark and there was no one left in the palace to leave your room discreetly and reach the cellar of the arena where the future gladiators were. you were trembling, scared and out of breath. you almost fell down the spiral stairs due to the narrowness of the place. you had negotiated with the night guard for a moment with rafe. he had given you a few minutes.

“rafe” you whispered as he stood up at the sound of the door.

“I’m terribly sorry.” you said. “It’s all my fault.”

you got closer. his face was damaged. he shook his head.

“I'm going to kill them all tomorrow,” he declared. “absolutely all.”

“you can’t kill them all.”

“I can.”

"I don't want you to die. I can't watch this.”

you had retrieved a tissue from under your cloak, and applied it to the glooming bruises. he grimaced slightly and you smiled. “does it hurt? ”

“i can handle this. ”

“ i'm so afraid. my father wants you dead. ”

“ he forgets who I am. i'm one of his best soldiers, none of his gladiators can't beat me. so look at me, i'm not gonna die. better than that, i'm not gonna leave you alone.”

“ i really don't want to marry this guy. ”

“ baby, you're not gonna marry anyone but me. ” ignoring the pain that came from his injuries, he pulled you on his lap, before kissing you so desperately that his mouth was literally devouring you, his tongue tearing your lips apart.

when the time presented itself, you were forced to follow your father to the royal balcony located in the arena, the one which gave a view of the entire expanse of the place. all of Rome was there. you would have hoped for pity, compassion, mercy but there was none of those. all the cries roared in the crowd, from the stands to the streets.

you were handcuffed to your chair, treated like a prisoner. your heart was beating painfully fast in your chest like a malfunctioning machine. you hated the position you were in. you weren't one of those people who loved to fight to the death. it was brutal, gory and pathetic. no one deserved this.

“ everything's okay ? ” the general asked.

“ i don't want to watch it. i just don't want this. ”

“ you should think of this before putting yourself in this situation. ” cutted your father, before addressing himself to his people.

he was so high, so glorified in society. but this man was evil and sick, a cruel emperor who loved to see people suffer.

in the shadows of the wings, where the warriors waited behind a great iron wall, rafe was prepared. he wasn't going to lose. Above all, he saw himself incapable of losing you. he had to fight for his honor but yours too. he was angry with your father as he never was so angry with his own.

the soldier had never had a break in his life. always pushed to his limits, always pushing to surpass himself. he was the eldest of his family, the one who had no right to make mistakes, the one who had to guard his weaknesses, the one who had to grow up more alone than the others. his father had always been hard on him, in his upbringing and with his feelings. sometimes, rafe agreed to talk to you about his mother and it was in these moments that you most often saw him smile. there were few women who had mattered to him. but now you were the only one.

the orchestra had resounded throughout the assembly, dominating all external noises. the games were about to begin for the pleasure of the spectators. your mouth was pursed, your heart was on the edge of your lips and the feeling of being on the door of the abyss. you would have rather been killed than witness the death of your lover.

when you saw him enter the arena, you tried to appear neutral because he seemed calm.

he always looked so magnificent in his armor. his hair was swept by the wind, a few strands flying over his forehead while dust covered his sun-kissed face, hands turned into fists.. because of the heat, he was already sweating. your hands trembled under the handcuffs as you watched him walk over the sand that must surely burn his feets.

you prayed. you prayed for him. you asked the gods for forgiveness and clemency. you prayed like you had never done before. “ save him. ” you whispered to yourself, collecting your tears in your prayers.

your eyes were opened against your will. it was extremely violent from the start. It had only been a few minutes since corpses were already on the ground, blood was spurting from falling bodies. you would like to care about everyone's fate but you only thought about rafe. you had your gaze glued to him, following every of his movements. you were unlike him, defeated and desperate.

however, he was well ahead of this battle. there was a sick rage within him, and an intense desire to win. a lot of throats have been slashed merciless under his sword. his head was empty, and every of his blasted punches was literally dead strokes. if people from the tribunes wanted a show, he was willing to give them. his charming face was hidden by some dripping blood that was running down from his mouth full of it.

he was no longer human for the moment, just a war dog who beat every one of his adversaries. all of his muscles were pushed hard to fight. his shield was pressed against his chest, and his movements focused on the action. he had been beaten many times but not defeated. he received several punches to the face and sword blows to the body but that did not stop him from continuing. as he fought, strong and fearsome, you began to be cooler. the crowd standed quickly by him.

there were around fifteen people left in the area. the best fighters. you seemed relaxed but you were still stressed because fate rarely announced a good fate to heroes. you were afraid of losing the only person you loved, you didn't want to and you weren't prepared for it. you were already suffering at the idea of seeing rafe's corpse plunge heavily into the dusty sand of the Colosseum. your body was under the influence of your bad thoughts. your tears were bitter and salty.

you watched your lover fight through the gladiators under the clanging of swords, the clash of blades. he had a good attack and a powerful shot. it was supposed to survive. he could do it. he had to do it.

he had no right to abandon you. no right to die without your consent.

the hardest part was not being able to move, being condemned to witness his fall.

you knew your father was a cruel man. he was not the emperor of Rome for nothing. He had killed innocent people, reduced people to slavery, and torn families apart. But you didn't think that one day you would be one of his victims, that you would be the target of one of his sadistic games.

sometimes he would turn his head to look at you and revel in your decaying face. to the point you believe that he wanted your death more than Rafe's.

when only him and one other remained in the arena. the finale was announced by the violent sound of trumpets. now the entire population was hanging in this fight. men were leaning over the boxes to better observe the battle.

the assault had been rapid and violent but above all gory. there was blood and sparkles dripping under a clash of sword attack. rafe had managed to gain the advantage, pushing his opponent to the ground. the victim had succeeded to dodge his blade several times before it was furiously stabbed into his leg.

you closed one eye, making a grimace. the man ended up getting up, retrieving his sword to resume the duel. he had taken his revenge. he now had the upper hand over rafe, and the massacre continued.

except this time it was even more painful because rafe was staggering and unsteady, his face was badly beaten, and the blood was rushing from his opened fleshwounds.

you wanted to scream but it was impossible. nothing came. nor your voice. nor your words. you were stuck in an uncomfortable silence.

you thought about how you could have hated him so much in the past and now he was all that mattered to you. you wanted to go back in time, find this machine that granted wishes, ask the god for forgiveness for not having been faithful enough to them. you wanted to go back to when you and Rafe were still innocent of the fate that awaited you.

you wanted to return to the comfort of the past. the present was unbearable.

the man's body fell to the ground with a big bounce. his corpse had caused the crowd to vibrate with a festive howl. cries were heard from all sides but the time had come to give a fate to the winner. they could save his life or kill him.

your father stood up, silencing the crowd with a wave of his hand. his look was sick. he had placed his thumb vertically, up and down. but before he could even finish, the body of Rafe fell to the ground. you heard his voice raising in a painful growl, as he closed his eyes just under your gaze.

you screamed, the most longest and hurtful rome has ever heard in her life. strangely, the emperor let the guards break your chains and you ran away to the arena. you didn't Care about how much people watched you, you just wanted to check your lover’s health.

“ don't leave me. don't you dare leave me. you have no right leaving me. Do you hear me ? you can't leave me. it's a promise, don't you remember ? ” you shouted, shaking his body against your hands. your voice was broken and your tears were bleeding in your face. “ i'm gonna hate you forever if you leave me. forever…i'm sorry, really, i'm sorry…”

no one lifted a single finger, not even a single move. they were just watching you falling into madness from the loss of your boyfriend. he was still breathing but his eyes were closed.

“ it's an order from your princess. stay alive… where did you go, my bodyguard ? where did you go ? tell me and i will make you come back. i can't lose you. i-i love you, okay ? isn't you supposed to be waking up now ? ”

“ you didn't change at all, a bit of a crybaby when i'm not around. ” he joked slightly through the pain of his wounds.

“ are you dead ? i mean, are you okay ? ”

“ i can't promise you anything. ”

“ does he will kill you if i'm kissing you right now ? ”

“ still planning to kill me even after all those years ? ”

“ rafe. i'm very worried…I want to go back to the beginning. take me back to the start. it's an order. ”

his hand weakened in yours, falling from your grip.

but it can't be over. not like that.

“ rafe…rafe….rafe. answer me. rafe ? answ… me…could you fight for me...just one last time...”

581 notes · View notes

nyxs2 · 29 days ago

Text

Ma Meilleure Ennemie (pt 2/?)

Do you know what the main problem with addiction is? It's that it always demands more. And unfortunately for you, Silco was an addicted man.

Silco x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings: smut, resolved sexual tension, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, orgasm edging, overstimulation, you work in the brothel, Silco POV (when to start smut), Silco being the little control freak that he is. Set before the events of Act 2 of the first season of Arcane.

Part 1

Okay, I didn't expect the previous chapter to be so successful, so thank you to everyone who read it. Just a few warnings: Silco's actions can be quite controversial (you'll understand at the end), he's an antagonistic character and we have to recognize that he's not a saint. If you came here expecting something like "love at first sight", I'm sorry to tell you that there's going to be a long road to that. Remember, there's a fine line between love and obsession.

The month had flown by too quickly, and you barely noticed Silco's absence from the brothel. Since that night, he seemed to have vanished, and the days resumed their usual rhythm. With the generous bonus he had left, you managed to cut back on your workload, bringing a sliver of relief to your otherwise exhausting routine. Today was one of those calmer days. Your last session hadn't been physical; your regular client, Kate, a young woman with stunning green eyes, just wanted to talk.

You spent the time discussing her recent achievements. She had been clean from shimmer for three months and, with visible excitement, shared her plans to become a designer. She had even landed an internship at a boutique in Piltover. Despite being a paying client, your relationship with her felt closer to a friendship. You genuinely cared about her progress and rooted for her, even though you knew the harsh world of Piltover could extinguish the dreams of Zaunites as easily as a gust of wind snuffing out a candle.

The brothel had this misunderstood duality. It wasn't just a place of pleasure and debauchery, as many thought, but also a refuge for the lonely, even if those moments were as rare as fresh air in Zaun.

After the session, you sat at the vanity in the dressing room, touching up your makeup. It was a moment of pause, preparing to finally leave for the night. That's when hurried, hesitant footsteps reached your ears. Through the mirror, you saw Babette enter, her yordle face pale as if she'd seen a ghost.

"What's wrong, Babette?" you asked, frowning.

"He's back," she said in a hurried whisper, and you froze. There was no need to specify who. His name hung like a curse that no one dared to utter. "And he asked for you... in the same room."

A sigh escaped your lips as you nodded, trying to mask the storm brewing inside you. Your body moved automatically, brushing past a Babette who looked almost regretful on your behalf.

The conflicting sensations within you were hard to define—a mix of nerves and something akin to excitement. Part of you was eager to see him again, while another feared what this meeting might bring. It was a wave that swung between the warmth of reunion and the chill of apprehension. It was impossible to predict Silco's intentions with you.

Yet, despite the uncertainty, a part of you relished the idea of facing him again.

The curtains parted just as they had during your first meeting, and you stepped into the room with hesitant steps—but firm enough to mask the storm raging within you. There he was, Silco, seated on the sofa like he owned the world—or at least your little corner of chaos. This time, a cigar rested between his fingers, its smoke spiraling lazily toward the ceiling. A bottle of amber liquor and two glasses were set before him on the table.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you regarded him, trying to keep your expression impassive. "Miss me?" The provocation slipped out in an almost sweet tone, but the mockery woven into the edges of your words was there for anyone sharp enough to catch. And, of course, he did.

His eyes lifted to meet yours, and the smile that formed on his lips was... unsettling. A slow, predatory smile that made your entire body tense, unsure whether to prepare for a fight or flight. But running from Silco was never really an option, was it?

"Miss you?" he repeated, his voice low, almost a dangerous purr, as he brought the cigar to his lips and took a long drag. The smoke escaped in a deliberate exhale as he leaned back even further into the sofa. "I've been rather busy, dove. Running a city isn't exactly a part-time job."

His voice carried an intensity that seemed to cut through your skin and lodge itself directly in your nerves. His eyes were a weapon all their own, assessing you with clinical precision as though he could decode every emotion you tried to hide. Frustration? Undoubtedly. Curiosity? Perhaps. And something else... something you refused to name but which made your stomach churn and your breath quicken.

"Ah, of course... I forgot you rule Zaun. I thought it was just a hobby of yours." The words left your mouth dripping with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at your lips. You knew exactly how to provoke him, even if it meant walking a tightrope with Silco.

But he laughed. Not a short or biting laugh, but a rich, full chuckle that echoed through the cramped walls of the room. His reaction was almost disconcerting, as if he were genuinely amused by your defiance.

"I prefer to think of it as a calling. Someone has to keep these streets in line, after all," Silco retorted, bringing the cigar back to his lips and taking a deep drag. "Drink with me." He gestured casually toward the empty glass beside his with a flick of his hand, as if this were the most normal thing in the world—as if he hadn't disappeared for an entire month and was now acting as though nothing had happened.

You blinked once, twice, frowning at his offer. Surprised was an understatement. Even so, your feet carried you to the sofa, where you sat down beside Silco. Your gaze drifted to the glass placed in front of you, but you made no move to pick it up.

"Drink something from you? I thought I'd made it clear I'm not naive." Your voice was sharp, cutting, and you made no effort to hide what you thought. The accusation lingered in the air, but Silco seemed unfazed. On the contrary, the smile on his lips deepened, as though your suspicion was yet another point in his favor.

"Relax, dove." He set the cigar in the ashtray and leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on yours. "I may be many things, but I'm not the type to drug my... companions. I prefer them fully aware of what's happening."

Before you could respond, you felt his hand rest on your thigh, his fingers drawing lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. The touch was too light to be casual but confident enough to show he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Besides," he continued, leaning in a little closer, "I don't need tricks. You came to me willingly last time, remember? And I'm certain you'll do the same again."

You held your breath for a moment—not out of fear but from the tension building in the air. It had been mere minutes, and already you were spiraling into this dangerous, sexual dance. When he reached for the bottle and poured two glasses, the sound of the amber liquid filling the glass seemed to fill the charged space between you. He slid one of the glasses in your direction, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, and that fleeting touch was like a surge of heat, reigniting memories you'd rather not dwell on now.

The cold glass against your fingers was solid, tangible, but the same couldn't be said for Silco's intentions. Swirling the liquid in the glass, you watched its viscosity under the light, searching for any sign of hidden betrayal. You brought the glass to your nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing unusual. No suspicious scent. Just the strong, familiar aroma of an expensive drink.

"Now, don't be rude. It's a rare vintage, and I insist," he said, his voice dropping a few tones, more of a command than an invitation. "Or are you afraid you can't handle me after a drink?"

He raised his own glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving yours, taking a long sip and savoring the warmth the liquor seemed to bring. He was testing you, and you knew it.

"Oh... I can handle more than you think." You let the double meaning linger in the air, noting how quickly Silco caught on from the faint curl at the corner of his mouth. Then, your gaze shifted back to the drink in your hands.

A sigh escaped internally. Damn it. Against all your instincts, you decided to trust him—at least this once. Bringing the glass to your lips, you took a small sip.

The flavor was unexpected, complex. First, a gentle warmth spread across your tongue and slid down your throat, followed by a hint of sweetness that balanced the burn. You licked your lips, savoring the woody notes mingling with a subtle touch of caramel. It was... different. Something you'd never tasted before.

You almost let out a surprised sigh but managed to hold it back. However, you knew your expression had betrayed you. Worse still, you were certain Silco had noticed. His sharp gaze seemed to miss nothing, and he'd been watching you the entire time. Quickly recovering, you masked your face with indifference, though the effort felt pointless. Pretending nothing affected you had always been one of your sharpest weapons for surviving life in Zaun, but it seemed to fail irritatingly often when it came to him.

"So, tell me..." Silco resumed the conversation, his tone adopting a casual air, as if you were merely chatting. "What have you been up to while I've been away? I hope you haven't been entertaining any other clients in my absence."

"Well," you began, leaning back on the sofa, mimicking his casual tone while swirling the glass in your fingers, watching the liquid sway with the motion. "As far as I know, we're not exclusive."

You let your words hang in the air for a moment before taking another sip of your drink. This time, you kept your eyes fixed on the glass, pretending Silco's presence was just a shadow at the edge of your awareness. "So yes, I've been with other clients."

When you finally lifted your gaze, you met his eyes. They glimmered with something between amusement and danger, and the smile you offered Silco was anything but innocent. You knew you were playing with fire by provoking him so openly without any idea how he might react, but as the damned gambler you were, you could never resist a risky game—even if it meant losing your winning hand.

"Why?" you asked, your voice dripping with audacity as you calmly placed your now-empty glass on the table. "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? No, I wouldn't say that." He paused, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his drink. "More like... protective. You see, dove, once I set my sights on something, I have a hard time sharing."

He set his glass down on the table with a faint but deliberate thud of glass against wood. You had pressed his buttons, that much was clear, but he didn't seem annoyed by your bratty attitude.

Silco settled back into the sofa, mirroring your posture, but with an air of authority that seemed to dominate the room. He leaned back slightly, his legs spreading just enough to make a point, the motion causing his coat to fall open. The glimpse of what looked like a holster at his hip seemed accidental—perhaps he didn't even remember carrying it. It was as natural to him as breathing.

He turned to you, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your face so your eyes would meet his. "But I'm a reasonable man," he continued, his tone soft, almost comforting, yet carrying an intensity that made your skin prickle. "I understand the nature of our... arrangement. You're a courtesan, and I'm merely a client. Nothing more, nothing less."

His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the touch as light as a feather, teasing. "Which is why I think it's time we renegotiate the terms, don't you?" His voice dropped a few tones lower. "I'm willing to pay for your exclusive services."

You couldn't deny the tension rippling through your body as Silco leaned in further, narrowing the space between you until his presence felt like the only thing that existed in your world. His touch on your chin was firm but not rough, a silent reminder of the absolute control he maintained over himself—and, in some ways, over you.

You allowed him to guide your face upward, a silent concession that you were willing to play along—at least within the rules that suited you.

His eyes were both an invitation and a threat, a contrast that should have been intimidating. But, to your surprise, you felt something else entirely.

It wasn't fear.

It was pride.

There was an unexpected, almost visceral pride within you, knowing that he wanted you—and made no effort to hide it. It was both unsettling and... perversely satisfying.

When Silco moved again toward you, the motion caused his coat to fall open further, fully revealing the holster strapped to his hip. The metallic gleam of the pistol's barrel caught the dim light, and your eyes lingered on it for a moment. The sight evoked a disconcerting mix of emotions: fear and excitement, battling for dominance within you.

You knew the gun wasn't there merely for protection. It was a silent statement, a symbol of power—and also of control. Silco didn't make empty threats, and the presence of that weapon made it abundantly clear. So classic, so predictable, you thought, though you couldn't deny there was something undeniably alluring about the image: danger so blatant yet so meticulously restrained.

That contrast was almost suffocating. The implicit threat of the weapon combined with the soft, almost intimate tone of his voice stirred something deep within you. It was a brutal reminder of the risks of being this close to him, but also irrefutable proof of the kind of power he wielded—not just physical but psychological.

This is not good, you told yourself, suppressing a shiver that could have been apprehension—or excitement. You knew how dangerous it would be to let Silco see you as his. The words you had spoken the last time you met applied to him perfectly, and to your misfortune, Silco was possessive by nature, his ambition only amplifying that trait.

But it was too late to turn back. You had already captured his attention once, and here he was again, returning to your arms like an addict seeking his next fix. And it was clear he wouldn't stop until he had you entirely.

"This negotiation..." you began, your voice lower, tinged with something that could have been scorn or desire, even you couldn't tell. "Isn't open."

The silence that followed was heavy, every word hanging in the air like a scale about to tip. There was refusal in your voice, but despite your efforts, there was also a trace of something else... something that could easily be mistaken for lust. And his gaze caught every nuance of it.

Slowly, your eyes drifted from his to his lips, but not before letting him see the small detour they took back to the pistol. As though you were weighing your options, calculating the risks, even though you knew all of them ended with him.

It was like walking a tightrope over an abyss, and both ends led directly to Silco. Two different fates, equally perilous.

"But," you continued, and your voice was almost a whisper now, deliberately laden with heat. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but the words had already taken shape. "You can try to convince me." It was a dangerous strategy, and Silco was toxic in every sense. But just like an addict depended on their drug, perhaps you could turn that dependence into an advantage for yourself.

Silco's eyes darkened, a fierce hunger burning within them as your defiant words left your lips. A low growl reverberated in his chest, heavy with intensity. He noticed the way your gaze roamed over him, like a flame consuming everything in its path. He also noticed—with dangerous satisfaction—the subtle quickening of your pulse, visible in the delicate line of your neck.

You were playing with fire, and Silco was more than willing to let you burn.

Before you could react, he moved with the swiftness of a serpent, pinning you against the couch. In one fluid motion, he seized control, trapping you beneath the weight of his body. His hands captured your wrists with firm precision, raising them above your head as he positioned himself between your thighs.

His hips pressed against yours, a slow and deliberate motion laden with intent. Your body acted before your mind could comprehend, arching to meet the contact.

"Oh, dove..." he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word caressing your skin like silk. His lips hovered near your throat, and you felt the warmth of his breath against the exposed skin. "I intend to convince you, and I think you'll find I'm quite... persuasive."

His lips found the curve of your neck, skimming over your skin with a dangerous blend of gentleness and possessiveness. When his teeth grazed your flesh, they didn't break the surface, but the implicit promise in every touch made your heart race. You knew he could, and you also knew you wouldn't fight him.

The control he exerted over you was intoxicating, but it wasn't just physical. There was something about the way he read you, how every sigh, every tremor of your body seemed to fuel him.

When his fingers released your wrists, you didn't move your hands from where he had placed them, as if the freedom he had given you was an illusion. Instead, you closed your eyes, feeling his hands glide down your body, his fingers tracing an almost lazy path that ignited every nerve in your skin.

His fingers reached the curve of your waist, pausing just long enough to apply a slight squeeze—a possessive touch that sent a shiver down your spine. He followed the contour of your hips, his movements as subtle as they were provocative. Then, with a deliberate motion, he tugged the hem of your skirt upward, revealing your skin inch by inch, as if each bit was a gift to be uncovered. The air grew heavier, each second stretching into eternity.

"You have no idea what you make me feel," he murmured, his voice a mix of confession and temptation, perhaps more to himself than to you. "The things I want to do to you..."

His breathing grew uneven, heavier, and before you realized it, your thighs tightened around his hips, as if to hold him there, in that exact place where the world seemed to have stopped.

"Then do them," you murmured, your voice hoarse, barely a whisper. This moment was his. And somehow, it didn't feel wrong, even though part of you knew you might regret it later.

But right now, in this instant, regret was the furthest thing from your mind.

Silco's Pov ━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━

"Careful what you wish for, dove..."

Silco's eyes darkened with lust as he watched her writhe beneath him, her body arching into his touch as if she were starving for it. He could feel the heat of her core pressing against his cock, even through the layers of clothing that separated them, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to rip them off and bury himself inside her right then and there. To feel that warm feeling that had been trapped in his mind for that damn month of being away from her. But he held himself back, it wasn't about him this time, as he would have other opportunities. He wanted to savor every moment of her surrender, to engrave the memory of it in his mind for years to come.

Slowly, teasingly, he trailed his lips down the column of her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her skin before sucking on her pulse point, leaving a mark. Relishing the way she gasped and writhed beneath him, her hands finally moved to tangle in his hair.

He leaned back, standing erect with his gaze fixed on that which he now coveted. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, exposing her to his hungry gaze. This was something he had wanted to do since their first meeting.

Silco settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her slick folds. He looked up at her through his lashes, his eyes glittering with dark promise. "Look at you, dove. So wet for me already... Such a needy little thing." he murmured before dipping his head and pressing a kiss to her clit.

He started slowly, his tongue lapping at her slit, savoring the taste of her arousal. He traced the seam of her lips, teasing her entrance before flicking his tongue over her clit, again and again, until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair.

He slid a finger inside her, then two, pumping them in and out of her tight heat, at first slowly. He curled them just so, searching for that special spot that would make her see stars. Silco felt her inner walls contract and vibrate around his fingers. He could tell she was getting close to her peak. Leaning down, he sealed his lips around her throbbing clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive nub quickly with the tip of his tongue.

At the same time, he pumped his fingers faster, rubbing mercilessly against that specific spot. Her thighs trembled and tensed on either side of his head as he took her right to the edge... then pulled back a little, wanting to prolong her torment a little longer before finally pushing her over the edge of blissful oblivion. He heard her whimper his name, her voice sounding tearful and frustrated. Then her little fingers tried to pull his face back into place between her thighs: "Easy, dove." He let his fingertip slide over her clit, circular motions that drove her to the edge, but weren't enough to give her what she wanted. "Silco..." her voice escaped in a hoarse moan, filled with a mixture of need and desperation. Sounding like a melody for Silco. "Say 'please' and I might let you cum." Silco's voice left no room for reply and this only made her even more frustrated. Her back arched and she tried again to pull Silco towards her. Her attempts failed. Silco then sped up the movement of her finger, noticing how easy it was to bring her to the edge again... and just as easy to slow down.

The second denied orgasm drew a reaction from her. "Please! Fuck.. I beg you... please!

He smirked as she begged so sweetly, the word "please" falling from her lips like a prayer. Oh, how he adored when she got like this - pride and poise cast aside in favor of raw, aching need. Silco was more than happy to oblige her, diving back in with renewed fervor. He savored the taste, groaning low in his throat as he feasted on her like a starving man, his fingers pumped steadily, curling just to brush that spot inside her. He felt her thighs clamp down around his head, heard her screaming his name as she came undone, her release flooding his mouth.

But Silco didn't stop. He kept going, riding her through her orgasm and straight into another, his tongue lashing at her sensitive flesh, his fingers pumping in and out of her clenching heat. He could feel her fighting it, her body tensing, trying to pull away from the too-much sensation, but he held her in place, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her.

He felt her come again, harder this time, her body convulsing beneath him, her hands fisting in his hair so tightly it bordered on pain. He swallowed every drop of her release, groaning at the taste of her, the feel of her coming apart for him.

Only when she went limp beneath him, her body spent and trembling, did Silco finally relent. He pulled back, licking his lips as he admired his handiwork - His sweet dove sprawled on the couch, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat. She looked utterly debauched, and fuck if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen. A sight that had to be for his eyes only.

"Perfect." He whispered to the void as you seemed to be passed out. Nothing could take away his sense of pride in having reduced you to a limp body lying on the couch, although a part—the one deep inside him—was irritated by the mere idea that someone else could do the same to you. "We can't let that happen, don't you think?"

A rhetorical question to which he already had an answer.

━━━━━━━༺༻━━━━━━━━

You blacked out for a second. You'd like to say you lasted longer after the first, but that would be a blatant lie. With Silco consuming you completely—in presence, touch, scent, and the rough sound of his voice—it was impossible to resist. He pushed you to the edge once more, and when you finally fell, the orgasm that crashed over you was even more devastating than the first.

You collapsed onto your side, utterly boneless, as though every bone in your body had dissolved. The exhaustion was so overwhelming that the line between consciousness and unconsciousness blurred with each passing moment. Every muscle in your body screamed in surrender, yet you still found enough energy to let out a soft whimper as you adjusted your legs, trying to ease the discomfort.

Your body was in a state of hyperawareness. You could feel every little detail: the slow but persistent throbbing between your legs, the sensitive, swollen ache of your clit, both painful and pleasurable as the pressure of your thighs shifted.

The heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of your ragged, uneven breathing. Each breath felt like an effort, but you began to relax, letting your muscles go slack against the couch. And then you felt it.

His gaze.

Even with your eyes closed, you knew Silco was watching. It was impossible to ignore. Those eyes had the power to strip you bare, as though he could see beyond flesh, directly into what you tried to hide—vulnerability, desire, surrender.

Opening your eyes slowly, you blinked a few times, dislodging the tears that clung stubbornly to your lashes. Your lips curled into a trembling, tired but genuine smile as your gaze found his face. Silco didn't look away. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—dangerous and tender all at once—that made you shift uncomfortably, even in your exhaustion.

"That was the first time..." you began, your voice breathless, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. "By Janna... twice in a row... How is that even possible?"

The words came out in an almost incredulous tone, with a hint of exhausted laughter. You didn't know how he did it, but it seemed Silco knew exactly what to do with your body. Where to touch, what to say, which buttons to press... absolutely everything.

"Give me a minute," you continued, your voice strained with fatigue. "I don't think I can do anything else right now. My body has officially shut down, and it's your fault."

Despite the exhaustion, there was a note of humor in your voice, something you knew he'd pick up on. But it was the truth. Every fiber of your being felt like it had been pushed to its limit, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you had no urge to fight it.

Silco leaned over you, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face with a surprisingly gentle, almost reverent gesture. The touch was a stark contrast to the roughness of his calloused fingers. "Don't worry about me, dove," he murmured, his voice low and smooth, like a whispered melody in the darkness. "I'm more than satisfied with how the night turned out."

He then pressed a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. The fleeting touch was almost contradictory, an unspoken promise hidden behind the faint, teasing smile that played on his lips. "Now, catch your breath. Compose yourself."

He moved away with his usual natural elegance. As he adjusted his clothes, straightening his suit with meticulous care, smoothing out his trousers; taking more careful care of this part for obvious reasons, and running his fingers through his slightly disheveled hair, you watched him silently. He seemed lost in his own world as he tidied himself.

Silco then turned his attention back to you, extending a steady hand to help you sit properly on the couch. With surprising care, he adjusted your skirt, a gesture that felt almost chivalrous coming from the same man who had undone it in the first place. But what truly caught your attention was the way he picked up the garment he had removed from you earlier—your underwear—and slipped it into his trouser pocket without even attempting to hide the act.

You opened your mouth, perhaps to protest, but before you could utter a word, he had already shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The weight of the expensive fabric pressed against your skin, warm from his body heat, carrying his unmistakable scent: lingering tobacco, worn leather, and a metallic note that reminded you of burnt gunpowder or rust. It wasn't necessary—you knew that—but he seemed to relish the idea of covering you, marking the moment with a gesture that was as possessive as it was protective.

"In any case," he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone as his hand rested firmly on your shoulder, the touch deliberate, "You can return the favor next time."

"So that's your excuse to come back to this brothel?" you replied, your tone laced with sarcasm as one eyebrow arched slightly. A sly smile curved your lips as you looked at him. "How predictable, Silco..."

"Oh, I assure you, dove," he murmured, his voice laden with a dangerous softness that made every word sound like a promise. "It's not the only reason I'll return. But, I must admit... it's a rather tempting incentive."

Yet, as he spoke those words, something shifted inside him. A dark and familiar shadow rose, staking its claim on his mind. Suddenly, Silco pulled back. His face, previously brimming with desire and mischief, turned into a mask of indifference.

"I need to go," he said abruptly, the tone of someone ending a conversation with no room for argument. "There's something I need to take care of."

And with that, without another word, he was gone.

Leaving you behind, confused, and his jacket.

[...]

The days following Silco's visit were a series of unsettling events. The changes came slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but you had a knack for picking up on nuances. You were a survivor, and survival meant knowing when something was wrong before it became a bigger problem.

First, there were the furtive glances. Your colleagues at the brothel seemed to watch you with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. There were hushed whispers and abruptly interrupted conversations whenever you walked by. That wasn't new—gossip was as common as the smell of cheap perfume in that place. But this felt different now. Heavier. As if they knew something you didn't.

Then came the anonymous donation. A substantial amount of money, accompanied by a short and direct note, unsigned. Just three words: "For your comfort."

You found yourself staring at the note longer than you should have, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. The tone of the words seemed polite, even kind, but in context... there was no comfort in them. Only confirmation that someone was meddling in your life.

Finally—and perhaps most disturbingly—was the sudden drop in the number of clients. At first, you thought it was a coincidence, something seasonal. The brothel's clientele had its ups and downs, after all. But as the days went by, the reality became unmistakably clear.

The few men who still requested your company exhibited strange behaviors. Gone were the hungry gazes, the invasive touches. They were stiff, as if walking on eggshells, and most seemed incapable of relaxing in your presence. They didn't want closeness, avoided more intimate advances. Instead, they merely asked for your company, remained in an awkward silence while sitting far from you, and left far more money than necessary.

It was disconcerting. The break from routine, the absence of the predictable... it was almost worse than dealing with the unwanted touches you'd learned to ignore.

And then came the confirmation you didn't want. It arrived through a conversation you weren't invited to but overheard from the other side of a door: the men who had been appearing and specifically requesting you, were none other than subordinates of a certain chemical baron.

Silco. Part 3

#silco x reader #silco x you #reader insert #minors dni #arcane fanfic #arcane silco #smut #no beta we die like silco #arcane

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poisonsage808 · 1 month ago

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Ma Meilleure Ennemie

Steb x Reader

warnings: set before and in season 2, language, angst, violence, police brutality

Judgement was a hard thing to shake. Topsiders were wealthy in their demeaning ideas of how the undercity worked. Fortunately, it often would work in your favor. They could say what they wanted about Zaunites, you took care of your own. Rumors and lies didn’t spread half as fast as a warning.

“Enforcers!”

Promises sacred down here too. Deals? Made to be broken, everyone knew that. Anyone could make a deal knowing full well that double crossings were a daily occurrence. Promises were special, though. Friends hooked their pinkies together in sincerity, a vow to uphold; while lovers whispered sacred oaths coated in devotion. A promise is a promise.

You should’ve known a topsider wouldn’t keep one.

Fuck, your lungs burned and itched like they were turning to cinders. You were on fire from the inside out, set ablaze when you couldn’t outrun the giant, moving, grey cloud that chased you. You could barely breathe inside of it, choking on the ashes of your lungs while your body tried to force them out.

You were staggering blindly on your hands and knees just trying to make it out of the death cloud alive. Another cough racked your body, desperate for air. Through your closed eyes you were blinded by white light. You fought against the hands that gripped you.

Swearing with a scratchy throat, you growled out, “Leave us alone!”

You heard your name, felt an obscenely gentle palm at your cheek and instantly knew who it belonged to. Behind that soulless mask was—

“Steb?” You croaked, peaking out of one bloodshot eye to no avail.

It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t do something like this.

Not-Steb ripped off his mask and pressed it to your face. The hissing noise made you wince and pull away but the enforcer held it firm against you. Air— real air; not the poorly filtered kind that you were used to— rushed to your lungs. It was frightening, addictive. Something topsiders took for granted every waking day.

Barely clear headed, thoughts and questions began battling in your mind. Weakly, you wrapped your hand around Not-Steb’s wrist. The grey smoke was lingering in the distance but you’d been dragged just far enough that you could breathe again. Suddenly, you shoved the hand and mask away. You kicked back, hitting a wall that you used to get back on your feet. Blinking away the sting, you shook your head until your vision focused.

Your heart sunk.

“You’re…” Your brows stitched together in confusion and rising anger. “What’re you doing?”

Steb, the Steb that you loved and trusted, straightens at your accusatory tone. He blinks carefully, eyes darting all around as he tries to come up with an answer.

“I thought when you wanted to become a fucking bucket head, it was to help.”

You never minded that he was quiet, never made him talk when he didn’t want to. The two of you could sit in silence for hours. Sometimes the conversation would go on and on with only your voice filling the gaps, sometimes he felt like contributing more and you’d tease that he was being too chatty. He’d laugh, a sound you loved, and find a way to get back at you.

You and Steb found a way to communicate without words.

“How is this helping, Steb?”

However you needed a fucking answer for this.

Hurried footsteps rush towards you just when his lips part. A smaller enforcer, but an enforcer all the same. Orange whisps peak out from under the barrette and you can feel their glare underneath those haunting goggles. They point their gun at your nose, voice distorted from the mask.

“You got one!” They say, rather cheerfully, to Steb. To you, “Do you have information on the fugitive Jinx?”

You spat at their boots.

Steb’s eyes widen slightly, his brows tilting up. He’d never seen this side of you before. He’s never had to.

The enforcer turns their weapon and the butt of their gun comes crashing, aimed for your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, so you didn’t miss Steb throw his arm out to stop his colleague. There’s a moment of confusion, a struggle as he grabs their weapon and wrenches it away.

“What the hell, Riba!?”

“Yeah, what the hell.” You mock.

“That’s enough, Nolen!” Steb’s deep voice holds a bizarre sense of authority. You’re not used to seeing him this way either.

You’re almost jealous of the silent argument he shares with the enforcer, Nolen, until he pushes their gun into their chest. You smirk, feeling mildly satisfied at their walk of shame back into the grey but it falls the minute you find yourself back in Steb’s gaze.

“So that’s how it is, huh? Gas and beat the answers out of us?”

He reached for you quickly, desperate to tell you that wasn’t what was happening; it wasn’t what you thought it was; this was important. Something along those lines you were sure. Enforcers were predictable that way. And you knew if he managed to get ahold of you again, that you would melt into his touch and believe him because you so very badly wanted to.

“Why d’ya wanna be a bucket head anyways?”

Hopping off the last stone, you made it over the stream only to slip backwards. A hand shot out immediately and locked on your arm, yanking you to the rocky shore. You laughed but your friend didn’t. Steb’s vicious side eye was halfhearted but serious all the same.

“Yeah, yeah, you wanna help people. I didn’t forget! Jus’ think it’s stupid s’all. Never met one enforcer that wanted to help.”

Your heart constricts so tightly it brings tears to your eyes. Anger turns to mourning before you can stop it.

“We pretended as long as we could Stubby, but we can’t ignore it anymore.”

A familiar warmth encased your wrist, smaller sliding down until a smaller digit curled around your pinky. Your shoulder slumped upon contact. You knew when you turned around his ears would be flattened and his big, blue, crystal eyes, soft and pleading.

“Please,” he manages. His mouth open and shuts but he can’t summon any other words.

“Riba!”

You can see his ears flattening at the sound of returning footsteps, and more. Locking eyes with him, you make sure he knows what you can’t bring yourself to say. Steb winces as his name is shouted again, unable to tear his eyes from you. He’s scanning you like he’s trying to commit your face to memory, something he’s done in adoration and longing when you’re forced to part. This time it’s fear. His boot shuffles back, body angled to leave but he refuses to move, torn between duty and love.

“Go do what you have to.” You said as sweetly as you could in hopes it would cover the venom of your words.

“I didn’t forget, Stubby,” you tilted your head, wearing a lopsided smile. Intertwining all your fingers, you held his hand firmly and continued tugging him down the path, “You promised to be the first.”

You made the choice for him and took off running.

comment jinxer or firelight to help me decide part 2

firelight 3 _ jinxer 0

come talk about arcane (and more!) with us on [discord]!

#x reader #imagine #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #arcane x you #steb headcanon #steb arcane x reader #steb imagine #steb arcane #steb x reader #angst

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elllisaaa · 1 year ago

Text

no nut november - han jisung (5th to lose)

-> pairing : han x fem!reader

-> words count : 5k

-> genre : smut, ennemies-to-lovers

-> warnings : switch!han swearing, teasing, dirty talk, praising, protected sex, oral (f. and m. receiving), face sitting, deep throathing, masturbation (m. and f.), use of 'good girl' and 'baby boy', marking, hair pulling, begging, a little bit of angst because han and y/n are dumb + the way i'm depicting jisung does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

“- Are you serious !?”

Your smirk widened as you heard his annoyed voice ringing in the room. He must have found out that you finished Felix’s cookie. But Felix was your best friend, you didn’t like Han and you were hungry. Logical conclusion : you ate them regardless. The door of your room swung open as Jisung bursted into it, visibly furious. You turned around in your chair, your eyes falling in his angry ones immediately.

“- Serious about what ?

- Please ! I know you’re dumb but not that much.”

And your smile told it all : you knew very well what he was talking about, but pretending you didn’t and irritating him even more was always entertaining.

“- Oh ! The cookies, is that it ?

- Yes, that’s it !

- Well, how could’ve I known that you wanted one ?

- You could’ve been nice, for once in your life ?

- Towards you ? Never !

- I hate you.”

Jisung didn’t give you the time to answer but you didn’t mind, you just watched him storming out of your room, bragging about how much of a bitch you were.

“- I hate you too, don’t worry !”

You heard a door slamming somewhere in the apartment, and you laughed quietly at the noise, happy to have angered him to the point he left once again. It was either him or you who ran away from your arguments, but it was always about silly things like these cookies. You preferred to avoid serious subjects. It was safer, because you knew yourself, and you thus knew you were capable of saying the wrong thing very easily. The only thing you allowed yourself to do in his presence was fighting and teasing him, because you knew that he was attracted to you as much as you were to him.

In the first place, you weren’t seeing him as anything but a talented guy. You became trainees almost at the same time, and he was so much better than you at everything. He was good at dancing, singing, rapping, and composing music. Everything he did was immediately incredible, just because it was him. You weren’t bad, not at all, but having this as your goal to reach and surpass was overwhelming and putting pressure on you. On top of that, Jisung had a good personality. He was kind, funny and a good friend. He even tried to help you a few times, but all you had in mind was that he was your rival, your enemy. So, you pushed him away, not seeing the disappointment in his eyes everytime you did.

And little by little, your frustration of not being able to do at least as good as him started to become hate, until the point there was no going back, until the point the only thing holding you back from saying it all to him was your career. Jisung must have sensed your hostility, because he started to look at you from afar, he stopped trying to talk to you and you felt relieved somehow - you couldn’t have carried on with this behavior if he kept being so gentle with you.

The thing was that you couldn’t help being attracted to him, even after all your arguments, after all that jealousy. With time, it all faded to end up in a bittersweet habit that you didn’t want to break, afraid that it would shatter the only relationship that you had with him. You weren’t jealous anymore, but you didn’t know how to act around him, other than arguing for the most stupid things.

__________________________________________________________________________________

“- Felix !”

You jumped in your friend’s arms, happy to see him after this exhausting night. You liked to see other people, but award shows were always nerve wracking for you. Your favorite part of it was just starting : the after party. Felix guided you to a table where he poured you a drink that you definitely needed and deserved after all the hard work you put in to win this award. As you were talking with him, you let your eyes wander around the room until they landed on Jisung.

He must have felt your gaze on him because he turned to you, his eyes fixed on yours. Your smile widened when he looked down, checking out your outfit. When he glanced at you again, you felt like a fire had started to burn into your stomach. He always had that effect on you, raising up something you didn’t want to think about. What you wanted to think about right now was your plan.

Your plan was to make him surrender. Felix had told you about their stupid bet once, when he was a little drunk with you, and you decided to take advantage of it, you decided to make Han lose. If there was only one thing about him that you knew, it’s that he was as attracted to you as you were to him. You tried almost everything you could to bring him to the edge. But you didn’t get any reactions out of him, which was really starting to irritate you.

So, tonight was the night. If you got nothing from him this time too, you would give up. And maybe it would help you to move on from him, finally. Deep inside, you really hoped he would react, because you didn’t want to stop seeing him, teasing him, fighting with him. It was the good part of each one of your days, you didn’t want it to stop.

And you didn’t stop, spending the whole night touching him even when it wasn’t necessary, staying close to him even if you didn’t address a word to him, teasing him even if he seemed more and more tense as time passed by. But it wasn’t like you were exactly calm yourself, on the contrary. You drank, and drank, and drank to relax, until the point you were a bit tipsy. You were less anxious, but the control you had over your words worsened too quickly. You would have to stop with alcohol if you wanted to keep a little dignity.

And as you laughed one more time at one of Jeongin’s joke, you landed your hand on Jisung’s arm, feeling a shiver running on his bare skin. He got rid of his stage outfit, instead wearing black tight jeans and a white shirt tucked inside, making his waist look so slutty you practically drooled at the sight. Suddenly, your wrist was trapped inside the iron grip of his fingers, leaving you no other choice than to follow him when he excused himself, pulling you with him to the hallway, slamming the door shut behind the two of you.

“- What do you think you’re doing ?”

He was breathing heavily, as if he was holding back from saying or doing something - and you hoped it was from fucking you right there. You smiled innocently under his lustful gaze, trying not to seem too excited by the whole situation.

“- I didn’t do anything Jisung… What do you think I’m doing ?”

Han took a step towards you, checking you out without an ounce of shame. Why should he after all ? You did that too many times to count, couldn’t really hold it against him now.

“- I think you’re trying to make me lose. It’s all about that bet, isn’t it ? Wanted to see me fall apart since the first day.

- And ? Did it work ?”

You watched closely when he licked his lips, wondering what he could do to your body with that exact same tongue. He took another step towards you, and another, until his face was only inches away from yours.

“- You want to see how much ?

- Yes.”

Your voice came out shaky, but Jisung didn’t seem to mind since he took your face into his hands, lowering his lips to the point they were almost touching yours. He took a second or two, taking in your whole face as if he wanted to remember it forever. But quickly, everything that wasn’t his lips on yours left your mind : the moment he kissed you, the world got blurred.

Han’s hands found their way to your hips, gripping on them to keep you as close to him as possible. You ran your fingers through his hair, opening your mouth gladly when you felt his tongue licking your lips, moaning when he deepened the kisses. You felt your back hit the wall behind you, and Jisung’s body pressing into yours. You smiled lightly when his erection pressed up against your thigh. All you did was for that exact moment, for the moment he’ll finally give up.

Without a word, you pushed him away from you just enough for you to get on your knees, your hands searching for his belt immediately. But Jisung stopped you just as quickly, putting his hands on yours. Your eyes fell into his, absolutely loving what you saw. It was what you wanted all along, seeing how much he wanted you. He was out of breath, his cheeks were bright red, his hair were messy thanks to your hands and his gaze was shining with envy. He was just so hot, without even trying.

“- We shouldn’t do that…

- What ? You’re gonna tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick ?”

You distinctly saw him shallow, his eyes wandered all around the corridor before they came back to you.

“- I just don’t want you to be seen loving it so much.”

His fucking smirk was back, and you never thought you’ll like it this much one day. But you did. And as his hands left yours, you came back to your previous activity, unbuckling his belt and sliding his clothes just enough to free his cock. You stuck your tongue out, licking just his tip playfully, and then all along his dick.

“- Hurry up, we can’t get caught.”

You chuckled lightly ; of course he didn’t want to admit that he was just craving your touch. But he wasn’t totally wrong. You were in a hallway, and even if it was late and that the probability of someone walking on you was very low, maybe it could happen. And to be honest, you were excited by this idea, by someone seeing how desperate Jisung was for you, that he needed you to the point he couldn’t hold back until you were alone - ignoring the fact that you offered that.

Maybe he was desperate, but you were eager to please him too, to finally feel him and taste him. You took his cock in your mouth little by little, relaxing your throat with slow moves of your head. When your nose touched his pubis, you could tell Jisung was really lost in his pleasure. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back, and his mouth was hanging open, letting out whimpers and pleas.

“- I swear if you don’t start to move I’m going to lose my mind…”

Jisung could have easily taken your hair and made you move himself, but he was so putty in your hands his body wasn’t responding anymore. You grabbed his thighs for support - and not because you wanted to touch them, not at all - then, you finally started to bob your head. You heard Han whine loudly, biting his lower lip immediately to prevent any other sound to escape his mouth.

“- S-Shit ! You’re too good at that…”

Maybe you would have responded, if your mouth wasn’t full. One of his hand flew to your hair, gripping on them tightly when you hollowed your cheeks and twirled your tongue around his cock. He was hitting the back of your throat with each move you’d make, and you could sense that he was holding back from fucking your mouth, you could feel his dick twitching. But you didn’t want him to restrain himself. No. You wanted him to completely let go, completely give in to you. So you sucked him harder.

“- F-Fuck ! Don’t stop… Please.”

You let his cock fall out of your mouth, licking on it a few times before glancing back at him. He looked fucked out already, and you liked it too much for your own good.

“- No need to beg for it baby… Serve yourself.”

His dick was back in your mouth before he could say a single word, a moan escaping his lips instead. Jisung let out another obscenity before he started to thrust into your mouth slowly, not wanting to hurt you at first, but he quickly lost control at how tight your throat felt around him. Your eyes filled up with tears as he started fucking your mouth faster, roughly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he was seemingly on the edge of his climax.

Han knew he had to stop. He should have stopped before cumming, he would’ve still participated in the bet. However, he couldn't. He couldn’t stop himself, he couldn’t stop you. He was dreaming about this for too long to stop now. All he wanted was to shoot his load down your throat and then bury his face in your pussy for hours.

“- Oh God ! I-I can’t… I- Fuck, baby !”

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth once again, and then his hot cum landed directly in your throat, leaving you no other choice but to swallow it, moaning too when you finally tasted him. Some of his seed spilled out of your mouth, dripping on your chin and then on the floor, but your mind was focused on how sweet Jisung’s voice was sounding, whimpering your name as you licked him clean. He seemed to definitely lose it when you gathered the cum resting on your chin on your thumb, sucking on it right after.

When you got back on your feets, your knees were aching, and your jaw too. But it was worth it, especially when you saw Han trying to recompose himself by arranging his hair, trying to look unbothered but you could see his hands shaking. Were you in a better state ? Not really since your panties were soaked in your arousal, sticking to your cunt. And you knew by the way he had gripped your hair that they were probably too messy to only look like you two had another argument.

“- Y/N ?”

You were about to head back inside after arranging your hairstyle a bit, trying to not let him see how shaken you were by what had just happened. You put on a mask of confidence before turning to look at him, finding Han buried in a state of nervousness you’ve never seen him into before. He had always been that cocky guy around you, full of himself as if he knew the effect he had on you, not that anxious boy scratching the back of his neck and barely looking at you.

“- What ?

- Do… Do you want to come with me to the hotel ? I didn’t even had the chance to show you how well I can use that tongue…”

If he had let you see a vulnerable side of him, it disappeared quickly, only to let you contemplate that smug smile of his. You sighed, holding back your own smile to spread across your face. Wasn’t that what you waited for ?

“- You’ll have to make it worth it baby.”

He tried no to show how much this nickname was affecting him, or how turned on your smirk was getting him already. You had certainly noticed at this point, but he had always been admirative of your ability to act like nothing happened even when you should have been crying. Like this time when you performed for your monthly evaluations with a broken ankle, smiling at the jury as if you weren’t dying on the inside. Or like right now, as you were jocking around with Felix and San, as if he wasn’t fucking your throat minutes ago. Jisung would never say it out loud, but he had dreamt about this since the first time his eyes crossed yours in the rehearsal room, years ago.

______________

You stumbled across his room, not even remembering how you made it to the door, the only thing crossing your mind being his hands trying to unzip your dress, and yours unbuckling his belt for the second time tonight. You pushed on his shoulders, forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed and getting rid of your dress yourself under his hungry gaze. Jisung’s eyes were wide open, watching closely as the piece of clothing fell to the floor, pooling at your feets.

He tried to say something, but his throat was dry, and he could only look as you straddled him. His body seemed to understand what was happening only when you leaned in to kiss him again, your tongue entering his mouth easily. His hands wandered on your skin, moaning when he felt your warmth under his touch and your fingers running through his hair.

“- You’re so gorgeous… I need more baby, please…”

You took a handful of his hair and pulled his head back, earning some incoherent whines from him.

“- You need what ? You need to be more specific, baby boy.”

It only made him moan some more as you started grinding against his bulge. The fact that he was still fully dressed while you were only wearing your underwear turned him on. You should’ve been the one feeling small and vulnerable, but here you were, teasing him, having control, and Han loved it.

“- I need you to touch me… Please, please…”

Your smile softened when you heard him beg. It was what you had always dreamt of - of having Han Jisung on his knees for you.

“- But didn’t you promise to show me how well you could use your tongue ?

- Yes ! Yes, I’ll eat you out, I just want to be good for you…”

There was something so wrong about seeing this proper and talented guy so desperate for you, and only you. But it was also so exciting, you didn’t think about it twice before throwing away your panties and pushing him to lay down on the mattress. And when Jisung saw you crawling until you straddled his face this time, he felt like his heart would come out of his chest from how fast it was beating.

“- You’ll better not make me regret coming here baby.”

Maybe he would have responded, if his mouth wasn’t full of your pussy. You lowered yourself on his tongue, moaning when he started to lick your clit. You kept yourself up on your knees, not wanting to suffocate him, but his hands gripped your thighs, pushing you entirely on his face, not giving a fuck about if he could still breath or not. He just wanted to dive in your cunt forever, to taste you for hours, to stay between your thighs for as long as you’ll allow him to.

“- That’s it Hannie, feels so good…”

You grabbed his hair again, pressing his face harder against your wetness, getting him to moan so loudly you thought he was coming. Jisung licked your slit, tasting your sweet juice again and again, knowing he’d never get tired of it. His tongue flicked against your bundle of nerves harshly, feeling your thighs tense under his fingers. Your moans were making him dizzy, and he was so hard he thought he could come undone just from your savor and your praises.

“- So great with that tongue, you didn’t lie… Now make me cum, I can’t wait to feel you in me…”

Han didn’t need you to tell him twice before he pushed his tongue past your walls, his nose rubbing against your clit. You threw your head back as waves of pleasure washed over you, grinding on his face shamelessly and crying out his name over and over, until it felt too much. Your legs were trembling as you slowly got off from him, allowing him to finally sit up.

He was as breathless as you, his lips and chin were covered in your arousal, his eyes were glistening, and you didn’t know if it was from tears or just excitement. You stared at each other for a few seconds, without saying a word, before his hoarse voice came out.

“- Let me fuck you… Please…”

You bit your lips, your eyes focusing solely on his lips for a moment, before you leaned in to kiss him again. This was enough of an answer for Jisung, and this time, everything coming near to demanding was only a memory as he grabbed your breast over your bra roughly. You moaned in the kiss, and he took advantage of it to rub his tongue against yours messily, saliva dripping down your chin.

He didn’t stop kissing you when he took off your underwear, nor when he pinned you against the bed, only letting your mouth go to get rid of his own clothes. He threw them away quickly, not caring where they landed as your hands ran his chest up and down, biting your bottom lip as he also got rid of his pants and underwear. You couldn’t lie to yourself when it came to him : he was looking like a greek god, naked under the moonlight.

“- Fuck me Jisung. I want you to ruin me.”

His eyes darkened, if that was even possible, but you didn’t get the chance to admire that as he dived in again to kiss you passionately, moaning in each other's mouth, teeth clashing and tongues dancing together. You felt his hands caressing your knee before spreading them open with a strength you didn’t think he’d have. Another whine escaped your lips at the images running in your mind from this newfound information.

“- Please, tell me you have a condom or I might go crazy.”

You smiled, and pushed him away just enough to grab your bag abandoned on the floor next to the bed, searching in a little side pocket to hand him a condom, trying not to get distracted by his hands grabbing your ass cheeks.

“- I’m surprised you don’t have one.

- Sorry, didn't expect a little brat to suck my dick tonight.”

You chuckled at his mumbled words, pulling on his hair to bring back his lips on yours. Jisung tried to focus on it all at once : getting the condom on, kissing you, and not fainting. He seemed all confident and composed, but his hands were shaking from anticipation and nervousness as they landed on your thighs again. He knew you were the type to get a new guy every week just for fun, you had so much more experience than him, what if he ended up embarrassing himself ?

“- If you don’t fuck me right now, I might go crazy.”

Your whiny voice - as much as you tried to sound composed - made him come back to reality. And the moment he pushed his cock past your folds, the moment he felt your wetness engulfing him, the moment he heard your desperate moans for more of his dick, his brain deactivated definitely. Han hissed when he finally filled you up fully, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck as he started moving, holding your legs up, allowing him to thrust deeper each time.

“- Fuck… You feel so good, so wet and tight just for me… It is just for me right ?”

He didn’t know where this possessiveness was coming from, nor did you, but judging by the way you clenched around him as he whispered the words against your sensitive skin, it wasn’t really bothering you. But you didn’t answer, focused on the way his cock was hitting all the right places already, making it hard for you to contain your noises. Until a hard thrust of his hips made you cry out his name.

“- F-Fuck Jisung ! Keep going…

- Answer baby, is this all for me ?”

Another thrust that made you see stars behind your closed eyes - a vain attempt to hold yourself back from moaning at each one of his moves. He kissed the skin of your neck slowly at first, quickly turning into sucking, biting and marking you. You had a stage tomorrow, and it was obvious that it would leave purple marks on your skin. But at this exact moment you couldn’t care less about it.

“- Yes, yes, just for you !”

Han groaned loudly before he stood up on his knee, wrapping your legs around his waist and his hands gripping on your body as he started to pound into you, making your back arch and your mouth hang open, an incoherent mix between pleas, his name and animalistic sounds coming out. Trying to keep some sanity, you grabbed the sheets beneath you, looking up at Jisung between your legs : sweats was glistening on his skin, moans falling from his lips with every little clench of your cunt around him

“- That’s my good girl… Shit ! Letting me use her sweet pussy like that, screaming only my name. Only mine.

- Yeah ! Y-Yes… Only yours Ji !”

Your grip on the sheets wasn’t enough. You needed more. You needed him.

“- More.”

It took no more than a word from you to get him. The weight of his body soon crushed you into the mattress, the skin-to-skin contact making you whimper. You immediately ran one of your hands through his hair, the other one resting on his back, needing to feel more of him. He came back to your neck, attacking the other side this time as the speed of his thrusts increased. Your nails dug into the skin of his back when he hit your g-spot again, making you clench so hard around him he thought you were cumming.

“- God, I’m not gonna last long if you keep doing that princess…

- Don’t care, I want your cum all over me.”

A loud moan escaped his mouth before you felt him pull out of your dripping cunt, jerking himself off right away. The loss of his dick was soon replaced by two of your own fingers pushing into your pussy, circling your clit as you watched him fall apart in front of your eyes.

“- Oh fuck ! Shit, shit, shit… I-”

Another loud moan interrupted him as his hot cum landed on your stomach and breast, some even ending up on your chin. His blissed out face and little whines as he slowly stopped moving his hand just did it for you, cumming hard around your own fingers, missing the look of wonder Han threw at you when you came, rubbing your thighs gently to help you come back to reality.

You didn’t know how much time passed by like this, next thing you knew was that you were in Jisung’s arms, legs tangled, and your face buried in his chest. Your eyes opened with difficulty, blinded by the light of the bright sun coming from the window - you didn’t really care about closing the curtains last night. With almost as much struggle, you managed to get out of his embrace, heading to the bathroom with your clothes from yesterday that you picked up on the floor.

As soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror, you gasped. If last night, you enjoyed his mouth on your neck, you were regretting it now that you saw how many hickeys he left on your skin, and how dark they were. You couldn’t ask the stylist to give you something else since the outfits of your group had already been selected. You sighed while thinking about what you’ll need to do to convince the staff so they would cover this up with makeup.

“- Couldn’t keep his mouth shut, as always.

- I won’t apologize for this, everyone should know you’re mine”

You turned around quickly, finding Jisung landing against the door frame of the bathroom, his fucking smirk back on his lips as you tried to process what he had just said. Your heart fluttered, but you couldn’t do that. It was too complicated. So you just decided to brush it off, and focused on taking off your makeup that was smeared around your eyes instead - keeping your hands busy to keep your mind busy too.

“- Stop with that. I’m not yours.”

You saw his smile drop in the mirror, and it suddenly felt like a heavy burden was weighing on your shoulders, like it was getting harder to breathe.

“- I- Fuck… I can’t keep this up anymore Y/N.

- What are you talking about ?”

Maybe playing dumb would allow you to ditch this conversation. You were not ready. Not ready to admit what you were feeling, and not ready to accept that he was maybe feeling the same way.

“- I’m talking about us, about… About this whole fucked up relationship, because I know for a fact that you don’t hate me, and I can’t bring myself to hate you either. I’m tired of lying and always pretending that I don’t want to be near you when this is all I dream about. I don’t know what you want, but I’m pretty sure that I want you all for myself.”

From the way he was talking, from the anger and sadness that was pouring out of his words, you knew that it came from his heart, that he had been holding back for a long time. And maybe you did too. Because you slowly turned to look at him again, head down and playing with his fingers restlessly.

“- I… It’s way too complicated Jisung, and you know it.”

Suddenly, his eyes were fixed in yours again, and you were only inches away from each other’s body. It seemed as if his gaze was burning with fire, as if he was struggling to keep himself together.

“- I don’t give a fuck about that ! I don’t give a fuck about the stupid shit you find complicated ! Because you know that it is not impossible, you know it. I just want you. That’s as simple as that.”

You breathed heavily as he calmed down quickly, coming back to his previous state of anxiety. You didn’t dare to say a word, afraid to hurt him once again when all you really wanted was to hold him.

“- Please, just say something.”

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you hugged him tight, his arms immediately wrapping around you, as if it was where you should be. Your plan was not to get there, but now that his fingers were stroking your hair gently, and that his intoxicating scent was surrounding you, were you really regretting it ?

“- Maybe… Maybe I want you all for myself too, and… Maybe we can try.”

Both of you will need a long and serious talk, but Han’s smile as he buried his face in your hair and your heart fluttering when he did so was enough of an explanation for now. And as he took you back to the bed, caressing your skin tenderly, the bet was long forgotten.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

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ram-bles · 20 days ago

Note

I absolutely adore how you write the whole gang 🥹 May I request more scenarios with them, please? I miss your angst. Would doomed love be alright? Thank you so much

Tulpar crew x reader || Ma Meilleure Ennemie

oh lord this took so long. these are so ooc I'm so sorry in advance. I'll just use Grant as Curly's first name for now.

#: gender neutral reader. angst. not proof-read.

⚠️ character deaths. gore. mouthwashing spoilers. yk, #justjimmythings 💖. toxic relationships.

[I was honestly worried I've written them too ooc 💧 thank you so much anon I'm glad you enjoy my ramblings!]

[ Anya ]

🟦 "I love you, I'm leaving you." ⬛

The night before, she'd confessed to you. You had a long heart to heart conversation with the nurse. Told you everything; Why her financial situation was in the gutter, academic issues, Pony express, Jimmy. After you'd attempted to comfort her, you told her yours once she insisted that she was fine hearing everything. Eventually, you both ended up with something more lighthearted. Hobbies, favorite music, hell, even favorite Pokemon/s. So, when Daisuke came rushing to both you and Jimmy the next day, cutting off the dry conversation, your heart sank. The two men tried to talk her out of the medical room, slamming and tugging on the door which made you flinch and your fingers felt numb. Did Anya feel the same? You had to bite your tongue at Jimmy's words, Anya told you to after all. It's best not to provoke him when we're trapped here. I can't keep watching you be treated like this, Anya. Especially not after knowing what he did to you. And I don't want him to hurt you either. Please. If not for me, for Daisuke and Swansea too. Quickly dismissing the 'Captain', Anya called your name. You loved it when she did. Your heart guiltily flutters and shatters at the same time. "Are you there?" "Y-Yeah." You stammered, the two looking back at you as you moved closer to the door. "Yes. I'm here, Anya. Please. Please, open the door." Anya smiles. He doesn't want Jimmy's voice to be the last she'll hear. "Open the damn door." "You were right." Her tone resigned. You can hear her take a deep breath. "You were right all along. I should have done this from the beginning. I always believed that our worst moments didn't define us. Didn't make us beyond repair." It was silent for a moment, her voice much softer. She probably moved away from the door. "You think I wanted this either? Make no mistake. This isn't my worst moment. Far from it." "It's the best decision I'll ever make." "Anya, please." "Open the door." "I'll take care of it." "Anya?!" Daisuke bangs on the door. "Please. Don't leave me, Anya." Your voice cracks as you call out for her in desperation, hand clutching onto Daisuke's shirt as an attempt to ground yourself. There were so many options in your head that you didn't know what to do. You were frozen. The panic worsens when Anya calls for your name again. "I'm sorry. I love you."

[ Curly ]

🎂 The best of all curses. 👁️

Your hands were shaky, clinging onto the bandaged man. It probably hurt him, but it kept you grounded. How selfish. Everyone else was dead, you knew you were next and so did he. And all he could do was make noises as if you could understand. It was supposed to be strings of I'm sorries but only vowels spilled along with tears. You fidget with the ring on your finger, a symbol of a promise never came true. You don't even know if his survived somewhere. Was it stuck in the foam along with his severed arm? Was it even still there. "We never decided whose last name to use, huh." You chuckle, hand still on his chest as you feel for his heartbeat. "Can this be our wedding instead?" Your veil being the hair that stuck to your face, clinging onto blood and sweat. He makes a noise, and you consider that as a yes. "Grant █████, I do. I still do." And you sob, carefully holding his chin and kissing the bandage just over his cheek. The ceremony cut to a halt when he starts writhing as he notices another presence. Jimmy had thought you were going to hurt him, too panicked to even think properly, the air being thin doesn't help either. The captain drags you off out of sight, the former unable to do anything.

[ Jimmy ]

♦️ The worst of all blessings. 🔪

The axe dragged on the floor, metal meeting metal as you shrugged off the grating noise. Take responsibility. While he was busy off with Swansea, you managed to grab the axe unnoticed. Until now at least. You found him, sitting along with everyone. You were late to the party it seems and you were the plus one. "Are you also trying to fucking kill me after I saved the last pod for you?" "How romantic." You knew he was lying. He prioritized Curly despite it all and out of all people, you would know that. Co-dependency's finest. You glance at Curly who could only stare back, too tired to writhe in pain. "Is this our anniversary dinner?" Jimmy visibly grips on his fork as his knuckles turn white. "This isn't even all my fault!" He's self-aware. "Curly didn't have to enter that fucking room. If Swansea didn't guard utility, Daisuke would still be here, and I was just defending myself from Swansea! Now you're taking his side?!" The past year had been like this with him. Somehow, it's never his fault. It's impressive, really, how he manages to divert everything away from him. "Anya?" "You weren't giving me enough attention." You give him a look after letting out a noise of disbelief and his knees almost buckle out of nervousness. He hates it. He hates how he could feel like this around you. Vulnerability was never his forte, but he somehow let someone love him. Loved him. Somehow, even after all this, you put some blame on yourself. You let go of the tool, dropping onto the floor with a loud clang as you stood at the other end of the table, across from him. Your palms rest on the surface, putting your weight on it as you grabbed the edges. "Is the pod really going to be for me?" "I-" he chokes on his own words, frustrated. Unconsciously, his gaze moves over to Curly. Was the guilt eating him up? Good. "How do we fix this, Jimmy?" "How are you going to fix this?" He stays silent. Before you could continue, he moved fast. Too fast. You hear a metal click and— BANG.

[ Daisuke ]

🌺 "I love you, I'm waiting for you." 🪓

Naive you both were. He knew how tug on both of your strings. Daisuke and his longing for approval, and you with your feelings for Daisuke. Somehow, he managed to separate you both, just enough time so he could convince the intern to enter the vents. When you'd return with the item Jimmy needed, you slammed it on the table and ran over to the bottom of the entrance. "Wait- wait! Does he really have to go?!" You didn't want to piss Jimmy off, but there was an unsettling feeling in your gut. "We can wait for Swansea to wake—" "There's no more fucking time. Curly and Anya needs us." "I'll be okay. I promise." He can't turn around now, there was barely any space for him so instead, he remains curled up there, not wanting to accidentally snag on the loose wires. You chewed on your lower lip to the point where you tasted metal. Daisuke calls for your attention. "You still there?" "Mhm." "I'll be back, okay? Meet me back at med?" He hates it there and you knew it. Even if his voice weren't as shaky as it is now, you'd still know it. So why was he trying to calm you down. "Be careful." You assumed that he nodded when he crawled off. This time, there was no one to hold your hand to stop yourself from digging your nails into your cuticles. There was shuffling and grunting when suddenly something crashes and he screams in pain and your body felt cold. "Daisuke!" "Shitshitshit- hang on, kid. Keep going." "He's fucking hurt!" "Get a grip. He can't turn around." Jimmy holds you by the shoulders as an attempt to ground you before tilting his head, gesturing to head back up already. There was... Blood everywhere. Lacerations and electrocution burns littered all around his. Swansea and Jimmy were arguing after 'sanitizing' the injuries and you were holding onto Daisuke's hand as he gripped it tight, the other pressing your torn jacket as an attempt to stop the bleeding. You push all your feelings aside, focused on keeping him alive but when he groans out apologies, you couldn't help but tear up, biting your lower lip hard to stop yourself from crying. Not now. "Hey! Stop, stop, stop! Don't move!" You feel a hand on your shoulder as Swansea kneels beside you, setting the axe on his lap as his calloused fingers pried yours away from Daisuke's chest and made you intertwine yours with Daisuke's. "Spill it, kid." As much as you didn't want this to happen, you understood the situation and you feel your cheek dampen. Your free hand holds Daisuke's cheek, swiping off the tears and some of the blood as you tried to hush his pain. It doesn't work, but you were there for him and that was enough. You were always enough for him. More than it. He coughs again in-between his sobs and you hold his hand tighter. Shh, I'm here. It'll be okay. "Mmrgh.... I love you." Brushing his hair away from his face and pressing your lips onto his forehead one final time. "I love you too, Daisuke. So much." You finally pry yourself off of him and Swansea speaks next. When he asks him to close his eyes, he glances at you first and you smile before he finally does.

[ Swansea ]

🪓 Better than alone, is to be in bad company. 🦢

Hugging your knees, you two sat in silence trying to process everything. Swansea was staring at a bottle of Dragonbreath X, red fingerprints contrasting the artificial blue. If anything, you expected him to chug it down after the events had unfolded. But he doesn't. You only flinch as he threw the bottle onto the wall, loose cap flying off somewhere as the contents spilled to the floor. "Listen to me." Your head perks up, tilting to face him but he wasn't looking at you. He was staring blankly at the barely empty bottle laying Infront of him. "Haven't experienced all, but I've experienced enough. I'm ready." "Swan—" "Can it and listen." You purse your lips, leaning onto your forearm as you hug your knees closer. "Remember the Cryopods?" You nod. "Was trying to fix two. For you and Daisuke." He chuckles dryly. "Could only get one up and workin'. It was hard you know. Figuring out which one'a ya should get it." "Who did you choose?" "Like asking for a favorite child? Hope you never get that choice." He looks down and continues, voice trailing off. "Couldn't decide. But since Daisuke's..." Your gaze moves to the same empty bottle. "What I'm saying is, I need you to get to it. Don't worry about ol' Swansea. I'll handle Jimmy." "Swansea?" He grunts in acknowledgement. "Can I hug you?" He hesitates for a moment before finally opening his arms and you crawl in-between them.

[A/N: I honestly wanted Swansea's line for Jimmy but I wanted Curly and Jimmy's to parallel. Same goes for Daisuke and Swansea, instead I paralleled dsk with Anya. I'd love to ramble on about why I chose the lines but let's keep this note short and sweet lol.]

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