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oporayamm · 3 months ago

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Currents Collide [Chapter 1]

In all honesty I write this for myself but if someone likes it too that's cool

Namor and Fem OC || King and Priestess || He's obsessed with her and she sees through his facade || Toxic relationship, no romantic feelings, namor is just playful, pristess oc bite backs to him on occasion||

TW: This story contains graphic violence, emotional manipulation, toxic relationships, psychological coercion, and power imbalances. Themes of trauma, war, and verbal intimidation are present.

Summary:

The priestess of the king asked for only one thing: To study the humans quietly, to build bridges, not break them.

But when the king declared war, her dream was shattered—and two empires bled for it.

He, who had never known weakness, faltered first before the Black Panther…

And long before that, he faltered before her—Before the priestess who dared to look at him with disappointment in her eyes.

Now, to soothe her grief, he will grant her wish. Even if it costs the world.

⫘⫘⫘𓂃𓈒𓏸‪‪°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞·°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°·𓆝 𓆟 𓆞·°𓏸𓈒𓂃⫘⫘⫘

The king and I share a complicated relationship.

Love has nothing to do with it—yet he treats me with a kind of unsettling care, as if I were some fragile, expensive pottery. Only to then drown me in governess work the next day, with barely a blink. I can never clearly tell what he thinks of me. I treat him the same: with equal parts duty, distance, and defiance.

We quarrel. We fight.

And yet— my head remains on my shoulders, unlike the last High Council lord.

He had stolen from the civilians’ treasury. Sir Attuma’s spear took care of the rest.

It is always the same: greed devours, and sooner or later, heads tumble from thrones.

He calls me dearest— constantly .

" Dearest priestess ," or "Dear little talamaqui, " little doctor.

Words that should sound sweet, but from him, feel like weapons wrapped in velvet. He says them as he slips his arms around my waist during meetings, casually , as if it’s his right. His touch is warm—but it unsettles me to the bone.

As soon as the others leave, I shove his hand away, fixing him with a glare. His brown eyes meet mine—tinted brown-pink, and neither of us looks away.

" Ch’ah ," I say sharply, wiping the places his hands touched, "how many times do I have to tell you not to grab me without warning?"

Ch’ah . His real name— Ch’ah Toh Almehen —a name almost no one knows anymore. Or no one dare to spoke.

He only smirks, lazy and unrepentant. "I did give you the eye signal, my dearest priestess." He lifts his hand— expecting me to take it. I fold my arms instead, staring him down coldly.

"I am not your priestess," I snap. "You are my king, not my god." I turn my attention back to the endless stack of paperwork—reports, decrees, treaties—shuffling the mess to keep from throwing it at his smug face. I already did that last time.

"You could have chosen Namora for this role instead," I mutter, skimming the next page. "She's one of your finest soldiers. Surely she'd advise you better." Warriors are highly valuable in talokan, you’d find them anywhere here, they sometimes practically run the place but they dont. The noble do. I'm one of them.

He chuckles low, an annoying sound. "And have Namora counsel me to conquer the surface world by force?" he teases. "She is a soldier, Xilo, not a mediator. I need someone who thinks first. Someone with empathy, not just conquest."

He slides his hand across the table again, near mine, waiting.

This time, I stand and let him guide me to his side. His arms wrap around my torso, pulling me close. He nuzzles against my abdomen like a tired sea lion seeking warmth.

Any other Talokanil woman might have considered this a dream.

For me, it’s a living nightmare—but I let him stay.

Despite my exasperation, my annoyance , my hand moves to his head. fingers weave into his raven–auburn hair, and for a few long moments, we stay together in fragile, heavy silence.

I do not love him. That much, I know.

My love is set elsewhere, bound to my husband, to my duties, to the sacred vows I took long ago.

Love is a heavy word. So is hate.

And I do not hate him either.

My hand moves almost absently, stroking the back of his neck as he leans against the bare skin of my stomach. If I truly hated him, I would have made it clear decades ago— and I would not be standing here now.

I do not know what I feel for him. But by the gods above, by the goddesses who weave fate with their silver fingers, I know this much:

I care for him. Somehow, against every reason, I care.

Without a word, he lifts me easily, carrying me out to the balcony behind the council room. He sets me atop the emerald–stone rails, as if I weigh nothing at all.

I lean back against one of the carved columns, but he refuses to let go, still holding me tight — that same possessive grip he never seems able to loosen.

"I want to go to the surface," I blurted out. The vibranium sun had dipped below the horizon, signaling the end of my duties for the day— and freeing me to be myself. That was our rule.

"Why is that?" he asked, his voice lacking its usual mocking lilt. Instead, there was something else there. Curiosity .

"I want to see Wakanda," I said, my words tumbling out with more bitterness than I intended. "Their advancements with vibranium, their nanotechnology. I want my husband and I to study them, to find ways to bring their knowledge to the people."

I paused, then added, "But I suppose that's impossible now, isn't it?" The last words struck like a slap — a deliberate reminder of what he had taken away. His declaration of war against Wakanda years ago had made such dreams unreachable.

I pulled away from him, and to my surprise, he let me go without protest.

Yet i felt his eyes never left mine—burning his gaze to my shoulder.

"You had to ruin it," I said, my voice low, trembling with restrained fury. "Had to kill a mother for it."

I turned away from him, drifting closer to the edge of the balcony.

The slow current of the sea stirred my baby hairs and the flowers braided into my hair, brushing them like ghostly fingers. The coolness of the water eased the fire of our argument — but not enough to calm the storm inside me.

I refused to meet his eyes. I already knew what I would see if I did: pride layered over something far darker.

Something that clung to him like a second skin, no matter how gently he tried to touch me.

He could kill me, if he wished.

But he never had.

And I still did not understand why.

"It was necessary," he said at last, his voice strained, but firm. "To awaken my equal. The Black Panther."

"She was just a child," I snapped, my voice rising before I could stop it.

When I say he is not my god, it is the truth. I serve the goddess of motherhood, Coatlicue, and childbirth, Xochiquetzal , I serve the goddess who shields the innocent, Chalchiuhtlicue .

And no matter how deeply I cared for my king—I would never understand the cruelty he had chosen to unleash on a child.

"It is not fair to create monsters like that," I said, my voice trembling. "Like you were."

The words struck deep— I could see it in the way his expression shifted when our eyes met.

I did not know whether he was holding back his anger, or whether, somehow, I had truly hurt him.

"And yet," he said quietly, his voice even, almost cold, i felt a shiver behind my neck "without me, there would be no Black Panther above."

He spoke not to console me— but to justify himself.

I felt him move closer, instinctively— and just as instinctively —I flinched.

He stopped at once, his hands freezing mid-reach, the water between us thick with things unsaid.

"Unless you actually make peace with the surface," I whispered, my breath catching painfully in my chest, "I won't let you touch me."

Without waiting for his reply, I pushed away from the balcony, letting the currents catch me.

I swam through the open water, fast and desperate, as if I could outrun the fire burning in my gills and lungs— the fire he always, somehow, managed to ignite.

───────𖹭 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 𖹭 -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- 𖹭 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 𖹭───────

When I arrived home, I settled onto the couch, awaiting my husband's return. The maids made the bed before retreating to their quarters after I wished them good night, leaving me alone in the gentle hush of our home.

I unwound the flowers and pins from my hair with shaky hands, the strands slipping through my fingers.

Doubt gnawed at me.

Had I gone too far?

Had I been too harsh?

My ancestor’s book warned of this. She wrote that he was sensitive about his past — that he only shared those buried wounds with the few he truly cared for.

Yes, my ancestor had kept her journals in the family library, carefully preserved for those who wished to learn about the king.

She had been there when his mother gave birth—one of the rare few the past queen regarded as a sister.

My family had never flaunted our closeness to the crown. We didn’t need to. Our jewels, our silks, our bearing spoke enough.

We never meddled in the endless current of gossip, never sought favors, no one had offer any helped once.

We stayed in our lane, providing for our people, ruling our lands with quiet dignity.

We, the women of Estil, are highly regarded.

Women have always held the household. My ancestor herself was a woman—strong, wise, and steadfast—and we carried her legacy in our blood.

“Noyoltzin? Xilo? You haven’t gone to bed yet?”

Little heart i hear, a voice was warm, gentle—the kind that always found me even in silence.

I turned to see Matlat standing in the doorway, still dressed from work. I let my pitch-black hair fall loose and sighed, burying my face into my hands.

I heard him set his bag down before he rushed to me, sitting by my side.

“Did he cross the line again?” he asked, voice already laced with worry. “I can go talk to him—”

“No,” I whispered, moving to sit on his lap. His arms came around me instinctively, grounding me. I wrapped my own around his neck, hiding my face in the crook of it. “I fear this time... it was me.”

His touch never faltered, just continued stroking slow circles against my back. He smelled faintly of iron and heat—the scent of metalwork and long days at the heart of Talokan’s technology.

“What happened?” he murmured, ever-patient. His voice always had a way of softening my edges.

“We had our usual quarrel,” I said softly. “But this time, I asked to go to the surface. Like I told you, weeks ago.” I glanced up at him, my hand still resting on his shoulder.

“And let me guess, my dear,” he sighed gently, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, “you mentioned his war with the humans? With the Wakandans?”

His tone was tired, but never unkind. I looked away, guilt tightening my chest, and he pulled me closer until my ear rested against his heartbeat.

“I’m not tired of you,” he murmured. “Work exhausts me, but being with you, talking to you, always calms me.”

He hummed low, his fingers still combing through my hair. I exhaled and slowly relaxed against him, arms wrapping fully around his chest. The smell of iron and sweat clung to him, but it was familiar. Comforting.

“Continue, please,” he said softly.

I nodded, letting the calm settle over my breathing.

“As you said— I did. And oddly enough, he let me speak. All of it.”

I hesitated, then added quietly, “I didn’t let him touch me after. I swam away. And now... I’m here.”

I rubbed my face gently against Matlat’s chest, and he held me tighter, saying nothing– just being there. Steady, as always.

“I want to stay home tomorrow... possibly longer,” I sighed, letting my head fall back against his chest. “I’ll just go to the temple to pray.”

I didn’t want to see the king just yet. He probably wouldn’t be happy to see me either. I hadn’t visited the temple in moons, being the advisor had kept me away, so maybe this was the right time to return.

“You could just quit altogether,” Matlal said with that familiar playful tone of his, teasing the idea like he always did.

I chuckled and reached up to pinch his cheek. “And let the king abuse another woman in my place? She wouldn’t last a day.”

“A second, you mean- that guy’s insufferable.”

“Matlal Sitlallin!” I laughed, loud and free, the kind of laugh only he could pull from me. We always joked about the king. I was glad he didn’t have to deal with him constantly like I did.

He laughed too, and placed a warm kiss on my forehead before scooping me up in his arms. He swam us gently up to our room, the current swaying around us like silk.

“How about we get some rest,” he murmured, “and think about tomorrow later? You look exhausted.”

“And you don’t? Notlazohtlé? ” my darling, i say to him. He kissed my cheek and nuzzled his nose against mine with a soft smile.

“With you in my arms, I think the labor was worth it,” he said warmly. “Especially if we’re to bring children into this world someday.”

He rubbed my stomach gently and I chuckled, swatting him lightly.

“We have to fix the world first before bringing life into it, isn’t that our deal?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he said, smirking playfully as he laid me gently onto our bed and pulled away from our embrace. “I’ll clean myself up first. You rest, notlazohtzintlé .”

My dearly beloved, he said to me. He kissed me softly on the lips before slipping away into the washroom.

He was right, of course. I could quit. I could return fully to the role of priestess, come home to my maids, drink octli –wine, and spend my days weaving tapestries. But what would those tapestries tell? What stories would they hold if I hadn’t lived them yet?

My dream was taken from me. How could I indulge senselessly when I hadn’t yet fulfilled what I was meant to do? This is exactly why I don’t want to be a housewife just yet.

If I’m going to weave, I want my threads to speak. To carry meaning, to hold history.

But that is for tomorrow.

Tonight, as my husband’s warmth sinks into my bones and soothes the storm in my mind, I allow myself to rest.

Tomorrow can wait.

───────𖹭 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 𖹭 -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- 𖹭 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ 𓇼 𖹭───────

When the next day came, I went to the temple.

It had been too long since I last walked its polished coral floors, too long since I offered prayer beneath the watchful gaze of the goddess, too long since I felt like myself — not the royal advisor, not the one who holds back rage with grace. Just me .

The scent of incense, of crushed shell and sweet moss, grounded me. The temple was sacred. A place for women and women only. It was the one corner of Talokan untouched by politics or pride.

So imagine my surprise when, as the final prayer faded from my lips and the candles hissed softly beneath the water’s current, I turned to find him—the king—kneeling before me.

Everyone had been dismissed. Other priestesses had left in silence, and now the chamber felt eerily still.

Ch'ah–no–Kukulkan, King of Talokan, was kneeling on the temple floor, his head bowed.

Behind him, Namora stood stiff as coral, arms crossed, jaw set in disapproval. Her glare could pierce stone, but she said nothing—not here. Not in the temple.

“Tōtōtzintli,” Ch'ah said softly. “I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” Namora will hear him and think it is kindness.

No. It isn’t.

The word tōtōtzintli —little bird—is an old word. Gentle on the tongue as it meant endearment for children. But in his mouth, it is not gentle. It is a collar. It means small, soft, delicate.

Barely pecking . Barely a threat.

A thing to cup in his palm. To keep.

And he knows exactly what it means.

That’s why he used it here — on his knees, in my temple, where I cannot call him out. A performance of humility, all the while whispering: you are mine, and you are small.

Namora sees devotion.

But I hear cage.

His voice was calm, too calm, and sincere— or at least he knew how to sound it.

“Of course I forgive you, Hueyi Tlatoani ,” I replied, bowing just as calmly.

Great ruler i say, I used the title purposefully. No pet names. No softness. Just formality wrapped in silk.

My claims no irritation. Not here. Not in the house of the gods. Smart of him, truly. He knew I couldn’t lash out here. He knew the temple demanded grace and restraint. And so, as always, he chose the perfect stage to disarm me.

Using the temple—my temple—as a trap. A net of ritual and reverence.

He wore his usual smug look, “Good, now—”

“Oh, the temple needs me, my king ,” I cut in smoothly, the barest curve of a smile playing on my lips. “I am a priestess, after all, am I not?” I tilted my head slightly. “I am more than just your advisor. If I am needed, should I not heed the calls of the people?”

A game. Lightly played, but deliberate.

Namora’s glare could’ve sliced kelp from stalk—but I corrected my posture with trained grace. She knows her place. I know mine. And she stands in my sanctuary. Both of them do.

“I will return in three suns—”

“Make it six, chālchihuitl-tē .” He interrupted me with ease, stepping forward, and for a brief second our eyes locked like opposing currents.

But I saw it, not anger, not annoyance—amusement .

Then he lowered himself in front of me, He knelt again, Like before. Slowly, purposefully. He extended his hand to me.

I didn't hesitate, eyes are watching so i took it.

He kissed my palm with ceremonial reverence, and I lifted my other hand to cup his cheek, my thumb brushing over the sharp line of his bone. A soft gesture—one that masked the blade beneath.

I leaned in, just enough for my words to stay between us.

“Six suns? How generous of you. Should I make a sacrifice in your honor, Tlahtoāni ?” My tone gentle, I used the title sweetly, silk-wrapped steel.

“A sacrifice isn’t necessary—”

“You’re right,” I cut in smoothly, tone serene, “you’ve exhausted enough of our resources already. More sacrifice might turn you to a greedy god.”

He blinked—just once. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before it softened into a low chuckle.

“You’re cleverer than I remember,” he said, and I could tell he meant it.

And I could tell it annoyed him.

“You forget easily, then,” I said sweetly.

He stood, and I let go.

“Rest well, priestess,” he said, placing the edge of his robe over my shoulders like a crown laid in quiet mockery. Heavy, warm, soft with feathers, stitched with power.

As he turned to leave with Namora, I caught the faintest glance he cast back— like he wasn’t done playing yet.

And that’s what unsettled me the most.

Not that he called me little jade, not that he kissed my palm twice.

But he let me win. Or made it look that way.

I went back to my duties with knots in my stomach. Odd, something is definitely wrong.

He didn’t want me back to the palace that quickly?

That alone was enough to set alarms echoing in my bones. He always demands me back to the palace— no delays, no excuses, no questions asked. But now? He grants me rest? Extends my leave?

Six suns. Too generous. Too unlike him.

Whatever the news is… it’s not good.

And now I’m left in the temple, draped in his robe like a marked creature, pretending to find peace while my thoughts circle like blood in open water.

Something is coming. I can feel it in the salt of the sea.

Oh Chalchiuhtlicue, deity of water, give me strength for his antics in six suns time.

⫘⫘⫘𓂃𓈒𓏸‪‪°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞·°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°·𓆝 𓆟 𓆞·°𓏸𓈒𓂃⫘⫘⫘

#marvel fanfic #fanfiction #no smut in this one #not even love #oc and canon #toxic relationship #manipulative relationship #verbal intimidation #power imbalance #namor and oc #shes so done with him lmao #opor fanfictions

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random-dragon-exe · 7 months ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Big City Greens (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Babe | Chip Whistler's Girlfriend/Chip Whistler, In the background, chip whistler & wholesome greg Characters: Chip Whistler, Wholesome Greg, Wholesome Rose, Babe | Chip Whistler's Girlfriend, mentioned - Character, The Green Family, also mentioned Additional Tags: Missing Scene, scene exploration, Exposition, Villains, Villainy, villain focused, Kind Of, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Psychological Manipulation, trickery, Mental Coercion, Coercion, Isolation, Crack Fic, crack fic with a serious side, no beta we die like how chip was supposed to, Not Canon Compliant, Oneshot Summary:

Wholesome Greg pulls a Soos and calls Wholesome Rose to catch her up on the recent development regarding Chip. With a side of how Chip got Greg on his side further.

AKA: A crack/silly idea I and Noodlepals had together that is getting a fic because why not?

Noodlepals, consider this is my Christmas gift to you.

#my fanfiction #fanfiction #big city greens #bcg fanfiction #fanfic #chip whistler #wholesome greg #manipulation #psychological manipulation #emotional manipulation #manipulative relationship #coercion #mental coercion #crack fic #kind of #crack fic with a serious side #not canon compliant #oneshot #bcg

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ghostnumber2 · 2 years ago

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everyone is always quoting the ‘you drew stars around my scars’ but they always forget ‘and now I’m bleeding’ which makes the lyrics so much more powerful and deep and oh my god so painful.

#cardigan #youdrewstarsaroundmyscars #swifties #taylor swift #folklore #lyrics #manipulative relationship

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redacted-scp-antics · 1 year ago

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Looong text coming and please don't ignore the warnings!

I'm bored •^• so I've decided to ramble a bit about my characters.

TW for mention of death and torture (NOT highly detailed, but take care). Also a manipulative relationship and memory loss.

-His name is Alkaios, he has no last name.

-Physically 29 years old. His real age is much higher but unknown. However, he existed long before humanity was a thing.

-He can NOT possess other people. Instead Alkaois simply regenerates.

-Is close to being immortal, but not completely. He can be killed, but so far, there are only very few who could take his life.

-Alkaios favorite color is turquoise.

-Adores rodents, especially chinchillas

-Works with MTF Delta-4 “Minutemen”.

-Suffers from recurring nightmares and has had many sleepless nights.

-He can creat tiny stars and sometimes gives them to others.

Alkaios is 1.80 meters tall, he is far from being buff but has some muscles thanks to his hard mtf training. They can be seen the most on his arms and legs. He can either be seen wearing his mtf uniform or simple jeans (preffering white, gray and black) a shirt and trekking shoes. During colder days, he is also wearing a peacoat and gloves.

Alkaois calls a silver-blue colored charm bracelet his own. It has different types of pendants. Two daggers, stars and crescent moons. This bracelet and a blue-silver colored dagger are his most important possessions.

He has the habit of shaving himself because he likes the smooth feeling. But doesn't mind body hair on other people.

His skin is light brown, he has bright green eyes, and his hair is black. It reaches down to the middle of his neck and is slightly wavy.

(Death and torture, manipulative relationship and memory loss are going to be mentioned in the following part!)

Alkaois is not a human, he is a part of an ancient species called the "starborn". His body is mainly made out of stars. As a Starborn he used to live inside a realm between the stars. His species was known for being kind and peaceful, preferring to avoid conflicts. For a long time, they existed in peace and were able to defend themselves from the few threats they had to face.

Everything in his life seemed to be alright until something happened that would change his life forever. Another species, the "Stareaters" attacked them, murdering almost everyone and leaving only five of them alive. He tried everything to protect his friends, but was quickly overpowered and forced to helplessly watch them all die.

During the destruction, he was eventually targeted by Carmient, a Stareater known for his cruelty. He was simply curious about how good Alkaois regeneration was. He destroyed his body and soul almost entirely, over and over again. Before finally deciding that he was done with his violent game. After attacking Alkaois one last time, he left and returned to his own realm. Due to the things he went through, his mind completely shut down, and he spent a long time period in a numb state.

Eventually, he regenerated again, far away from his realm. Having lost all of his memory, he wandered the place he found himself in. Before meeting the Foundation for the first time. Alkaois instinct took over, and he protected one of the agents from an attack. The Foundation expected him to die, and when he stood up again, they knew that he was not human. The agents asked Alkaois to follow them, which he did after a short moment of hesitation.

The Administration was already waiting for him. Making sure that the tests Alkaois went through were safe. He spend a while being closely watched by the Foundation especially the Administrator. Who at this time, was the only one who knew who Alkaois really was. However, Ascian decided to keep the whole thing a secret. He couldn't do it, Alkaois was already lost and afraid, and hearing what happened would have been too much in Ascians opinion.

Eventually, he joined the mtf and had many successful missions, making new friends among the Foundation personnel. He still suffered from his nightmares but felt happiness again, trying to see his future in a better light. This worked for a while before he met someone from his past.

Just like Ascian, Carmient had also noticed his return. At first, he just curiously watched Alkaois, before he decided to take action. Knowing that the starborn had lost his memories was amusing for him. This time Carmient approached him differently. He was kind and gentle, always understanding. Managing to slowly lure him in. It didn't take him long to make Alkaois fall in love with him. They spent months together, and for a while, Alkaois almost stopped caring about his memories.

He did tell Ascian that he had found a new friend, but he never mentioned any details. Up to this day, the Administrator deeply regrets not asking more questions and failing to protect him again.

Carmient eventually decided it was time to bring his new game to an end. He promised to show Alkaois what really happened and to make sure that he would finally understand his nightmares. Alkaois followed him into his realm. At first, everything seemed to be fine. Carmient showed him around, never letting go of his hand. After some time, Alkaois noticed something, the other people were staring at him in a strange, hungry way. They seemed to be mocking him. He was eventually unable to ignore this and asked Carmient for help. The stareater just smiled, offering to take him back "home" after he learned the truth.

Alkaois was by now surrounded by a large group of strangers. While listening to the person he loved so much, tell him what he and the others had done to his kind. Again Alkaois mind was starting to shut down. Carmient made sure that he knew that he was the only one keeping him alive and that a few simple words would be enough to bring him a fate worse than death. However, this time Carmient did not physically attack him. Instead, he escorted him back into the human world and waited until the Foundation picked Alkaois up.

By now Alkaois feels a deep hatred for Carmient and the rest of the species. Ascian has warned the Foundation about the danger they are all facing, and is more open about his own past. Trying to prevent everyone from being hurt.

#SCP Oc #manipulative relationship #tw: death #tw torture #tw manipulative relationship #tw memory loss #former 963 rewrite now completley own oc

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quarterlifekitty · 7 months ago

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How they’re getting you back

Aka what they’re like as exes that just can’t get over you.

cw: unhealthy relationships, manipulative behavior

Gaz is the guy your parents just won’t stop bringing up. Why’d you break up with him? He’s so kind, and so handsome, and he’s got a steady job— so what if he was a little jealous? He keeps hanging out with your family even after you break up. Like pull up to thanksgiving and he’s there because your mom invited him! And he’s betting you’ll give into the pressure soon and just take him back. They want grandkids, babe, why keep them waiting?

Soap loved forcing himself into your personal space when you were together, and that hasn’t stopped. He knows all of your usual haunts, and he’s using that knowledge to stay close. Your favorite coffee shop, your favorite pub, where you like to stop on your lunch break. It’s just such a big coincidence that you keep running into each other! Great minds, right, bonnie? Oh, he forgot you asked him to stop calling you that. How can he help it? You’re still just as pretty as you were when you were together. And weren’t those good times, hen? Why’d they have to end?

Ghost is leaving you scary fucking voicemails. Telling you that you’re never really gonna be rid of him, so you may as well just take him back, yeah? And yeah, you can hear the slick sound of him jerking his cock in the background, what about it? You know you’ll never get it as good as he gave it to you, birdie. Just answer the door next time he comes knocking, and he’ll remind you of how good you were together. And if you won’t be mature about this, he has his ways of getting in.

Price is this looming presence that you can’t shake. Flowers at your door, unsigned, but you know. Bills paid before you get the chance to pay them yourself. He was the perfect man when you broke it off— you said no contact, he complied. You moved out, he helped you box it all up and drove you to your new place without any complaints. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. The truth was, he was calm when you told him it was over because he knew he just needed to put in the work, and things would be better than they were before.

König is perhaps handling it the worst. Like, this man is buying love spells off of Etsy witches to bring you back together. The gifts he sends are extravagant and pathetic. It might be a little more sweet and sad if he wasn’t huge and capable of killing you with his bare hands. It gets to the point where your friends feel badly— maybe you should just give him another chance?

Nikolai is, more than anyone else, completely sabotaging your efforts at finding someone new. Threatening any potential dates, bribing some, making others disappear. All with a knowing smile as he sits at a table on the other side of the restaurant, enjoying the nasty look you send his way when you’re stood up again. He wouldn’t keep doing this if you’d just go after a man who deserved you. A man who wasn’t so pathetically easy to drive off. But there’s only one man so crazy about you that nothing would get in his way when it comes to seeing you again, isn’t there? This could be easy if you’d come back. But he’s happy to keep playing games for as long as you like, malýshka.

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cyberiapinksosa333 · 2 years ago

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“wtf is wrong with you”

you mean like today or like in general?

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biirdex · 3 months ago

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Splashtail & Frostpaw 🌊❄️

#warrior cats #warrior cats fanart #frostpaw #frostdawn #splashtail #I honestly find their relationship pretty interesting #and I think he’s a pretty good representation of a manipulative adult #biirdex

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captainlilyuniverseworld · 1 year ago

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Never Gonna Give You Up

Next Part in Willingly Unwilling (Can't believe we're already at 9 🤯)

Summary: Gale wants to forget Mystra but can't. Astarion helps.

It’s stupid and he should leave. He should not be sitting here in the tabernacle with Mystra’s shrine in front of him. He is admittedly a little drunk. Astarion may have collected and burned everything in the palace that reminded him of Cazador and his siblings but he left the wine cellar intact. And it’s very good wine. Gale finished the first and is working his way through a second bottle.

The floor is cold and hard and his back hurts from leaning against the stone bench behind him. His neck hurts from the angle he’s held it in for so long. Peering up at Mystra’s statue. He missed her and he shouldn’t. He should be mad at her. He should be forgetting her.

She’d tossed him aside. She’d left him with a hole in his chest that no matter how much magic he gave, he sacrificed, it just took and took and took. She made her forgiveness contingent on blowing himself up. He had the crown of Karsus within his grasp. All he had to do was reach out and take it. But then she’d dangled the cure right in front of him.

“Bring me the Crown of Karsus and I will heal you Gale. I will restore you to your rightful place as an archmage. As my chosen.”

And what did he do? Caved like the doe eyed schoolboy he’d been all those years ago.

And she’d cured him alright. He had all the magic and power at his fingertips and then some. The only evidence of his folly, of his mistake, the evidence that something had been mildly wrong with him was the scared reminder on his chest.

He drank more wine. He needed to leave. He needed to get up and leave and forget her but he can’t. She’s taken up too much space in his head. In his heart. And he shouldn’t be thinking these things knowing that he would come after him.

Because it wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when. Not after the earlier conversation they’d had.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so against the idea,” Astarion watched Gale brush his hair in the mirror. “One little bite. One little drink and eternity is yours.”

“I never said I wasn’t against it,” Gale replied.

“Are you scared?” Astarion sat up. “Because it’ll only hurt for a bit. I’ll make it as painless as I can. I never want to hurt you, you know that.”

“I do. I know, and it’s not, it isn’t out of fear,” Gale shook his head. He didn’t know what it was. He set the brush aside and started to pull his hair back. His fingers brushed his ear and his hand stilled.

It was empty. It was still an odd feeling. It’d been less of a request and more of a demand from Astarion. He caught his gaze in the mirror and looked away just as quickly.

“Surely you are not still beholden to your former goddess?” Astarion asked as he walked over to him. “The ex-lover who asked you to kill yourself for her. Who dangled a cure for that bomb in your chest in order for you to hand over a crown that by all rights, could and should have been yours? Are you?”

He put one hand on Gale’s shoulder the other coming around his front, fingers stroking his cheek. A few inches over and those delicate fingers would be around his throat. It’s funny how much Gale would prefer that.

“Of course not,” Gale reached up and put his hand over Astarion’s. “Why would I when I have you?”

“Always so predictable.”

Gale straightened and swallowed the mouthful of wine he’d been drinking. He didn’t have to turn around, or look over his shoulder, but he did. Astarion is standing near the doors with his arms crossed over his chest.

It must have started raining because his hair’s wet and plastered to his forehead. Even with the dim lighting of the candles he can make out the man’s expression. He’s not angry like Gale would have expected. But he is upset. He’s hurt.

“I thought we’d moved past this running away and getting drunk,” Astarion walked over. “If it’s not the Elfsong, or the Blushing Mermaid, it’s here.” He looked around. “The shrine belonging to your ex lover.”

“...I’m not getting drunk…” is the point Gale makes. “I’m drinking…but not getting drunk.”

That doesn’t make it better but it doesn't make it worse.

“Do you still love her?” Astarion asked.

“Of course not,” Gale answered. “I told you. I don’t love her anymore.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” Astarion stood in front of him. “Why do I have to find you here in front of her? Staring at her like some lovesick puppy?”

The rain is louder now. Thunder breaks up the sound every so often. Astarion is looking down on Gale and Gale is looking up at him. And his eyes are wet. From tears? From the rain?

“I…” Gale doesn’t have an answer for him. Because he doesn’t want to be Astarion’s spawn? Not now. Not yet. But it isn’t as if he really belongs to Mystra anymore now does he? But if he becomes a spawn. Astarion’s spawn it’s the same thing. No longer beholden to a mistress but to a master.

When Astarion touches him, his fingers are cold but gente. His eyes are soft. “Poor thing. You say the words but struggle to believe them yourself. She really has you in a chokehold doesn’t she? That’s why you came here isn’t it?”

#gale of waterdeep #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x astarion #bloodweave #gale dekarios #fanfic #unhealthy relationship #toxic old man yaoi #manipulative relationship #gale and astarion have sex infront of mystra's shrine #angsty #sex as a coping mechanism

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whitexswan · 6 months ago

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eelclaw · 5 months ago

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lionblaze, shadowsight, and the prisoners they released

#i always interpreted lionblaze's relationship with shadowsight as projection #like he's angry with his younger self for being manipulated by cats like ashfur and tigerstar and hawkfrost and sol #idk just thought the dynamic had a lot of potential #sol #lionblaze #shadowsight #bramblestar #brambleclaw #ashfur #wc #eel art

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specialgradefckr · 8 months ago

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Beat Your Heart to Death

tw: explicit content, extremely toxic dynamics. gojo/geto, gojo/reader, geto/reader, and yes, stsg/reader. female!reader. mutual pining, requited unrequited feelings, the yearning, good god, the YEARNING. relatively unwilling voyeurism. EXTREMELY manipulative dynamics – boundary pushing, gaslighting, etc.

satoru and suguru are completely fucking deranged. their brains are operating on a level where human consciousness and emotion just hits different. they say INSANE shit at the end of this fic. you have been warned.

Sequel: Heartline Gone Flat

This must be what dying feels like.

You watch them, together. Leaning against one another, sleeping, vulnerable. Curled up in each other's embrace.

This must be what dying feels like. Seeing the man you love and the man you lust for, so painfully, peacefully, blissfully in love with each other.

If this is dying, you're surely going to hell for thinking something so awful about a feeling so beautiful.

It’s the sort of thing you think to yourself, bury deep – deep – inside the recesses of your mind. Dredging it out in the late hours of the night when you can’t sleep. Wallowing in your unrequited love, feeling sorry for yourself, while also comforting yourself with the thought that at least now you didn’t have to do anything.

You would never have to approach your longtime crush, Suguru Geto, and potentially ruin your friendship with him. It was something you’d struggled with for years, and after Gojo showed up – you didn’t have to struggle anymore. It was already lost.

And the insane twists your fantasies would play out for you, in those lonely nights in bed – you could be free of those, too. You could completely dismiss the insane idea of propositioning the man-whore menace of a human being who made your heart race, Satoru Gojo.

Satoru and Suguru loved each other, and it would be wrong to get in the way of that. At this point, even saying anything to either of them would be a trespass on your friendship, with both of them.

That was all there was to it. Nothing more to be done. You were mourning your feelings. Strangling your dreamy sighs at Suguru’s kind gestures, stomping the flutter in your chest when you caught Satoru smiling. Killing your heart and leaving it to rot, stepping around it like it’s not there.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t escape the fact that all three of you lived together.

It doesn’t help that Satoru is just as prone to PDA with Suguru as he was with all his numerous hookups. More, even, because he doesn’t keep it to just his bedroom, doesn’t make the token efforts to stay quiet at night and shoo them out in the morning.

You do your best. Look away. Try to ignore how your heart jumps, twists, does all sorts of funny things at the sight of them kissing.

Satoru’s pretty white lashes flutter closed, Suguru’s warm gaze softens, cheeks flushed as Satoru’s hands jump up to cling to him. He cups Satoru’s face like it’s a treasure, tilting his head and leaning into the kiss like he can’t get enough of it –

You’re staring, fuck. You’re looking too closely. The scene burns itself into your eyes and you want to rip them out, never see it again. But you struggle to avert your gaze, greedy mind committing every detail to memory with a racing heart, dry mouth.

Thirsty, you’re so thirsty, in every sense of the word. They lean into each other, so in sync and so affectionate in a way that tugs on your every heart string. Fuck!

You start to just leave the room when it happens. You’d rather die than get caught staring, you’d rather go without water than thirst for droplets.

And you’d really, really, rather cut your fucking eyes out than face the feelings the sight awakens in you. Longing, yearning, how you want to tear them both off each other at once, how you want to see more, more, more, you want to touch, you want to taste –

God, fuck. You’re like one of those shitty girls who fetishizes male relationships. Aren’t you? You feel like this might be that. But you’re attracted to both of them individually, so it can’t be that, right? You’re not a creep, you’re just greedy. You leave the room when they kiss! You’re respecting their privacy!

They notice, though, is the thing. Not your staring (god you fucking hope they’ve never noticed the staring) but how you leave the room when they get affectionate with each other. It’s Suguru who pulls you aside to ask.

“…and listen, I know you’re not like that, I totally know, so does Satoru. It just… makes him feel a little weird, you know? He was raised by a traditional family, so they either think this is a phase, or call him disgusting to his face.”

Fuck your life. Actually fuck your ENTIRE life. “Of course not – I never – ”

“No no no, I know, I told you, he does too, it’s just – it’s a little disconcerting for him. But I can talk to him, make him understand. This is your house, too, you have the right not to see that sort of stuff.”

That just makes you feel a bit worse, actually. Satoru and Suguru shouldn’t have to hide away in their room whenever they want to kiss. It’s their own home.

“I’m sorry, Suguru, I – I don’t have any problem with you guys doing it around the house. I just…” You shift uncomfortably. “I’m not super comfortable with… PDA sort of stuff. It has nothing to do with you both being guys.”

Suguru nods, “No, I understand completely. Satoru will be disappointed, but you’re setting boundaries, and I respect that – ”

“It’s not that,” You say, “I – you can do whatever you like, really, I’ll just leave – ”

“No,” Suguru interrupts with a sigh, “That’s what’s bothering him. I think deep down he’s a little worried that you find it… disturbing.”

Your chest tightens with anxiety as you rush to reassure him, “Of course I don’t!”

“No, I know, I know, we both do,” Suguru says in that warm, comforting voice of his, “It’s just how he feels – you know he can’t control that.”

And then your stupid mouth rushes ahead of you. Writes a check your heart can’t afford to cash.

“It’s fine! You don’t have to stop, I. Just… tell him I felt like I was intruding. I didn’t think he saw it as me being disgusted.”

And your heart will pay willingly, because Suguru gives you that smile. Warm and affectionate. The smile you’d fallen in love with.

“You’re not intruding at all. I’ll tell him you said so, it’ll be a great weight off his mind.”

So now the love of your life makes out with his boyfriend and you can’t even leave the room. Hahah. God. Maybe you should start thinking of a way to move out?

Problem: When Satoru moved in, he’d basically started paying all the bills. He didn’t have to worry about being cut off from the family money – even at his young age, he had his own financial success. Even if it started out with a few trust funds and an appointed position at one of his parent’s companies.

Every rent listing looked expensive when your current rate was “free”. And fuck, rent was expensive. You’d have to deal with other roommates, people you didn’t know (and love) as long as Suguru (and Satoru, at this point, you’d known him for years), and you’d be paying for the privilege.

You try, oh, do you ever try to get over it. Sexuality is fluid, after all, so it’s perfectly possible that Satoru and Suguru just ended up being gay. Being with either of them may never have been an option, except maybe as one of Satoru’s flings.

And wouldn’t that just suck? To have one night with Satoru only to watch him realize he’s gay and mutually in love with your longtime crush? Better to never sleep with him at all. You can’t miss something you’ve never had. And you wouldn’t want to be a fling anyways.

The thought stings more than it should, because deep down –

(You’d take it. You know you’d take it. That’s why you’re still here, really, under all the excuses. You’re fucking pathetic, pining for both of them. You’d take anything you could get.)

It doesn’t help that they get freer with their affections after your talk with Suguru. Looser. So unrestrained. You walk in on them fucking in the living room, having come back early from class, face burning up as you stand there stock still for a moment.

They don’t stop, or freak out, or cover themselves or anything. You see Suguru’s naked chest above the couch, Satoru’s hands pinned over the armrest of it, their bare legs and feet entwined and sticking over the other side of the couch. They’re both so fucking tall.

So beautiful. Satoru moans so pretty, and you hear Suguru purr, low and filthy, “Like that, you little whore?” and you feel yourself clenching all the way to your core.

You make a wild dash across the living room, staying on the other side of the couch so they can’t see you. Closing the door to your bedroom as quickly and quietly as you can, panting to yourself, feeling the heat rising on your face and the warm pulse between your legs.

(Pathetic, fucking pathetic. It’s like you’re actually some horny teenage boy with a crush on a pretty girl out of his league, rubbing one out every time you see her with her equally hot girlfriend.)

You’ve got to get ahold of yourself.

Your routine has changed, with the both of them being together, so openly. There were little things you’d shared, now gone, lost to the unfathomable whirlpool that was their relationship.

Used to be you’d buy sweets on grocery trips to share with Satoru. It was an old habit of yours, and when he’d first moved in, he’d caught you with them. Reaching for some with a grin before you smacked him away.

The look he gave you, a slow smirk before he went all wide-eyed and pleading, staggering to his knees like a proper starving drama queen – god, he had to know how he’d made your heart flutter. He probably pulled that on so many people.

Still, he would eat the candies right out of your hand, lips just teasing on your fingertips, eyes lingering on you while he licked his lips. It made you feel weird, at first, but you eventually realized that Satoru was just a weird guy.

He’d yawn and stretch and if he caught you or Suguru watching he’d flash his whole chest, like a girl flashing her tits. He slept naked and left the bathroom door open when he was using it, and he’d often knock when on your bathroom when you were in there, even if he had his own.

He had about ten different game consoles and games for them, plus a huge collection of movies, which he likes to watch with the room completely dark. He sleeps with a nightlight on, and his social media picture is an ugly picture of him from high school with these weird round sunglasses.

Not at all what you expected from a pretty boy like him. But Satoru’s eccentric charm, and the unstoppable allure of his perfect face and body, it rewired your brain somehow. You feel like you’ve wanted him for as long as you’ve known him.

You try to find other people. But the problem with living with Satoru and Suguru is that no one is up to your standards. You’ll never meet anyone as handsome or beautiful as either of them, so why bother?

In your defense, Suguru is hard to fall out of love with.

It’s not uncommon to wake up to the sound of your favorite breakfast being cooked while Suguru hums away in the kitchen, his pretty hair all tied back. If you sneak in quietly enough you can catch a tender smile on his face, the smell of freshly ground and brewed coffee he makes for Satoru in some expensive machine.

If you are unlucky, he’ll catch you, and that smile will grow as soon as his eyes are on you and you’ll fall in love all over again. If you’re lucky, you can sneak back away, but Suguru will eventually come and wake you up with a knock so gentle you suspect he already knows you’re up.

He shares his hair care routine, and it leaves your hair shiny and lovely. But your hair isn’t exactly like his, so he must have adjusted it.

He offers to help you brush or style it, himself, and asks you if you wouldn’t mind repaying the favor. Like you wouldn’t kill or die for the honor of running your hands through his silken locks.

Suguru is the type of guy who remembers when you get your period and asks if you need anything for it. You magically find your favorite fruits in the fridge, cut up, dipped in chocolate or caramel or yoghurt, however you like them best.

He does your laundry without being asked because he says it’s easier, and cleans dishes before you can get to them.

Every birthday he throws you a party, bakes a cake and he’ll spend hours to perfect a meal from scratch to go along with it. He’s perfect at finding a thoughtful present – Satoru just gives you cash, or some expensive luxury purchase you find fashionable but would never buy for yourself (Suguru definitely went shopping with him).

You get why Satoru likes him. Satoru’s sort of a slob, always leaving clothes on the floor – walking around shirtless like he knows exactly what it does to anyone watching “Just providing a public service, babe~” – and Suguru is so perfectly domestic.

Almost motherly. Whenever you misplace something, the fastest way to find it is invariably to ask Suguru, if he doesn’t approach you first with a concerned smile after watching you look.

After enough times catching Suguru sternly chide him for not putting away his clothes, leaving wrappers on the table, forgetting to put his shoes away; you’re relatively sure Satoru’s called him mom or mommy at some point. Possibly during sex.

And god, you get it. Those gentle tones of “Is everything all right?”, and “I tweaked the recipe, how do you like it?” and “I’m just really happy you enjoyed it.”, it’s enough to make your heart ache.

How, exactly, are you supposed to fall out of love with Suguru Geto?

How are you supposed to leave, how are you supposed to want to, especially when you swear you hear him call himself Daddy, and you find your face getting hotter than it should be.

Whispering to Satoru how “I’ve got you, baby,” and “Let Daddy take care of you, mhhm?”

And god, the high-pitched whimpers Satoru makes in response. He’s a tall guy, mewling, melting beneath Suguru’s hands, his words, his cock – and you could so easily imagine yourself in his place –

How are you supposed to be platonic about this?

How are you supposed to stop touching yourself when they’re practically putting on personalized porn shows for you?

It's after the third time that you start to think they're doing this on purpose.

Whatever’s between them is something you just couldn’t understand. You get that, you do.

The way they look into each other’s eyes – there’s no way Suguru has ever looked at you like that, no way Satoru would ever want you that badly.

It’s something magnetic that makes them slot together at all times, draws their gazes to one another, leaves no room for anyone else –

But you stumble on them… a lot.

Never mind making out on the couch. You turn into the laundry room to see Satoru backed against the washer machine, his cock so far Suguru’s throat you can see it bulge.

His face is flushed, eyes teary, one hand loosely in Suguru’s hair while he whimpers. Dark eyes gazing up at him, fierce, Adam’s apple bobbing and another noise escaping him.

Or Satoru’s sitting rather innocently in Suguru’s lap, at a certain angle, but the sounds he’s making are less than innocent. Vile, even. Suguru’s broad hand wrapped around Satoru’s cock, pumping up and down, Satoru’s body shifting as you can tell he’s grinding down against something below.

And sometimes it’s really just the noises. You’ve heard them so often now it feels like you can put expressions to every moan and grunt and whimper and whine. Satoru makes a certain sort of gasp and your imagination jumps to think of how deep Suguru must be inside him, how his pretty face must look, twisted in pleasure.

They come back sometimes, from parties, drunk together. Leaning on one another like they could never lean on you – you’re not tall, not built like either of them are. Cheeks flushed as they whisper words into one another’s ears, Satoru giggling, kissing his cheek, Suguru laughing and squeezing his waist as they stumble into their room.

Like they’re in their own little world that you could never intrude on. You just catch glimpses every now and then. They don’t even look at you, it’s like you’re not even there – their eyes are locked on one another.

But that isn’t the worst of it.

Satoru and Suguru start bringing other people in.

No - they start bringing other girls into it. Like it's a punishment for catching them, only, you're fairly certain they wanted to be caught.

Satoru’s never been shy when he had a girl over, about walking around shirtless – maybe it’s an exhibitionism thing. And you’re someone they know well, someone tolerant (pathetic) enough to not say anything.

Either that or they’re both just that good at pretending you aren’t there. But they talk to you, all the time. You eat meals together, have movie nights (if you ignore how Satoru will not-so-discreetly put his hand on the inside of Suguru’s thigh while you’re all sitting together), grocery shop together, smile and laugh and share things about your day.

It’s just that they’re also dating each other. And in love, so in love, it’s painfully obvious that there’s no room for anyone else between them. Which makes the girls they bring over turn your stomach even more.

Sure, they’re one night stands. But they don’t even try to keep it quiet. You hear unfamiliar, high-pitched moans and whimpers, a wet smacking sound that has to be Satoru overdramatically eating pussy.

You wonder what his face looks like. What his eyes look like. Is he staring up at her when she does it? Does she have a hand in the feather-down softness of his hair? Or maybe Suguru’s hand, shoving him forward, that sly smirk that creeps over his lips when you’ve seen his eyes grow dark with want.

Is she whimpering because she’s close? Do they tease her, edging her, enjoying the expressions on her face, the way her body trembles? When she begs, is it for them to stop, or keep going? Whose dick is it inside her? Satoru’s, Suguru’s? What does it feel like? Satoru’s stupid enough to do it without a condom but Suguru isn’t.

What are they doing when she cums? You hear Suguru groan (you know how his groans sound, you know how both of them sound), so he must be cumming too. What’s Satoru doing? He’s too needy to be left alone for long.

Is he watching while he jerks himself? Has Suguru forced him to sit back? Or maybe he’s down where the action is, right where Suguru’s cock is buried inside her, laving over her clit and his cock like the slut he is until they both cum all over his face.

Why can’t that be you? Why don’t they want you?

Your fists clench harder than they should.

One night you stumble onto them in the middle of the living room, all at it in plain view.

Satoru is in Suguru’s lap, tall enough to tower over him. Suguru’s hand wrapped around his throat, choking him, head tilted back in bliss as his lashes flutter. There’s a woman on her knees, between their spread legs, sucking Satoru off.

And you can tell, by the way Satoru shudders, how he’s loose like putty in Suguru’s arms, that Suguru’s dick is buried deep inside him.

Satoru and Suguru don’t even try to pretend it was an accident. Some fucking roommates they are.

Suguru will smile and blush when you ask him about it, apologizing in soothing, kind tones, offering to never bring another girl home again if it bothered you – you’ve been through the goddamn song and dance so many times already.

He has this way of just. Making you feel guilty for even asking in the first place. Like you were presumptuous to say anything at all, unless it was something he wanted to hear.

It’s turned you into this. So eager to please but desperate to keep them at arm’s length. Wanting, longing, and starving for it. Watching because you quite literally can’t do anything else, sights burned into your eyes. Unable to look away. Unable to keep watching.

You don't know what they want from you.

You don’t think you want to, anymore.

Satoru and Suguru are getting impatient.

No, Suguru is getting impatient. Satoru is getting desperate. It was his idea to start going out and finding girls to bring back and fuck.

It wasn’t particularly difficult between the two of them. And promising, at first – after all, what was more likely to get you to snap than watching – hearing – the two of them give some other girl everything you’ve ever wanted on a silver platter?

But you just keep going. Gritting your teeth and bearing with it. Suguru spent a whole week dislodging your vibrator slightly from its charging port, slowly squeezing your lube bottle empty, doing everything he could to drive you to the brink.

Satoru’s starting to remark how much it’s a waste of time. He gets snippy when he’s needy, and lately, Suguru’s cock just isn’t enough for him. He has to go through your laundry, plant a camera in your bedroom on one of those few nights they stay out late enough to give you some private time.

Satoru makes him wear your clothes when Suguru fucks him, lets Suguru gag him with your panties when it’s the other way around.

They play dress-up together and watch you touch yourself at awkward angles with muddied sound quality. It’s not enough, not nearly enough.

Privately, Suguru is a little worried. Satoru’s getting weird – not that he hasn’t always been. But weirder.

He goes right into the bathroom after every time you use it. He’s always quick to reach your drinks for a “taste test” after you’ve had a sip. And Suguru knows for a fact Satoru isn’t using his own toothbrush at night.

He keeps talking about you. Looking at you. Whispering dirty suggestions in his ears, asking impatiently if you look like you’re going to snap.

Satoru is needy like that, demanding, and you’d always balanced him out while helping Suguru relax.

But there’s a distance now that wasn’t there before. The tension builds and builds, needs unmet for so long that desperation is clawing at both of them.

And that’s to say nothing of his own desires. Satoru, for all his faults, still has self-control.

Suguru passes your door every night and stops for a moment. He serves you dinner with a smile, domestic as he is, and thinks how easy it would be to slip something in there. To make sure you’d sleep through the night.

Would it even matter if you didn’t? You let him get away with so much. You love him, you must love him, don’t you? There’s no other reason you would put up with all of this. If he did slip, you’d forgive him, wouldn’t you? You’d drink up all his honeyed words with the same smile you always gave him.

But if he gave you such a convenient excuse, then he would always doubt. Whether you really loved him or if he just made it convenient to love him.

More importantly, you’re looking at them different. It was good, at first; your pretty eyes darting in a different direction, the way you try to hide your face, keep your words especially cool.

They want you to TAKE what you want. Want you yelling and screaming and scratching them up like the hellcat they know you are, deep down.

“How long,” He whines between groans as Geto works between his legs, fingering him as he sucks his cock, “Is she gonna make us wait – fuck!”

Suguru pulls away with a pop. Saliva and precum dripping from his lips. Satoru pulls him in for a kiss, by the hair.

“You know she’s liked me a while,” Suguru murmurs, swallowing a moan or two as he works another finger into his hole. “She’s scared of pushing me away. And now that you’re my boyfriend, she probably wouldn’t want to break us up.”

��Fuck, but imagine if she did.” Satoru bucks into him, “She wants us, I know she does.”

He’s always so needy, like a puppy. Suguru likes it, but he can admit that he wants you, too. Misses the energy you’d provide. You’re not demanding like Satoru is. Too prideful. Satoru’s shameless. But you want, oh, do you ever want, and they both do know it.

Once he’s stretched Satoru out enough, he wastes no time shoving him onto his belly, burying himself in his hole from behind – “Fuck! Suguru!”

“On it right now,” He purrs, close to Satoru’s back, reaching lazily for his cock.

Satoru doesn’t like to cum too soon anyways. He likes to cum from getting fucked, to be edged into oblivion – or he likes going hard and fast and overstimulated to no end. Not much in between, unless he was the one in charge.

“Imagine it,” He pants like a dog beneath him. He’s pretty, so pretty, and the only thing Suguru could imagine that would be better is to see your face looking up at him from underneath Satoru, “Suguru!”

He grunts, thrusting his hips harder, “Imagining. What am I imagining?” God, Satoru’s a slut and a nuisance, but it’s always been worth it to indulge him.

“Her,” Satoru breathes after a particularly hard thrust, “Trying to break us up.”

Suguru grabs his hips for better leverage. Satoru dirty talks best when he’s getting fucked hard, after all.

“Fuck, imagine if she got me drunk or something, hngh, finally followed through on those fuck-me eyes she’s always giving me, ghhgh, fuck yes like that, and. Just fucked me in our room, waiting for you to walk in on us together.”

And he can see it, picture it so well.

A drunk night with the most beautiful man alive, because that’s what Satoru is; pretty even now, beneath him, all sweat and lean body trembling as he gets utterly railed.

You’ve always had the attraction, and Satoru couldn’t handle his liquor, and all the sudden, you’d slept together.

“Would you – ah, ahHhh, would you get mad, Suguru?” His voice is teasing now, even through the groans and utterances, “Would you cry~?”

“Ha!” He half-chokes out the laugh, because Satoru clenches around him and it’s hard not to cum right away. He’s going to leave bruises from how hard he’s holding those narrow, lovely hips.

“No," Suguru grinds out, "But I’m sure you both would. She’s the type, and you’re so fucking – gah, so fucking needy. What would you want me to do? Forgive you?”

His pace slows down, and he reaches to squeeze his cock in return, just for a taste.

“Nah – fuck! Yes, keep doing that, fuck.” Satoru bucks into his touch, always, always chasing after him, “She’s too fucking nice all the time. If she did it, it would be – hnng – like. A revenge thing. She should be fucking mad already, pissed off. She should make me cum inside her, say she’s pregnant. Make me dump you and marry her, so if she can’t have you, nobody can.”

Suguru barks out a laugh at the concept, and then a moan, choked off as he feels the heat shooting through him at the idea.

You’re too nice, like Satoru says, it’s a laughable concept, you acting like this –

But what had he seen in your eyes that day after you caught them both with that girl?

“Fuck, I swear I feel you twitching inside me – ”

“What would you do, then?” Suguru purrs hotly into his ear, “You want to win her heart while you’re married?”

“Well, we’d fuck all the time,” Satoru wheezes out a giggle, trembling as Suguru’s hand slides along his cock, “Fuck you – haaaahhh. But I’d be making nice with her, being a good husband, and then you could come and have an affair – ”

Fuck, fuck, that’s too much, “Close,” He grunts, driving himself deep and hard, chasing the edge, “Fuck, I could tell her I love her, blackmail her, even – threaten to tell you.”

A groan as Satoru gets closer, and Suguru continues, “I could fuck her, leave her coming home to you full of my cum – ”

“I’d eat it out of her,” Satoru laughs, near deranged as he jerks between fucking back into Suguru and rutting into his hand, “Jerk me off already – ah, fuck, what if you got her pregnant – ”

White-hot, like the idea of your face beneath him, both of them, accepting them with an open heart full of rage and bitterness and lust, Suguru cums.

He’s just aware enough to fist Satoru’s cock, sliding harshly along it until he hears the lovely whore beneath him gasping, twitching, spilling in his hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” Satoru whimpers. “Hnghh… god, just the idea of her coming home from the hospital with a black-haired baby.”

“Fuck you,” Suguru barks, because now he wants to cum inside you. He wants, so, so fucking bad to cum inside you.

But god, do you even want them?

You sit there, all day, looking away, running away. That’s not love, is it?

And he’s a romantic, at heart. Satoru is, too. They don’t want anything less than your whole heart. Your entire life, your mind, body, and soul, dedicated to them the way they are to each other. Mad with jealousy and rage and possession.

Satoru had left him with bruises, the day he found out Suguru was crushing on you. When Suguru told him, in no uncertain terms, that he’s been wanted you for over a decade now and he wasn’t leaving before he got you. Blue fury in his eyes, heart twisting in his chest.

He’d looked him in the eye, grin wild and wide. Staring down as he has him pinned. Suguru had raised his knee up between his legs to find his cock desperately hard and throbbing.

“I want to fuck her first,” had been his wicked demand. Pain and pleasure traded like currency in return for love, each of them furious at the other for wanting you. They reaped the cost of their love on each other, settled their scores deep in their souls.

Because even if Suguru had seen you first, could he really say he’d wanted you first? Did he really want to fuck you before Satoru moved in, before he saw you flustered from your attraction and playfully trading banter with Satoru?

Had he wanted Satoru because you wanted Satoru? Had Satoru wanted him because he could see that you did?

Lines cross and uncross between you and the two of them, too tangled to ever unravel.

Time to tighten the knot.

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