you say you're done, be done with it!
content: not every marriage meant a happily ever after. especially when you're stuck in an arranged one with a man who'd rather be with someone else. lucky for you, your husband's friend is here to make sure you're not lonely!
pairing: yandere! husband's best friend x depressed!reader
wc: 4.9k (part two to this)
content: angst, fluff, and smut, plot!, reverse cheating, pining, jealousy, reader is extremely lonely, conflicting feelings, talks of divorce, misunderstanding, husband deeply regretting everything and yearning for her, yandere man scheming, manipulation, unprotected piv sex, cowgirl position, creampie, hints at babytrapping
“How long have you been having sex with my wife?”
Would he believe either of you if you swore it was the first time?
His friend was still buried balls-deep inside you, pulling out extra slow, drawing out dragging his dick like he was trying to extract one last whimper from you.
Your breath hitching in your throat, a small whine escaping as the man on top of you chuckled.
“I wasn’t exactly timing it,” he sarcastically commented, putting his cock back up in his underwear before saving the scrapes of your dignity left as he pulled your skirt back down to cover your ass up.
Your panties were still around your knees though.
And it took him another few moments in the painful silence to actually shimmy them back up your thighs, patting them into place as you looked back over your shoulder to catch his smug smirk.
“You’re sorta interrupting our special moment, man,” he added, talking all casually, caught between cruelty and condescension.
“Your special moment?” Your husband echoed in broken disbelief, still clutching onto the bouquet in his hands as you tried to find something to say to defuse the situation.
But a feeling you weren’t really familiar with was boiling in your chest, bringing everything you’d spent years shoving down right back up to the surface at the sight of him standing there all shocked that someone else could want you when he didn’t.
“What the hell are you doing with him?” He demanded, turning to you for an explanation.
You didn’t get why he was confused.
He’d spent almost every spare moment of this marriage with another woman.
What right did he have to judge you for finding someone who wanted your time? Even if it was one of his best friends?
“Shouldn’t you be with her?” You asked, sitting up as a scoff of your own slipped out.You attempted to smooth out your clothes, to control your face back into that practiced neutrality you usually plastered on around him. Staring down at your fingers, the bare spot on your left hand, your wedding band still left above the sink.
“What are you talking about?” Your husband asked, and you didn’t want to even look directly at him. “Are you talking about-”
You rolled your eyes, tempted to ask if there was some other woman you didn’t know about if he wanted to act all confused over the one he was always with.
“You said you were spending the night at her place,” you reminded him, although you had a feeling it would just end in him justifying it.
If he pointed out that you didn’t have proof, you didn’t think you could even stand sleeping under the same roof as him. It wouldn’t be hard to stuff some clothes and toiletries in a bag and find some hotel to crash out for a couple days while he prepared the divorce papers that you would surely be signing soon.
“I never-” He defensively began, but you were already shaking your head.
“Isn’t it a little late for lying?” You muttered, raw disappointment dragging your voice down. “You wanted her, you can have her now.”
“I don’t want her,” he argued, as if he hadn’t wanted her a hell of a lot in the last few years. If it wasn’t her body, he wanted her time, her company, her presence. Your proximity felt more like something he tolerated.
“I’m so tired of this,” you mumbled under your breath.
You weren’t the fighting type.
Never had the spirit to stand up for what you wanted. To argue and shout and scream for a husband you already accepted you lost.
Your marriage had been over long before he caught you with his second best friend. He was just too busy being someone else’s to attend the funeral.
“Are you staying here tonight or do I need to go?” You deadpanned while he was still searching for his own rebuttal.
“I’m staying, and you are too,” he started, but the man next to you was already snaking a comforting arm around your waist, squeezing your side.
“You can come home with me,” his friend freely offered, clearly enjoying rubbing this in his face.
But it didn’t do much to quell the queasiness in your stomach, the lingering guilt that everything was falling apart like this before you had even figured anything out.
It wasn’t like your family would offer any support if he divorced you. Even if they knew he cheated first.
They’d tell you that you should’ve sucked it up and expected it.
That men were simply like that.
A wife was just supposed to keep herself focused on the home – not who he fucked outside of it.
You wondered if he would try to enforce the prenup, or if maybe he’d feel the tiniest inkling of remorse and pay you enough alimony to live off of until you got a job to support yourself.
“Get the hell out of my house before I send you to the hospital,” your husband threatened him, your head snapping up for a second in shock at hearing him sound actually angry.
Twisted into simmering rage, although it was difficult to fathom why.
Was it just because of who he found in you? More upset at the loss of his friendship than the failure of his marriage?
That made sense to you, even if you didn’t have the experience in friendships or relationships to really know the extent of what he might be feeling.
Getting mocked by the man he thought was a friend definitely didn’t help the tension.
Your husband stepped forward, like he was about to hit him, and you were reflexively getting up, moving in front of him.
“Please move,” he pleaded, the eyes you used to adore wavering when you finally met them.
“Are you going to hurt him?” You bluntly asked.
“I should,” he grunted, his voice coming out all low and dark, nothing like his usual bright tone. “You’re my wife. And he, he-”
“Actually paid attention to her?” Your affair partner, if you could call him that, snickered, your heart sinking at how accurate it was.
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Do you really wanna stay here?” A sly voice murmured in your ear, and you were turning just in time to see him cocking his head to the side casually. Holding out a hand you did want to take. “Or be with me?”
FULL FIC ON PATREON HERE (also features a wide assortment of other oneshots/series!)
