#and possibly a tainted AU

[bipolbur]

lacy’s ask to soap reminded me, i have an au where quackity survived the nuclear blast by going to the las nevadas bunker (and he thinks everyone else has died) and left the dimension, heading to utah (bc that’s where he gets his import of scorpions) but they go back because while quackity’s sure everyone is dead (he saw unidentifiable bodies and refused to make himself identity them) wilbur needs to see tommy’s dead to make himself believe it. and while they’re there, quackity tries to go to kinoko kingdom but he keeps getting lost because he’s only been there once, maybe twice, he has no fucking clue where it is, he can’t even see sapnap and karl’s bodies, he can’t even fucking confirm they’re gone forever, and that fucks him up literally forever and he definitely has a hashtag girl moment over it before going back to wilbur who is just staring at the clingy bandana, something tommy wouldn’t be caught dead without, so he must fucking be dead. (in a year or two, they will learn that is not the case, but most of this au is wilbur and quackity grieving)

[bitchlessdino]

scream : the death of a nympho (m)

Pairing: ghostface!seungcheol x ghostface!wonwoo x afab!reader

Genre: horror, scream au, smut

Word count: 6.8k

rating: rated R for ROUGH FUCKING SEX (probably the meanest i've ever written anyone)

tags: THIS IS COMICAL BUT VERY DARK FIC, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. CONTENT MAY NOT SUIT MOST READERS. Morally black woncheol with no redemption arc, VIOLENCE IMAGERY (stabbing, physical fights), mentions of knives, Mentions of blood, Mentions of alcohol, humiliation, degradation kink, name calling sexually and none sexually (bitch, slut, cum bottle, ECT), manhandling, slapping kink, deep throating, face fucking, double bjs, cum swallowing, unprotected sex

Summary: This worn-out little town has seen its fair share of bloodshed, but now there are two new Ghostfaces in town—and their eyes are set on you. Someone who craves intimacy just as much as they enjoy sinking their daggers into something.

author note: thank you @highvern for being a great betaread, they got some giggles in so i hope you guys get to as well! This idea was initially requested and offered by @smileysuh and I hope you enjoy the journey babes!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys

The town has witnessed its fair share of bloodshed, with pages upon pages of stories about murders staining its history since its settlement. Transplants from the past couple of decades knew of the Ghostface murders, had experienced their horrors, and were relieved to finally learn the identities of what they believed to be the only culprits, known by the nicknames BL and SM. What they didn’t seem to grasp was that there was a lineage—a deep-rooted legacy that would take the eradication of many Ghostfaces to completely sever.

One that has yet to happen. But now there was another problem.

With nothing left but their dread, the townies embraced twisted ways of coping. They chased oblivion in reckless sex and drugs, feeding a festering culture of heightening promiscuity and sexual deviants to businesses catering to their darkest urges. But this decay only primed the ground for blood, making it easier to spill.

The Ghostfaces, known privately among themselves as the Spirituals, saw it as their duty to cleanse the town. In their eyes, there was no room for the filth that seemed to taint their almost perfect town, and so they took matters into their own hands, delivering judgment on their own terms.

Seungcheol took after his father, who was currently detained after being caught serving judgment to the town’s notorious transplant mayor, infamous for his monthly group-sex gatherings. Now, as the head of the Spirituals, Seungcheol was determined to continue following his father’s creed, not once forgetting the scripture carved into him as a child.

Whereas Wonwoo took after his mother, a caretaker of many children within their society's education system who had fallen in sacrifice for the greater good. Now the right-hand man to the leader of the Spirituals, once a soldier and now captain to many of its followers, he knew nothing but how to uphold and worship the Spirituals' beliefs.

They were a duo not to be reckoned with—the youngest in history to hold the highest possible ranks, and the most effective at slaying the vermin of the town. Unmatched to even their predecessors. If they wanted something to happen, they knew just how to do it.

Their targets had a history of overlooking them, their spry bodies and youthful faces seeming harmless to anyone they encountered—until their daggers found the light under a bright moon. They killed victim after victim, and were careful to not have a single clue that could be traced back to them or the society. It was the perfect ruse, ideal for victims like you.

Fresh-faced and eager to start your next chapter, you arrived in town for college and had stayed ever since. You’d dated here and there, with more than the occasional fling—so the thought of the murders never really intimidated you. As an aspiring journalist, you found the town’s dark history more fascinating than frightening. To you, it was just material for dark bedtime stories. Yet, while many who had survived the horrors saw them as more than history or folklore, those who had evaded them were a lot like you—they saw nothing to panic over, just a few rotten apples already put behind bars.

But you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been tempted to test some of the theories. Almost eager, you found yourself wanting to investigate the current-day Ghostface rumors, wondering if they might be linked to the recent disappearances.

You pondered even now, nursing your third glass of red wine, the deep red hue swirling in the glass, mesmerizing under the effects of a light buzz that calmed your body. You and the bartenders of the high end Diamond Club, Hansol and Chan, had gotten acquainted in your time here—perhaps more than necessary—so they had a good idea of your usuals, whether it was your drink of choice or preferred form of entertainment.

“Red wine tonight, I see,” Chan flirtatiously engaged, wiping down whiskey glasses.

“Tonight called for something sweet, a little treat for working so damn hard,” You replied, finishing the last bit in your glass. “Where’d Hansol go? He had just serviced me.”

“Just getting something from the back, probably more of your wine.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, setting the wine glass down politely in front of him. “You both do know me so well. I don’t suppose there’s room for me to check back there too.”

“No can do today, beautiful,” Hansol said, emerging from the backroom as he rolled up his sleeves. “We’ve got a big meeting tomorrow morning, so we need to be on our A-game.” He threw an arm around Chan, signaling caution to his coworker, then regretfully scanned your attire.

Hansol’s gaze traced over the perfect lines and curves of your dress as he tightened his grip on Chan’s shoulder, both of them watching as you patted your lips against your napkin, leaving a kiss stain in mauve-red lipstick. He knew soon enough he’d regret his responsible decision-making. “But we’ll be sure we’ll leave a slot available for you after.”

Hansol turned toward Chan, looking for reassurance as the other man held the middle seam of his pants. “Right, Chan?”

“R-right,” the other bartender responded with a tinge of disappointment.

You softly pouted. “Okay. Another time. I’ll let you guys get back to work.”

The prospects tonight were slim, but not impossible. There were group gatherings and couples, but no one alone like you—that made it more challenging, and you loved a good challenge. You turned away from the bar on your stool, twirling your freshly topped-off glass from a new bottle, and scanned the room for another late-night treat.

In the corner, you spotted a diamond in the rough—a pair of men who couldn’t seem to tear their eyes off you, each idly toying with the dark liquor in their glasses. You flashed them a sly grin before turning away just enough to keep them in your peripheral vision, watching as they drank you in. They smiled back, one darkly handsome man to the next, their gazes unmistakably intrigued.

“Isn’t that a beaut,” Seungcheol muttered under his breath, hiding it under his glass drenched in bourbon.

“They are,” Wonwoo agreed. “Their reputation precedes them. We complete our duty tonight.”

Before Wonwoo could stand to approach you, Seungcheol tugged him back down, something more than authority in his gaze. “Hold on, brother. What’s the rush? It’s not every day we come across a sacrifice as…delectable as this one. I say we take our time.”

“But, sir… Seungcheol,” Wonwoo corrected himself, remembering they were in a public setting. “We shouldn’t leave any evidence.”

“And we’ll make sure of that.” Seungcheol grinned at his capable, steadfast captain. “Besides, I saw the way you looked at them. Don’t pretend you didn’t, soldier.”

Wonwoo had looked at you—perhaps longer than he should have. Sinful deviant or not, he could understand why others found it impossible to resist you. You were a vision to behold, a captivating stain on the town he might have allowed to linger under different circumstances. But there were no exceptions in the scripture. You would meet the same fate as everyone else they’d killed.

“Nonetheless, we have demands to meet… Seungcheol.” Wonwoo’s tone was even, but his eyes held a flicker of impatience.

The elder man sighed, swirling his drink with a slow, deliberate motion. “Sure taking advantage of my given name, aren’t you…Wonwoo?” He raised a brow, an amused glint in his gaze, though his words held an edge.

“We must stay focused, even if the distraction is so… distracting,” Wonwoo replied, his voice steady but his gaze briefly drifting to you before snapping back.

Seungcheol smiled cunningly, leaning back in his chair as he let his eyes settle on you. “All I’m saying is, why not reward ourselves with a taste of their mercy? Give them a final moment of sin before they see the flames of the inferno where they belong.”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened. “And would we not be sinning too, brother?”

Seungcheol’s smile faded, and he leaned forward his captain in arms, voice low and commanding. “You dare question my judgment?”

A silence hung heavy between them before Wonwoo let out a resigned sigh. “We need our affairs in order,” he murmured, his tone weary yet resolute.

Seungcheol scoffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened. “Fine. We’ll do it your way,” he conceded.

They adjusted their jackets, sharing a brief, knowing glance before rising from their seats and approaching you with a leisurely stride, intrigue glinting beneath their composed expressions. Seungcheol met your eyes first, flashing that boyish dimple—the one that had gotten them out of more than a few tight spots. 

“Mind if we join you?” he asked, his tone smooth, and inviting, but with an edge that hinted at something far less innocent.

Your teeth grazed your bottom lip as you gave a slight nod. “Both of you?”

“If that doesn’t intimidate you,” Wonwoo replied with a polite smile, the bar light catching his glasses and casting a faint glare that concealed the depths of his true intentions.

“Not at all. Sit.”

And they did, boxing either side of you, each exuding an intoxicating mix of decadence, spice, and something darkly earthy. The scent was almost hypnotic, stiffening the hairs on your neck. 

Every glance, every subtle movement, spoke of a carefully restrained danger, like a coiled snake waiting to wrap around its unknowing prey. Their intensity crackled in the air around you, unsettling yet somehow magnetic. Something about this pair was dangerous on belief and your gut was screaming it loud, but instead of listening, you were anchoring yourself in place, wanting to find out just what it is you should be afraid of.

“I’m Seungcheol, and my colleague here is Wonwoo. And you are?” The dimpled man asked.

As you introduced yourself, both men let your name roll off their tongues, savoring each syllable as if committing it to memory. Wonwoo angled his body toward you, his gaze intent. “That’s quite nice to say,” he murmured, repeating your name slowly, watching closely to see how you reacted to the sound of it on his lips.

“What brings you both here?” you asked, subtly crossing your legs with a teasing smile. “Date night?”

Both men chuckled, clearly amused by how effortlessly they’d caught your attention. “Something like that,” Seungcheol replied, leaning in just slightly. “We’re just looking for a nightcap before calling it a night. Came straight from the office.”

You raised a brow, laughing softly. “It’s 10 p.m. You both work this late? And turn in this early?”

“Well,” Wonwoo countered, a strategic smile on his face, “we never said how long we’d be here… or how brief our nightcap might be.”

You hummed, sipping your wine as you eyed them over the rim of your glass. “You two really do everything together.”

“Yes,” they answered in perfect unison.

“Everything together?” you pressed, a playful edge in your voice.

“Yes,” they replied again, this time with a hint of menace that made the word linger in the air just a moment too long.

The longer you stayed in their presence, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about their composed demeanor didn’t sit right. Call it survivor’s intuition, but something was off. Still—“I suppose neither of you has time for anything else tonight?” you asked a slight challenge in your tone. “A way to truly acquaint ourselves before the night ends.”

“That does sound interesting,” Wonwoo mused, pretending to consider, his gaze never leaving you.

“And what better way to end the night than with a new…friend?” Seungcheol added, his smile sharp as he leaned in.

It was almost too easy. One moment, you were at the club, indulging in a reckless amount of wine courtesy of these fine gentlemen, the night unfolding in a haze of alcohol and sultry gazes. The next, you found yourself in their penthouse, entangled in a kiss with Seungcheol as Wonwoo was tearing off your clothes, the world outside suddenly distant and irrelevant.

You could feel the warmth of the man’s breath against the back of your neck. His spectacles brushed lightly against your skin as he leaned in, the metal sending a subtle shiver down your spine as you counted the beats of his pants. He explored your body with reckless abandon, uttering your name under every tender kiss.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol was evidently impatient, his lips quickly latching onto yours in a frenzy. He wasted no time tracing the surface area of your mouth, as if time were ticking and he knew that sooner or later, it would run out. “By gods, you are something else.”

He pressed up against your body, only the thin layer of your lingerie to protect you as you began to undress him, the concaves and curves of his body scorching under your fingertips. Your moans muffled under Seungcheol’s lips as Wonwoo's moans muffled under your skin, the tautness of their body sandwiching you into a sweltering trap.

“You both have no idea how much I needed this,” you panted, hands roaming in Seungcheol’s hair as his lips latched around your tits.

Wonwoo softly scoffed, loud enough to hear but soft enough to be dismissed. “On the contrary, you don’t know how badly we needed you.”

You mewled under the sounds of his false pretenses and squealed when they brought you naked over the sofa. Seungcheol took a moment to admire your vulnerability, caressing along your sides, spreading your legs so he may position himself between them, and just behind you stood Wonwoo. Impatient for something else entirely, procured a knife from under the couch, just where he had left it. 

Seconds before the spectacle man lifted it up, deciding to plunge it through your shoulder, chest, or even throat, Seungcheol stood up. “Just a moment, darling,” his eyes flickered over to the armed captain in caution, frozen with the hunter’s knife inches above you, “Me and my buddy got to do one last thing before we proceed. Wait for us patiently?”

“All right…don’t keep me waiting too long,” you purred, a slow smile curling on your lips, your heavy-lidded gaze smoldering with anticipation.

Seungcheol steered Wonwoo into a separate room, shutting the door behind them with a quiet finality. He fixed his subordinate with a piercing glare, the urge to drive him to his knees simmering just beneath the surface. “Tell me, soldier—what do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s not ‘soldier’ anymore, sir,” Wonwoo muttered, his voice tense. “I’m doing what we’re supposed to. We can’t indulge in this…” he hesitated, searching for the word, “…depravity. It only complicates the operation.”

Seungcheol stepped closer, his figure casting a shadow over Wonwoo as he instinctively leaned back, nearly cowering under the weight of his leader’s stare. “So you doubt our abilities, is that it?” he demanded, his voice low and venomous. “It’s been a minute since I took on my bitchbreaker on for a ride and you of all people are deciding to be a nuisance. If you’re so certain we can’t balance pleasure and duty, perhaps you should step aside—so I, your capable and trusted leader, can finish the job without you repeatedly defying me.”

He turned to leave, his movements sharp with frustration, but before he could take a full step, Wonwoo’s hand shot out, gripping his bicep tightly. The hold was firm, almost defiant, and Seungcheol could feel the strength behind it—a mix of resolve and the fear of regret that held Wonwoo back. Their eyes met, and in Wonwoo’s gaze was a fierce determination, teetering on the edge between loyalty and a barely restrained desire.

“I’ll follow orders,” Wonwoo said, his tone unwavering. “Your orders. I won’t question you again, sir.”

Seungcheol gave a smug smile, brushing off his right-hand man’s grip before leading him out of the room.

When they returned, they found you still lounging on the couch, but now holding something you hadn’t had before—something stark white and blinding, something that didn’t belong to you and should’ve gone unnoticed.

“Boo!” you laughed, lifting the Ghostface mask to your face with a playful grin as the rest of you was still nude, offering an enragingly tantalizing image.

Wonwoo’s voice nearly boomed as he tried to keep his rage in check, suppressing another sensation that fought him to break out. “What do you think you’re doing?” His eyes flashed a sign of panic, quickly narrowing at you. Had they been caught? Exposed? You were already a risky target, and now you were making things a lot more complicated.

You pulled the mask off with a casual smile, unfazed by the shift in Wonwoo’s demeanor, which was colder than it was moments before. “Sorry for snooping; I couldn’t resist.”

Seungcheol’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Where’d you find that?”

You held the mask in your hands, inspecting it from front to back, not fearing the consequences. “Under the coffee table,” you said, turning it over, admiring the attention to detail. “It looks really real.”

Seungcheol stepped forward, his presence looming as his eyes flickered over from the mask to you, its captor, with an intensity that bordered on possessive. “It is real. We believe it belonged to one of the original Ghostfaces...As historians, we collect these kinds of things.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Ooh,” you grinned, your lips curling in slight admiration.

Seungcheol studied you for a moment, his arms crossed in calculated intrigue. “You’re not scared?” His voice dropped slightly in defense. “Why?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know… I just find it more interesting than scary. And maybe kind of sexy… I don’t know.”

Wonwoo couldn’t hide his disbelief. His voice came out sharp, almost incredulous. “Sexy… you find centuries of bloodshed and thousands of lost lives sexy?”

You paused, your fingers tracing the edge of the mask. “Okay, well not that—the mask! I know it’s tied to awful, disgusting, horrific events, but…” You brought it up to your face, tilting it as you peered through the narrow slits, your voice trailing off in their signature tone of voice that the articles quote were ‘shrill and cunning.’. “There’s something about it that’s...captivating. Like, what kinds of things did they do, and why this mask? What makes it so...iconic?”

Seungcheol’s eyes darkened for a split second, a flicker of something realization passing through them, but he said nothing. Instead, he watched you with a calm amusement, his lips curling into a slight, almost imperceptible smile.

“Really?” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the silence, laced with disbelief. His eyes narrowed as he processed what you had just said, a quiet judgment simmering beneath his calm exterior. “You really think that is sexy?” His words hung in the air, thick with the implication that he couldn’t fathom how anyone could glorify such an image.

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment, his thoughts clearly racing. Yeah, I’m the one doing the killing, he thought, but they were sacrifices—an entirely different kind of thing. They were meant for the greater cause, something you could never understand. He had been the one to offer the death, to carry out the act, and yet you—you—were somehow making it seem like some kind of twisted, romanticized thrill.

He glanced at Seungcheol, whose only response was a raised eyebrow. The corners of his lips curved into that unsettlingly knowing smile, the kind that signaled anything but anger.

Seungcheol retrieved the mask from your fingertips, put it towards him, and shielded his facial features. “So if I wear it like this,” He stuck out a hand to grab you, tugging you by the waist and gliding his hand over your sides, “and touch you like this…”

His palms cupped the underside of your ass, digits digging into your flesh roughly, releasing a sharp breath from you. His body, gloriously exposed, was firm and warm, so inviting you couldn’t help but throw your arms over his shoulders to press against his waist. You stared into the eyes of the mask, stomach-churning at the increase of stimuli and you almost heard yourself growl under your breath. “I don’t think I could resist you.”

Seungcheol removed the mask, holding it in one hand and tightening his grip on you with the other. “You’re a weird little thing, are you,” he asked, narrowing his eyes, voice rich and dark.

“I’ve always wanted deep throat the cock of someone wearing one,” you blatantly confessed, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. 

Seungcheol quirked a brow, interest piquing before tossing the mask in Wonwoo’s direction, who caught it flawlessly, looking back at it in concerned confusion. “Wear it,” said the fellow conspirer, “Make our little guest dreams come true while I enjoy the show.”

Wonwoo didn’t argue, and against his better judgment followed his leader’s orders, securing the mask on his face as he bared his nether region, regrettably taut and aroused. As soon as Seungcheol released you, you fell to your knees, gazing up at the Ghostface mask before drawing your gaze down to Wonwoo’s cock that stood on its own, full of life.

Beneath that mask, Wonwoo held on to his uncertainty, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to the image of your lips wrapped around him. It was about all he could think about since being aware of you, other than killing you that is. Even as you beckoned him closer, with your knees on the ground of where the blood he’s shed–the bodies he’s slaughtered–he couldn’t help but think about how to dispose of you. How to get rid of your stain next. But the moment your lips reach the tip of his cock, his worries and schemes seemed to fade away, vanishing even faster as your pace quickened so eagerly.

Your hands palmed over his waist, and the lust in your eyes was insatiable, making a man—even Wonwoo—wonder how that pretty little mouth could take so much cock. He groaned, grabbing you by the crown of your head, and pushing you closer as he started to thrust, gradually adjusting to the tight, warm press of your mouth. “Oh fuck,” his voice gave out, muffled by the mask. 

He winced as he felt himself hit your throat, swallowing as he heard you gag on his cock—trying to fit all of him and he broke out in a hidden smile, and if he was being honest, he hasn't held a smile like it in a long time.

Why, Wonwoo hadn’t realized how long he’s had a good fucking like this. Ever since he took on as captain, sex was a thing of the past, something not even in the back of his mind, but you. Oh, you. You awoke something that should’ve stayed dormant. Years of training and discipline are suddenly out the window. And now he’s had a taste, he was going to ruin you until you didn’t even have the energy to breathe.

His hand locked between your tendrils, shoving your head impatiently. “Little toy that knows how to play. That’s rare.”

One hand found the underside of your chin, bringing your face up to gaze upon his, and watched as the mask on his face tilted in curiosity. Vice gripping that head of yours, he used your throat, letting his length slide down inside you. “Aren’t you a little slut? Just fucking wet having my cock down your throat, are you? Don’t try to deny it. I don't have to see or feel it. I can smell it.”

You confirmed with a strugged nod, salvia dribbling down your chin as tears began to burn your eyes.

Wonwoo let out a staggered breath, hitching another in his throat with a groan as felt your face touch the base of his cock, holding you in place and hearing you breathe with immense difficulty l. He pulled himself out of you, dragging you by your head, watching you cough on the ground, strings of your salvia ruining the floor and stretching from your cheeks. “You’re such a try-hard, taking my cock when I hear you practically gasping for air.” 

He bent down to level with you, the mask staring back at you menacingly, so realistically. “What? You’re not gonna beg for more?”

“I will, I will,” you assured, a blubbering mess, gasping while the tightness in your throat failed to bother you like it should’ve.

“Is that right?” Wonwoo chuckled, squeezing your cheeks in a rough grip. “You gonna beg for me to fuck your face? Huh?” He inhaled your gasps, body convulsing. His voice was gravelly and stinging with repulsion. “Cockbreath.”

You whined, pleading: “Please, I want to feel it deep, deep inside me, Mr. Ghostface. Give me your cock.”

“Then let me hear how much you want it.”

Your mouth parted, fumbling for the right words, struggling to release them from your strained throat, the sound coming out rough and raspy. “I want your cock shoved in my throat. I want to feel it from one end and out the other. I live for you cock. I’d die on your cock. Please just stick in my throat and don’t stop please.” 

Wonwoo looked down at you, surprised with the spew coming out of your mouth but went with it, shoving himself swiftly back in you, the sensation of your throat welcoming him like it never left. “I better see you swallow every inch,” he warned, his voice thick with malice. “If you so much as breathe, I���ll give you more than enough reason not to,” a smile laced with dark amusement edging his tone.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol watched as he promised, laying aloof back on the sofa with cock in hand and reveling in the sheer desperation from your voice as he stroked his cock to the pace of Wonwoo’s thrusts. 

As the reigning leader of the Spirituals, he was accustomed to having others do his bidding, just as his father had planned. But through his experience in leadership, he discovered he preferred being directly involved. Very involved. And it was moments like this that confirmed it.

“Good little cocksleeve, ain’t they?” Seungcheol commented, licking his lips.

“They certainly know how to make use of themselves,” Wonwoo drawled, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he observed your efforts, taking him with as much excitement as you initially came with.

Seungcheol started getting up, standing beside his partner in crime with a growing cock firmly in his grasp. He cast his gaze down at you, his presence domineering and intimidating, yet all the more mesmerizing. Seungcheol scoffed as soon as your eyes flickered in his direction, and his hands found themself in your hair. “I wonder how they’d take two cocks. How does that sound?”

Seungcheol helped release you from Wonwoo’s clutches and invited you into his as he met your eye level. “Can two cocks,” He produced another Ghostface mask, lifting it to his face, “fuck that pretty mouth full? There’s only one right answer.”

“Yes,” you managed to answer, your voice trembling, tears streaking down your face as you exhale, your flushed cheeks betraying the weight of your words. “Always.”

“Exactly what I was looking for.”

Kneeling between them, you held them both in either hand and traveled down both their lengths. Each Ghostface was more wicked than the other as you shoved a cock down your throat, Seungcheol’s groan following in response. Your tongue dragged along its underside, mouth stretching to adjust its size and familiarizing with your throat just as Wonwoo’s had, and the familiar sting of your tears had caused another stream of heat down your cheeks.

“You dirty little slut, so this is the kind of treatment my partner here has been getting,” Seungcheol took you by the hair, and slammed you against the base before pulling you back to only reach the head, another fit of coughing to ensue. “You better work five times as hard if you want to please me too.”

You nodded, each stroke to either of their cocks deliberate and purposeful, the masked individuals looming in front of you anticipating your next move. Taking Seungcheol back in your mouth, you sucked all around his circumstances, memorizing the veins of his shaft to then do the same with Wonwoo, batting your eyes back at him, your mouth parted wide letting both exit and enter on your own accord.

It was then either tip breached one another, both of your hands rubbing against each other at once that you heard something so delicious in their voices, so real and so pure. And before you could truly savor it, both of them pried your mouth part, either cock rubbing against either inside of your mouth, stretching your cheeks, as they unevenly thrust into your mouth.

It looked like it hurt, and either man was glad for it because, in its own sick way, it was another form of punishment, catering to them would only guarantee your ultimate demise and proving to them once and for all how necessary their roles really were.

Still, they enjoyed it—hell, they were euphoric seeing you put so much effort into such an ordeal, but not more impressed than about how it felt. Each twist of your wrist aimed to pump ego in their lengths, the dampness of your slobber stretching from your chin to their shafts creating a path of viscous filth, and the tension building in their manhoods that never seemed to fade as they attempted to bury themselves inside of your face.

It was momentous, and Wonwoo, who was initially concerned, was elated to reap more of the benefits just as much as his leader.

They shoved you off as soon as one of them was close, landing you on the sofa, flushed with a thin layer of sweat. Wonwoo, lifting the mask slightly above his face, let his lips run down your body, the hard, cold of plastic the mask chill on your body, while his teeth were nipping your torso and soft growls hummed against your skin. Startled, you yelped as he tugged your legs toward him, his cock position almost perfect at your warm entrance before he inserted himself, not wasting time by giving you a warning.

You mewled at the sensation, his rock-hard length plunging against your moist, plush walls. You instinctively gripped his arms for support, his ruts definable sharp, guttural, and primal. He loomed over you, mask still in place, but the shadow cast over his face in combination with just the barest hint of his mouth exposed showed a twisted smile of lunacy, dangerous beyond recognition.

Wonwoo was rough, hurting you in a way you’ve never been fucked before, but it made it all the more pleasure and Wonwoo knew it more than you thought. Seungcheol joined your side, squeezing himself between you and the couch as he propped his cock towards your mouth, slapping it against your cheek. “Open the fuck wide,” he said in a gnarly rasp through his mask.

As you opened, he seized you by your chin, slapping the cushion of your cheek where it already stung, before slapping the shaft of his cock on your tongue. You looked up at him, panting in excited gasps before he filled your mouth, then emptied it, and then filled your mouth again. His free hand claimed your breasts, ruthlessly squeezing them, pinching at your peaks, before ultimately slapping them, every action you could only swallow at. At almost every end, you were filled to the brim, hung in the balance of their mercy, and not once could you open your eyes without seeing stars.

“Can’t fucking stand it, what’s a fucking slut like you think you deserves our cocks for,” Wonwoo slapped the underside of your thigh, the sting of it ringing in your ears.

Seungcheol chuckled, fingers threading through your hair, pulling your head back to see the glisten in your eyes, how they beg without saying so, or how they water in delight. “One would be lucky to be so fortunate. You’ll thank us later and it won’t just be with gratitude, it’ll be a plea for more.”

Wonwoo, almost as blinded with lust as either you or Seungcheol, gave a deep heart laugh as he folded your legs back towards you, feeling him bottoming inside you and hitting a spot that shot you up in space. At this point you were immobile of making conscious decisions that didn’t have to do with sex, deducing you to only something they could use—something they could fuck until they were sick of you. 

You’d muffle something around Seungcheol’s cock, whether it be their names, or calling them Ghostface, it didn’t matter. It was as if the world outside this room didn’t exist and none of them cared for it to exist. Just them and you, and the sound of raw, unbridled sex. Succumbing to their primal urge to unleash pent-up tension and energy—and how effortlessly they did so.

Wonwoo felt his stomach seize, his abdomen tightening as the involuntary contractions slowed his pace, the warmth starting to overcome him, and his low groans took power over his voice as he doubled over. His cum up and out of him in thick ribbons up your path, the twitching of your orgasm quickening in response to his warmth. Simultaneously, Seungcheol filled your mouth, expanding your cheeks, and he gently stroked your throat, “Swallow every fucking bit of it, you fucking cumbottle.”

Your eyes fluttered, pushing the cum down your pipes as he still stood in your mouth, feeling it slide down with a heavy swallow, and you opened your mouth wide to show just how thorough you are.

Seungcheol finally peeled the mask from his face, revealing flushed pink on his cheeks and damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, making him an undeniably captivating sight—nothing short of a perfect reward. 

Wonwoo followed, his presence marked by a familiar mirage, his smile shifting into a Duchenne grin—a smile that sparkled in a way most didn’t, reaching his eyes and revealing just how genuine it truly was. Underestimating the relief that consumed him. “Finally,” he gasped out.

He stood up, towering over your frame, his shadow falling over you. “Nothing short of our expectations,” he complimented before pressing a kiss to your lips, explosive and electric, foreshadowing how it’d be the last.

He started to retrieve the additional knife from under the couch, its steely presence finally making a comeback, and you managed to catch the glint of it peering at you at a lower glance. Jumping into action, your feet aimed for his gut, throwing Wonwoo off base as the knife scattered on the ground and crashing him hard into the glass coffee table behind him. 

“Fuck!” Wonwoo shouted, pain pricking him at all sides of his body, blood gushing from the holes from which the glass had penetrated. “You bitch!”

“Like I was going to let that happen,” you spat, recovering from your fatigue. 

Seungcheol pinned his arms behind you, an evil smile visible in your peripheral. “And you think I’d let you damage my property like that?” He hissed.

Before Seungcheol could avenge his comrade, you head-butted him from the back of your skull, momentarily blinding him as he clutched his face in agony. “Fuck! Holy fuck! My fucking face! You broke my fucking face!” He growled from the depths of his gut as you backed off of him. “I’m gonna enjoy fucking killing you.”

“God fuck, you knew! Didn’t you, you stupid bitch?” Wonwoo started inching closer to you, the knife a good distance away from him. “You knew who we were and came up here anyway. To what? Get one good fuck? Are you that stupid?”

“Of course, I didn’t fucking know! But I had a gut feeling,” you panted.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol taunted, eye swollen, cheeks and forehead red as he procured a knife from between the couch cushions. “Where that gut feeling take you? Besides getting them rearranged, that is?”

Wonwoo scoffed, finally finding the strength to get up. “Dumb slut like them didn’t get that far. Just good for a fuck.” He spat on the ground blood, gritting his teeth.

Your gaze flickered from one to the other, bare fisted, preparing for the worst. “Why don’t you test that theory then, boys?”

“Fucking gladly,” Seungcheol agreed, voice falling several octaves.

They bolted towards you in blind fury, grasping at you like straw and swinging a knife in your direction, barely nicking you. When Wonwoo ran at you from one end, Seungcheol came at you from the other, attempting to corner you. Determination oozing in their gazes, piercing through your very being, the mirage of the devil’s on both of their unsettlingly handsome faces. 

“Nowhere to run now, you little bitch.” Wonwoo screeched venomously.

Seungcheol twirled the knife between his fingers, a grin stretching from ear to ear. “This is where you start crying. Or begging for mercy? It doesn’t matter like it won’t matter where or what we stab you with next.”

You slid underneath their swinging arms, the knife briefly slicing, forearm and you gasped in response, stumbling backward. Feeling cornered. You slowly backed away, searching for an escape, but by luck, you find something in your purse instead, abandoned on the ground just out of your assailants’ sight. “You fuckers aren’t gonna get away with shit by the way. You should be careful where you leave your things around here.”

They both laugh at you condescendingly, not an ounce of doubt in their eyes. “No one is believing your bluffs, darling. Just come over nice and slowly. We’ll only stab you 20 times each,” Seungcheol feignedly reassured.

Thinking you were defenseless, they charged at you at full speed—until you lifted what you’d hidden behind your cowering figure. A burst of pepper spray erupted from the canister into their eyes, and the sound of grown men screaming from the tops of their lungs, like terrified final girls, seared itself into every wrinkle of your brain.

”You stupid slut! Pepper spray? Seriously?”

”First you swell up my face, then fucking blind me? You’re in for a real one, cum guzzling little shit.”

Seizing your chance, you delivered a final kick, shoving Wonwoo in Seungcheol’s direction, sending them into an unexpected embrace. In the haze of pain, Wonwoo's eyes shot open, the piercing ache in his chest telling him everything he needed to know about what had just happened. “S-Seungcheol…what the fuck…”

As he stared into his comrade's eyes, Seungcheol’s eyes grew wide in realization, and looked down at the knife he held in his hand, now plunged into their chest. The leader followed him as he collapsed, taking the longest moment to register the events leading up to this as Wonwoo’s eyes began to drift close. Gripping his brethren’s shoulders with the anger of a million suns, Seungcheol bared his teeth, voice singing in regret. “You…I’M GOING TO CHOP AND FEED THEM TO MY PET SHARKS, YOU TRAMP.”

He turned to face you swiftly—too swiftly—because as soon as he did, his neck met the blade, slicing from one side to the other until you plunged it deeper, twisting it down his throat before pulling it out. Fury lingered in his eyes, barely alive, as he began to spit up blood, several drops landing on your face and body. Moments later, he collapsed beside his partner, his eyes dulling as the life slowly drained from his face and body.

You collapsed to your side, shakily reaching for the phone in your bag and dialing the authorities. “H-hello…I just killed two men that attempted to kill me…I think I know the address.”

Once you hung up, you summoned the courage to flip your phone to camera mode to capture the evidence, gasping for breath, ensuring yourself of the life left in you. As soon as you did, a gravelly voice cut through the silence. Its owner raised the knife that had once been lodged in his chest, charging at you with bloodshot, deranged eyes. “DIE, FREAK, DIE!”

You managed a quick, well-aimed strike where the sun doesn’t shine, slowing him down just enough. As he stumbled, you seized the knife you’d stolen from Seungcheol’s throat and plunged it into his head, again, and again, and again, screaming at the top of your lungs until he finally collapsed to the floor.

With trembling hands, you struggled to hold the phone steady to capture the scene. Blood streaked down your forearms, and your sniffles provided the only soundtrack to the aftermath.

You’d done it—you’d finally done it. It only took a hundred tries and countless hours of risk, but it happened. You had become the one–if not the only–true survivor of the town’s Ghostface murders. If this didn’t launch your career, you weren’t sure what would.

You just had hoped they wouldn’t come with backup.

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au

⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]

— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.

your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.

he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.

and so he did.

his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.

blood?

a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.

xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.

"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.

it is.

he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.

he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.

there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.

something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

very well.

then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?

no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.

a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?

"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.

"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"

he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.

his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?

that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.

he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"

he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.

his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?

it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

no, it's fine.

it will all be fine.

cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.

yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.

sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.

ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.

perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?

did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.

yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!

no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?

there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.

"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.

"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"

"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."

"your own accord?"

"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."

he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.

who would've thought he'd so quickly return.

this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[hyperdramas]

boyfriend shaped | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: none, fluff, reader is implied to be female ('sweet girl', 'sweetheart'), non!idol au, mentions of dokyeom being a kindergarten teacher, dokyeom is boyfriend shaped in his newest ig post and i'm crying because of it

Dinner with your boyfriend was something you looked forward to.

Every Friday—since your boyfriend spent most of his week dealing with kindergarters who threw up on their sleeping mats and couldn't spell dog without adding an extra 'o'—promised to take you out to a nice fancy resturant and spend time with you afterwards.

The two of you were at a traditional Korean resturant this time around, and you couldn't help but stare at your attractive boyfriend from across the table, eyes runnig along his muscles and tanned skin.

After a few seconds of looking down at his menu, he catches your eyes, smiling as his sharp nose scrunches up in the cutest way.

"What?" He questions, obviously teasing. Seokmin knows better than anyone that you find yourself staring at him more often than not, and he loves teasing you for it (even if he does the same thing to you).

"You're so handsome and I love you." Sighing, you pull him by his hand, making him lean over the wooden table as you press your lemonade-tainted lips to his. He sighs under you, lips stretching into a gentle smile as he pecks your lips a few more times before pulling away.

His face is red, and his dark brown eyes are darting around the seating area as he pushes his horn rimmed glasses further upon his nose bridge.

"You're something else, you know that? I have to order for me and you in a minute, and you're over here complimenting me out of the blue and kissing me. How am I supposed to function with you kissing the thoughts out of me?" Seokmin sounds annoyed, but the smile on his face and the lovestruck look in his dark brown eyes makes you giggle.

"You don't mind it though, do you?" Sipping on your lemonade yet again, Seokmin chuckles, shaking his head as he closes the menu.

"No, I don't, but as I'd tell my kids—be patient, and good things will come to you." Seokmin's voice dropped an octave lower when he said the second half of that sentence, and you gasped, swatting his hand as he giggles cutely.

"You're absolutely diabolical, Seokmin." He chuckles at your choice of words, but doesn't deny it, smiling at you once more before the waiter appears at the side of the table.

After he finishes taking your orders, he grabs your menu for you and hands it to the waiter, thanking him for you as he directs his attention back to you.

"So, how was your day, sweet girl?" Seokmin locks his eyes on you, listening intently as you tell him all about your day.

You leave nothing out, mentioning everything from how you were about 20 minutes late to work due to a traffic jam, and the mediocre lunch you had on your break. Seokmin sits there patiently and listens, interjecting funny comments or comforting words when he can, and he encorages you as you begin to talk about the possibility of you quitting your stressful job.

"You really mean that?" You ask in disbelief, his sweet and tactful words making your eyes tear up as he nods, smiling at you as he pushes his nose to yours.

"Of course I mean it. I'll support you in whatever you want to do. Wherever you go, I follow. Whatever you do, I do." Seokmin's voice is so sweet and calming you can't argue with him any longer, and you lean in to kiss him again, smiling as he hums happily under you.

Seokmin wasn't usually this desperate for kisses, but it kept seeming as if he was making ways for you to kiss him. You thought it was cute, the way he was trying to be so nonchalant about it.

"Why are you so kissy today?" You question, and Seokmin pauses, eyes sparkling as he frowns slightly. "Why, do you not like it?" He sounds hurt, and it breaks your heart a little, seeing his dark brown widen like a kicked puppy.

"No, no, Min. I love it. I adore it, if I'm being honest," You smile, and Seokmin cheers up quickly, eyes darting down to your lips as he sighs.

"I love you, sweetheart." Seokmin said the phrase almost ever hour of every day, but times like this—where the mood was sweet and mellow—the three-word expression made you suddenly even more grateful for Seokmin's sweet heart and kind disposition.

"And I love you, Min." Grabbing his hands, you kiss each of his fingertips, smiling as Seokmin giggles, huffling cutely as you chuckle at his reaction.

[forever--darling]

say yes to me

summary: anakin skywalker was like a forbidden fruit, the roommate to the guy that had been sleeping with your roommate for most of the school year. the very man who lived just down the hall from you & quite possibly the only man who was capable of silencing you, because he made you that nervous. you thought he had disliked you, despised you even, but it turns out when you lose one pair of red lacy underwear in the laundry room, that isn't quite the case.

pairings: anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 12.9k

warnings/notes: modern au, college!reader, SMUT, minors DNI, like actual filth, p & v, slight degradation, mentions of masturbation, slight enemies to lovers if you squint, dominant!anakin, public nudity (slightly), no protection mentioned (but please do use it), sorry not sorry, it had to be written.

masterlist

song inspo: lose face - daniel di angelo

Anakin Skywalker despised you. He did. He would never admit it. But it was the kind of disdain that had only appeared, almost bubbling over time since the very moment he met you, over your complete obliviousness when it came to him. Or it was more ignorance, perhaps. 

You ignored him. His existence, his looming eyes that seemed to filter over your frame whenever the two of you were in the same room together, which was often. Often since you lived in the same apartment building and your two roommates had been fucking since a few weeks into the new semester. He would have to endure your impending silence, your lack of awareness of him for hours on end, sometimes many days in a row. It was excruciating how much he disliked you. Disliked those who got your attention, even his roommate, because it was something you would never give him. 

At first, he didn’t think much of it. How could he? You were gorgeous and hot, his attraction something evident from the beginning, but you could barely exchange a few words with him, let alone meet his eyes if it ever was just the two of you in a room, this one more rare. You seemed shy. Innocent. Unwilling to be tainted by him. Something he could understand, even get behind. That is until he noticed the way you interacted with others.

You were a Pre-Law major, and Pre-Law majors couldn’t afford to be shy or even mute like you appeared around him. It was a surprise when he found you late on a Friday night in their apartment, where his roommate was hosting a party, surrounded by five guys playing cards. A drink sat in front of you, lipstick stains coating the glass in the most enticing of pinks. A low-cut top that was tight hugged your torso, making it hard for Anakin to hold in any physical sound.

You were ethereal at that moment as you tipped your head back, laughing, eyelashes batting with ease — innocence void from your lustful gaze. You were putting every one of those five guys in their place, practically pulling the cash out of their wallets from simply your tongue, all while you threw progressive law jargon their way. All of which he could understand easily, far smarter than he ever let on but it all went over their ungrateful heads. You were intelligent, so breathtaking, and completely squandering it on meatheads like the ones his roommate often interacted with, and he hated them. Hated them because you would never look at him the way you did them. 

Hated them because you seemed to despise him just as much as he did you, enough that your interactions were left to drown in the thickest silence. The kinds where his pants twitched, and he wished to force you against a wall, just so you would look at him, for once. It was all that he asked, to feel what it was like to have your eyes on his. To either face the itch he got for you head-on or come to terms that it was all in his head. That it all was manifested in the truest form of need; arousal. 

How could he though when your roommate was at his apartment a few nights a week? The last thing he needed was for her to glare at him, and take him to be some asshole with a weird obsession that lacked boundaries. He couldn’t live in that reality, not when he was so much nicer, even without the possibility of your legs wrapped around him. 

It didn’t mean it was easy. Truthfully it never was. 

Especially that afternoon as he found you parading around your apartment building’s halls, laundry basket in hand, headphones pulled over your ears. It was actually almost painful. The way your loose university sweatpants hugged low on your waist, rolled once, dipping enough that he was able to see your naval piercing. Your shirt was small, a tanktop that left little to his imagination, especially your perky nipples that stuck out enough he noticed them right away. Your hair was pulled back by a clip, but a few pieces framed your face, and even that alone frustrated him. Frustrated him that you walked around like that, almost to torture him, almost oblivious to how you looked. 

It seemed you were just as oblivious about his presence, evident in the way you walked into the laundry room on their floor, mouthing the words of the song you were listening to, hips swaying far too much, but blind to the fact that he was in the room too. Or you knew and just didn’t care. That was something he could believe, a hundred times. 

He stood a few machines away from yours, pulling his clean laundry out from the washer to put in the dryer. His eyes flickered over to your form every few seconds. It seemed to be something he couldn’t help, unable to stop the way his blue irises traced the skin along your waist and how there was nothing but a thin shirt that separated your chest from him. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at you that way. If it was anyone else, it could have been creepy, but because it was him.

You hadn’t even looked his way, your eyes never gracing his form as being the one in the room and not just another guy from the floor. Anakin was sure, though, that if it had been anyone else, you would have acknowledged them. He hated how much he thought of it. Hated how much you hated him. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word unable to slip as he saw you from the corner of his eye, bending over just enough to grab your dry laundry from the dryer. 

He hated how he wasn’t in front of you or behind you for the view but rather just witnessing from the side of you the way your shirt loosened around your frame enough that he could have been able to see down your shirt. He was able to see the back material of your underwear hugging your hips, though. The thinness of it taunting like it could have snapped under one flick from his fingers. 

You pulled your laundry out, slowly, almost purposefully dropping it in your laundry basket. It only took a minute or two but it felt longer when you finally stood closing the dryer door, with your laundry basket now balancing along your hip. You turned, and yet your eyes never found his, never once acknowledging his form there standing near the washer. 

He hated how his chest tightened, the way his brows furrowed in frustration because you were likely avoiding him. Without a word ever spoken, a second of some sort of acknowledgment, though you could have been sitting in his apartment later that evening, you turned towards the door. You walked out, the door falling shut before you. 

Anakin sighed, his hip leaning against the side of the washer as he stared at the spot you were once standing. His brows were still furrowed, but they relaxed, lifting instead as he noticed the left behind bright red garment on the floor. He smirked almost devishly then as he strode across the laundry floor, bent over and plucked it from the floor. 

He tutted softly then, hating himself for how he clutched the thin piece of lace underwear in his hand like it was a lost treasure. 

The apartment was dark all but for the overhead lights in the kitchen and the candles that decorated the countertop. You sat in your room, almost encompassed by darkness other than the sunset lamp on your windowsill and the lamp on your nightstand. You sat back against your pillows, university sweatpants loose along your waist, revealing most of your stomach as you stared at your phone, unable to stop yourself as you scrolled. 

Harrison had posted a picture, one from the other night when the guys had gone out for drinks. Of course, he had been there. Anakin Skywalker. You almost let out a noise at the sight of him in the picture alone. It was embarrassing. Embarrassing how you stared at it for at least a minute, and even worse when you clicked on his profile name that was tagged. Something that happened more often than it should. 

Your stomach tightened as the familiar page appeared, his profile picture enough to have your legs tightening involuntarily. It was easy to say that he was breathtaking, or perhaps the devil himself, because of just how tempting he truly was. From the way his short curls brushed along the back of his neck, the front swept out of his eyes, or his strong jaw that seemed to always appear clenched unless it was just always that sharp. His eyes. Oh god, those were the worst of all. The blue hues that you swore could burn holes into your very being. The sole reason you couldn’t even meet his gaze; not if you didn’t want him to know. 

Know about your secret attraction that actually had you aching most nights. Nights where you couldn’t help but have your hands dip in between your legs, with him being the only one on your mind, the only voice you conjure up. It was unholy. It was wrong on so many levels, how much you wanted this man, so much so, you became mute when he appeared. 

You were a fumbling idiot around him and you never had been with anyone else. Usually, you were the one who would make them squirm, but with Anakin, you found yourself dripping with a need you had never had before. It didn’t help that he was so fucking quiet, unable to say or initiate anything unless it was his eyes somehow taunting you. It was like he didn’t like you, unable to really say much if he wanted to keep the peace. 

It was torture then as you were left to do nothing but stare and scroll aimlessly on his Instagram. 

It was stupid how he was just as perfect in real life. Not a single fault to be had. Even as he stood in the laundry room that afternoon in nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants, it had you forcibly clenching your legs shut. The way his shirt hung on his frame was still tight enough to show his muscles underneath. It was casual in a way, something you would only notice if you looked hard enough, which you tended to always do. 

There was nothing to do except act as if he wasn’t there, grab your laundry from the dryer as quickly as you could, and leave before he could say anything before it became too much that you felt like spreading your legs for him right then and there. 

As you scroll down to the previous August and a shirtless picture of him in a boat appears, you couldn’t take it. You shut your phone off, dropped it onto your bed, and fell back against your pillows. Sighing, you stared up at the ceiling hating the bloom of warmth that was appearing in your chest. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the knock on your bedroom door had you looking over, already expecting the view before you. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Your roommate stood in your doorway in her shower robe, towel wrapped around her head, concealing her pale blonde hair. Her freshly spray-tanned skin glowed after her shower. As you looked over at her, she raised her brows at you, curiosity appearing.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, stiffening as she glanced at your phone left faced down on your bed. 

She hummed almost in interest but decided not to comment on it, instead taking in your appearance, still dressed in the clothes you had been in for the day as you cleaned the apartment and did your laundry, “Well then, that’s the problem. Girl, we have to be there in an hour.” 

“It’s seriously ten steps down the hall,” you rolled your eyes, “I think we can be late. Why are we going anyway?” 

“Because it’s Saturday night and he invited us.” 

“I know, but we could be going out.” 

“Why so you can go home with someone?” she asked, catching onto the heavy sight that left your parted lips. 

You felt your tongue catch along your teeth and unable to defend yourself, Iris smiled, a laugh emitting with ease as a smirk appeared. 

“That’s so funny,” she noted, so amused by your obvious frustrations, “You know there are going to be guys there.” 

“New guys?” you asked sitting up then with new-found interest, “Not like all of the ones at Harrison’s last party?”

“Well, that I can’t know for sure. You were flirting with at least four of them while you were playing cards. You know, Harrison doesn’t have that many friends, right? So every time one of them is attractive and tries to have sex with you, it’s not like he can go out and find three new ones right away. I’m sure some of them will be there, yes.” 

“Fuck.” 

“But, you know, Anakin will also be there. Apparently, it was his idea for them to throw another one tonight. So, if you want to talk to him,” her voice slowed like she realized what she was saying as it echoed in her ears. 

“Iris…” 

“What?” she laughed, “Maybe if you just talk to him, you’ll realize you don’t have to go and click through his Instagram so much.” 

“Iris!” you gasped, face already beginning to twinge with heat. 

She chuckled, but that quieted at the sight of your embarrassment. If it was any other day, she would say more, but she had had that conversation with you so many times before. It would only sound the same. “What? Right, sorry, anyway, I think Harrison did tell me he invited some guys on his club soccer team. So, I guess you can talk to them.” 

You huffed then, knowing that there was one reason you didn’t want to go the apartment down the hall, even if they did throw the best parties. “It’s just we are always there. Almost every weekend. I miss the bars. We’re legal, which means we should use them.”

“What’s wrong?” she questioned almost immediately, that furrowed look returning. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“You never don’t want to go to the guys’. In fact, sometimes you’re the one who suggests it, especially if they are throwing a party.” 

You were quiet, struggling to find an excuse, anything, as the thought of Anakin Skywalker flashed across your head, the picture of him shirtless still very much the screen that would appear when you unlocked your phone.

“Y/N. Speak. If this is about Anakin Skywalker, I swear—”

“I just thought something else could be fun, that’s all,” you shrugged. 

Her expression faltered slightly. She and Harrison weren’t even officially dating, and still, the thought of not seeing him that night pulled all the excitement out of her. You knew then you wouldn’t be getting your way. “I mean, we can. I would just have text the girls and tell them that—” 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll get dressed,” your voice cut hers off, a sheepish smile appearing, knowing that you had just doomed yourself for the rest of the night. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled, it slightly fake, dread appearing in your stomach, “As long as we don’t go early and we have  a round of shots when get there.”

The hallway was dim, the low lights not as bright as usual, the beige walls seeming to be the only thing able to hold your attention as you trailed after Iris, your hands nervously fiddling with one another. Sometimes you were lucky, as Anakin was not always at the parties his roommate liked to host. Other times, he would show up late, allowing you to settle and drink lots of alcohol to prepare for his presence. And rarely he never showed up at all or was there from the beginning. Tonight would be the latter, and you weren’t ready. 

Even with the two drinks heavily poured with vodka, you felt unsteady, anxious, and warm. It was like the further you walked down the hallway, the more the walls seemed to warp within your mind into a funhouse. It was as if you were high on something, distorting your sense of reality, but really, it was just your heart beating so loudly in your ears and the lack of dinner getting to you. 

You couldn’t eat, not as you paced around your room, half of your closet thrown onto the floor, one drink already leaving rings of water on your coaster upon your desk. It was humiliating. Actually, the worst thing to ever happen to you, as no man had ever done this to you. They couldn’t. It seemed impossible, and yet there you were, acting like a blithering idiot who would surely remain throughout the night until you were too drunk to notice. 

“Y/N, you’re walking slower than my grandma here,” Iris called behind you, stopping near the guys’ door, a chuckle echoing off the walls mixing with the sound of the loud music inside. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled back, trying to speed up but almost feeling as if you would fall with how much your legs were shaking. 

“Are you even going to talk to the guy?” she suddenly asked, turning to face you fully, her hands on her hips and a single brow raised. 

“W-What?” 

“Anakin. Are you going to talk to him tonight, finally? Or is this just how you’re going to act about seeing him.” 

You sighed, her words registering, making you question truly what you were so nervous about, “Iris, I…” 

“Look, if you want to talk to him, that’s fine, but if you’re just like this because he is going to be there, you need to take a second and breathe. Y/N, he’s just a guy. That’s it. A guy you don’t even talk to, trust me when I say he is not that special. You’ve spent enough time in the same room as him to know that.” 

“Right,” you whispered, suddenly finding your shoes more interesting to stare at as you felt your roommate speak. The heat in your face was only worsening, “He’s just a guy.” 

He was, and yet he drove you crazy. 

It was disappointing to find that Iris had to be the one to remind you of that when you had spent the past two years of college seeming to be the one always reminding her of that. You were the one who seemed to understand men, especially idiotic man-child twenty-something-year-olds, and yet here you stood in the hallway of your apartment complex, her finally being the one to give you the reminder. 

Sure, Anakin Skywalker was just a man. 

A twenty-one-year-old man who was quite possibly carved from the most expensive and luxurious marble and gold. He dressed in baggy jeans and warm sweaters, some of which seemed to be designer. He was quiet, unfunny at times, and was so frustrated all of the time. He wasn’t perfect, yet he seemed better than any of the guys you had liked in the past. The loose term was not used often. 

“Just a guy,” she smiled, keeping her sarcasm on lockdown as she reached for your forearm and began to drag you towards the door, “I have never seen you like this.” 

“Like what?” you asked, lowering your voice further as you stood outside of the door, confusion-filled gaze meeting her curious one. 

“You this obsessed.” 

“I am not obsessed,” you glared, finding your chest to tighten in discomfort at the thought. 

“Fine. I just mean, usually you don’t care. You never have, and somehow he has you sweating and unable to speak coherently.” 

“It’s not like that.” 

“Okay, well, whatever it’s like, it’s cute,” she laughed, it only getting louder as you bumped her side with your own, almost begging for her to stop. “You’ve never acted like this over a guy.”

“Are we going to fucking stand out here all night, or are we going to go inside?” you asked rather flatly, not caring how it sounded as long as it meant she would stop staring at you the way that she was. 

She only smirked, nothing else left to say as your face said at all. The gentle blush on your cheeks, the way you were trying to avoid eye contact, most of your confidence waning as you stood there, outside of that apartment door. 

Shrugging, she finally reached for the doorknob and opened the door with ease. The second the door was cracked, the music became increasingly louder, enough to make you cringe at the way the bass echoed in your ears. Usually, you welcomed it; the sound, the smell of cigarettes and marijuana, the stickiness on the floors by the end of the night, the way you always stumbled your way back to your apartment only a few feet away. It was a life you had gotten used to, and yet you dreaded it all that night. 

Iris stepped in with ease, and you followed, inhaling as you did with the smell of cigarettes hitting you straight in the face. Even with the windows open, allowing the winter air to bask in the room, it wasn’t enough to completely drown out the smell. I

t was dark in the apartment, all but the LED lights that hung up around the ceiling, paired with a spinning disco ball on the coffee table, which Harrison swore by every single time. 

There was maybe a total of ten people in the room so far, but you knew it wouldn’t be this easy to walk through by the end of the night. As soon as the door was shut behind you, concealing you both inside, it was like he had known she was there. All of a sudden, you heard Harrison’s loud voice from across the room, him standing from where he was leaning against his sound system. 

“Ah, you guys made it!” Harrison strode over in a pair of baggy jeans and a graphic t-shirt, his arms immediately finding Iris’ hips, giving away that he had already been drinking for a bit. “You’re later than I thought you were going to be.” 

“I texted you,” she mumbled, chuckling lightly. 

“I know, but…” his voice trailed off slightly, and his bluish-green eyes found your frame still almost pressed against the front door, and it was like he had connected the dots. “Y/N.” 

“Harrison, hi,” you smiled sheepishly while also trying to peer around him to the rest of the people that filled the living room, hoping but equally dreading catching sight of a head of short curls. 

“What, you didn’t want to come tonight?” 

He was joking, he always was, as he spun Iris around so her back was pressed to his front. You laughed, it so fake as you tried to hide it all but your roommate could see through you easily. “What? No. You're a funny guy, you know that? We always come to your parties.” 

“Yeah, but you’re usually one of the first ones here.” 

“Relax,” you rolled your eyes, “Clearly, we’re still here early enough. Great turnout.” 

“There are more people coming, asshole,” he laughed, pulling his hat by the brim down further across his forehead, concealing his blonde short, cropped hair.

“Oh yeah? Anyone worth talking to?” 

“You told her about the guys from my soccer team, didn’t you?” that question was directed down towards Iris, who suddenly peered up at her non-boyfriend boyfriend with both guilt and humor. 

“What?” she shrugged. 

His eyes found yours again, that playful look now filling yours, “They’ll be here in about an hour or so. Just can you try not to screw them over?” 

“Me?” you feigned a laugh, “I could never. How do I look, though? Something they would be interested in?” 

Doing almost a little curtsy with your Converse squeaking against their hardwood floor, you turned after a moment. Noting the baggy jeans and the black sheer tube top, Harrison laughed almost in disbelief but could only look over his shoulder towards his own roommate, who sat in the middle of their couch, legs sprawled out, head dipped back as he snubbed out the cigarette that was in between his fingers. “Hm, you know you could go ask Anakin? He has expensive taste.” 

You felt yourself freeze, hating the way they both laughed, equally looking back into the room. Following their gaze, you stiffened further as you found him, sure to be the only thing that you would focus on for the rest of the night. Especially if he were to be sitting that way for most of it. You felt like a deer in headlights as you peered over Harrison’s shoulder, eyes trailing over the way his legs were spread wide, his back leaned into the couch, and his head tilted back as he blew out rings of smoke. 

He wore dark jeans and a black knit-long sleeve; underneath the collar, his white t-shirt poked out. His hair was pushed back out of his face, and the curls along his neck and around his ears seemed perfect even in the dark. 

He would be the death of you.

Your mouth was dry, and suddenly, your fresh sarcasm was gone as he sat up against the couch, his stare almost splitting through the room to find the three of you. His expression was unreadable, almost cold, and you hated the way they found yours immediately.  

You looked away, aware of the way the other two were intently making notes about the interaction. Side-stepping into the kitchen out of eye-sight from the roommate, you glared back at Harrison, “I hate you.” 

“Nah, you don’t.” 

“I thought you said you were going to make me a shot when I got here.” 

“What do you want?” Harrison asked, his arms dropping around Iris, instead allowing his hand to find a place along her back, guiding her to follow him into the kitchen. 

“The strongest thing you got,” you suggested peering up at the masses of liquor upon the cabinets, a devilish look appearing in your eyes as you smiled innocently back at the man. 

He sighed that familiar Harrison sigh, the one where he knew there would be no stopping you that night, not as you came over with a box full of seltzers and a large handle of tequila. You were looking for trouble or perhaps something to ease the noise into nothing but silence within your mind. Either way, he couldn’t tell, and though Iris was looking at him, almost afraid to let him give you the shot that would start a very long night, she just shrugged anyway. 

A long night it would become. 

By the time it was eleven-thirty, the apartment was full of many familiar faces, the typicals you saw at almost every party, and then masses of the very unfamiliar. Some of them including Harrison’s very cute and very athletically-built soccer teammates. It had become your mission to catch at least one of their eyes quickly as if to avoid the looming stare from across the room that you were sure would have you dripping humiliatingly if you focused on him too long. 

When he moved, you did too. Further away, it seemed, anything to keep your distance, almost afraid of what you could say if given the chance to. The alcohol wasn’t enough because just knowing he was in the same apartment had you unable to think about anything or anyone else. Even when you were four seltzers deep and a quarter of the way through with the concoction that had become of your water bottle, Anakin Skywalker was all you could think about. 

It had been hours, hours of dancing awkwardly, avoiding the cards table, and yet you felt unaccomplished with the night. The ache between your legs was enough proof as it was, but you knew that couldn’t be taken care of by anyone unless it was Anakin. Even as the lanky soccer player with fluffy brown hair and bright eyes practically had you concealed against the wall in the living room, your mind was completely inept at what he was saying. 

He was hot, relatively, nothing like Anakin, but enough that you would have slept with him. His hands were ghosting over your waist, one tickling the bare skin above your jeans, the other leaning against the wall, caging you in against his warm frame. His eyes were hooded, a look in them you knew all too well, but one you were sure you wouldn’t act on. 

“You know, Harrison warned me about you,” he joked, it sounding so deep that his name somehow slipped from your mind, unable to be retrieved. 

Your lips were wrapped around the straw of your drink, eyes peering up at his through your lashes, and you couldn’t help but smile, almost like a tantalizing forbidden fruit. “Really? Is that so? And do you think you should have listened to him?” 

“No, not at all. That’s the funny part, I guess. Told me you would probably have your pick of us for the night.” 

Your smile lessened slightly as a discomfort appeared front and center within your chest. You flirted. That wasn’t something you would deny, but the way he was putting it made you feel like you were other girls that they talked to. Ready to offer themselves like a consolation prize by spreading their legs just to never be spoken to again. You flirted, but you never really gave them what they wanted, and that’s why Harrison was cautious about bringing new guys around. They would chase after something they’d never get, and you would string them along as a form of entertainment. Or that’s what he thought. 

It never had been like that, not even as guys started to notice you freshman year of college. It was never supposed to be a game but rather something else entirely. 

You shifted back towards the wall, eyes dropping to your cup, the way it was nearly empty, the last few drops clinging to the bottom of the glass. The guy spoke again, and you found your brows furrowing in discomfort. “I’m just glad it was me if I’m being honest.”

They always thought that way. That it was them. That they were something special, as if worthy of your attention, but it never was about them. 

You sighed, head falling back against the wall as his hand rose along your bare skin, almost inching to move up and under your shirt. A second of dissociation left you looking over his shoulder at the crowd of people around you, filling the living room to be full and packed. You scanned their faces trying to find anything that you knew could ground you. 

Instead, there was only one thing, one person, and it made it all so much worse. 

Peering through the room within the darkness of flashing vibrant lights and smoke, you somehow found him, only a few feet away or so. At the sight, it was almost like your legs were going to give out from beneath you. He would never not have an effect on you. It didn’t matter how stupid you felt, how humiliating it was. Inevitably, Anakin Skywalker would always have you wrapped around his finger. 

He was leaning against the wall near the sound system, surrounded by Harrison and a few of their other guy friends. His arms were crossed over his chest, arms bulging slightly under the material of his shirt. Smoke billowed around the group from cigarettes, vapes, and joints alike, yet his hands were empty. He wasn’t listening to anything they were saying. He couldn’t have been because, just as quickly as you found him, he was already peering over at you. 

His blue eyes, almost as sharp as steel as they traced your frame, pressed up against the wall under the soccer player, your drink cradled close to your chest. You almost physically shuddered, having not expected it, not in the slightest. His lips were pulled into a fine line, brows slightly furrowed in a way that made you want to ease the small wrinkle, pulling every frustration clean from his body. 

Yet you felt intimidated because, after all, it was a look that was directed at you. One that often wasn’t. 

His expression barely flickered or faltered, even as your eyes so clearly locked with his. Instead, he could only lift a single brow in your direction in interest. It was like a challenge, almost as if he was daring you to do something you would regret, something he wouldn’t like. 

“Hey,” the guy’s voice broke through your facade, a gentle mumble as his hand squeezed your hip. The feeling brought your eyes to flicker back to him but only for a second before you were glancing back at Anakin. “Are you listening?” 

You weren’t. Instead too distracted by the man across the room, whose jaw had suddenly tightened. 

“I… uh, need to get another drink,” you forced a smile, voice gentle as you gestured to the empty cup. 

“Do you want me to get it?” he asked then, yelling over the music, and you hated the way it made you feel. 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be right back,” you replied, almost like a false promise, as you slipped under his arm, separating his frame from yours completely, and with it, a weight seemed to dissipate. The ability to breathe suddenly a grace you didn’t know you were missing. 

It was like you could feel his eyes following your frame. The coldness that was his blue orbs as you swerved your way through the crowd of people, bumping into them as you went, recognizing very few. Iris had been gone from your side for almost an hour, somehow slipping away with Harrison’s cousin to talk about probably Harrison. You had been left to fend for yourself, which was nothing new. Something you had done the whole semester prior, and yet it was the first time, you couldn’t stand the thought. 

Even as the alcohol had left you swaying, vision slightly blurred, and mind a slurring mess, there wasn’t much comfort in the feeling. You managed to squeeze you were way to the kitchen, the music enough to have your ears echoing. Sighing, you found only a few people littered throughout, mixing new drinks or leaning against the countertops to speak too closely. It would be too good to be true to find it empty.

Slipping into the kitchen, which seemed nearly as dark as the rest of the apartment, you found the corner of the countertop where you had been taking alcohol from all night. Harrison had been kind enough to offer you something better than what you had mixed, and it had become the thing you began to drink as soon as your seltzers were long since chugged. Reaching for the liquor bottle, you uncapped it and began to pour, heavier than you had been before. Mixing the remainder of the lemonade in, you picked it up, already reading for the strong sip. 

“How many of those have you had?” 

The voice was low but loud as it spoke over the music. Scaring you, you turned around on your heels quickly, the drink nearly spilling all over you if it wasn’t for his hand that came to grasp the cup, part of his palm covering your own. It was warm. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, the only vocal response to how close he was and all of a sudden. 

“Careful,” Anakin chuckled, taking the drink from your hand, to which you pouted in dismay, hating how he pulled it closer to himself. 

You stared, expression wary as he towered over you, closer than he ever had before, his eyes tracing the startled look as if he were the predator cornering his prey. His stare flickered following the way your chest rose and fell, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you stared up at him, eyes slightly glassed over from the amount of alcohol you had. 

God, you hated him. You really did as he stared down at you, smirking the way he was, only a few inches away. If you leaned closer, your chest would press against his, and at the thought, you had to squeeze your legs shut, trying to keep as much space between the two of you as you pressed yourself back against the countertop. 

A glint appeared as he noticed the way you shifted with discomfort, something he knew wasn’t a common occurrence with you. Tilting his head innocently, he glanced down at your drink, which now was in his grasp, a teasing tone emitting, “You never answered my question. How many of these have you had?” 

You shrugged, trying to wipe off the look on your face as if you could picture it was anyone else in front of you. “I don’t know. A few.” 

“How many is a few?” he demanded, eyes tracing the way you swayed on your feet, almost like he could know your head was spinning, nearly seeing two of him. 

“You want a number?” you laughed, thinking he was joking. 

His expression never faltered, “Yes.” 

“Three, maybe four, I don’t know.” 

He hummed, almost like he was dissatisfied with the answer. Instead of offering the drink back to you, he brought it closer to himself, that serious look never disappearing. “You should be done for the night.” 

“Really?” you mused, a single brow raising at his tone. 

“Yeah, in fact, I’ll finish this one off for you. Maybe try a water there, Y/L/N,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips, covering where your lipstick stains had been.

He took a sip, and you felt your blood boil out of both annoyance and something else. He wasn’t even touching you, and yet there was more of a reaction out of you than earlier when the soccer player had his hands inching up your shirt. It seemed he knew that too, and it was infuriating. 

“Anakin!” 

“By the way, your flavor of the night is looking for you. I think I saw him over by the bathroom where Iris was waiting. I’m sure he was asking about you.” 

“You know what,” you said then, raising your hands up in the air, an almost look of acceptance on your face as you slipped out from under his frame you hadn’t realized had gotten so close, “Fine.” 

With that, you walked away out of the kitchen, palm empty of your drink and heart heavy by the man who had taken it so easily from you. It was like taking candy from a baby, you almost offered it willingly if it meant getting a few more seconds being pressed close to him, his blue eyes tracing your drunken frame. 

He had gotten you then. He was under your skin, had practically dug himself a hole, and you knew you couldn’t; not willingly go find Harrison’s teammate just to think about someone else all night. How much further could you even go than flirting? You usually wouldn’t, and you definitely couldn’t, not that night, not in that state, not when Anakin Skywalker flashed through your mind on repeat, feeding the worst desires. 

The apartment was hot, still messy, lingering with stenches of alcohol, weed, and cigarettes. It was like all of the sweaty bodies were still gathered within their living room when really it was nearly three a.m., most of the lights were turned off, and the only thing that could be seen was Harrison and Iris slightly tangled on the couch. Anakin was slumped over on their second couch, now in a pair of sweatpants that hung loosely off his frame and dark long sleeve. His head lulled to the side as he stared at the TV in front of him, unable to really get comfortable on the couch with the warmth of the room. 

Unable to open the window due to them being almost frozen shut, he sat up, his feet meeting the floor. He wanted to sleep. It was the only thing he could think about; hoping it would be enough to quiet the thoughts along with the twitch of his dick. But he couldn’t, not as he felt the sweat along his eyebrow and the smell that seemed to not dissipate even long after he thought he had gotten used to it. 

“Fuck, it still smells.” 

“Well, I don’t know, maybe open the door, see if it airs out in the hallway,” Harrison said, his words slurring slightly, his eyes narrowing in tiredness. 

Anakin became deadpan then, “The door? You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

“Or not. Whatever.” 

“Well, do we have a fan or something?” Anakin offered, standing from the couch in the darkness, stretching his arms up and over his head, “I had one, but I can’t remember the last time I saw mine or even used it.”

Harrison peered up at his roommate, a shy smile on his face seeming oblivious or rather uncaring of the problem at hand, too focused on the feeling of Iris’ head resting along his collarbone. It was then the girl perked up, her eyes shifting away from the TV and the creepy murder documentary she had recommended. 

Her blonde hair peeked up from the couch, and she chuckled lightly at the realization, “That’s because we have it.” 

“What do you mean we?” Anakin replied, brows raising slightly in interest. 

“Y/N and I…” she said carefully, “Harrison let us borrow it at the beginning of the semester when our AC system gave out. I’m pretty sure we forgot to give it back. It’s in our linen closet.” 

He stared down at her, somehow at a loss of what to say or if that meant she was willing to get up and give it to him then or expected him to wait. Before he could decide, she reached the coffee table and picked up her keys before tossing them to Anakin. 

“Here. Take my keys, you can go grab it.” 

Catching them, he stared down at it on the brass key ring, the very key that led to your apartment. An apartment you very much could have been in fucking around with one of the new guys’ Harrison had introduced you to. Anakin’s hand tightened around the keyset at the thought, a certain discomfort appearing at even the picture he could conjure up. The guy had been practically all over you all night, and you hadn’t done anything to reject his advances. Instead, you let them happen all while a set of eyes were staring at you from across the room. 

“I… uh.” 

“Relax,” she laughed, “Y/N said she was going to shower and go to bed. You’re not going to run into any naked soccer players fleeing from her bedroom.” 

“Funny,” Anakin glared, a fake smile appearing as he noticed the familiar glint that had appeared on his roommate’s face. Not ready for the constant teasing, he stepped out of the living room towards the front door. 

Walking out, he barely processed the sound of the door closing behind him, too focused on the key in his hand. It took less than a minute when he came face to face with the dark door. Tall with gold brass located in the middle displaying just how it differed from all the rest — what it meant. The numbers he thought about more often than he should. 

802. 

Fuck. He thought about it too much, so much so it felt easy to let the key slide into the hole and unlock the door with a mere turn of his wrist. Stepping through the threshold, the first thing he noticed was how refreshing it felt compared to the smell of his apartment. It was cooler in there, with a smell of almost clean laundry and vanilla. He couldn’t help but wonder if the whole apartment smelled that way or if somehow your room was different. 

The floors matched the ones in his dark paneling that showed all of the dirt that fell on them. There were a few entrance rugs he couldn’t see much in the dark, as well as the entrance to the kitchen. He wanted to look around, turn on a light to take it all in, but he couldn’t, not with you only a few doors away, possibly naked and in the shower. He felt so gross about it, that he cared so much. 

Especially as your underwear sat in the top drawer of his dresser. He had been contemplating about it all night, just how he could bring it up or return it to you. But he wasn’t sure the best approach without it coming off as disgusting. If he told Iris, she would never look at him the same, probably confused why he had them at all. Harrison would only make jokes, almost applauding Anakin, just to take Iris’ side when he tried to pass them off to her. And you, he couldn’t even think about what your reaction might look like upon finding out that he had your underwear, had them all day. 

Moving further into the apartment, he entered the vast hallway just as Iris had explained, eyes locating in the dark the few doorways that appeared. With his flashlight on, he was able to find it halfway down the hall on the left. Just as he opened the door, though, he took notice of the dim light a door down, a purple hue peeking out from it that was left cracked open. With the familiar sound of The Weekend, Anakin smirked as he picked his way through the linen closet. 

There on the top shelf was his fan. 

Grabbing it, he shut the linen closet, but halted in front of the door, a new sound grabbing his attention. A breathy sigh, almost like a huff of frustration. His shoulders stiffened slightly, stomach tightening at the sound alone. As another noise slipped, but much louder paired with the gentle lull of a vibration, Anakin knew for sure. Knew that you were getting yourself off, and he couldn’t ignore just how pretty it sounded. 

It was too much, so he stepped away from your door towards the other end of the hallway, but he had only made it two steps before he felt himself stop. 

“Ani…” The whimper was not quiet, and he felt his jaw tighten at the way the syllables formed on your lips. 

The sounds were louder, your moan breathtaking. 

Anakin’s hand cupped his dick, your voice going straight to it. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but they snapped back open as another one echoed out from your room, this one a little more desperate. 

“Oh, Anakin.” 

He didn’t know how he didn’t drop that fucking fan. Wasn’t sure if it would slip through his fingers or if he would throw it on purpose, anything to make his presence known. Anything to make the sounds continue but due to his fingers rather than your own. He had never felt such pain then at that moment as he forced himself to walk away, the sounds of you undoing yourself deliberately with his name breaking apart across your tongue. 

There wasn’t a doubt then anymore. Not a single ounce of question. 

It seemed that was enough to know. Enough to have figured out just exactly what to do with the red lacy underwear that sat tucked into the top drawer of his dresser.

“No, fuck, where is it?”

The sound of your voice grumbling from your room droned out into the hallway. Your hands were shoved into the bottom of your dresser drawer, rummaging through the clean laundry you had folded the day before. The sole piece of clothing you were looking for was nowhere in sight. As soon as you hadn’t found it near the top when you had started getting ready for your date, you felt your chest tighten. You groaned loudly, arms balancing along your knees as you moved to find it not hidden somewhere in your laundry basket either. 

“Y/N/N, I’m going to head to work,” Iris poked her head inside, but her voice trailed off at the sight of you crouched in the middle of the room, tearing apart your dresser drawers. “What are you doing?” 

“I can’t find them,” you mumbled out. 

“Find what?” 

You sighed, almost hesitant to even say it out loud, “My panties. The red ones.” 

“The ones with lace?” she asked, for clarification, her brows raising in interest. 

“Yes, I washed them yesterday, I swear.”

“Don’t you have your date tonight?” she asked, eyes looking around the room, spotting the few outfits you had laid out across your bed and the mounds of makeup and hair products spread out at your vanity. “The one with Harrison’s teammate?” 

“Yeah, Cole.” 

At the name, a flash of recognition formed across Iris’ face. It was the same guy you had been with most of the night before at the party, practically pressed up against a wall as he eye fucked you for most of the night. By the end of it, you were so drunk he hadn’t even gotten a kiss out of you, only your number. He texted you that morning about going out for drinks and dinner. You were hesitant at first, almost inclined to say no, but then something else made you change your mind. Perhaps the sight from the night before of the smirk that laced over Anakin’s face as he teased you about Cole. No inclination at all that it bothered him, the sight of you pressed up against someone else. It was annoying, so annoying, that you couldn’t help but say yes to Cole for a date. 

What else were you going to do? 

Anakin Skywalker barely spoke to you and noticed your presence. It was a joke. All of it. 

Iris smiled smugly, then down at you as you continued to search through the dresser drawer. “And you need your red lacy panties for a first date?” 

“I mean, I don’t need them, just want them, you know, in case.” 

“Who are you right now?” she laughed, the sound bringing your attention away from your underwear drawer. Her arms were crossed over her chest, that smile still evident as a hint of amusement flashed across her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You don’t usually think about sleeping with a guy until at least the fourth or fifth date. The last time you were talking to someone, you made him hold out for the sixth date just to ask him to leave after twenty minutes of making out. And you want to wear your sex underwear on the first date?”

“I’m not a prude, you know,” you laughed too, your anxiety easing slightly even though your favorite underwear was still missing. 

“I never said you were. I’m just saying, you’re different. That’s all.” 

“Is that such a bad thing?” 

She shook her head, almost a sense of pride appearing, “No. Not at all. Anyway, I should go.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you replied over your shoulder, your attention going back to the clothes scattered around you. 

“Yeah, have fun on your date. I can’t wait to hear how it goes. Oh, and maybe try looking in the laundry room.” 

You cringed almost at the thought that they had somehow been left in there overnight, all while other people were coming in and out to do their laundry, “Right.”

Standing from your bedroom floor, you looked around the room one more time before inevitably giving up. Instead, you slid on a pair of shoes, and left the apartment, the door closing and echoing behind you. Making your way down the hall, you passed the guys’ door and the memories from the night before flashed again in your head. Anakin taking your drink, cutting you off from anything for the rest of the night. You wish you wouldn’t have listened and continued to sneak some. You didn’t have to listen to him at all. That was the funniest part, and you did it anyway. 

Entering the laundry room, the automatic lights clicked on upon your entrance illuminating the room in cascades of bright LEDs. It was warm, just like it usually was when someone was doing their laundry. The familiar rumble of the dryer and washers caught your attention. The sound of it clouded your thoughts as you approached the washer and dryer you had been using the day before. 

With one simple open of the stainless steel washer, you found it empty of any sort of clothing. You sighed, the annoyance deepening at the thought of having lost them. Expensive underwear you had bought on your trip to France over the summer. A pair Iris had to convince you to buy because you typically weren’t one for buying sexy underwear. It was the pair that opened the vault for you, leading you to not only buy so many more since then but a string of memories confined to that pair of lace, all from the few pairs of hands that had slid them down your legs with ease late into the night. 

It was your favorite pair of underwear. 

The only pair you felt like wearing on nights when you knew inevitably they would end up on someone’s floor. 

“Fuck,” you cursed again lowly as you stepped over to the dryer you had used. 

Sure enough, as you opened and closed it, you found it just as empty as the other machine you had checked. Your stomach dropped at the thought, and it had come to desperate measures as you crouched down near the machines and began looking around them on the floor. 

It was not your proudest moment, and that only became clear as it only lasted around thirty seconds when you heard the door open, paired with a voice you were dreading to have to face anytime soon. 

“What are you doing?” 

Your eyes closed, your breath falling short in your throat. Sighing, you stood from where you were crouched along the floor, surely giving him a show in the shorts you had been wearing since your shower that afternoon. You wouldn’t turn to face him, not if it meant seeing some sort of teasing look appear. It was embarrassing enough. Instead, you pressed yourself closer to the dryer, peering over the back of it, hoping just maybe the red lace would appear behind it. 

“I am looking for something.” 

Anakin chuckled, subtly tracing the curve of your ass through your pajama shorts, his fingers curling around the silky material in his pocket. “What?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Well, maybe if you told me, I could help,” he offered, and at that, you froze. 

Turning around slowly, you faced him, heart picking up at the sight of him alone. He looked just as fine as he had the night before, maybe even a little bit more. He wore jeans, ones that were loose around his frame, paired with a hoodie, hiding away the definition of his torso you craved to see after so long. His hair was slightly damp, leaving a ringlet curl along his forehead. It was slightly shorter, too, the back especially, meaning he had gotten a haircut. You had thought you would be sad when he had finally done it, cut the small curls that lay along the back of his neck, but now that he had, you couldn’t help but stare, knees practically giving out at how good he truly looked. 

Sure enough, that smirk was plastered along his face, paired with a glint you knew all too well. 

“Help? You want to help me?” 

He shrugged, “It could maybe make it go faster. You look like you need to be somewhere.” 

It was the most he had ever said to you. The last two days had crossed every line that had been between the two of you over the past four months of knowing one another. This was it. The past two days of his intimidating stares and forceful words.

Placing your hands on your hips, you raised a brow over at him interest, “And why would you think that?” 

He stepped closer, and that alone had your chest rattling and hands practically shaking. He was so tall, so breathtaking, and you had wanted him for so long, so badly, it had consumed you. Just the sight of him as he stood before you, looming over your frame, had your core twitching, aching already, and he hadn’t even touched you. There was the reality that he probably wouldn’t. 

His tongue clicked along the roof of his mouth, his blue orbs falling to trace over your bare legs, freshly tanned, smooth, up to the short baby tee that hugged your frame; no bra. You looked as if you were ready to settle in for the night, but he knew better. 

“You did your makeup,” he said, observingly, “And you look as if you put something in your hair. Maybe, styled it for someone. You got a hot date or something?” 

Your mouth was dry, and you had to look away, guilt appearing that you would be with another man that night, all while you would probably be thinking about him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“So, that’s a yes,” he chuckled, the deep sound making your legs clench slightly. “Harrison’s teammate from last night? I could see him asking you out just to get in your pants.” 

“Stop,” you fumed, brows furrowing in annoyance, arms crossing over your chest, “Why does it matter?” 

“It doesn’t. So, what are we looking for Y/L/N? What’s going to make you late for this dick appointment?” 

“You know what. Forget it. I can find it myself.” 

“No, no, come on, now. I’m just trying to be helpful,” he smiled, that smirk widening, almost getting off at the sight of your pout and knitted brows. “Seems like you might need it? So, what a top? A bra, maybe, something he’ll want to pull off of you later.” 

“Anakin,” you warned as he took a step closer, his head tilting antagonizingly, taking in how your chest rose and fell nervously. There was still a foot or so between you and yet you couldn’t help but step back until you were up against the dryer, the warmth of it felt through your shorts. 

“Or is it not either of those things? No. Can’t be,” he paused, voice trailing off as his stare flickered down to your lips, “Underwear?” 

Your lips parted in shock, stomach turning at the way it sounded like he was trying to torture you with his presence. 

“So that’s it? Panties, huh? Must be some nice fucking ones if they have you bent over in the laundry room looking for them. What do they look like? I’m sure I can find them.” 

You couldn’t form words, not as he taunted you, even from so far away. Not as his hands were shoved in the pockets of his pants, the most casual look about him. He alluded to sex just from how he looked, and that was hard enough, but him standing in front of you, lips glistening from his saliva, spouting these things at you, they might as well have been the dirtiest things a guy has ever said. They had you wet. You knew they did, and it had you shrinking in humiliation. Humiliation that he could say your name alone, and it would have you so pent up to the point of reaching for that familiar blue vibrator on your bedside table, desperately trying to relieve the tension he built up inside of you. 

Inhaling, you tried to relax. “They’re lace.” 

“Okay. See-through?” he asked, unable to say it with a straight face. 

“Yes.” The word was so quiet coming from your lips, almost like a whisper. 

The tip of his tongue traced over the top set of his teeth, highlighting his cuspids you wanted more than anything to bite into your neck. All while his hand dug between your legs. The thought fell away though at his next words, them enough to have your heart stop altogether. 

“They wouldn’t be red by chance, are they?” 

Your mouth fell open in shock, and for a second, you thought he was going to take hold of your lower lip to close it, anything to touch you, but he didn’t. Why would he? With widened eyes and that knitted expression forming once again across your face, you were silent as you watched his hand appear from his pocket, that all too familiar red color appearing before your eyes. 

“Or something like these, right?” he held them out on his index finger, the expensive material from France staring back at you, “Fuck, I didn’t expect it, Y/L/N. That you could own a pair like this.” 

Your face felt warm, annoyed, and embarrassed by his taunt. Enough that you reached forward to pluck them from his hand, but he pulled his hand back further to keep you from taking hold of them. 

“Anakin,” you warned, hand out stretched. 

“You know, you should pay closer attention when you do your laundry. Some creep in the building could have picked them up instead of me. Who knows what would have happened to them then.” 

It was like he could see the steam coming out of your ears, the heat on your face that he somehow could see even past your makeup. He was frustrating you, and he could do it all day, every day, he decided. 

“Give them to me.” 

“Or what?” he quipped, “Tell me why I should? Just so some guy can take them off of you later. Some guy you don’t even want to fuck you.” 

“Stop this,” you whispered, it almost sounding like a plea as you tried to reach for the underwear again, but as you did, he pulled his hand away. This time, going as far as to stuff them into the back pocket of his jeans. You groaned in annoyance at the sight. “You’re being an asshole.” 

“And you’re a fucking liar,” he taunted, stepping closer again. This time until he was no more than a few inches away. Your body was fully pressed against the dryer then, it hot along the skin on the back of your thighs. “So admit it.” 

“Admit what?” 

He leaned closer, his lips nearly tracing the shell of your ear, all while his hands moved up, fingers brushing across your bare ribs so softly it hadn’t felt real. They slipped away, instead pressing along the dryer behind you that was still running. He had you caged in, his chest warm against yours. 

“That you want this. That you want me.” 

A breathy sigh fell away, your lips practically trembling as all of the hair on your body seemed to stand straight up. 

He continued, “You say I’m the asshole but you’re the one who walks around doing your laundry in nothing but a skimpy shirt. You fucking want me to see you like that, don’t you? Like this? You want to tempt me. But that’s the thing isn’t it? You only act like a whore if it means getting my attention. Isn’t that right?” 

“Anakin…” his name almost sounding like a moan as it slipped, body leaning further into his involuntarily. 

“Say it, Y/N. Fucking say it, and I’m yours.” 

You sighed, the most hopeless sound because he had you. He always did. How was it happening? You weren’t sure, but it was all that mattered. “Fine, I want you.” 

He smiled a grin that was so full of himself as he reached forward, his hand gripping your jaw so firmly in his hand. It happened so quick, then, the feeling of him pulling you forward. It was almost like you could have gotten whiplash as his lips consumed you, enveloping you in what could only be described as pure sin. Without a moment to even feel them on yours, his tongue was parting your lips, slipping in without you giving much of a fight. A moan was ripped free from your throat as he branded you over and over, his taste coated along your tongue, faintly tasting of mint gum and cigarettes. 

Somehow it wasn’t anything you thought it would be like. It was better, intangible, unable to fully grasp until it was happening, leaving you to spin, to drip with need, and in a way, begging for penance. His body collided with yours, his other hand roughly grabbing your hip, slamming you further into the dryer, the vibration of it catching your attention as he did so. As his knee parted your legs, you twitched, the feeling of his clothed knee too much as he pressed it up against your core. 

Gasping, your hands shot forward, pushing at his chest. It was enough for his lips to part from yours, with a string of his saliva pooling around the corners of your lips. “Wait, not here.” 

You looked around the empty laundry room, suddenly awfully aware of the possibility for anyone to walk in. Especially those who had their laundry going in the machines. 

He chuckled, the sound making your legs clench again, but this time around, his knee stood in the way. He smirked at the sight, his voice lowering, “Yes, here.” 

You couldn’t deny how it had made you feel, the dominance doing something to you. So much so that you relaxed under his hooded eyes, giving in once again. It was enough of an answer for him as he immediately went to your cotton shorts, yanking them down from your hips. The material loosened and pooled around your feet, leaving you in nothing but the black pair of soft panties you had slipped on after your shower. 

“Not red,” he chuckled, hands ghosting along your ribs, thumbs tempting to brush along your nipples through the material of your shirt, “But fuck are they still pretty.” 

His knee pressed up further against the material, the thin material that was soaked to the point that he was risking having a stain left when he pulled it away. You whimpered at the feeling, desperate for any relief you hadn’t been able to get since you laid eyes on him for the first time. You couldn’t help but sink down on him, the feeling sending a shock through your core and another sound to fall from your blissfully kissed lips. 

He took in the sight, not caring who saw. Not if it meant he had his claim on you, that everyone knew. That they all were aware of how fucking obsessed you were, with him, his cock, that you would be willing to get caught. With lidded eyes just as desperate for you as you were for him, he let his fingers trace down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he found the waistband of your underwear. Your chest tightened again in anticipation, as his fingers slid down further until they were pressed along the front of it, able to feel the wetness that had soaked all the way through. 

His ego was huge at that point, almost feeling accomplished by his handy work. His thumb found the bundle of nerves with ease as if this hadn’t been his first time with you, but rather had memorized your body, knew just how exactly to get you to come undone. Pressing down, he bit down on his bottom lip, watching as your head lulled back, a desperate sound-emitting. 

He couldn’t take it then, and neither could you. When he pulled away, you gasped in protest, ready to glare at him, but that inclination disappeared as he reached for the button of his jeans. You were practically drooling as it popped, followed by the sound of the zipper being yanked down. Your chest was rising and falling, so much anticipation forming along your skin in the form of sweat, the spot between your legs throbbing to the point of it almost being painful. 

You were ready to beg. If he wasted any more time, you would. You didn’t care how desperate and defiling it felt then because if it were any other man, you wouldn’t, but for him, you would. You would over and over if it meant it would lead to this. Your breath hitched as he reached for the waistline of his boxers, sliding them down just enough to release his dick from the confines of the material. 

Fuck, even his dick was perfect. 

The sight of it had you nearly collapsing, completely acting like an idiot just at the sight. Who knew all it took was one cock to have you completely silent, lost for words. It had never happened, never thought it could, until him. It was the way it erected out, almost touching the material of his hoodie, red, already slick with precum. A world where he wanted you back seemed so implausible, and yet the sight of that alone could have had you cumming on the spot. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, wrapping one of his hands around the base of it, he hissed slightly at the contact. 

“Anakin, fuck just, please,” you whimpered further, and you hated how it sounded across your tongue, but that thought disappeared quickly as he moved closer. 

With one hand pushing your underwear to the side, the other aided his dick in sliding in between your folds. It was only the tip, and yet at the feeling, you were a mess. A mess of chewing on your lower lip, just desperately wishing for this feeling to never end. If you could have this for the rest of your life every day, you would. The feeling of him over and over again would be a mantra you would strive for if it always felt like this. 

Your walls were tight around him, and both being so impatient, he thrust forward, bottoming out quickly. A small noise fell from your lips at the feeling of his tip colliding deeply inside, your walls tightening, sucking him in perfectly. 

“Ah, fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice enough to make you clench again, stomach fluttering as his forehead softly met yours. 

There was a second, a brief moment where neither of you moved. It was only heavy breathing accompanied by the sounds of the dryers, and you knew it was equally the nastiest but most perfect moment of your life. Then with his lips collapsing on yours once again, he began to move. Pulling out, he trusted back in, rocking his hips against yours. He swore under his breath, dick twitching though he had barely even started. With his lips claiming yours over and over, his hand trailed up along the side of your leg, taking hold of your knee to hike it up along his waist. At the new feeling, the stretch, paired with his dick still prodding, you moaned, the sound loud, louder than you anticipated it to be. 

He laughed, the sound vibrating against your chest. It only got worse as his other hand slipped down in between your bodies locating your clit with ease through your underwear. Pulling out all the way, he shoved himself all the way back in, eliciting sounds you didn’t know you could even derive. Your body arched into his, legs already like jelly as his thumb circled the bundle of nerves slowly, almost too slowly. The feeling of the soft fabric of the underwear only added more friction and you were spiraling at how quickly your pussy tightened around his length. 

He grunted, a string of curse words slipping as he harshly pinned your body back against the dryer, the vibration of the machine only heightening it all further. You wouldn’t last long, you knew that, practically able to hear your heart in your ears, stomach clenching with that familiar knot. Your hands reached out to grip his shoulders, the material of his hoodie curling under your fingers as you held onto him so tightly as if you were trying to mold the two of your bodies into one. 

Moving so quickly at that point, he was reaching that very spot inside you couldn’t do yourself, and it had your head spinning, chest rising and falling, as you desperately craved the high more than even drugs or alcohol. 

“Say my name, baby,” he pleaded then, sounding so whiny as his blue eyes met yours. “Come on. Say it. Say it like you do when you’re laying in bed, hand going to fucking work in between your legs.” 

Sweat gathered along his brow, while the tops of his cheeks were staining red. The sound of the pet name had you almost crying, leg tightening around his waist, as every part of your body seemed lit on fire. 

“Anakin,” you moaned softly. 

“No,” he demanded glaring down at you, “Not like that.” 

He began to speed up his assault on your clit, and you could barely stand at that point, body almost leaning completely back on the dryer. That was enough to get what he wanted as his name began to spill from your mouth louder than it ever had before. 

He swore again, his grunts filling your ears as his palm tightened around your hip. He was moving so quickly, sliding in and out, you could feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds so loud in your ears. His thumb never faltered or stopped as he pulled all the way out and then back in, wanting you to take him in inch by inch. Before you had even realized it, your walls were tightening around him, your stomach clenched, eyes squeezed shut like you were chasing stars. 

That feeling snapped, a lull, and you were a moaning mess as you held onto him, knowing you couldn’t stand on your own. Fingers digging deeply into his shoulders, body relaxing slightly while the orgasm washed over you, he didn’t dare stop. Anakin only pulled out to slam back into you, the flutter of your walls pulling him in over and over again. Chasing his high so desperately, it didn’t take long, until he was stilling completely, cumming inside of you. 

You hadn’t let anyone else do that, but for him, it was a privilege. It was almost like your pussy was promised for him and him alone. His forehead fell down against yours, body relaxing into yours for a moment, only a few seconds, not long enough as your walls pulsed around him, now soft inside of you. He pulled out with ease, the loss of him and the cool air startling you to clamp your legs shut. 

He stuffed himself back into his pants and looked down at you almost proudly, your fucked out gaze enough to have him wanting to take you back to his apartment and keep it going all night long, but you had places to be instead. Smirking, his eyes fell down to your lower half, and he couldn’t resist then. Fingers finding the sides of your underwear, they hooked around them before pulling them down your frame and to your ankles. Though confused, you followed, stepping out of them. 

At the loss of them, you could feel the mixed wetness pooling out of you and down the inside of your legs, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Proud of his handiwork, Anakin reached behind him in his back pocket and took out the red lacy underwear. He held them out in his hands, stretching them as he demanded softly, “Step in.” 

Listening, you stepped into the underwear, the clean red lacy underwear that had started all of this. Then tantalizing as if he wanted to torture you further, he pulled them up your legs slowly, agonizingly slow, and then up and over your butt until they sat comfortably along your hips, surely soaking in what the two of you had done.

Leaning forward, he left a lingering peck on your hip bone, and you sighed at the feeling. He slid your shorts back on next before standing and as he did, you could still feel the flush in your cheeks, reality catching up to you. 

Having exchanged the red underwear for the black ones you wore, he shoved the dirty ones into his back pocket. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think straight, as your heart seemed to be beating out of your chest. With that smirk, that glint on his goddamn face, he reached forward, thumb pulling your bottom lip free before letting it snap back into place. 

“I expect those panties of yours to remain where they are your whole date, got it? And tell Cole ‘hi’ for me, will you?” 

There was one thing for sure, Anakin Skywalker despised you, or not anymore, at least because, after all, he got the one thing he had been dying of thirst for. He would make sure you never ignored him again, even if it was when you were doing your damn laundry. 

[toxicanonymity]

Big Fat Tally

Joel Miller x Female Reader | 1.7k words WARNINGS: 18+ NSFW. Non-outbreak AU, established couple, fem/AFAB reader, dirty talk, pet names, praise, incidental solo play (m), foreplay - oral f receiving, fingering, dirty talk. Joel wears a hollow strap* for PIV: Sometimes this is called a cock enhancer or extender but we know he doesn't need it. on the inside it's like a fleshlight. Written for @dark-scape’s The Tally Chain Fic Event. Please consider donating to the National Network of Abortion Funds or other abortion resources. Also, consider writing a tally fic 💙

You called Joel on the way home from work. "I'm just dying to give you another tally," you purred. All afternoon, a montage of possibilities had played in your head -- sucking his cock, jacking him off, politely requesting an anal cream pie...

“Got a surprise for ya,” he told you. 

“Yeah?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” Joel said in a sweet voice, then shifted his tone. “A whole lotta cock. Gonna pack ya full of it” 

“Be ready when I get home,” you replied. 

You and Joel had stored something special in the toy chest, saving it for a rainy day. By this point, you might have forgotten about it, but Joel hadn't, and this was the perfect occasion. The hollow attachment was veiny, close to Joel’s skin tone, and nearly 10”. His own dick, already a more than respectable size, would slide right into it, then he’d fuck you with the massive horsecock. 

Armed with a big bottle of lube, the strap, and the attachment, he went to the restroom to put it on. This was top-of-the-line equipment. Not only would it provide enhanced girth for your pleasure, but it would pleasure Joel, too. The inside of it was state-of-the-art material with a patented new design. More realistic as the Fleshlight, it promised, or your money back. 

Joel dropped his pants and lubed up his hard cock. He stepped into the harness and loosely fastened it before lining the tip of his dick up with the hollow cock’s entrance. The hole was a slit. Joel held the hollow dildo in one hand and his cock, dripping lube, in the other. He rubbed his tip over the soft little slit, then pushed his tip inside. He sucked in air through his teeth as the cock slid on far faster than he intended. His cock throbbed as he bottomed out. 

Joel finished fastening the strap and admired himself in the mirror. The dong was massive, and it looked stiff and swollen like it might burst.  At first glance, the size looked a little absurd, but the longer Joel looked at the mirror, it looked like it could feasibly be a part of him.

He held it in his hand, marveling at how his hand struggled to wrap around it. He stood in different poses. He faced the mirror and held it at the base and lazily thrust forward a few times. God, it looked hot, and the interior material felt more like your smooth walls than anything he’d felt in a while. 

The idea of your pussy spread around this cock made him hard as a brick. It made him so hard that the phallus began to feel tight. It felt tight in the best way, god it felt good–not as good as the real you, but it almost felt like this thing as sucking him. It was so snug that he had to make sure it wasn’t stuck. With both hands firmly on the attachment, he pulled his hips back and “fffuuuuu,” it was sucking him back in. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure to his taint. 

Hre paused to breathe then rocked his hips and felt it pull him in again.  “No? Need more?” Joel muttered under his breath and bottomed out again. He held the attachment firmly and withdrew twice as much shaft. He paused and watched his cock throb with the silicone slit stretched around it. Then he slid back in. “You’re a greedy little thing.” The walls of the attachment hugged his cock.  

Jesus Christ, he was gonna cum if he wasn’t careful. 

“Almost ready,” you called from the bedroom, making him jump. He hadn’t even realized you were home.

Joel emerged from the bathroom holding his “enhanced” cock in his hand as though it were his own, and you could only say, “Dear God.” You were in a nightgown with no panties. Joel’s steps toward the bed were slow and heavy. You scooted to the edge of the bed to stare that monster cock right in the face. 

“Can I taste it before you lube it?” you asked and he held it steady for you. 

You could barely stretch your lips around it. You gagged yourself then slid it out of your mouth, drool falling over your chin. You held your jaw and opened wide to try to get rid of the cramp. 

“Enough about  me,” Joel said. “How’s my sunshine?” He lifted your chin with two fingers, then kissed you, still holding his enormous appendage in his other hand. 

“Empty,” you whispered. “So very empty….” you eyed his equipment again. 

“Show me how empty,” Joel said. 

You turned around facing the bed and leaned over it doggy style. You lifted up your nightgown and Joel let out a low whistle when he saw how wet you were. 

“Easy, baby,” he chuckled. “Think I need to warm ya up a little.” 

“Well, get to it,” you teased him, crawling onto the bed and turning around. . 

He hovered over you, kissed you again, then pulled the straps of your nightgown down so he could make out with your tits. You moaned at his tongue swirling around your nipples. The silicone cock kept grazing you. It was bobbing heavily between you and made your body throb with anticipation. With Joel’s mouth still on your breast, he reached between your open legs and slid his fingers through your slick.

He pushed one, then two fingers into you, and you asked for a third. 

“Good girl,” he cooed as he fucked you with three fingers. His digits were coated in your slick. He removed his fingers and you protested “uh!” at the loss. Then he licked your fingers and moaned at the taste. 

“Wanna turn over?” he offered. 

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” you replied. 

With you face down on the bed, Joel adjusted your position for a better angle and kneed your legs open further. He ran his fingers and knuckles through your slick teasingly. He gathered slick with his thumb and began to work your clit. Then, after your first little whine, he spread your pussy wide and ate it from the back.

“MMmm,” he hummed into your cunt as he buried his mouth in your folds and made out with your weeping pussy. There was no better taste. Your hips lifted into his face, and he doubled down, absolutely feasting on your cunt until your thighs were trembling and your body took on the most beautiful shape. 

You had barely finished coming, when you breathed, “Fuck me.” 

Joel’s face was shiny and pink.  “Droolin’, ain’t she,” Joel murmured. “Can’t have enough’a this anyway,” he mumbled then pumped a puddle of lube into his palm and slathered the cock in it. 

“You ready for this monster?” Joel asked. 

“Mmm-hmm” you whined. 

He covered his fingers in lube and worked you open for him again until you were easily taking three of his fat fingers. Then he notched the tip at your wet little hole. “Oh, baby, you really think you can take this big cock?” 

“Mmm-hmm.” You tilted your hips. 

The cockhead prodded at your entrance and you reached back with both your hands to help spread your cunt around it. 

Joel groaned at the sight. “God damn, baby,” he pushed the tip halfway in, and you made yourself comfortable again, taking your hands away. 

Joel moved his hips in small pulses, teasing you with the tip until he pushed the tip inside, making you moan with the pressure. 

“Good girl,” he praised you. He pressed a little further. 

“It’s so—wide,” you marveled. 

“Too much?” 

“No,” you reassured him. 

“How ‘bout a little more?” 

You nodded. 

He withdrew all but the very tip of the cock and added more lube, then slid halfway in, pushing a low moan out of you. You grabbed a pillow to bite if you needed it, but the stretch was the best part. 

When Joel pulled back, your pussy was clinging to the dripping wet silicone, begging for it back, and Joel had half a mind to take a pic. 

“Babe, you look—So goddamn hot.” 

“Mmm,” you sighed. 

He pulled back a little then slid in all he could, gushing, “Gooood giiiirl,” as he gently met your cervix.  

“Ohhhh, fuck,” you panted. “I’m full. Fuck, I’m full.” 

Joel was breathing heavily. “You took that so good baby.”

He slid halfway out, then packed you full again, and began to fuck you at a slow rhythm. 

“Look at you takin’ this goddamn monster cock,” he marveled, and sped up just a little. 

“Oh, Joel,” you sighed, with the massive cock fucking you into the mattress. 

Joel was holding on for dear life. He wanted it to last, but it was too fucking hot, it felt too good. The soft inner chamber hugged Joel nice and tight, and your cunt made it squeeze him far tighter. The sight alone could’ve made him cum. 

“God damn,” he breathed, fully seated in your cunt. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warned you. 

“C’mon, babe,” you encouraged him. 

He held onto your hips and his eyes were glued to where your bodies were joined as he thrust a few more times, spreading your body apart, splitting you with this massive girth while you relished in the stretch. 

“Ohhh,” he began, then bottomed out and began to pulse. “Oh, god damn,” he breathed. “Damn I love you, baby.” His seed poured into the hollow cock, enrobing his dick in his own warm, sticky mess with each burst. 

As Joel began to pull out, you reached under the pillow and turned on a vibrating wand. 

Joel quietly chuckled, “attagirl,” and slid back in. 

You massaged yourself, feeling stuffed full like never before. 

“Ohhh, god,” Joel sighed when you convulsed around his cock. 

This thing he was wearing, God– it was a new sensation. And with the beat of your fluttering walls, and the vibration—It felt like even more cum was squeezed out of him with your orgasm.

When you were finished. Joel slowly withdrew from you. He sighed in admiration as your body drew itself back together, like nothing ever happened. 

You began to roll over and weakly said, "We've gotta mark the--"

“You just rest, baby, hold on." Joel went and got you a warm rag and helped clean you up, then put a glass of your favorite juice on the nightstand. The whole time, he was still wearing the attachment. 

Then he proudly walked over to the whiteboard and drew one big fat tally. 

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Thank you for reading!

Also, I truly appreciate your comments. I love knowing what you liked, and your feedback helps it feels more like a community than a stage 💙 ily all, please drink water and rest. 🫶

[shiny-jr]

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing​‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done. 

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue. 

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream. 

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink. 

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue. 

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.” 

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.” 

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks. 

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier. 

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed. 

If you’re reading this, 

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes. 

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco. 

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field. 

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet. 

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved. 

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly. 

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you. 

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable. 

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment. 

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you. 

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll. 

I eagerly wait for word from you. 

Until we meet again soon, 

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest. 

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time? 

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?” 

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago. 

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.” 

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...” 

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read. 

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries. 

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...” 

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.” 

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!” 

Dear player, 

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies. 

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise. 

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain. 

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us? 

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay. 

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor. 

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient. 

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace. 

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you. 

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now... 

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace. 

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask. 

This is a pledge that will not be broken. 

Cordially, 

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly. 

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either. 

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.” 

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?” 

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.” 

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile. 

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there. 

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind. 

Great Player, 

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary! 

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you! 

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self! 

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth! 

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well. 

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know. 

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds! 

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be! 

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written! 

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste! 

Faithfully, 

Sebek Zigvolt 

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again. 

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you. 

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster. 

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve. 

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!” 

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

[thedensworld]

What A Revenge | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: revenge AU, marriage contract AU, triangle love ft. seungcheol

Summary: After an unexpected rendezvous after a one night stand, Jeonghan asked Mingyu to set him up with you. However you had a different situation and it's getting complicated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

"I'm going to get married,"

Jeonghan's words hung in the air, seemingly simple to himself, but the impact on his family was profound. His grandfather, the current president of the company, raised a stern brow, his expression betraying both surprise and concern. Seungcheol, his cousin, mirrored the disbelief, and even Jeonghan's parents scowled, their skepticism evident.

Caught off guard, Jeonghan's father coughed, attempting to redirect the conversation and attribute his son's statement to impulsive behavior. "He's joking, he might mean the merger that happened last—"

Jeonghan interrupted with unwavering determination, "No, I'm very serious. I'm going to get married in two months." The room fell into an uneasy silence as the weight of his announcement settled among the stunned family members.

Seungcheol nodded and carefully set down his utensils, his gaze fixed on Jeonghan. "Great news. Do we know that 'lucky' woman?" he asked, purposefully emphasizing the word 'lucky,' injecting a subtle pressure into the question. Jeonghan, however, remained oblivious to the underlying tone.

Responding with a genuine smile, Jeonghan said, "I don't think you know her, but she's an incredible person." Despite the sincerity in his words, uncertainty lingered in the air, as Jeonghan pondered the hidden implications behind Seungcheol's inquiry.

Seungcheol's father chimed in, attempting to cloak his words in a compliment, "It's really amazing if you want to marry her as soon as possible, Jeonghan." Yet, a trace of sarcasm tainted his tone, leaving Jeonghan to navigate the subtle complexities of the conversation. Unbeknownst to Seungcheol's father, Jeonghan saw through the facade, recognizing the bait successfully laid out before him. As the tension simmered, a storm of emotions churned within the room, each character concealing their true intentions beneath a veneer of polite conversation.

The grandfather, who had been an attentive observer throughout the conversation, cleared his throat and offered a proposition, "If you're being serious, you should introduce her to us. How about next week? Let's have a dinner with her here on Saturday night."

As Jeonghan exited his grandfather's house, a forced smile adorned his face. His parents confronted him after the dinner, their scolding fueled by a deep understanding of Jeonghan's tendency to prioritize work over personal relationships.

"Jeonghan, if this is just a card you're about to throw, let's stop whatever game you're planning on," his father cautioned before getting into the car. With a chuckle, Jeonghan responded, "It's just a small card for a start," his words carrying a hint of mystery as he watched his parents drive away. The air was thick with unspoken tension, leaving Jeonghan to navigate the intricate web of expectations and his own carefully crafted plans.

"Jeonghan, congratulations on finding the one," Seungcheol remarked, hands casually tucked into his pockets as he extended one for a handshake.

"Thanks," Jeonghan replied with a measured tone, accepting the handshake with a nod. Seungcheol positioned himself beside Jeonghan, a subtle quizzical expression on his face as he recalled, "Wasn't it just last year you told me that you won't get married?" Seungcheol reminisced about the conversation they had on Jeonghan's birthday, a stark reminder of the swift turns life can take.

Jeonghan nodded, his gaze lingering on some distant thought. "Yeah..."

A pregnant pause hung in the air as he reflected, "But this year is different."

"You know how marriage changes things, right?" Jeonghan redirected his gaze towards Seungcheol, inviting him into a conversation that seemed to be skirting the edges of unspoken dynamics.

"Marriage used to make your father a part of our family," Jeonghan continued, his words introducing an unexpected element into the discussion. Seungcheol's brows furrowed, the mention of his father injecting a note of discomfort.

"Marriage also used to elevate my father to today's position," Jeonghan added, drawing attention to his own family's success within the company. The complexity of intertwining relationships and power dynamics became apparent, leaving an unspoken tension in the room.

Jeonghan paused, a sly smirk playing on his lips. "Marriage might also secure your position, into mine."

Seungcheol tilted his head, an unmistakable anger beginning to crawl across his face. Jeonghan, seemingly unfazed, patted his shoulder, delivering a cryptic message. "I have to go, Seungcheol," he announced, leaving behind a whirlwind of implications, leaving Seungcheol to grapple with the unexpected turn of events.

*

"Why was I informed this morning that you're going to get married?" Joshua's voice sliced through the air as he welcomed Jeonghan into his office, nearly sending Jeonghan into a heart attack as he crossed the threshold.

"That is true," Jeonghan replied calmly, though his heart raced with the unexpected confrontation. He settled into a chair, ready to dive into the day's tasks, but Joshua's demeanor gave him pause.

Joshua's brow furrowed into a scowl as he rolled his eyes, the tension palpable in the room. "Who are you going to marry?" he demanded, his tone tinged with disbelief and perhaps a hint of jealousy.

Jeonghan straightened in his seat, his expression serene despite the growing unease. "Ji Y/n. Do you know her?" he asked casually, attempting to diffuse the tension with a light tone.

Lee Jihoon, sensing the tension in the room, entered with two coffees and two sandwiches, silently offering a brief moment of distraction. But the tension lingered, thickening the air between the two men as they waited for Joshua's response.

"Here's for you, Mr. Hong," Jihoon said, setting down the extra coffee with practiced ease. Jeonghan couldn't help but marvel at Jihoon's efficiency, though he refrained from asking about the extra item, knowing Jihoon's reliability all too well.

"What's in my plate today, Jihoon?" Joshua inquired, his voice a blend of curiosity and authority.

Jihoon wasted no time in retrieving his boss's schedule. "You have a monthly meeting with the accounting and marketing departments at 9. After lunch, you have to attend the parents' semester meeting at Mingyu's school."

Jeonghan's smile widened at the mention of Mingyu's school, anticipation bubbling within him. He couldn't wait to see you there.

"Jihoon, did you know your boss is dating someone? He's going to get married in March," Joshua interjected casually, eager to share the surprising news with his loyal secretary.

"M-married? I-i never heard about that... Would you like me to put it into your schedule, Mr. Yoon?" Jihoon stammered, clearly taken aback by the bombshell revelation.

Joshua chuckled at Jihoon's shocked response, finding amusement in Jeonghan's apparent secrecy. He couldn't help but wonder if the information he received from his own secretary, Myungho, was indeed accurate. After all, Myungho had been informed by Moon Junhui, the main secretary of the vice president and Jeonghan's father.

"You can go, Jihoon. We'll discuss my schedule tomorrow," Jeonghan dismissed, taking a sip of his coffee before rising from his seat and approaching Joshua, who was lounging on the couch with an air of amusement.

"News spreads quicker than I thought," Jeonghan remarked, a hint of resignation in his tone. "And yes, I'm getting married in March."

"Who's Ji Y/n? Do I know her? Is she a celebrity?" Joshua inquired, his curiosity piqued by the mention of the mysterious fiancée.

Jeonghan shook his head, a wistful expression crossing his features. "She's just someone I've met two or three times. But she's the perfect match to be the wife of my grandfather's company vice president."

Joshua raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and skepticism evident on his face. "And here I thought you were giving up already... What's with the sudden passion to gain the title again?"

Jeonghan shrugged, his gaze distant as he recalled the events of the previous night's family dinner. "Playing games with Seungcheol is just too fun. I was just getting started, Josh. But it seems like everyone around him is already feeling the pressure."

Joshua regarded him with a mix of concern and understanding. "You do realize that whatever you're doing to Seungcheol now is pretty childish, right? You two were best friends and cousins."

A heavy silence settled between them, pregnant with unspoken truths and unresolved emotions. Jeonghan let out a deep sigh, grappling with the urge to reveal the true extent of Seungcheol's betrayal, the way he had callously discarded their friendship in pursuit of personal gain.

"Yeah, it was childish. But who cares?" Jeonghan's words hung in the air, tinged with bitterness and a hint of resignation, signaling the depth of his disillusionment with the situation.

*

You closed your eyes and let out a heavy breath as you sat on the toilet, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. Thoughts of surviving until the next lesson and enduring the upcoming parents' meeting only added to your weariness. The morning had started with a call from the principal, informing you of a scandalous rumor circulating about you.

The rumor had spread like wildfire, fueled by a post in the school community depicting you with a man, entering a hotel together. The caption, scandalous and defamatory, branded you as a promiscuous teacher who slept around with men. The principal's warning echoed in your mind, the threat of potential expulsion looming over you like a dark cloud.

Your hands found their way to your face, as if trying to physically dispel the exhaustion and frustration building within you. You had zero energy left to address the rumor, overwhelmed by the weight of everything on your plate. And no one seemed to care. Other teachers openly mocked you, discussing the false rumors in front of you as if you were invisible. You had no illusions that the students would act any differently; they seemed to thrive on the scandal, eagerly spreading and embellishing the gossip as if it were gospel truth. It was a lonely and disheartening realization, one that left you feeling isolated and helpless in the face of malicious rumors and indifference.

"Being a teacher is hard, we get paid less too. Sleeping around and getting paid after was easier. No wonder she would do that," you heard someone comment as they entered the room.

"But isn't she taken? She was engaged," another voice interjected, prompting another heavy sigh from you.

"What do you mean engaged? They broke off the engagement two years ago. I guess this must be the reason behind it. I can't believe Ms. Ji would do such a thing," another voice chimed in, the words cutting through you like a knife.

With a resolve born out of frustration and indignation, you stood and opened the door, confronting the group of gossiping teachers who stood in front of the mirror. They were momentarily stunned by your presence, their mouths tightening in discomfort before one of them coughed awkwardly.

"Is the rumor true, Ms. Ji?" one of them finally dared to ask, their eyes darting nervously between you and their companions.

You forced a smile, though it felt like a mask slipping over the turmoil brewing inside you. "We're in school. I don't think it's a proper topic for conversation," you replied evenly, your voice betraying none of the hurt and anger swirling within you.

The teachers exchanged knowing glances before one of them spoke up again, their words dripping with disdain. "Then be a proper teacher first. Not the one who sleeps around and gets caught."

The accusation hung in the air like a poison, the weight of their judgment heavy on your shoulders as you stood there, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the face of their gossip. It was a bitter reminder of the harsh reality of navigating the treacherous waters of rumor and reputation as a teacher, where even the slightest whisper of scandal could tarnish your name irreparably.

Without giving much thought to the gossiping teachers, you exited the restroom and made your way to your office. Your next lesson awaited, and you refused to let the venomous words of your colleagues ruin your mood.

Upon entering the classroom, your eyes immediately found Mingyu. A pang of guilt stabbed at your heart as you remembered the photos of you and his uncle entering the hotel, a revelation that still unsettled you. You tried to push aside the distraction, focusing instead on the task at hand.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the class ahead, and began by greeting the students. As expected, the atmosphere was cold and indifferent, the once respectful and attentive students now treating you with disdain and disregard. It was a stark contrast to the camaraderie and engagement you had previously enjoyed in your classroom, and it cut deeply.

Exhaling another heavy sigh, you couldn't help but wonder what sin you had committed to deserve such treatment. Whoever had posted those photos and spread the malicious rumors must have harbored a deep-seated hatred towards you. The thought gnawed at your conscience, leaving you feeling isolated and misunderstood. Despite your efforts to remain composed, the weight of the situation bore down on you, casting a shadow over what should have been a normal day of teaching.

"As you already knew, Korean culture has influenced a lot by—" your words were abruptly interrupted by the harsh creak of the door swinging open. Startled, you shifted your gaze from your students to the source of the distraction, and there stood a familiar figure, her presence commanding the room's attention. She was one of your students' guardians.

Slap.

A collective gasp filled the room as the palm of her hand collided with your cheek. A tingling sensation spread across your skin, leaving a trail of discomfort in its wake. You could feel the heat rising to your face, and you knew there would be a red mark left behind.

Unable to find your voice amidst the shock, you remained silent, but the tension in the room was palpable. Amidst the chaos, a hushed whisper broke the silence as one of your students stood from her seat and muttered, "Mom..."

"How dare you, an inappropriate teacher, teach my daughter! You're nothing but a slut who sleeps around," the guardian accused, her words dripping with disdain and contempt.

The weight of her accusation hit you like a ton of bricks, and a mix of emotions swirled within you – shock, disbelief, and a profound sense of injustice. It was a moment that would linger in your memory, forever etched as a painful reminder of the challenges you faced as a teacher, and the harsh judgments you endured from those who were quick to condemn without understanding.

Her voice reverberated loudly enough that nearby teachers from neighboring classrooms began to intervene. You stood there, feeling like an idiot for failing to protect yourself from those rumors and remaining silent about them. Your pride as a teacher crumbled, leaving you feeling vulnerable and incompetent as you struggled to explain the situation.

A fellow teacher stepped forward and gently took your arm, guiding you out of the classroom to avoid further disruption to the students' studies. Mr. Lee, with a reassuring smile, assured you that he would take care of your class and that you didn't need to worry.

Now, standing in the principal's office, you felt a sense of unease settle over you as the woman who had slapped you and Mr. Park, the principal himself, sat on the couch. You found it difficult to articulate the truth when they asked you about the rumors. Explaining the reality of the situation felt impossible, as it would only lend credence to the false accusations of promiscuity.

"So, is the rumor true?" the woman demanded, her tone accusatory.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "It's not true, ma'am."

"Then explain the pictures," Mr. Park pressed, his expression stern.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on you. How could you possibly explain the truth without incriminating yourself further? The mere mention of the photos filled you with dread, knowing that they only served to further tarnish your reputation and cast doubt on your integrity.

You winced as Mrs. Jung's voice rang out, her words hitting you like a physical blow. Your legs threatened to give out beneath you as she mentioned the possibility of being fired, and the thought of her daughter being taught by someone like you filled you with a sense of dread and shame.

She didn't stop there, escalating her threats by invoking her husband's position at Nevitech, leveraging it to expedite the process of your dismissal. The mention of a meeting with the school foundation's board sent a chill down your spine, knowing that your fate hung precariously in the balance.

Before Mr. Park could respond, the door swung open, revealing someone of great importance to him. Both Mr. Park and Mrs. Jung immediately rose to their feet as the person they had mentioned earlier entered the principal's office – none other than the Chairman himself.

You dared not meet his gaze, fully aware of who he was and the reason for his unexpected visit before the scheduled meeting later in the afternoon.

"I was going to visit before the parents meeting, but I heard that we have some not very nice rumors surrounding," Choi Seungcheol, the Chairman, stated as he entered the room, declining Mr. Park's handshake in favor of approaching you directly.

With gentle concern in his voice, he held your shoulders and guided you to sit on one of the sofas. "Are you okay? You should sit," he said softly, his comforting gesture a stark contrast to the hostility that had filled the room moments before.

Mr. Park seemed taken aback by how Seungcheol treated you. "Mr. Choi, it's very nice to see you, but... Do you know Ms. Ji?"

Seungcheol nodded before he settled himself beside you, his gaze drifting over your demeanor. He couldn't help but notice the faint red stain on your cheek, a stark reminder of the recent altercation. His secretary had driven like a madman to get here upon hearing your name mentioned in connection with the troubling rumors at the school. Seungcheol was one of the few people who knew just how passionate you were about teaching.

"She's... a friend," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he glanced at Mr. Park. "However, I overheard someone mentioning a board meeting. Mr. Lee, am I available in the near future?"

"I am afraid you are, sir," Mr. Lee, Seungcheol's secretary, replied promptly.

Seungcheol smiled at Mrs. Jung and Mr. Park, though the warmth didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm really disappointed by how you've failed to protect one of your staff, Mr. Park. I thought you were better at handling this kind of situation."

Mr. Park's expression immediately turned contrite as he bowed in apology. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Choi."

"And your husband's name, Ma'am?" Seungcheol's tone was firm, his disappointment evident. "I can't believe that someone in my company would use his position to target the vulnerable."

Following Mr. Park's lead, Mrs. Jung also bowed in apology for causing a scene and invoking her husband's position. "I acted recklessly, Mr. Choi."

Seungcheol shook his head, his gaze turning towards you. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. Ms. Ji is. I've known her long enough to realize she's a potential teacher with a lot of ambition. She's denied the rumors, and it's Mr. Park's responsibility to find out who's behind them."

Mr. Park bowed once again, his determination evident. "Yes, I'll find the culprit immediately, sir."

As the tension in the room began to ease slightly, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you.

*

Seungcheol settled beside you on the school park bench mere minutes after you both stepped out of the principal's office. He handed you a cold water bottle and gently urged you to press it against your stinging cheek. Your eyes couldn't help but notice the gleam of an engagement ring still adorning his finger, a painful feeling hit you like a truck.

"I'm sorry for what happened," he mumbled softly, his gaze lingering on your face.

You nodded in acknowledgment of his words, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. The humiliation of the recent events weighed heavily on you, and you felt a sense of shame that made it impossible to look anyone in the eye. Your pride had been shattered, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Seungcheol's presence beside you offered a small measure of comfort, but it also served as a painful reminder of what could never be. The gap between you felt insurmountable, a chasm of misunderstanding and regret that seemed impossible to bridge. As you sat there in silence, the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over any hope of resolution or reconciliation.

"It's been a long time, and meeting you again like this... I'm glad, I honestly really am," he said, offering a gentle smile.

"How do you know?" You asked, turning your head to face him. This time, your eyes met for the first time since two years ago, when he broke off the engagement and left you in the apartment, shattered and alone. The memories flooded back – the exact moment, the chilling air, the crushing weight of heartbreak. And as you looked into his eyes now, it felt like your heart was breaking all over again.

"Seokmin told me about the rumors, and his brother updates him on what's happening in this school," he explained. "They're really great siblings, even though they don't look alike at all."

You found yourself contemplating Lee Seokmin and Lee Chan, the PE teacher. Despite the turmoil, you made a mental note to treat Mr. Lee to a nice meal once everything had settled.

"Thanks," you said softly, leaning back against the bench. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily upon you, but Seungcheol's presence offered a glimmer of solace amidst the chaos. It was a bittersweet reunion, tinged with the ache of unresolved emotions and the lingering sting of past wounds.

Seungcheol looked at you, his expression a mix of bewilderment and uncertainty. He blinked, then chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah..."

"Why?" you asked, curious about his reaction.

"It's just new to me, that you're not mad. I thought you were upset because I helped you earlier," he admitted, shaking his head slightly.

You managed a faint smile at his confession. "But, it's nothing. You're a friend to me."

Friend. The word echoed in your mind, stirring up a mix of emotions you tried to suppress. You nodded along with his words, though each one stung a little.

"Ji Y/n..."

You looked up to see Yoon Jeonghan breathlessly running toward you, suddenly enveloping you in his embrace. "Are you alright, honey?"

You winced at the pet name Jeonghan called you, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the familiarity. Seungcheol, on the other hand, remained stone cold as he observed his cousin immediately pull you into a tight hug. It all clicked into place for Seungcheol when he noticed Jeonghan scrutinizing you, his hands gently caressing your cheeks. The realization dawned on him as he connected the dots between the guy in the photo with you and Jeonghan.

Taking a step back, Seungcheol watched in silence as Jeonghan continued to dote on you, his demeanor strikingly different from his usual self. He couldn't help but notice how your face flushed in Jeonghan's presence, a stark contrast to the lack of reaction when you were with him earlier. The sight tugged at Seungcheol's heart, igniting a pang of jealousy that he struggled to suppress.

As he glanced down at his engagement ring, a reminder of his enduring love for you, Seungcheol felt a heaviness settle in his chest. Despite his efforts to keep his emotions in check, he couldn't deny the ache of longing that gnawed at him.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Seungcheol met Jeonghan's gaze, realizing that his cousin had noticed him standing silently behind you all this time. The tension in the air was palpable, each of them silently grappling with their own emotions and desires amidst the tangled web of relationships and unspoken truths.

"Seungcheol, this is Jeonghan, a—”

"Boyfriend," Jeonghan interjected smoothly, completing the sentence in a single beat. Seungcheol hoped his ears were playing tricks on him, but the way Jeonghan's hand rested possessively on your waist confirmed his worst fears.

"We've known each other, honey," Jeonghan added, his tone casual as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol couldn't bring himself to focus on the conversation between the couple. His mind was consumed by thoughts of how much you had changed over time, in all the ways that mattered. He couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in your demeanor, the way your smile seemed brighter and your laughter more carefree.

But amidst his admiration, a sense of impending doom loomed over him. He knew he was doomed to leave you, trapped by obligations and expectations that threatened to tear them apart. As he watched you with Jeonghan, the weight of his decision pressed heavily upon him, a burden he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried.

*

Convincing you to marry him was surprisingly easier than Jeonghan had anticipated. After conducting research on you, Jeonghan's people unearthed a few key facts that could sway you in his favor:

1. You were Seungcheol's ex-fiancée.

2. You were currently facing financial instability.

3. Your father required a costly neurological surgery.

Of course, Jeonghan didn't reveal his knowledge of your past relationship with Seungcheol. That was merely a piece of leverage he intended to exploit along the way. However, when he mentioned his willingness to assist with your father's surgery, he noticed a flicker of consideration in your eyes—a promising start.

With the help of Mingyu, Jeonghan arranged a meeting with you to present his proposal. Although you hadn't given him a definitive answer yet, the mere fact that you were considering it was a small victory for Jeonghan. He was impatient to move forward, eager to unveil the next card in his carefully crafted plan—a contractual marriage that would benefit both of you.

In just two years' time, Jeonghan envisioned achieving his goals. He would ensure your needs were met, take responsibility for your father's health, and inch closer to inheriting his grandfather's company, Golden Group. The prospect of success fueled Jeonghan's determination, driving him to push forward with his calculated scheme, even as he grappled with the moral implications of his actions.

"Let's have a check and sue that woman," Jeonghan said as he turned on the car engine, promising to take you home after the incident that had occurred at school.

"Let's do that..." you responded, your voice resolute.

Jeonghan turned his head to you, unable to comprehend the meaning behind your words. "Do wha—"

"Let's get married."

Jeonghan jolted, his foot instinctively pressing on the brake. "You serious?"

You nodded firmly, your determination shining through. "Yeah... When is the wedding going to be held, as you said?"

Jeonghan blinked in astonishment, trying to process the fact that you had accepted his proposal so quickly. He had given you a month to think it over, but it had only been a week, and you were already giving him an answer. Was it related to your meeting with Seungcheol earlier? He made a mental note to ask you about it later; he was curious how Seungcheol had been there before him.

"In two months," he replied, still trying to wrap his head around the sudden turn of events.

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. "You promised to do the things you said on the paper, didn't you?"

A smirk tugged at the corners of Jeonghan's lips as he raised an eyebrow. "Of course, honey."

*

Marriage Contract

This agreement is entered into on March 21st between Yoon Jeonghan, hereinafter referred to as the "First Party," and Ji Y/n, hereinafter referred to as the "Second Party."

Terms and Conditions:

1. Living Arrangements:

- Both parties agree to reside under the same roof, with the option of separate rooms. However, in the event of family visits, both parties are obliged to share the same room.

2. Schedule Adaptation:

- The Second Party shall adapt their schedule to accommodate the needs of the First Party. The Second Party is obligated to accompany the First Party to any events or commitments the First Party has in the future.

3. Public Display of Affection:

- Both parties agree to engage in displays of affection, referred to as "skinship," in public settings.

4. Responsibilities:

- The Second Party agrees to accept all responsibilities, including but not limited to health, wealth, and familial matters, under the guidance and direction of the First Party.

5. Monogamy:

- Both parties agree to maintain a monogamous relationship and refrain from engaging in any form of open relationship or extramarital affairs.

6. Intimacy:

- Intimate activities between the parties shall be conducted with mutual consent.

Term and Termination:

This Contract shall remain in effect indefinitely unless terminated by mutual agreement or as provided by law.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the parties hereto have executed this Contract as of the date first written above.

Yoon Jeonghan

Ji Y/n

*

Jeonghan let out a heavy sigh as he surveyed yet another suit in the store. When he had stepped into the shop, he had a simple mantra in mind: "Let's keep it simple." Little did he know that his own mother would be present, ready to torture him with her choices of suits and gowns for both him and you.

"Oh my goodness, look at you!" His mother's voice cut through the air, drawing Jeonghan's attention away from the report his secretary had sent him. He glanced up to see you standing before him, adorned in the most beautiful bridal gown he had ever seen. While he admittedly had zero knowledge about women's fashion, particularly bridal gowns, there was no denying the breathtaking elegance of the dress. And yet, he couldn't determine if it was the gown itself or simply the way you wore it that made it so captivating.

Lost in his thoughts, Jeonghan didn't realize he had been staring at you until he heard a sob emanate from his mother. He quickly approached her, finding her engulfing you in a tight hug while tears streamed down her cheeks. Confusion flickered in his eyes as he exchanged a questioning look with you, but you mirrored his expression of bewilderment.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but you could stain the gown with your tears and makeup," the staff said gently, causing Jeonghan's mother to pull away from you, wiping her tears away with trembling hands. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of sadness and longing as she looked at him. "It reminds me of your sister."

Jeonghan felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he watched his mother struggle to compose herself. He had never seen her so vulnerable before, her emotions laid bare in front of him. The weight of his actions suddenly became all too real to him, realizing that the game he was playing was causing genuine pain to the woman who had always supported him.

As he looked at his mother, her eyes mirroring the grief she still carried for his sister, Jeonghan's heart sank. He knew he couldn't continue down this path, hurting those he loved in the process. It was a sobering moment for him, a realization that there were consequences to his actions beyond the thrill of the game.

Strike one, for the first time he started feel bad playing his own game.

You and Jeonghan spent the time afterward visiting your father in the nursery. His surgery was scheduled after your wedding, and he was visibly excited to hear about your upcoming nuptials. As you approached your father's room, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety fluttered in your chest.

Before Jeonghan could enter the room, you gently placed a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at you, surprised by the sudden halt, but as he met your gaze, he saw the subtle warning in your eyes. Without uttering a word, you were conveying a message to him, a silent plea to be understanding and patient.

"Whatever he's going to say, and if it's hurting you, he doesn't mean it, okay?" you whispered to Jeonghan, your voice laced with a mixture of concern and affection. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was an undeniable warmth in your tone, a reflection of the deep love you held for your father despite his flaws.

Jeonghan's smile widened, a genuine expression of understanding dawning on his features. In that moment, he realized just how much you cared for your father. However, willing to shield Jeonghan from any potential hurtful words, is it also caring?

"Is it my princess, Y/n?" Your father's voice quivered with affection as he watched you approach, a tender smile gracing his lips. You embraced him dearly, holding onto him as if to capture every precious moment in your heart. Jeonghan stood behind you, observing the intimate moment with quiet patience, his gaze filled with admiration for the bond you shared with your father.

As your father turned his attention to Jeonghan, his expression shifted, surprise evident in his features. "And who is this?" he inquired, curiosity tinged with a hint of suspicion.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. "This is Yoon Jeonghan, my fiancé," you announced, your voice steady despite the internal turmoil.

A flicker of confusion crossed your father's face. "Isn't your fiancé Seungcheol?" he asked, his words cutting through the air like a sharp knife.

You glanced at Jeonghan, a silent apology reflected in your eyes. "What are you talking about, Dad? Seungcheol and I broke up years ago," you explained softly, your voice laced with pain as memories of the past resurfaced, threatening to overwhelm you.

"Why?" Your father's question hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the heartache you had endured. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words to explain.

Sensing your sudden distress, Jeonghan stepped forward, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of turmoil. With a respectful bow, he introduced himself to your father, his voice steady and reassuring. "Nice to meet you, Father. I'm Yoon Jeonghan, your princess's fiancé," he declared with unwavering conviction, his words echoing with sincerity and determination.

Your father nodded in acknowledgment of Jeonghan's words, a flicker of interest sparking in his eyes as he glanced at the chess set laid out on the table. "Y/n said you like playing chess. I was an athlete back in high school," Jeonghan remarked, trying to find common ground with your father.

"Really?" Your father's tone held a hint of intrigue as he considered Jeonghan's offer. "Let's play chess then. It's been a long time since I played with someone younger. I get easily bored every time I play with my wife and my brother," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with anticipation at the prospect of a new opponent.

The drive to your house was quiet, the tension in the air palpable as everyone processed the events of the day. Despite the outward appearance of calm, Jeonghan couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He stole glances at you multiple times, noticing the subtle shifts in your mood and demeanor.

"Your father knows Seungcheol..." Jeonghan mumbled softly, breaking the silence that had settled over them. You hummed in response, a faint furrow forming between your brows as you contemplated his words.

"What's wrong with you and Seungcheol?" Jeonghan's inquiry hung in the air, his voice gentle yet probing.

You let out a weary sigh, the weight of the past weighing heavily on your shoulders. "We just couldn't find it easy to be together," you admitted, your words tinged with a hint of resignation.

Jeonghan sensed that there was more to the story than you were letting on. "Is it his family?" he ventured, his intuition guiding him to a possible source of conflict.

"One of them..." you replied cryptically, your gaze drifting away as memories of past confrontations resurfaced. It was clear to Jeonghan that there were deeper issues at play, hidden beneath the surface of your relationship with Seungcheol.

Nodding in understanding, Jeonghan silently acknowledged the complexities of familial dynamics and the toll they could take on a relationship. Despite the lack of explicit details, he could empathize with your struggles, recognizing that Seungcheol's family could indeed be a source of pain and discord.

"My father's brain function was damaged after a car accident two years ago," you confessed, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. The memory of that tragic day seemed to linger, casting a shadow over the present. "The accident sent my mother and my uncle into death. My father was in a coma for three months before he regained consciousness."

As you spoke, Jeonghan listened intently, his heart aching with empathy for the pain you had endured. The devastation of losing loved ones and witnessing your father's struggle with dementia painted a grim picture of the challenges you faced.

"He has had to undergo multiple surgeries to try and recover from the dementia," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "But I can't afford it. His business went bankrupt, and I'm just a teacher."

Jeonghan's heart sank as he absorbed the gravity of your words. The enormity of the situation weighed heavily on him, and he felt a surge of guilt wash over him. Here you were, facing insurmountable obstacles, while he had been blissfully unaware of the extent of your struggles.

"You don't have to worry now," Jeonghan promised solemnly, his voice filled with determination. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, he was determined to stand by your side and offer whatever support he could muster. Yet, despite his pledge, he couldn't shake the gnawing sense of guilt that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Strike two, he thought to himself, he felt worse.

*

An hour before the wedding vows, Jeonghan was bustling about, greeting guests with a practiced smile plastered on his face. It was a skill he had honed in the days leading up to this momentous occasion. Amidst the sea of well-wishers, he excused himself briefly, informing the parents that he needed to see you for a moment.

Walking briskly to the room where you were seated, Jeonghan's heart skipped a beat as he pushed the door open. To his surprise, he found Seungcheol engaged in conversation with you. Pausing at the threshold, he hesitated, unwilling to intrude on the private moment.

"Your father thought I was the groom," Seungcheol's voice carried a hint of determination, breaking the tense silence that hung in the air.

"Let's not talk about that," you responded softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood before him in your wedding dress. The weight of the impending ceremony seemed to hang heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room as you prepared to walk down the aisle with your father.

Jeonghan stood rooted to the spot, his heart heavy with a mixture of emotions. Despite his efforts to maintain composure, a pang of insecurity gnawed at him as he observed the exchange between you and Seungcheol.

"Your father, he thought I was the groom! What's going on here, Y/n? Tell me!" Seungcheol's voice rose with frustration as he grabbed your arm, his tone demanding answers. Jeonghan, on the verge of intervening, paused at the threshold, uncertain of his next move.

Before he could react, however, he watched in astonishment as you swiftly maneuvered out of Seungcheol's grasp. In a moment of unexpected boldness, you raised your hand and delivered a resounding slap across Seungcheol's face. Jeonghan gasped, instinctively covering his mouth in shock at the sudden turn of events.

"Stop being an asshole and fucking grow up!" you admonished, your voice laced with a mix of anger and hurt. "You left me crumbled that time, and you didn't even reach out to me until two months ago. So stop, Seungcheol. Just stop it!"

The room fell into stunned silence as the weight of your words hung heavy in the air. Jeonghan watched in awe as you stood your ground, refusing to be intimidated or manipulated any longer. In that moment, you were a force to be reckoned with, asserting your independence and reclaiming your power.

Seungcheol recoiled from the force of your slap, his hand instinctively rising to his cheek as he processed your words. There was a flicker of remorse in his eyes, a realization dawning on him as he confronted the consequences of his actions. As the tension in the room lingered, Jeonghan felt a surge of admiration for you, marveling at your strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

"Do you love him?" Seungcheol's question hung in the air, the tension palpable as everyone awaited your response. Jeonghan's heart pinched at the mere thought of your answer, his emotions swirling with a mix of apprehension and longing.

"No," you replied firmly, your voice unwavering despite the weight of the question.

Jeonghan's breath caught in his throat, a pang of hope blossoming in his chest at your words. Yet, even as relief washed over him, he couldn't shake the ache of uncertainty that lingered within him.

"Then why did you choose him?" Seungcheol pressed, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Your response was simple yet profound, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Because," you began, your voice steady as you met Seungcheol's gaze, "he never left me."

As the weight of your words settled over the room, Jeonghan felt a surge of emotion welling up within him. Jeonghan's heart swelled with a profound sense of gratitude and determination.

As Seungcheol stepped out of the room, Jeonghan immediately retreated into the shadows, concealing himself until the coast was clear. Then, with a mischievous smirk and a round of applause, he made his grand entrance, acknowledging your earlier stunt with admiration.

"Revenge done, princess?" Jeonghan teased, his tone playful as he approached you.

You let out a heavy sigh, your hand still tingling from the force of the slap you had delivered to Seungcheol moments ago. "It's hurt," you admitted, showing him your reddened palm.

Jeonghan gently took your hand in his, blowing on it softly in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. "That's the feeling of revenge, babe," he remarked with a smirk. "It's hurt, but satisfying."

Despite the pain in your hand, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you gazed into Jeonghan's eyes. There was a warmth in his touch, a reassurance that you were not alone in this battle. In that moment, you couldn't help but feel grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

As you shared a lighthearted moment together, a flicker of doubt crossed Jeonghan's mind. Did he ever mention that you were the perfect suitor to be the wife of the Golden Group Vice President?

*

"Can I ask you a favor?" you ventured, your voice hesitant as you sat across from Jeonghan in his office two weeks before the wedding, discussing the contracts that needed to be finalized.

"Let me hear it first," Jeonghan replied, crossing his legs and leaning back on the couch, his eyes fixed intently on yours.

"It's about Seungcheol," you began, your words causing Jeonghan's brows to furrow in concern. The mention of his cousin seemed to strike a nerve, his expression darkening with an underlying tension.

Jeonghan's gaze bore into yours as he sought clarity. "You still love him?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension.

You shook your head vehemently, dismissing any notion of lingering affection. "That's not what I mean," you clarified. "Listen, I want revenge."

Jeonghan's features softened slightly as he processed your words, a glimmer of understanding dawning in his eyes. Despite his initial apprehension, he recognized the fire in your gaze, the determination to right the wrongs of the past.

Jeonghan's head tilted slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Revenge on Seungcheol?" he questioned, seeking confirmation from you. You nodded solemnly, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

"I need to know the details first," Jeonghan smirked, a hint of excitement dancing in his eyes. He had been itching to uncover the truth behind Seungcheol's actions, eager to unravel the mystery that had plagued your past.

A pregnant silence hung in the air as you gathered your thoughts, preparing to delve into the painful memories that still lingered within you. "He basically chose his career over me," you began, your voice tinged with bitterness as you recounted the events of two years ago.

As you spoke, Jeonghan leaned in closer, his gaze fixed intently on you as he listened with rapt attention. There was a hunger in his eyes, a desire to understand the depths of your pain and the reasons behind Seungcheol's betrayal.

"I just... don't understand why he suddenly has an obsession to lead his grandfather's company," you confessed, your voice tinged with frustration and confusion. "He changed into Seungcheol that I don't know. We argued for months, and he suddenly said that I was the reason his career was undeveloped. He broke off our engagement the next day and left me."

Jeonghan listened intently to your story, his eyes widening in disbelief at the revelation. Memories of his own strained relationship with Seungcheol flooded his mind, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. He recalled the pressure Seungcheol had faced from his parents to inherit the family business, and how their friendship had begun to drift apart as a result.

As you continued to recount the events that led to your breakup, Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for you. It was clear that both of you had been unfairly blamed for Seungcheol's own insecurities and ambitions.

With a newfound determination, Jeonghan resolved to help you seek justice and closure. He understood now the depth of the pain you had endured, and he was more than willing to stand by your side as you embarked on this journey of revenge.

As you outlined your plan for revenge, Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for your resilience. Despite the pain and heartache you had endured, you refused to be a victim, instead choosing to take control of your own destiny. With a silent nod, Jeonghan signaled his agreement, ready to stand by your side as you embarked on this journey of retribution.

Revenge on Choi Seungcheol? He is happy to help.

[smoothlikealikeasnake]

Strawberry Princess - Chapter Three "So Similar"

Pairing - BTS OT7 x reader, Hybrid BTS x Reader, Hybrid BTS x Hybrid Reader

Genre - Hybrid!AU , Hybrid BTS , Hybrid Reader, fluff, angst, smut, alternative reality , strangers to lovers , strangers to friends, friends to lovers

Warnings - So much fluff, teasing, slightly suggestive, slightly possessive behaviour, reader anxiety , tiniest bit of angst, lmk if I missed any!

Summary - When a certain hybrid starts to appear whenever Jungkook is at the gym, an immediate pull is felt between the two and their eventual friendship soon is spread to the rest of his pack.

Previous Next Overview

New footsteps were quickly followed with a strong scent filling the room, warm mild citrus with slight leather, tobacco and whiskey underneath, Yoongis scent was always one that had all of his mates melting, his complex scent being unique and easy to find even in a room packed of people, it fit him perfectly.

With all of the scents already slightly overwhelming Y/n the strength of Yoongis’ even when he was feeling neutral was making her inner feline draw closer to the surface than she had done the entirety of the day. Yoongi quickly noticed Y/n at the sweet strawberrys emitting around the home, it only took him a moment before Jungkook introduced him. Jungkook couldn’t hold back his thoughts about confirming the resemblance in Y/n and Yoongi’s personality and behaviour and found himself wanting to push them to interact more, hoping that maybe he will see more about Y/n than he already has.

“Yoongi-ah, Y/n is staying for dinner, come sit down im sure Hobi and Tae will be on their way soon” - Jin spoke lovingly as he got up to take Yoongis coat and give him a quick kiss which Y/n couldn’t deny, made her a bit shy at witnessing.

“Ah, nice to finally meet you Y/n, I’ll go change before I sit down Jin-hyung” - Yoongi said as he began to find the Jeans and shirt he was wearing irritating, being tainted with the scent of people from outside and his customers, his nose crinkled up slightly and he moved towards his bedroom almost awkwardly, distracted by the idea to get out of the clothes.

Y/n didn’t know why she almost felt upset that he hadn’t acknowledged her more, being told she was so similar to him she felt connected, perhaps also through him being a feline hybrid too but no matter why, she couldn’t stop the slight sadness in her scent and the staring in his direction for a second too long before she quickly tried to cover it up, distracting herself with the people she already had surrounding her,

They all knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling, especially when her ears had tilted back, tail wrapping around her waist and hands rapidly kneading into the blanket she’d grown quite an attachment too since she’d been here. Her scent had gone back to its normal sweet strawberry but the others in the room knew she had purposefully tried to cover it up.

Focusing on anything possible, Y/n felt herself noticing all of the packs outfits, all seeming quite comfortable, Namjoon in a large white r-shirt and black seemingly comfortable loose trousers, Jungkook in all black, sweatshirt and joggers, Jimin and Jin had somehow managed to change without her realising, Jimin in a black hoodie that looked all too comfortable and matching joggers and Jin in a soft knit sweater and trousers. What Y/n especially noticed is she seemed incredibly overdressed, she loved her outfit but worried she stood out compared to the comfort in the room, clearly her distraction hasn’t worked the way she wanted it too because the stability of her scent wavered again at the new thoughts, slightly insecure at her outfit, one hand still kneading the blanket while the other began stroking her own tail across her waist.

Before anyone could say anything to ease Y/n’s clearly overwhelmed state, Yoongi came back in, in much closer proximity this time and the strength of all the scents in room in combination with Y/n’s thoughts had her struggling to stay still and prevent her feline counterpart from being more prominent. As Yoongi went to sit down without so much as a word, Y/n’s pupils dilated, slowly losing control at the entire situation, she quickly pulled the blanket she had been kneading and scenting all day onto her lap to be able to use both hands to knead, she hadn’t moved it before that, just moving her hand to reach it but it was clear she was struggling to hold on at her actions.

Jin shared a knowing look with the rest of the pack before standing up and tapping Namjoon and giving Yoongi a look that couldn’t quite be deciphered. It was only then that Yoongi noticed Y/n holding his blanket on her thighs, rubbing the scent glands on her wrists all over it at every movement, his own pupils dilated as his tail started to swing behind him, a combination of curiosity and pride coming over him.

“Jimin and Jungkook come help me with dinner, it’ll be about time to eat when Tae and Hobi get back” - Jin said as he directed the three out to the kitchen, leaving Namjoon indulging in his book, Yoongi who couldn’t focus on the tv and Y/n who wasn’t even trying to hide the push and pull of her hands, scent sweetening and pushing around the entire house. It wasn’t uncommon for this to happen, Hybrids could fall deeper into their hybrid instincts when overwhelmed in any way though it’s only ideal in comfortable situations which, Y/n realised, she was now in. She had grown comfortable in just a few hours but her worry clouding her mind prevented her from enjoying the instinctual nature she’d started to feel. Her sharp little claws coming out and canines biting into her tongue, tail wrapping tighter around her and ears frantically moving around. As concerned as Namjoon was, he knew the sole reason for this push into her state was Yoongi, he was the only one who could really make it better in that moment.

Yoongi was still watching her intensely, tail swinging as he stood up from his seat and felt pulled to sit down next to Y/n on the couch, her eyes snapping to him as he does and suddenly instead of her face, Yoongi found her drawn to something else. She followed every movement of his tail, scent booming around her as she subconsciously leant in, clearly fascinated but what amused Yoongi most is that it seemed the worry left her eyes, she wasn’t just watching, her arms slowed kneading, instead carefully positioning themselves as her pupils dilated and her own tail started to swing. What Yoongi realised is his feline qualities had left her hybrid to want to play, she was getting ready to pounce for his tail and he decided to play around a bit himself, stopping his tail before moving it swiftly into random positions.

Namjoon looked up and shook his head smiling softly as he watched Yoongi tease Y/n. She was creeping forward more and more until she finally took her shot, only getting a few inches forward and landing just before Yoongis face, stopped by his hand grabbing both of her reaching hands into his own, wrapped tight around her wrists holding them together and stopping her movement.

He took a second to acknowledge how small her hands were in his own, easily wrapping his veiny hand around both of her wrists and observing her pretty pink nail polish on her claws but what he couldn’t get over is just how tiny her claws were, it was amusing and adorable. He looked back up at her stunned and still playful expression, wide eyes looking up at him in slight shock at how he had just snatched her out of her pounce.

“Too slow kitten, best time try before I notice” - His blunt words didnt discourage her, just flustering her already playful state and she could feel herself about to purr at his endearment, wrists still trapped between his hand as her fluffy tail swings rapidly and repeatedly hit his thigh. Y/n quickly nodded with flushed cheeks when she noticed he was waiting for an answer before feeling a silky sensation on her own tail, she hadn’t even realised it was hitting his thigh until his own black tail moved her own away and the contact it had made Y/n shudder.

Y/n fell straight back onto her legs that had made their way onto the couch without her realising and settled under her, she just sat dumbfounded for a second, knees under her body cushioning her fall as Yoongi let go of her wrists, her scent glands had been pushed together for so long that the pressure had her haze from before washing over her the second he let go, body slumping and naturally getting comfortable, trying to find the best position as she grabbed the blanket again and looked away from the panther.

She found she was never quite fulfilled with her position, moving constantly to try to find the best way to sit, the blanket moving with her as she continued her kneading. Yoongi never stopped watching her from the second he let go and was nearly as entranced by her as she was by him in that moment, those flush cheeks and plump lips, soft hair and tiny hands, sweet scent and soft body she was perfect, he had never seen someone so pretty,

He couldn’t watch her struggle any more and somehow knew exactly what to do, picking up his blanket as her small hands chased it and her eyes snapped.

“You know, it’s so much better around your shoulders, so soft isn’t it?” - Y/n could only hum in agreement as Yoongis scent flooded her senses when he leaned in to wrap the blanket around her, not even clocking the insinuation that it was his blanket, just revelling in the way her body felt warm and light, finally comfortable. She couldn’t help but chase the light feeling of his hands, purring loudly and leaning into his body as soon as he pulled away.

Namjoon gave Yoongi a pointed look as to let him know he shouldn’t let Y/n get any deeper but he already knew that, he already had everything purrfectly in control, a little bit of teasing and comfort would only assure her that he liked her, his acknowledgement of her game would make her look up to him, connecting them on a level no one had experienced with her yet. He would gladly lead her deeper into that state but that would have to wait for another time, when she was ready, when they were all ready.

“How does some hot cocoa sound? It’s getting even colder” - Namjoons smooth voice danced through the air as Y/n lazily looked at him with a dazy grin and nodded at the idea excitedly. She hadn’t even felt the cold, she had since forgotten her dilemma with herself about everyone’s clothes as Yoongis warmth and blanket made her feel like she was wearing pajamas around a fire on a cold evening, the perfect balance.

Namjoon happily stood up, slowly walking to the kitchen leaving the two felines, not without noticing Y/n’s hands kneading the side of Yoongi’s thigh, happily resting against him. Yoongi couldn’t help but want to let you, that was too far for today he worried so he instead let his long tail slide around her waist and under the hem of her shirt to hold just a small bit of her skin, she hadn’t minded, relaxing even more as their combination of scents clouded the room, any of the pack who walked into it would probably be trapped in a similar haze if they stay too long. Perhaps that’s why Namjoon left Yoongi wondered, he always was one of the touchiest mates and would definitely love to be in his position in that moment.

In The Kitchen

“She’s a lot more playful than I thought she would be Kook, it’s cute” - Namjoon said, a cheeky smile on his face as everyone turned to look at him.

“I thought she was-“ - Jungkook starts

“She was, Yoongi teased her out of it to where they are now” - Namjoon spoke fondly, looking off as his mind filled with the memory over and over. His mates looked at him curiously silently asking for him to say more.

“What happened?” - Jin asked, almost worried because he knew how intense Yoongis ‘teasing’ could be. Namjoon explained how everything happened with

“She really likes him” - Jungkook spoke, almost jealous at the realisation but he knew that everyone here wanted to be in Yoongis position in that moment. Instead of dwelling on it he just sped up his chopping - the only job he had to do. He figured if he was done then he could go join a Yoongi and Y/n

“I think it’s to be with them both being feline, maybe also Yoongi being a bigger cat than her, Y/n’s hybrid might know there’s a type of hierarchy and it drew her to like him, they seem so similar already” - Namjoon spoke intelligently curious about

“We could all be in that position soon” - Jimin said with a dreamy smile, wishing it was him in that moment but willing to wait for his own, somehow knowing she would be

“Do you think Y/n will like dessert?” - Jin said, his love language was feeding and he felt a strong need to impress Y/n, he couldn’t tell why but he just knew it had to be perfect. Even without knowing her preferences he got an idea that was perfect, all he had to think about was her scent and it came to him.

Not only was this dessert perfectly suited to her, it was also simple and all of his mates would love it too, it took him a split second to begin to gather all the ingredients after asking his question.

“She’ll love it if your the one making it Hyung” - Jimin said lovingly with a quick peck on Jin’s plump lips before they smiled at eachother, Jin nodded and his idea was set in stone in his mind. Strawberry cheesecake, the perfect dessert that compliments her and her scent and will also drive the boys crazy; he had realised that not only will it be delicious but his pack are definitely all wanting to taste her sweet scent and this could be the perfect fix to that craving, for now.

“Hyung I finished, I’m going to go check on Yoongi and Y/n” - Jungkook quickly said as he practically ran to the living room without looking back, the three watched as he ran straight into the thick air of the living room, almost immediately being drawn into a haze similar to the two felines’. His movement slowed and eyes dazed as he approached the two.

Y/n instantly looked up and smiled lazily at him, stopping her kneading on Yoongis thigh to grab Jungkooks hand to try to pull him in, in doing so putting pressure on his scent gland and forcing out his fresh aroma. In her haze, Y/n couldn’t resist bringing the source closer, holding his wrist close and taking in the scent he was letting out, he couldn’t help but flush at the action before turning to look at Yoongi.

“Yoongi Hyung your hogging Y/nie” - Jungkook said accusingly, he couldn’t stop the slight slur in his words and watched as Yoongi smirked up at him, amused to find his Kookie so jealous.

“Poor Jungkookie, you’ll give him some attention, won’t you Y/n?” - Y/n gave him a happy bid before holding Jungkooks wrists more and pulling him so fast he nearly lost his footing as he landed laying down, body on the other side of Y/n with his head on her thick thighs, he immediately felt himself flush at his position especially when he realised just how soft her thighs really were, his head nearly bounced up when he landed with how full they were. Her scent encased him in this position and it sent him into a very similar haze to Y/n, her tail not helping as it moved onto his neck, pressing onto his scent gland. Yoongi didn’t help his stunned state as he moved his hands to Jungkooks silky ears, rubbing the base softly.

The situation combined had Jungkooks eyes screwed shut and mouth slightly open in bliss, turning his head in towards Y/n’s soft stomach and not realising the affectionate eyes on him.

Y/n stared down at him, butterfly’s all over as her scent was impossibly sweet, he was many things to her but in that moment, she realised he might be someone that she loves and not as a friend. While that thought scared her, she knew she should take advantage of this moment and pushed her thoughts aside to enjoy the moment, her purring the loudest noise in the room.

The three on the couch were too deep into a scent haze to hear the new voices in the kitchen, they didn’t really need too because all threes eyes shot open from their lazy position when two new feline scents flooded the room. Both of the hybrids tails immediately flickered fast as they were told to introduce themselves. Y/n felt stunned by the two infront of her, both in drastically different outfits but equally attractive. She could guess who each hybrid was by their ears.

Taehyung was dressed in a striking brown faux fur coat with his white hair combed over messily, black turtleneck and black trousers, he was intimidating and ridiculously attractive just like the rest of this pack. His blue eyes bore into hers with such intensity that she knew he could feel her intimidating and also her butterflies from the sight of him. He was clearly dressed to impress but Y/n had a feeling he dressed this extravagant every day, especially as he owned a fashion company. She could hear the low rumble in his chest but it was somehow inviting, her hybrid counterpart subconsciously creating a similar rumble in her own chest, just a much softer and higher pitch than his.

He wasn’t the only intimidating figure however, next to him was a leopard, Hoseok, dressed drastically different but equally as fitting and attractive. Baggy blue jeans with a beige top under a black hoodie and avirex leather jacket, messy dark hair with his little highlights, it all fit so well into everything she’d heard about him. He was looking at her, head slightly tilted, naturally intimidating but incredibly inviting and breathtakingly handsome, he was the first to make any move.

“ you must be Y/n ?” Hoseok beamed brightly at her as he walked forward to greet her, his beauty took her breath away and she met his kind eyes with more confidence than she had with everyone else, feeling like they’d already met from how she’d met all of their mates.

“And you must be Hoseok?” It was slightly bold of her to reply like that, out of character for her but it felt natural and Y/n could tell Hoseok was also slightly surprised but it was quickly replaced by his bright smile, shining through as he observed the scene around him, Yoongi looking at him with a knowing expression. His tail started to swing faster as the scents around him started to make his eyes flicker and dilate. He moved closer to begin rubbing at the base of Yoongis ears, his purring getting louder as he leant into the touch. y/n watched carefully as his hands moved and she didn’t know she could be so attracted to a man’s hands before realising how all of these men’s hands were absolutely beautiful and equally quite sexy to her.

Her staring was cut off but a louder grumble in the white tigers chest as he stalked towards the group, never letting Y/n cut eye contact, almost making her worry slightly until she felt Jungkook rubbing at her thigh from her lap. His striking appearance had her silent, waiting for his move before making her own.

“Jungkook hasn’t stopped talking about you since he met you, you know; I can see why” - Taehyungs voice was incredibly deep, smooth and enchanting, it had Y/n’s ears fully turned in his direction, tail moving off of Jungkooks neck much to his protest and slightly waving behind her, the fur so fluffy it brushed over Hoseok hand with every move. Taehyungs own tail was thick and breathtaking, she really wanted to catch it and it was that urge that broke their eye contact, he still watched her carefully but her attention fell to his tail, moving so elegantly behind him, her claws had suddenly appeared as she kept watching but Taehyungs deep chuckle snapped her out of it, she felt like reverting back to the shy kitty she was before but not in a bad way, he made her shy in the best way.

“It’s nice to meet you” - she let out, voice quiet and eyes wide as she looked up at him, he knew she wanted to play but also knew they’d have to wait as right on that queue, Jin came into the room.

“Dinners ready now, Tae, Hobi, go change and we will be waiting for you when you get back, come to the table everyone” - He said sweetly as everyone began to move, all around the couch quite reluctant to move out of their current space but moving nonetheless. The Three originally on the couch were still slightly dazed but a bit of food would bring them right back.

Y/n had been lead hand in hand by Jungkook to the dining room which was equally as stunning as the rest of the home, achievements decorated the walls and it had various plants and other decorations adorning every corner. The fresh breeze passed through an open window as they each gathered around the food filled table. Jungkook lead Y/n to sit between him and Jimin, the two she had known longest as Tae and Hoseok joined the rest around the large table.

Everyone settled down and drinks were poured, Y/n had a selection of water, juice and wine and chose Wine as Hoseok poured her a generous glass, she thanked him appreciatively and took a sip, everyone else had opted for wine as it was a special occasion but no one minded one bit at her choice, she was more than happy with the sweet orange juice, freshly squeezed just before dinner started, it danced on her tongue and had her tail hitting the two mates on either side of her at the delicious taste.

“I wasn’t too sure what you would like Y/n, so I hope you enjoy” - Jin said as he too settled down and announced that everyone should start to dish up. Everyone moved quickly, Y/n moved herself to try to dish her own food up but Jimin and Jungkook beat her too it, filling her plate with lots of things to try. Once everyone started to eat, Y/n did too and that first bite was truly heaven. Her eyes widened, mouth salivated, cheeks puffed up and taste buds danced to the taste of Jins cooking, a muffled hum left her as she stared at the cook with admiration. Y/n was usually quite reserved but she couldn’t hold back her spew of compliments. Jin was left blushing, red from his neck to his ears as she told him how amazing he was, it was everything he wanted and everyone agreed with her compliments, from the drink to every last dish she told him how incredible it was, she couldn’t help it, appreciation had to be shown and he bathed in glory at that.

Dinner was A complete success, everyone grew more comfortable, food was shared, compliments were flying around, laughter was in every corner and it felt like they were a family, Y/n included, she felt part of them and they felt she was part of them too, it was the thing everyone tried to deny, there wasn’t just friendship that was inevitable here, it was romance, love, laughter and eternal happiness. Harmony that makes this pack home.

The atmosphere was perfect when Jin brought out the dessert, his incredible strawberry cheesecake that had everyone watering at the mouth to get a slice, which Jin took it upon himself to cut up. He cut slice by slice and gave Y/n the largest one, praying she’d love it and by the stars in her eyes he was hopeful that she would. The smell was perfect, it was beautifully constructed with the best proportion, everything was perfect.

Jin waited, watching secretly as Y/n took her first bite, observing the boys around him quickly devouring their own slices as they ooed and ahed at the delicate dessert he had created with so much love. The widening of Y/n’s eyes, tail flicking fast into the boys besides her and ears twitching as her body relaxed gave everything Jin needed but it didn’t end there, just a few words had him melting into himself, sitting there like a lovesick little bear.

“This is the best cheesecake I’ve ever had.” - It’s all Y/n had to say to have the polar bear wanting to stand up and sweep her up in a hug but he refrained to let her eat, until every last bit was gone.

Once everyone had finished, they talked for a while, Y/n getting involved as they included her in every conversation, the most random topics and the most relevant, all of them clicked. It was late now but everyone had more than enough energy, unfortunately everyone had work in the morning so Y/n made the decision to let Jungkook know she’d call a cab.

That didn’t go down smoothly as he heavily protested and insisted on driving her home even when she tried to deny his request. She finally gave in as everyone else agreed that she had to get driven home, protective over her and not wanting anyone else to be with her but them. That lead to Jin packing up two slices of the cheesecake for Y/n to take home, sad to see her go but happy that she’ll go with something to keep thinking of him by and to enjoy. Jungkook quickly realised how cold it was and quickly ran to his room to get something for Y/n.

She felt something soft and warm touching her shoulders and looked back as Jungkook told her to hold back her arms, sliding on an incredibly oversized black hoodie that juxtaposed her overall appearance entirely but somehow fit, maybe because it was his.

“I can’t have you getting cold on the way home, you could even use it as a blanket in the car” - he rambled, confidently moving around to zip up it up and she looked at him with so much love before thanking him with a shy smile.

Each of the pack waited at the door as they were about to leave, Jimin came forward first, crashing her into a warm embrace where he rocked them back and forth and told her how they needed to all see eachother again so soon. Then came Hoseok, even if he was one of the last to meet her, he still gave her a warm hug and held her tight as he talked about how nice it was to meet her. Yoongi came in next, lightly wrapping his arms around her waist and whispering in her ear

“Practice your speed for next time kitten” teasing her before letting her go, leaving her with a laughing smile. Namjoon knew that since everyone else was hugging her, he probably could too and came in with a gentle embrace, wrapping her small body in his and rubbing her back as he said his goodbyes. The second to last was Taehyung, despite their evident tension he came forward, wrapped her up in a tighter embrace than the rest and decided to tease , wrapping his tail around one of her arms for a moment

“We can play next time kitty” - It was all Y/n needed to know he did infact like her and would like to see her again, she was excited for the next time they would all meet. Finally was Jin who handed her the box and wrapped her in his arms, sneaking in a very light kiss on the head that had her blushing and smiling brightly against his chest. When all goodbyes had ended, the two left the home and made their way to the car, Y/n holding the cheesecake box tightly but they all noticed the immediate drop in theirs chests at the separation, they just all wanted to be back together again but Y/n was covered in their scent and so was Jungkooks hoodie and the pack home was heavily scented by Y/n too.

The walk back to the car was calm, cold but Y/n was shielded from the wrath of the oncoming winter by the hoodie she knew she’d treasure for as long as Jungkook let her, they stayed hand in hand until Jungkook had to let her go for her to get into the same Mercedes from before, he waited until she was fully inside to close the door before moving round and getting in himself. After checking their seatbelts were okay he started the car and knew he had a few minutes maximum to speak to her.

“I’m sorry you had to meet them all today, I hope you didn’t feel pressured to stay” - Jungkook said as it slipped his mind how overwhelming it may have become.

“Kookie it was lovely, it may have been unexpected but your mates are so amazing and live up to everything you said about them, of course I didn’t feel pressured to stay, I just hope we could do this again soon” - The last part was mumbled as she worried about his own opinion.

“They were all telling me the same things, we will do this again sooner rather than later yeah? They all love you, Jin even sent you home with his cheesecake that says enough” - He said the last part with a slight laugh but after finishing the conversation and getting Y/n’s address he settled in to the smooth journey, letting Y/n fall asleep, cuddled into his hoodie while he listening to ‘What You Need’ by the Weeknd on a low volume, the drive was blissful, the low lights in the car and soft purrs from Y/n, his favourite songs, it was perfect.

The drive felt like it lasted a long time and Jungkook savoured every second before pulling into the car park, taking a second to take in the sleeping princess next to him, her scent thick as he pushed his own out to coat the hoodie once again, hoping it’d stay forever. He did the same thing of getting out before waking her up with pressure to her scent glands, leading her out of the car with her cheesecake and letting her guide him to her door. She leant her head on his shoulder on the ride up the elevator, heart beating steadily and relaxing into him as she was still tired, he was disappointed when the ride ended but walked her to her door nonetheless.

“Thank you for an amazing day Kookie, your mates are amazing and your amazing, text me okay?” - Y/n started off, shy at her final words, she looked up at him as he stared back lovingly.

“Thank you, for being so patient and such a good guest, sleep well Y/nie” - Jungkook leant down slightly to wrap his arms tightly around her waist and take the leap he’s wanted to take before, he lifted her off the ground to hold her better, even if only for a few seconds the both of them more than enjoyed it and it pulled a few giggles out of Y/n who, when placed back down, still had her arms around his neck and pulled him down to place a peck to his cheek. She smiled meekly and immediately said goodbye after, leaving into her apartment as he stood dumbfounded and held his cheek.

She’d kissed his cheek, he almost couldn’t believe it as he remained dumbfounded his whole journey home, he couldn’t stop the flustered cheeks and cheeky smile the entire ride home, even when he got back into the house, he felt like the happiest bun in the world. Of course he didn’t forget to text her as she requested and slightly tease her for the kiss as he arrived home but he had to take a moment as he walked through the door, scent beaming.

‘I think I might be in love with her’

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy again, I’ll update whenever - feel free to ask questions or request drabbles! Excuse any errors or spelling mistakes x

ཐི♡ཋྀ

[55sturn]

✮ THE DIFFERENCES BETWEEN DEALERS!CHRIS & MATT

disclaimers: implications of worshipping kinks, corruption kinks, and innocence/purity kinks, matt lowkey has a god complex, and mentions of drugs and sex.

while they’re both tangled in the world of drugs and business of dealing, the two triplet brothers have extremely different approaches when it comes to their girlfriends wanting to get mixed up in their world.

dealer!chris is adamant on not letting his girl touch anything other than weed, he’s seen what heavy drugs do to people, he’s so afraid of hooking the girl he loves most on something that can kill her. you are such a soft, gentle soul, and he doesn’t want the burden of addiction or drugs tainting it.

he wants you to maintain this angelic, delicate image you’ve crafted, and he knows you’re anything but an angel in every other aspect of your relationship, you’re a devilish little one, you’re a tease and a brat, and you’re spoiled and chris is more than content keeping you that way, he doesn’t want to break you down, he wants to praise the ground you walk on. the way you saunter into every room, commanding all the attention without meaning to, has all the blood colouring his face draining to his cock, you’re so sure of yourself, and you’re so purely kind, that it drives him insane.

and you’re more than aware of the effect you have on your boyfriend, always looking so pretty and put together for him, clashing starkly against his dark, bad boy appeal. maybe it was the way he appeared so dark, so dangerous and tainted that pushed you closer to him, wanting to see beneath the dark and hardened exterior that made you fall in love. and maybe it was the way you looked like an angel straight out of a movie, the way you carried yourself so lightly and had so much kindness in your heart, that made him want to do better, want to be better for you.

dealer!matt on the other hand is a little more carefree, he’s supplying you with whatever you want, as long as it’s nothing severely addictive, in small doses, and he’s very much doting when you’re high.

there’s something in him that lives for the thrill of corrupting you in the world of drugs. that lives for the thrill of corrupting you in whatever way he can, you were a timid, sheltered, naive little virgin in every way you could be when he met you. his eyes darkened with lust every time he saw you, he wanted to find out all he could, and he wanted to wreck you in every possible way he could.

maybe it was his fucked up corruption kink, and maybe it was this primal urge that swirled in the pit of his stomach travelling toward his cock, always leaving him painfully rock hard every time he saw you that fuelled the desire to ruin you. he didn’t want to worship the ground you stood on, he wanted to make your world crumble and make you see him as a god. maybe it was the he towered over you, making you feel so small, the way his hand swallowed yours, that made you give into whatever he wanted.

STARS CORNER i’ve been obsessed w the idea of dealer!matt having a god complex mixed w a corruption kink so that’s what inspired this post LMFAO

inspo creds: go to all the writers that write dealer!triplets [ @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @sturnioz @raestromboli @sturnsdarling and more !! if you know any other writers that write the dealer au pls tag them below !! ]

[pretzel-box]

STREAMER AU MASTERLIST HERE

CHAPTER 6: I AM RIGHT AND I HAVE WON

tags: I don't know how to tag this? Painter exposes Allison?

words: 4k

authors note: I am not happy with how I wrote it, I blame the lack of a laptop.

In the span of three weeks, moved five individual people in five individual places.

Sebastian was the first,

After Allison had exposed his roommate a week ago, he was confused, angry and somewhat surprised. The man found himself glancing at everything that was connected to you, the bedroom door, the empty work desk, the chinese takeout shop and most importantly the second helmet for his bike.

This particular helmet wasn't really yours but you wore it so much in the past that it was basically owned by you.

Those little things conflicted him dearly, since he was sure, even with your weird love-hate friendship, did you both co-existed pretty well.

Yet, even as those small reminders tugged at him, Allison's words kept looping in his mind.

They set you up, you know that, right? she had said, her voice laced with feigned concern. All this time, they’ve been playing you—just so they could stay close to Solace. You're just a pawn.

Sebastian couldn't shake it off. The idea that you, the person who had shared his space and a fragile, weird friendship with him, might have been using him gnawed at him. He hated how much it made sense. Allison had laid it out perfectly—too perfectly, in hindsight—but in the chaos of everything, it sounded believable.

The constant replay of that accusation left him uneasy, and now every memory was tainted with doubt. The late-night laughs, the casual banter, even the tension that always bubbled beneath the surface. Was all of that staged? Was your connection to him just a ploy? He didn’t want to believe it, but Allison’s words had already planted the seed.

And then there was the part that unsettled him the most.

According to Allison, you loved him, in a way that bordered on obsession. She had claimed that every time you looked at him, it was with a deeper attachment than he’d realized—something beyond friendship, beyond even the regular crush. It was an unhealthy fixation. He was the center of your world, and it had all been hidden behind the mask of your chaotic yet comfortable interactions.

Sebastian felt conflicted. He hadn't noticed anything like that before. Sure, you had your quirks, but it never crossed his mind that it went that deep. Maybe he missed it because he'd never seen you in that light.

But that’s where the real problem lay—what he didn’t know was that Allison’s words were a lie, carefully crafted to make him doubt everything. You didn’t love him in that unhealthy way, and you’d never set him up. But the damage was done. The seed of doubt had been planted, and Sebastian was starting to wonder if everything between you had been a game all along.

Sebastian only found comfort in a single person right now, his best friend.

He swung his leg over his bike, secured his helmet, and drove off to visit his friend once more.

The second was Mama Solace.

Sebastian’s mother had finally found the time and money for a much-needed vacation, and it just so happened to be close to her son. A coincidence? Perhaps not. She loved Sebastian fiercely, more than life itself, and it was time once again to remind him of that with one of her unexpected, affectionate visits.

The last time she had dropped by was when you first moved in, becoming Sebastian’s roommate.

Oh, how she adored you from the moment she laid eyes on you. You had all the qualities she dreamed of in a partner for her son—sweet, caring, and just the right amount of fierce. She saw the connection between you two right away, even if Sebastian refused to acknowledge it. In her mind, you were already the perfect match for her precious boy. You had no idea just how often she'd drop hints, trying to nudge Sebastian toward you, much to his exasperation.

But that was Mama Solace—she loved to meddle in the most loving way possible. This visit would be no different.

She sat in the comfort of the plane, ready to depart from her home country to meet you two again.

The third person was Allison.

She darted around a local clothing store, her father’s credit card clutched in her manicured fingers like it was a divine gift. Her gel nails clicked against the plastic as she browsed the racks, the shopping spree a temporary balm for the simmering rage she felt toward you. Her irritation with you had long passed the point of tolerable, and only the thrill of buying something new could calm her nerves.

How dare you disrupt her carefully laid plans? All you had to do was stay in your lane, accept your role, and everything would have gone smoothly. But no—you had to get in the way, threatening the perfect web of control she thought she had spun. The plan had been flawless, but now, with every step you took, you were messing it all up.

Sebastian, thankfully, was still in the dark about everything. He was too distracted, too wrapped up in his own confusion to see the truth right in front of him. But that was fine with her. Allison believed she held all the cards. She had you, Sebastian, and the whole situation under her control—or so she thought.

She smiled to herself, picking up a striking red dress—perfect for her next date with Sebastian. The fabric would hug her in all the right places, showing off her figure. In her mind, it was only a matter of time before he saw her the way she pretended to see him, and this dress would be another step toward that.

As she stepped up to the cash register, her confidence faltered when the cashier swiped her card and it declined. Her father was still furious with her, apparently. She gritted her teeth in frustration, but quickly smoothed over her expression. She wasn't about to let this minor inconvenience ruin her day.

Without missing a beat, Allison pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen like it was second nature. She knew exactly how to handle this.

"Hey, handsome," she texted, her words dripping with flirtation. "Mind helping your favorite girl out?~"

It was easy—too easy, in fact. She had gotten used to manipulating situations to her advantage, and she was confident Sebastian would give her money. He always did.

Then there was Painter.

While Allison paid with Sebastian’s help and strolled out of the shop, Painter quietly entered his own—at the other end of the city center. Today, the usual sleek black suit made from expensive cotton was left in the closet. Instead, he wore a casual outfit: thrifted brown pants, a simple white shirt, and a green checkered vest that his mother had picked out for him years ago. He never liked it at first, but eventually, he came to admit—green was definitely his color.

Dressed like this, Painter looked like any other trendy, laid-back guy. You'd never guess he was the heir to Urbanshade, one of the most powerful companies around. His father had been grooming him for years to take over, especially after Painter managed to graduate from Yale with top honors. He was the pride of the family—a model Ivy League student, exactly as his parents had always hoped for.

But unlike his friend Sebastian, who lived by his own chaotic set of rules, Painter was always one of those people who excelled in everything, effortlessly. To the outside world, he was the golden child, the genius destined for greatness.

Yet for Painter, it was all a curse. His intelligence, his success—it only weighed him down, shackling him to a future he didn’t want. His heart was never in the world of business, but his family couldn't see that. To them, he was the prodigy who would continue the legacy. To him, it was a prison. The more success he achieved, the more trapped he felt.

It was why he enjoyed days like this—disappearing into the city, blending into the crowd where nobody knew or expected anything from him. Just for a little while, he could pretend to be someone else, a simple tech shop owner that tries to raise his own money to open up a small art studio instead.

While he worked, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the keys of his laptop, his thoughts inevitably drifted to you. He had seen you a few times with Sebastian in the city, always from a distance. Yet, despite never formally meeting you, he knew more about you than you could have imagined. Sebastian had talked about you often, and though Painter stayed in the shadows of your life, observing from afar, something stirred in his chest whenever he thought of you.

It was ironic, really. He was so familiar with the details of your existence, while you didn’t even know he existed. You were unaware of the person quietly watching your story unfold, aching from the sidelines. There was something about you that captivated him—perhaps it was the way you seemed to bring a kind of life to those around you, or maybe it was simply how you existed in Sebastian’s orbit.

But there was one thing that bothered him more than anything: Allison.

It pained him to know how she had manipulated your life, how she had sunk her claws into Sebastian’s world and, by extension, yours. Painter had known for some time what Allison was up to, and unlike Sebastian, he could see right through her facade.

Just like Allison, Painter had developed his own plan.

But his wasn't born out of selfishness or jealousy. It was something else—something more complex. While he hated to admit it, he wanted to find a way to cross paths with you, to help you in a way that would loosen the hold Allison had over you. And maybe, just maybe, he'd get closer to you in the process.

Though Painter’s mind was sharp, his heart was tangled in emotions he didn’t yet fully understand.

The last person who could understand Painter’s feelings was you.

You were navigating the city streets, your hands busily typing on your phone, trying to figure out where exactly you needed to go. With your streaming account temporarily banned, you had decided to get your laptop fixed—the keys were loose, and the screen was slightly cracked. The device had been with you for years, but it was clearly on its last legs. Maybe it was time for a new one, but for now, fixing it seemed like the easier option.

Eventually, you spotted it: a neat little shop with good reviews online. It seemed like the right place, and with a deep breath, you stepped inside.

Immediately, the smell of coffee greeted you. The shop had a warm, comfortable atmosphere, far cozier than you’d expected for a tech repair spot. There were shelves lined with new devices, a small selection of popular games, and a table for waiting customers. Despite the welcoming vibe, the place seemed empty—except for a young man at the counter.

He caught your eye right away, dressed in a casual yet stylish outfit that seemed effortless. His name tag drew your attention next, and you noticed something curious: an elegant name had been crossed out with a dry black marker, replaced with a word scribbled hastily over it—"Painter."

You weren’t sure what to make of him, but something about him seemed different. And without knowing it, the moment you stepped into the shop, you had walked into his world.

"Uhm, hi?" you greeted, your voice breaking the silence.

The young man behind the counter stared at you, caught off guard as if you had walked in at the worst possible moment. His eyes lingered on you for just a second too long, making the situation feel a bit awkward. There was something about the way he looked at you—almost like you had thrown him off balance. The way his gaze fixed on you, wide and a little too intense, made you wonder if you’d interrupted something.

"Oh, h-hello! Welcome, greetings. How can I help you today?" he stammered, clearly flustered. His response was a mix of polite and awkward, as though he hadn’t expected anyone to walk in. Maybe he wasn’t used to customers, or perhaps he was just an intern still getting the hang of things. Either way, he seemed utterly unprepared.

You smiled politely, deciding not to dwell on his awkwardness. "I’m here to get my laptop fixed," you explained, pulling the device from your bag and setting it on the counter. "It's been acting up—some of the keys are loose, and the screen's a bit cracked."

He nodded, though you noticed his hands were a bit shaky as he reached for the laptop. "Right, of course. I’ll take a look."

As he started inspecting the device, you took a moment to glance around the shop again, feeling oddly comfortable despite the rocky start to the conversation. There was something about him, though—his nervous energy, the way he seemed to be trying so hard to maintain a professional front. It was endearing in its own way.

What you didn’t know was that Painter wasn’t usually like this. Normally, he was calm and collected, able to handle even the most difficult situations. But the moment you walked in, something shifted. He had seen you before, from a distance, but never this close, and he wasn’t prepared for the rush of feelings he hadn’t even realized were there.

A small, unspoken crush had quietly crept up on him. He didn’t know why, but there was something about you that drew him in. And now, standing there with your laptop in his hands, he was doing his best to keep it together.

"I can take a look at it later. I’d say you can pick it back up… in like a week?" Painter offered, casting a polite smile your way. His expression was calm and professional, but beneath that exterior, his heart was racing.

You nodded, accepting his answer. After settling some details, you left your beloved laptop in his care, trusting him with the task. It felt strange to part with it, but the shop seemed reliable enough, and Painter—despite his awkwardness—seemed competent.

As you exited the store, you had no idea what you’d just set in motion.

For Painter, this wasn’t just a simple repair job. When you left your laptop with him, you unknowingly handed him exactly what he needed—the tools to execute the plan he’d been carefully crafting. Allison had been manipulating both you and Sebastian for far too long, and now Painter had the opportunity to expose her for what she truly was.

Your laptop would be the key to unraveling her schemes, and he was determined to set everything right, even if it meant crossing a few lines along the way.

Five people had already been moved. Now, it was Painter's turn to move them again, or at least some of them.

He had you exactly where he wanted. You left the shop, your laptop in his possession. That was step one. Now, he had to breach your digital privacy. He’d never done anything like this before, and the thought of doing what Allison had once done left a heavy weight in his gut. Yet, as soon as you left, he got to work. The laptop was old, practically ancient, but logging into your profile was easy—there wasn’t even a password. Your naivety was almost charming.

Everything was there—passwords, emails, data, and every digital memory. It was essentially Jelly’s—no, your—entire identity, captured in one place. He could call Sebastian, expose the laptop, and reveal his nasty girlfriend’s secrets. But no, Painter was above that. He preferred to play god.

His personality was usually against it but he will gladly bend the rules for his best friend…and his own potential crush.

Step two was breaching the streaming website to reclaim your account. A task simple enough for a Yale student with the right tools. Allison thought she'd been 'Jellycatfished,' but now it was Painter in control.

The account was exactly as you and Allison had left it. He couldn’t resist clicking on one of the stream recaps, your voice filling the room through the laptop speakers. There it was—undeniably yours.

He snatched his phone off the counter and dialed a number.

“‘Delia, bring the camera and the good microphone. We’re shooting something at the shop.” Cordelia, another worker in the store and a small-time content streamer, was known for her quirky charm. He knew she was the perfect partner for what he had in mind.

“Painter? For what?” she asked.

“We’re about to make someone a star.”

Cordelia didn’t hesitate. She was on her way, gathering the equipment for a hidden camera setup along with a quality microphone."

Next, it was Painter's turn to text Allison. He still remembered her number from when he’d seen it on Sebastian’s phone. A plan began to form in his mind, one that required precision and just the right touch of manipulation.

'Hey, Allison, right? Sebastian left a gift for you here. Here’s the address.'

He included the shop’s address, carefully typing it out before hitting send. He imagined the moment her phone would buzz, her eyes narrowing at the unexpected message. Would she hesitate, wondering if it was real? Or would her curiosity get the best of her?

Painter smiled to himself. Everything was falling into place. He wasn’t just setting a trap—he was weaving a performance, a story in which Allison would play a crucial role. Now, all he had to do was wait for the show to begin.

It was evening, and the store had long since closed, lights were out, though Painter had left the door unlocked. Everything was meticulously arranged—candles flickered softly, casting a warm glow around the room; a bouquet of red roses sat elegantly on the counter. But the centerpiece was Painter himself, dressed in an expensive, perfectly tailored cotton suit. He had spent hours preparing, adjusting his tie, combing his hair, making sure every detail was flawless. As he caught his reflection in the window, he almost didn’t recognize himself. He had never looked better.

Then, the door creaked open, and Allison stepped in. She wore a tight red dress that clung to her in all the right places, her hair perfectly styled. She carried herself with an air of confidence, as if she expected something grand—but her eyes betrayed her surprise as they scanned the room. The soft candlelight, the roses, and finally, they settled on Painter.

For a moment, there was silence as their gazes met.

"Let me introduce myself," Painter began, his voice calm and formal, though inside, the sweetness of his own tone made him sick. He forced a charming smile, the kind that was too perfect, too practiced. "I’m Painter—it’s a nickname," he added with a soft chuckle, as if trying to break the ice. "And I’m the heir to Urbanshade Corp."

He let the weight of his words linger, watching her reaction. He could see the curiosity in her eyes, the slight confusion.

"You’re probably wondering why you’re here," he continued, his voice smooth and rehearsed, like this was a well-orchestrated play.

This wasn’t just a conversation—it was a performance, and she had walked right into his scene.

"Painter? What’s going on? Where’s Sebastian?" Allison asked, her voice laced with surprise, though Painter could see she was already caught in his web.

"He’s not here. Sorry, I lied," Painter admitted, his tone smooth, but with a playful hint. He took a slow step toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Can you really blame me for wanting to be alone with someone so beautiful?"

He took another step, closing the distance between them.

"So... funny."

He was closer now, almost brushing against her.

"And intelligent?" His voice dropped to a whisper as he stood chest to chest with her, his breath warm against her ear.

Allison's eyes flickered with realization. The heir to Urbanshade Corp, standing so close, so eager—was he asking her out? Maybe it wasn’t so crazy to consider. A man of his status, his wealth... she could have a little fun on the side. A side fling wouldn’t hurt, right?

She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the crisp fabric of his suit under her fingers, catching the scent of his expensive aftershave. "You’re quite charming yourself," she said, her voice laced with a fake giggle designed to make men fall at her feet. But Painter played along, his smile widening.

"Oh?" he murmured, his voice dripping with charm. "Maybe you’d like to show me just how much?"

Allison leaned in, rising onto her toes to meet his height, her lips brushing close to his own, not touching yet. The tension between them was thick, charged with unspoken possibilities. For a brief moment, Painter thought he had her, that she was playing into his hands.

But then she stopped.

His lips hovered just shy of her skin as he whispered, "How much... you’re lying."

The playful edge in his tone had vanished, replaced by cold calculation. He would love to slap her, simply for cheating on his best friend. But now was hardly the time, not like this.

“You are not supposed to be his girlfriend. You are not Jelly and you don't deserve him.” His words caught her in surprise before she seemed to laugh.

“What do you know? They stole my identity! Ask Sebastian! I am the victim!” It was a poor try to defend herself.

“A victim? Another brilliant lie, congratulations. You officially make me sick.” The words were enough to set off her rage and she raised a hand to hit him, a hand that he caught in the middle of the action. “Don't you dare.”

“You know what? Fine, to hell with you. I am NOT them but it doesn't matter because everyone believes me anyways. I HAVE PLAYED YOU ALL. I GOT THE ACCOUNT BANNED. FUCK YOU, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU STUPID IDIOTS. SEBASTIAN IS MINE AND I WON. I AM RIGHT AND I HAVE WON. I STOLE THEIR IDENTITY AND BECAME JELLYCATFISHED.”

Suddenly, the ceiling lights blazed to life, flooding the store in harsh white light. Allison blinked, momentarily blinded, as Cordelia stepped out from behind the shadows, a sly grin on her face.

"And that’s a wrap!" Cordelia announced, her voice dripping with amusement. "Great work, everyone. So authentic, Painter." She shot her boss a playful wink.

Allison’s eyes darted from Cordelia to Painter, confusion overtaking her. A second ago, she had been in control—or so she thought. But now, the anger and seduction drained from her face, replaced by a wide-eyed, flabbergasted look. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, utterly lost.

"You see," Painter began, his voice smooth but laced with triumph, "43 thousand people just witnessed your grand confession. Live and in full HD." He let the weight of his words sink in, a twisted smile forming as he saw the realization dawn in her eyes. "You’re a star now, Allison. Just like you always wanted to be."

Cordelia had filmed it all—the near-cheating, the manipulation, the confession—and streamed it live on Jellycatfished, the very platform that had become Allison’s downfall.

Painter took a step back, admiring his work. His plan had come together beautifully, every detail falling into place like a carefully painted masterpiece. He couldn’t help but applaud himself mentally for the sheer brilliance of it all. Soon enough, the lawsuit would hit Allison—public shame was only the beginning.

Outside the store, Sebastian stood frozen, just out of sight but close enough to hear everything. His phone was clenched tightly in his hand, his knuckles white with the pressure. He had seen the signs but ignored them, convinced he knew the truth. But now, as the reality of what had unfolded hit him, it was clear.

He had been wrong. And he had lost.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

I Want To Kill Her (Part 2)

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 1

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, emotional abuse.

Word Count: 10,085

The months following the gut-wrenching discovery of Teddy's affair were a chaotic storm of emotions and turmoil. The idea of my spouse, the person I trusted most in this world, being unfaithful was unbearable. But without any concrete evidence, doubt enveloped me like a thick fog, suffocating me as I struggled to regain my footing. Though I desperately wanted to believe he wasn't cheating, the blatant signs and whispers from those around us made it impossible to deny the painful truth.

Rage and heartbreak battle within me as I struggle to forgive Teddy, to find a way to salvage our relationship. But each attempt is met with the painful memories of his infidelity, burning like acid through my veins. I'm terrified of losing my British citizenship, my sense of identity and belonging, if I leave him. And even worse, I dread the thought of calling my family and confessing the truth - that not only did Teddy betray me with another woman, but in some sick twisted way, I am also to blame. My family adored him like a son, and he gave me a life beyond my wildest dreams. How could I ever reconcile these conflicting emotions?

Harry's sudden decision to divorce Rosie sent shockwaves through the once peaceful fortress of their home. In just a week, he had packed his bags and walked away, leaving behind a cold and empty shell that was now up for sale. As new potential buyers roamed the halls, I couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal from Harry's abrupt departure. The last time I saw him was in a dingy motel room, where we spent a desperate night together before he vanished without a trace. His disappearance was calculated and cruel, fueled by his seemingly endless wealth and power. Meanwhile, I was left with nothing but uncertainty and the option to return home to Florida. But Harry's resentment only grew as I hesitated to make a final decision. He wanted me to walk away with no regrets, but real life is messy and complicated - far from the neat and tidy ending he desired.

I was trapped in a prison of a house, held captive by a man who claimed to love me but had truly only created a tangled web of chaos and pain. We forced ourselves into therapy every week, desperate to salvage something from the wreckage he had caused. But even after all the sessions, I still felt like I was drowning in the suffocating grip of his selfishness. It was never enough, and I could feel my sanity slipping away with each passing day.

Evenings rolled into nights and days blurred into months. Each moment seemed agonizingly long as I begged time to fly quicker, to wash away the stale taste of betrayal and deception from my existence. The house that once echoed with laughter and love now felt eerily silent, its walls whispering Teddy's betrayal during the quietest hours. My heart ached in ways I never knew possible, each pulse a reminder of the pain he had caused. 

In a bid for relief, I threw myself into cooking elaborate meals, organising closets, watering the drooping plants Teddy had once loved. Yet every activity was tainted with the memory of him - his laughter rings in my mind as I repeat chores we used to do together. It was a desperate plight to keep myself sane amidst the storm that threatened to break me down.

Teddy's unfaithfulness took its toll on my spirit, but Harry's abandonment shattered me entirely. I played over our last night together again and again in my mind. There was something feral about that night; lust mixed with desperation and an underlying tone of finality. He left without any explanation, disappearing like a ghost only leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a raw wound that refused to heal.

The cracks were beginning to show. Laughter seemed forced, smiles rarely reached my eyes. The weekly therapy sessions felt more like an interrogation than relief, talks of my own explicit night replaying session after session. Hours spent scrutinizing every detail of our dysfunctional relationship only amplified my misery. Every shared secret, every stolen glance, every whispered promise – all now seemed meaningless and distorted under the harsh scrutiny of reality.

In the end, it was not Teddy who broke me; it was me who had allowed myself to be broken by him. My judgment clouded by love hindered me from seeing the man he truly was – a master manipulator cloaked in charm and charisma. The truth was painful to accept but liberating in its own cruel way. I was no longer in denial. I was no longer the woman who would bend over backwards to accommodate the whims of unfaithful men. I was stronger than my heartbreak, stronger than their deceit. And most importantly, I learned the toughest lesson of my life – not all love is meant to be cherished; sometimes, it's better left discarded.

As I sat in the therapist's office, the stark white walls closing in around me, my voice cracked as I attempted to verbalize the turmoil within me. "I just don't understand how it got to this point," I admitted, tears threatening to spill over.

Dr. Richards leaned forward, her gentle gaze meeting mine with empathy. "It sounds like you've been through a lot of pain and betrayal," she said softly. "But remember, healing begins with acknowledging the truth."

I nodded, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down my cheek. "I know, but it's so hard to let go of everything that was once so real to me."

Dr. Richards offered a kind smile. "It's okay to feel that way. It's all a part of the process." She paused before continuing, "Have you considered what you need to do to move forward from this?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of the question settling heavily on my shoulders. "I... I think I need to start by forgiving myself for allowing this to happen. For not seeing the signs sooner."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken pain and regret. Dr. Richards reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Forgiveness is a powerful tool, both for yourself and for others," she said gently.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "But how do I forgive someone who shattered me into a million pieces?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Dr. Richards' voice was steady and reassuring as she replied, "Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting or excusing their actions. It means releasing the hold they have over your heart and mind."

As I sat there, grappling with the weight of forgiveness, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Dr. Richards' words lingered like a balm on my wounded soul, but the path to healing still seemed daunting.

"I understand that forgiveness is crucial, but how do I even begin to untangle the mess he left behind?" I asked, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

Dr. Richards leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "It's a process, one step at a time," she said gently. "Start by acknowledging your pain and allowing yourself to feel it without judgment."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded, the emotions swirling inside me threatening to spill over. "It's just so hard to let go of the anger and hurt," I confessed.

She nodded in understanding. "Anger is a natural response to betrayal, but holding onto it only prolongs your pain. Remember, forgiveness is not for his benefit, but for yours."

Her words struck a chord deep within me, resonating with a truth I had been avoiding. "I want to move forward, but I don't know where to begin," I admitted, feeling lost in the sea of my own emotions.

Dr. Richards reached for a tissue and handed it to me with a gentle smile. "Start by being gentle with yourself," she advised. "Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, a release from the burden of carrying someone else's actions."

I took the tissue gratefully, wiping away my tears as her words sank in. "I never thought of it that way," I murmured, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the pain.

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You are stronger than you realize. Forgiveness is not about condoning what he did; it's about setting yourself free from his grip on your heart."

As I sat there, enveloped in Dr. Richards' compassion and wisdom, a sense of peace washed over me. The road to forgiveness may be long and arduous, but with her guidance and my own resilience, perhaps one day I could truly let go and embrace the healing that awaited me.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of emotion, a rollercoaster of highs and lows. I spent many sleepless nights replaying old memories, wrestling with anger and regret. But with each passing day, the burden on my heart felt lighter. I began journaling my thoughts, pouring out my hurt into ink instead of letting it fester within me. And despite the painful contents, there was a strange sort of relief in seeing my emotions spelled out on paper.

"Writing can be therapeutic," Dr. Richards had suggested during one of our sessions. "It provides a safe space to confront your feelings, as raw and as tumultuous as they may be."

Within the quiet sanctuary of my mind and the solitude of my room, I started to delve deeper into myself; into the wounds that had been inflicted upon me and the ones I had unknowingly inflicted upon myself. The process was painful but cathartic. For each tear that fell onto the pages of my journal, there was a tiny piece of pain and bitterness being released.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, I found myself becoming less consumed by his betrayal and more focused on my healing. I started attending group therapy sessions where I met others who bore similar scars – our shared experiences bound us together in a circle of empathy and understanding.

In those group meetings, I realized that pain was universal but so was resilience. Listening to others narrate their journeys of recovery ignited a spark within me. I saw mirrored in their stories my own strength and determination to rise above the ashes.

One day, while looking at myself in the mirror after another group therapy session, something remarkable happened. Staring back at me was a woman who looked familiar but different—a stronger version of myself; a survivor. My reflection no longer showcased the woman betrayed by love but instead revealed a woman who had found strength amidst despair.

“I am not just a victim,” I whispered to my reflection, the words filling the room with a newfound determination. “I am a survivor.”

The following week in Dr. Richard's office, I found myself recalling this moment with a sense of pride. "I am starting to see changes," I admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

She returned my smile, her eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. "Change is a testament to your strength and resilience," she responded. "You're embracing this journey with courage, learning to forgive not just him, but yourself as well."

Her words felt like a beacon of hope guiding me through the foggy path of recovery. While the pain still lingered like an unforgotten ghost, each day it seemed less potent than before. I was indeed learning to forgive—forgive him for his betrayal and forgive myself for my blindness to his deceit.

As our session ended, I left Dr. Richards' office feeling lighter than when I had come in. With every step away from her office and every step towards home, I was journeying farther from the woman who had allowed herself to be broken by betrayal and closer to the woman who had found strength in her own resilience.

Journaling had become my safe haven, a place where I could pour out my deepest thoughts and emotions without fear of judgment. But that sanctuary was shattered when one day, in a rush to make it to therapy on time, I left my journal open on the bed. My heart stopped when I returned to find Teddy holding it, his eyes scanning the pages filled with my most vulnerable moments. In an instant, my privacy was invaded and my trust was broken.

The tense silence in the room shattered as Teddy's furious voice pierced the air, causing my heart to skip a beat. I watched helplessly as he held my journal in a white-knuckled grip, his eyes scanning the pages with growing anger. "What the actual fuck is this?" he bellowed, his face contorted with rage.

I stood frozen, my mind racing to find the right words to diffuse the escalating situation. "Teddy, please put that down," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, but he ignored me, his expression dark and menacing.

With a sharp intake of breath, I lunged forward to grab the journal from his hands, but he deftly sidestepped me. The tension crackled between us like electricity, each heartbeat echoing in the turbulent silence that enveloped the room.

"You've been writing about our sessions? and Harry?" Teddy's voice was laced with accusation, his gaze burning into mine with searing intensity.

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me as I squared my shoulders. "It's none of your business," I shot back, my tone sharper than intended, but I refused to back down in the face of his intrusion.

His jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his towering presence casting a shadow over me. "None of my business? You've been documenting our private moments, our struggles! How you also fucked the neighbor?" His voice rose with each word, reverberating off the walls like thunder in a storm “As if that little fucking photo he sent while fucking you, my wife, wasn’t bad enough”.

I could feel my own anger building, fueled by his violation of my privacy. "You have no right to invade my thoughts like this and last I checked, you were the one who started cheating," I retorted, the words dripping with resentment and hurt.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as we stood locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to yield ground. The air grew thick with unspoken accusations and grievances left festering beneath the surface.

"You think you can just hide behind your journal and play the victim?" Teddy's voice was laced with contempt, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

My fists clenched at my sides as a surge of defiance coursed through me. "I am not playing anything! This is my way of coping with everything you've put me through, let’s remember who started this mess," I shot back, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me.

His laugh was harsh and bitter, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. "Coping? Is that what you call it? Writing about how I've destroyed you? This is pretty much a sex book." His words were like daggers aimed straight at my heart.

The room seemed to shrink around us as we faced off in this battle of words and wills. Every breath felt heavy with unspoken truths and buried emotions that threatened to erupt like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

"I trusted you," I whispered hoarsely, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as the weight of his betrayal bore down on me like a crushing weight.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once more. "Trusted me? Look where that got you," he sneered, a cruel twist to his lips betraying the depths of his callousness.

The walls seemed to close in around us as the fight escalated into a tumultuous storm of emotions and accusations. Each word exchanged felt like a blow to an already fractured foundation that threatened to crumble under the weight of our shared pain.

The rumble of thunder outside echoed the turmoil inside as our voices rose in a crescendo of anger and hurt. The room pulsed with an energy so charged it felt as though lightning might strike at any moment, igniting a fire that would consume us both.

"I'm tired of being your punching bag," I declared, my voice firm with newfound resolve.

Teddy's face contorted with fury. "You think you're innocent in all this?" he shot back, his words like venom dripping from his lips.

The air crackled with electricity as we faced off in a battle neither willing to concede. It was a clash of egos and emotions, each word exchanged fueling the fire burning between us.

"I won't be silenced by your guilt-tripping," I retorted, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with precision.

Teddy's eyes blazed with rage as he took a step closer, his breath hot against my skin. "Guilt-tripping? You've been playing the victim since day one," he accused, his voice dripping with contempt.

The room seemed on the verge of imploding as our tempers flared and our voices clashed in a symphony of discord. It was a battle of wills and wounded pride, each unwilling to yield ground in this war of words.

"You'll never own up to your mistakes," I accused, my voice tinged with frustration and anger.

Teddy's fists clenched at his sides as he glared at me with unbridled fury. "Mistakes? You're the one who shattered everything we had, we could’ve come back from this. You didn’t have to fuck the first guy you saw!" he roared, his words echoing off the walls like thunder on a stormy night.

The fight raged on like an unrelenting tempest, each word exchanged adding fuel to the fire burning between us. The air crackled with tension as we stood face to face in a battle that threatened to consume us both.

“You know what? I’m done,” I seethed, my voice rising to a fever pitch. "I'll find a place to stay and it sure as hell won't be here!" My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I glared daggers at the person in front of me. The fury coursing through my body threatened to consume me, but I welcomed it, fueled by sheer determination to escape this toxic environment.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands as I dialed Bella's number, she was the first close friend I had made in London. The phone rang for what felt like hours before she finally picked up.

"Hey, Bella. It's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside of me.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I need a place to stay for a while. Can I crash with you?" I blurted out, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Bella didn't hesitate. "Of course! What happened?"

"It's a long story," I replied, tears threatening to spill from my eyes again.

"Don't worry about it. Just come over whenever you're ready," she said reassuringly.

I thanked her and hung up the phone before splashing some cold water on my face in an attempt to compose myself. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I unlocked the bathroom door and made my way back to the living room.

Teddy was nowhere in sight, probably still seething from our argument. I quickly grabbed my backpack and stuffed some clothes and toiletries inside before heading out the door.

The fresh air outside helped clear my mind as I made my way towards Bella's house. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not let Teddy get to me, his words still stung like open wounds.

I couldn't believe how things had escalated so quickly between us. We used to be inseparable, but now it seemed like we were nothing but strangers living under the same roof.

My thoughts were interrupted as I arrived at Bella's house. She greeted me with open arms and led me inside as Bella and I settled down on her cozy couch, surrounded by the warmth of her living room, she handed me a mug of hot tea. The familiar scent of chamomile filled the air, soothing my frayed nerves.

"So, spill it. What happened between you and Teddy?" Bella asked gently, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.

I took a sip of the tea, feeling its comforting warmth seep into my bones. "It's just... we had another one of those fights about the cheating. The same patterns repeating over and over again. I don't think we can fix this anymore," I admitted, feeling a heavy weight lift off my chest with each word spoken.

Bella nodded knowingly, her empathy palpable. "Sometimes things reach a point where they can't be salvaged, no matter how much we try. It's okay to walk away if it's for your own well-being," she reassured me, her words like a balm to my wounded spirit.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at my friend, grateful for her unwavering support. "I just feel lost, you know? Like I don't even recognize myself anymore in all of this chaos," I whispered, the vulnerability raw in my voice.

Bella reached out and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You're not alone in this. You have people who care about you, who want to see you happy and thriving. And remember, sometimes in letting go, we find the strength to rebuild ourselves," she offered with a gentle smile.

Her words resonated deep within me, a glimmer of hope flickering in the darkness that had clouded my heart. I wiped away the tears that had escaped and mustered a small smile in return.

"Thank you, Bella. For everything," I expressed sincerely, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me for having such a supportive friend by my side.

The early morning light blazed through my window, a stark reminder of the emptiness that awaited me. With a heavy heart, I resolved to find a job, anything to fill the void left by my crumbling marriage. But even as I searched for employment opportunities, my thoughts kept drifting back to Harry. My desperation to know how he was doing gnawed at me like a festering wound, but there was no way to reach out and ask. As I sat in silence, I couldn't help but imagine the different path my life could have taken if I had chosen Harry over Teddy. The image of us together haunted me, a cruel reminder of what could've been. But now it was too late, and there was no turning back from the pain and regret that consumed me.

My fingers danced across the keys of my laptop, typing and retyping cover letters and resumes. The monotony of each hopeful submission echoed the emptiness in my heart, seemingly endless echoes spiraling into a void. To distract myself, I brewed a strong cup of coffee, the familiar smell offering an odd comfort in the chaos that was now my life.

As the day wore on, my efforts bore no fruit. Each potential employer remained a stranger to me, their responses automated and cold. As darkness began to creep into the room, a sense of defeat washed over me and I closed my laptop with a sigh.

I poured myself another cup of coffee, this time opting for the solitude of the balcony to nurse it. The city below shimmered with life just as it always did, indifferent to the turmoil of one seemingly insignificant inhabitant. Despite the layers of concrete and glass that separated us, I felt strangely connected to those anonymous lights - distant beacons in the abyss.

A haunting melody wafted up from somewhere far below, a soulful duet between an old saxophone and an even older piano. The notes danced through the fragmented night air, weaving stories of love lost and found again. Each note was a phantom whispering bittersweet tales into my ear.

Just then, an unexpected sound cut through my thoughts - the shrill ringtone of my phone nudged me back into reality. My heart clenched as I saw Teddy's name flash across the screen. He hadn't called since our fallout; what could he possibly want now? Nervously biting my lip, I answered it. On the other end of the line Teddy’s voice trembled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place; regret perhaps—or was it desperation?

My heart raced as I hung up and blocked Teddy's number. It was a small act of defiance, of reclaiming control over my life. But in that moment, it felt powerful.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the balcony railing, feeling the cold metal press against my cheek. It was a reminder that I was still here, still alive despite the pain and chaos swirling within me.

But even as I tried to convince myself that cutting off all contact with Teddy was for the best, doubts crept into my mind. What if he really did want to talk? What if he wanted to apologize and make things right?

I pushed those thoughts away, refusing to let them cloud my judgement. I couldn't afford to let him back into my life, not when I was finally starting to move on.

With new determination, I went back inside and resumed my job search. As midnight approached and exhaustion began to take hold, I allowed myself a moment of weakness and checked my email one last time.

A spark of hope ignited within me as I read the email from my job recruiter. It informed me that there was a hiring event happening downtown tomorrow and I had been invited to attend. My heart raced with excitement - this could be my chance to finally land a job.

I quickly confirmed my attendance and began mentally preparing for the event. As much as I hated the thought of going out into the world and facing potential rejection, I knew it was something I had to do.

The next morning, after meticulously picking out an outfit and rehearsing what I would say, I set out for downtown. The bustling streets were a chaotic blend of people rushing to work and tourists taking in the sights. As I walked among them, a sense of anonymity washed over me - just another face in the crowd.

Eventually, I reached the building where the hiring event was taking place. After taking a deep breath, I stepped inside and made my way towards the designated area.

The event was packed with job seekers like myself, all eager for a chance at employment. Despite my nerves, I felt emboldened by their determination and pushed forward to talk to employers.

One after another, I introduced myself and handed out resumes with practiced ease. Some showed interest while others dismissed me without a second glance. But instead of feeling defeated by rejection, I soldiered on with renewed purpose.

Hours passed in this manner until finally, just as hope began to wane, someone took notice of me. It was an HR rep from one of the top companies in town, Pleasing.

My heart pounded as I realized this could potentially lead me down the path to seeing Harry again. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present moment.

The HR rep from Pleasing seemed impressed by my credentials and asked me to come in for an interview the following day. I couldn't believe it - this was exactly the opportunity I had been waiting for.

As I walked out of the hiring event, my mind raced with excitement and nerves. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if Harry still lived in the area, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking. It didn't matter - all that mattered was that I had a chance at a job.

The next day, I arrived at Pleasing's office early, dressed in my best professional attire. The receptionist greeted me with a smile and directed me to the HR department.

I shook myself out of my reverie as the HR rep called me into their office for the interview. Despite my nerves, I answered their questions confidently and highlighted my experience and skills.

As the interview progressed, I could feel the HR rep becoming more and more impressed. The questions became increasingly challenging, but I faced them head-on, demonstrating my knowledge and quick decision-making abilities. 

Slowly, the discussion moved on to my potential role in Pleasing and how I saw myself contributing to the company's future. Here, I outlined a comprehensive plan that included innovation, team synergy, and a commitment to meeting corporate objectives. The HR rep listened attentively, occasionally interjecting to clarify or probe deeper into my responses.

The interview concluded on a positive note and I was told that they would get back to me in a week's time. As I left the building, I felt a sense of accomplishment but there was also an underlying excitement - the possibility of crossing paths with Harry and being able to leave Bella’s to find my own flat.

A week passed in a blur of anticipation and anxiety, each day inching closer to the call from Pleasing. When it eventually came through, my heart skipped a beat. They were pleased with my performance during the interview and wanted me on board.

And so began my journey with Pleasing - a journey that was filled with arduous tasks, demanding projects, and incredible opportunities for growth. The work environment was fast-paced but rewarding, pushing me to work harder each day.

One afternoon, a couple of months into my role at Pleasing, I saw him from afar. It was Harry - my former neighbor and one night stand. He looked just as I remembered him: sharp-witted and focused in his tailored suit, there was an air of high authority about him.

My heart raced as I watched him stride through the office, making his way towards the executive level. Memories of our time together flooded back to me - the late nights he spent on top of me, the way he felt, the way he touched me, how he smelt expensive.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized that I needed to find a way to meet with him. But how? As a junior employee, I didn't have easy access to top executives like him.

Determined not to let this opportunity pass me by, I approached my manager and asked if there was any way I could have a meeting with Mr. Styles. She gave me a skeptical look but promised to see what she could do.

A few days later, she called me into her office with a smile on her face. "I spoke to Mr. Styles' assistant and they have agreed to give you 15 minutes next week," she said excitedly.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again after all this time. But what would I say? What would he think of me now?

The day of the meeting arrived and I nervously made my way up to the executive level. As soon as I stepped into Mr. Styles' office, my nerves disappeared - it felt like no time had passed between us at all.

As I cautiously entered his dark office, my heart pounded in my chest. The scent of tobacco and whiskey filled the air, mingling with the intense aura emanating from Harry's piercing green eyes. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I made my way to a chair by his desk.

"Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I saw the name and couldn't believe it was you, bloody hell."

A chill ran down my spine at the iciness in his tone. Memories flooded back of our tumultuous past, the love and betrayal that had torn us apart. But now, standing in front of him again, I couldn't deny the powerful pull that still existed between us.

"Harry," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my insides churn. "Indeed it has, Y/N," he remarked, his eyes never leaving mine. "I must say, I never expected to see you here."

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling the weight of unspoken history hanging between us. "I didn't expect to be here either," I admitted, my voice tinged with a hint of regret.

He raised an eyebrow, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. "And yet fate has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn't it?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me - longing, apprehension, and a spark of unresolved desire. "It seems that way," I said softly.

Harry leaned forward slightly, his expression softening imperceptibly. "Tell me, Y/N," he began, his voice quieter now. "What have you been up to since we last crossed paths?"

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions his presence evoked. "Well," I started hesitantly, "I've been working here at Pleasing. It's been challenging but rewarding."

A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. "Impressive." He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone contemplative. "And what made you seek out a meeting with me today?"

I met his gaze squarely, steeling myself against the vulnerability creeping in. "I wanted to reconnect," I confessed quietly. "To clear the air and maybe... find closure."

Harry regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Closure," he echoed softly. "Perhaps that's something we both need. And Teddy?"

My eyes drop to the ground, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "It's a messy situation, but I had to leave. I've been crashing at my friend Bella's place until I can scrape together enough money for a divorce."

His voice drips with insinuation and I feel my skin prickle with unease. "Oh, how convenient," he sneers. "I knew eventually you would come to your senses, although I thought our night together would have been enough to break you free." My stomach churns at his words.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with unspoken tension as their words hung in the air like charged lightning bolts ready to strike.

"You had no right to think that one night could define me or my decisions." I spat.

Harry's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and something darker as my words cut through the tension between us. "And what right did you have to enter my life again after all this time, Y/N?" he countered sharply, his jaw clenched in frustration.

I squared my shoulders, meeting his challenging gaze head-on. "I didn't come here seeking your approval, Harry," I retorted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I came for myself, to find closure and move on."

He leaned forward, his expression unreadable as he studied me intently. "Closure," he repeated, the word hanging heavily between us. "Is that truly what you need? Or is there something else driving you here?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed my features before I could stop it, and I felt exposed under his piercing scrutiny. "Maybe it's both," I admitted quietly, feeling the weight of years of unresolved emotions pressing down on me.

Harry's gaze softened slightly, a hint of understanding creeping into his eyes. "I see," he murmured, a touch of regret coloring his tone. "Perhaps we both have demons to face before we can truly move forward."

I nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Maybe so," I agreed, a sense of resignation settling over me. "But facing them together might be easier than doing it alone."

Silence enveloped us for a moment, broken only by the sound of our breathing mingling in the charged atmosphere of the room. Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer now. "I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N," he confessed quietly. "Despite everything that happened between us."

My heart clenched at his words, memories flooding back with a force that left me breathless. "I never forgot you either," I whispered, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest.

A myriad of emotions played across Harry's features - longing, regret, and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "Then perhaps we owe it to ourselves to confront the past and see where it leads us, Pleasing has a nice legal plan I can lend to you for a divorce." he suggested tentatively.

I met his gaze, seeing a glimmer of hope reflected in those intense green eyes that had once been my undoing. "Maybe we do," I agreed softly, a sense of anticipation stirring within me.

I stood outside the courtroom, my heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Today was the day I had been waiting for - the day I could finally end this marriage and start a new chapter in my life. But as I took a deep breath and stepped inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of Teddy sitting at a table with his lawyer, confidently flipping through some papers.

Next to him sat Rosie, her perfectly styled hair and expensive outfit standing out like a sore thumb among the drab courtroom surroundings. She smiled smugly in my direction as if she knew something I didn't, and suddenly all my confidence wavered.

My lawyer squeezed my hand reassuringly as we walked towards our side of the court, but I couldn't help feeling like an underdog in this battle. How had Teddy managed to go back to Rosie so quickly while still begging for me just a few weeks earlier? And how long had this been going on?

As we began the proceedings, I listened half-heartedly as their lawyer presented their case - painting me as an unfit wife who refused to support her husband's successful career. The lies stung, but I held back from speaking out.

It wasn't until it was my turn to speak that I found my voice. My lawyer had prepared a strong case for me - highlighting all of Teddy's infidelities and emotional abuse throughout our marriage. As I spoke about his controlling behavior and manipulation tactics, Rosie's smug expression faltered.

But when it was time for Teddy to speak, he denied everything with such conviction that even I started doubting myself. His words were smooth and calculated, painting me as an unstable woman who couldn't handle his success.

I felt my anger bubbling up inside me - how dare he twist the truth like this? But before I could say anything, Rosie jumped in with her own version of events. She talked about how supportive Teddy had been during their brief affair, and how I was just a jealous ex who couldn't move on.

As Rosie spoke, her words felt like sharp knives twisting in my chest. The betrayal and deceit were too much to bear, she was the one who was sleeping with my husband. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. But then, a familiar voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Objection, Your Honor!"

I turned to see my lawyer standing up, his expression firm and determined. "These allegations are baseless and unsubstantiated. My client has provided ample evidence of Mr. Teddy's infidelity and emotional abuse. I request that these false claims be stricken from the record."

The judge nodded solemnly, looking at Teddy and Rosie with a steely gaze. "I will not tolerate false accusations in my courtroom. Stick to the facts."

Teddy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Rosie, on the other hand, remained composed, a smug smile playing on her lips.

"I have evidence that will prove my client's case, Your Honor," she declared confidently. "I request permission to present it."

The judge nodded again, signaling for Rosie to proceed. She stood up gracefully, producing a stack of papers from her briefcase.

"These documents show that Mr. Teddy was out of town on the dates in question," she began, flipping through the pages with ease. "He could not have been at the locations alleged by Mrs. Y/N."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Could it be true? Had I been mistaken all along? Her proof was just texts from Teddy to her saying he was out of town. Which proves nothing, if anything it was more incriminating.

But then, just as doubt started to creep in, a sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"Your Honor," I interrupted, my voice trembling but resolute. "I have proof that Mr. Teddy and Ms. Rosie colluded to fabricate alibis and deceive me. They were working together against me all along."

The courtroom fell into stunned silence as I presented the evidence that exposed their treachery. Teddy's face drained of color, while Rosie's mask of composure finally cracked.

"I-I can explain," Teddy stammered, but it was too late.

The judge slammed his gavel down with finality. "Case closed. Divorce granted in favor of Mrs. Y/N. You are to pay her a monthly settlement of alimony."

As I walked out of the courtroom, a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was finally over - the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation. I could start anew with a sense of freedom and clarity.

And as I glanced back one last time at Teddy and Rosie, their faces twisted with defeat, I knew that justice had been served. 

Waiting outside of the courtroom was Harry with a grin, he did a sassy wave to Rosie and Teddy.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Harry said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my forehead. "You did it."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over me. "I couldn't have done it without you, Harry. Thank you for everything."

"Always, love," he replied with a gentle smile.

As we walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel grateful for having Harry by my side. 

"I'm so glad this is all over," I said with a sigh, leaning into him as we reached his car.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, unlocking the door and helping me inside before making his way to the driver's seat.

As we drove away from the courthouse, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. My marriage may have ended in betrayal and deceit but now I was free to move on and start over.

"So what's next for you?" Harry asked as we drove through the city streets.

“ I think we should celebrate.” I looked at him with a playful smile.

"Celebrate?" Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "And what did you have in mind for this celebration, Mrs. Y/N?"

I grinned mischievously, leaning over to gently tap his knee. "Oh, nothing too wild. Maybe just a quiet dinner for two at a cozy little bistro."

"A quiet dinner, hmm?" Harry's smirk grew wider. "And what about later, when we're no longer 'quiet'? Any ideas for that celebration?"

"Well," I purred, eyeing him up and down playfully. "That all depends on how good of a date you turn out to be."

"I'll have you know," he countered confidently, "that I'm an excellent date."

"Oh really? And what sort of things do excellent dates do to impress their partners?" I challenged him with a teasing glint in my eye.

Harry chuckled softly before leaning closer to me. "I believe the key to impressing you, love," he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine, "lies somewhere between your pasta and your dessert."

"And exactly how do you plan on pulling that off?" I asked skeptically but with undeniable curiosity piqued within me. 

"Oh," he smirked wickedly as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm sure I can come up with something...tasty."

We arrived at the bistro and Harry led me inside, his hand resting on my lower back. The smell of freshly baked bread and spices filled my nostrils as we were greeted by the friendly hostess. She guided us to a cozy booth in the corner of the restaurant before handing us each a menu.

As we perused through the options, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment with Harry. Despite the chaos that had been my life recently, he was there to make me smile and forget about all my worries. I was grateful to be able to be like this with him.

"You know," Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence between us, "I haven't had a proper date night in ages."

I smiled at him. Soon after the waiter came to take our orders and after much deliberation, we settled on sharing a few appetizers and ordering our own entrees. As we waited for our food to arrive, Harry reached across the table to take hold of my hand.

"I'm proud of you," he said sincerely, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You handled everything with grace and strength."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his words. It meant so much to have Harry's support and encouragement through everything I had been going through.

"Thank you," I replied softly, unable to find any other words to express how much his words meant to me.

Our food arrived shortly after and we dug into our dishes with enthusiasm. We laughed and joked as we shared bites of each other's meals, savoring every moment together.

After dinner, Harry insisted on treating me to dessert at a nearby ice cream shop. We walked through the bustling streets hand in hand, enjoying each other's company in the warm summer night.

As we sat on a bench outside the shop, enjoying our ice cream. 

My voice trembles as I stare at Harry, regret and guilt weighing heavily on my chest. "I should've left Teddy that night after the motel," I confess, tears welling up in my eyes. "But I was scared. Scared of losing my residency, scared of facing my family's disappointment. I thought I could endure it for a while longer, or that he would be the one to leave first." My words choke in my throat, coming out as a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I continue, my voice shaking. "I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. I was just...lost and confused."

Harry's expression softens as he takes in my words. He reaches out to brush away a tear that falls from my eye.

"You don't have to apologize, love," he says gently. "I understand why you stayed with him. But I wish you had told me sooner."

The guilt bubbles up inside of me, threatening to drown me in its heavy weight. How could I have been so blind and selfish? How could I have hurt someone who cared?

"I'll make it right, Harry," I promise him, wiping away the tears from my cheeks.

Harry's eyes light up with hope as he grasps my hand tightly.

"We'll face this together," he says firmly, determination evident in his voice.

And just like that, the burden on my shoulders feels a little bit lighter knowing that I have Harry by my side.

"It's okay," he whispers soothingly, kissing the top of my head. "You did the right thing.”

We finish our ice cream in comfortable silence before heading back to Harry's flat.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, breaking the silence.

"Of course," Harry replies, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"Why did you never tell me your feelings before?" I ask, feeling a little hesitant.

Harry pauses for a moment before answering. "I didn't want to pressure you or make things awkward between us," he admits. "I wanted you to be happy and if that meant staying with Teddy, then I accepted it. So I left, I couldn’t see you in that situation."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I realize just how selfless and understanding Harry has always been despite his hardened appearence. He truly cares.

"I'm sorry for being so blind," I say softly.

"It's okay," Harry reassures me. "We all make mistakes."

My heart was pounding as we entered the safety of his flat, my senses heightened by the lingering scent of his cologne. Our fingers traced each other's as he deftly made two cups of steaming tea, every touch sending sparks dancing up my arm.

"Would you like a touch of cream?" Harry asked seductively, a teasing smile playing along his lips. His sultry voice sent trepidating waves through me, igniting an insatiable desire that twisted in my belly.

The sight of him leaning casually against the kitchen counter, bathed in soft light, stirred a primal need within me. I watched as he poured a dash of cream into my cup. The way it swirled and mingled with the dark liquid mirrored our own dance - two intricate beings melding to form something far more tantalizing. 

"Thank you," I murmured, accepting the warm mug from his hand. My fingers brushed against his, eliciting a delicate shiver that rippled down my spine. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better..."

As we navigated our way towards the plush sofa, our bodies brushed together, the heat between us flaring like a bonfire on a cold night. The taste of our shared dinner still lingered on our tongues as we sipped on our teas; notes of cocoa and warm spices cascading over our taste buds.

He leaned back onto the couch, pulling me with him until I was nestled comfortably against his side. A silence fell upon us as we enjoyed our drinks; comfortable and yet teeming with an unspoken promise of what was to come.

"There's no rush," Harry purred into my ear, allowing his fingers to trace lazy circles around my wrist. His hot breath fanned out across my heated skin, setting off tremors beneath my flesh. "Let's just enjoy this moment."

His words washed over me like scalding water, igniting a yearning that threatened to consume us both. I finished my tea swiftly, setting the empty cup on the coffee table before turning back to Harry.

"Harry," I breathed out, staring into his deep emerald eyes. They were dark with desire, a mirror of my own want. "I want you...now."

With those words, our evening took on an entirely new flavor - one more intimate and fervently carnal than the most decadent dessert. And as I let go of all inhibitions and allowed myself to drown in Harry's love- the guilt and fear felt like distant memories.

Where there had been tears earlier now blossomed laughter and sighs of pleasure, echoing off the walls of Harry's flat. The heat between us couldn't be contained within mere cups of tea. It was a passionate flame that ignited every sense, searing through every inch of our bodies as we began to explore each other with newfound fervor and desperation.

The room seemed to shrink as my words echoed around us. I could feel myself growing wetter by the second, my heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Without another word, he stood up and pulled me close, our bodies pressing tightly against each other.

My hands found their way to his strong shoulders, digging into his skin as he claimed my lips once more. I moaned deeply into the kiss, tasting the tea we just drank on his tongue as he explored every inch of my mouth. His hands traveled down my back, over my ass cheeks, until they reached the hem of my dress.

I gasped as he lifted me off the ground with ease, carrying me towards the bedroom. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer still. As we entered the room he kicked the door shut behind us, locking us in together.

As he backed me towards the bed, his cock growing hard, he paused to look down at me. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the scene laid out before him. "You look so fucking sexy like this," he growled out, his voice rough with desire. I moaned in response, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath us as he lowered me onto the mattress.

His lips trailed hot kisses down my jawline and across my collarbone before moving southward. He nipped at my sensitive flesh while his hands explored every inch of my body, tracing patterns around my tits through the lace fabric of my bra. My breath hitched as his warm mouth hovered over my nipples, making them stand at attention.

"Please," I whispered, arching into him as he teased one of my hardened nubs between his fingers and thumb. His tongue circled around it before finally drawing it into his mouth, sucking on it with such force that I cried out in pleasure.

He pulled away slightly, looking down at me with a smirk that made my stomach do flips. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby girl." His eyes bore into mine as he slowly undid his pants, revealing his already hard cock straining against his boxers. My mouth watered at the sight of him; all 8 inches of thickness glistening with pre-cum that reflected the light in the room.

I reached up to grab his shirt, pulling him down towards me as I wrapped my legs around his waist again. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as he lowered himself onto the bed between my spread legs. His teeth grazed against my bottom lip before trailing hot kisses down my neck and chest.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he reached behind me to undo the clasp holding together my bra. It fell away from me revealing puckered nipples begging for attention which he eagerly obliged by taking one into his mouth while pinching the other between two fingers causing tiny whimpers to escape from deep within me. 

His lips trailed down my stomach, stopping momentarily to press kisses to my belly button before continuing their journey south. I shivered with anticipation as his fingers hooked into the sides of my lace panties, pulling them down and off of me in one swift motion.

He took a moment to admire me, spread out before him, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze traveled over every inch of me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, before diving back in between my legs. His tongue flicked against my clit sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I gripped onto the sheets tighter as he continued to tease and lick at my most sensitive spot.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, his expert mouth bringing me to the brink. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he pulled away with a smirk on his face.

"Not yet," he said huskily, crawling back up towards me. He kissed me hard on the lips while positioning himself between my legs. I felt his tip brush against my entrance and I lifted my hips in response.

The room around us was hazy from the scent of our arousal, and I couldn't help but feel like I was in a dream as he continued to tease me. With every lick and nip, his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through me. My body arched off the bed in response to his expert ministrations, my breasts pressed against his strong chest.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, his voice dark and rough with need. His hands slid up my thighs, teasingly close to my aching desire before moving away again. It was driving me crazy!

"Please," I begged him. "I can't take much more."

He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Oh, you think you can handle me?" He leaned down and flicked his tongue gently over my clitoris again, making me gasp in surprise at the intense sensation. "We'll see about that."

I couldn't believe how turned on I was by his dominance. As he continued to tease me, I imagined what it would be like to fully submit to him—to let him take control of my body and pleasure me however he saw fit. It was terrifying yet exhilarating all at once.

It felt like hours (or maybe just minutes?) before he finally eased himself into me, filling me up with his thick cock. I gasped at the sudden intrusion but moaned in delight as he began to move slowly inside me. Every thrust sent violent shudders through my body as we found our rhythm together—his hard and demanding possessions; mine willingly given submission underneath him amidst silk pillows and warm blankets scattered across the sheets beneath us.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me, wanting more, needing more. His hands gripped onto my hips, holding me in place as he continued to thrust into me with increasing speed and force.

I could feel the pleasure building inside of me, growing and swelling until it was almost unbearable. My nails dug into his back as I cried out his name, consumed by the intensity of our union.

He leaned down and captured my lips in a fiery kiss that only added fuel to the fire burning between us. Our bodies moved together in perfect synchronization, reaching higher levels of ecstasy with each passing moment.

The bed rocked beneath us as we gave into pure primal desire. He was an unstoppable force, taking everything from me and giving it back tenfold.

"Fuck," he groaned against my lips, his voice thick with need. "You're so tight."

"Oh, God," I moaned, my toes curling against the sheets. "Don't stop."

He didn't listen to me of course; instead, he continued to pound into me relentlessly, driving me towards the edge again and again until I couldn't take it anymore. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, consuming every ounce of my being and leaving me shaking in its wake. He followed close behind with a muffled groan as he spilled himself inside of me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us gasping for breath as we came down from our high.

We lay there tangled together for a few moments before he rolled off of me onto his side. He pulled me against him, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

"Wow," I finally managed to say.

We lay there panting for several minutes afterward, our heartbeats echoing in our ears above everything else around us.

Finally, he disentangled himself from me and collapsed next to me on the bed, both of us spent and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Fuck," he breathed out as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

"That was..." I trailed off unable to find the words to describe the intensity of our union.

He let out a bitter, exhausted chuckle laced with satisfaction. "I swore I'd never marry again, but if this is what life could be like on a regular basis, I may have to reconsider," he muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of committing himself again brought a surge of both fear and longing, but for the first time in years, he felt alive.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, he turned to me with a mix of vulnerability and determination in his eyes. "I never thought I'd find someone who could make me question my own convictions," he said softly, reaching out to gently touch my hand.

I looked back at him, her own eyes filled with understanding and a hint of mischief. "Maybe it's time to rewrite those old promises," I suggested, a smile playing on my lips.

A sense of peace settled over him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, he was ready to take a chance on love once more. With a hopeful heart and a newfound sense of purpose, he whispered, "Maybe it is." 

As the last rays of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon, their eyes locked and they both felt an electric current surge through their bodies. It was a sign that their journey together was just starting and would be filled with endless twists and turns, but they were ready for the challenge.

[hotxcheeto]

Hi hun! So if possible could you do a modern AU where it’s fem!reader/Abby Anderson, and Abby is a dom (and reader is a sub) and Abby is feeling soft but still wants to do the dirty so she does and is lowkey still bossy but is soft as well, like the reader cry’s from overstimulation and Abby kisses their tears away kind of thing?

I love you and you’re an amazing writer!! 🖤🖤🖤

━ 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Smut, cursing, strap-on use ( r! receiving ), oral ( r! receiving ), kissing, teasing, soft dom aspects, slight humiliation? dom abby, sub reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - i used text to speech to make sure there's no mistakes and this poor robot. m'not sure if I like it but it's... something :0 thank you for requesting!! ily sm!!

REBLOG MY WORK! I WORK HARD & IT'S APPRECIATED!!

"That's it... look how good you take it."

Her hips continuously kissed your own as she rocked back and forth, breaking in the new bedframe she'd just spent over four-hundred dollars on. She remembered rolling her eyes at the price for something so simple, but you begged because,

'Abby it's perfect and it's pretty look..'

…then there she was, standing in line with the box, her card practically crawling out of her wallet. You were over the moon though, unable to stop rambling about how good it was gonna match the new paint coat that you'd chosen for her to decorate the bedroom with. How all of your wall decorations would look so good above it, and how you wanted her to hang each one.

The frame was nice, she gave it that, but it needed a personal touch.

And that's exactly why her silicone cock was now buried in your cunt and your screams were surely heard by the same neighbors that helped her carry the new couch up the stairs just last week.

"Look at that pretty pussy, taking me so good." You whined something in response, holding loosely onto the pillow that kept your head elevated and your drool from ruining the already tainted, damp sheets. You held it like it was going to disappear if you didn't, crying as the toy brushed your cervix and grinded against your special spot.

"Abby-" You breathed in, moaning out a few pleas for her to go deeper. "M-more-" She found that amusing, laughing at your begs like it was a game, teasing only for a moment before she heard you whimper out a cry, turning your head, straining yourself to just catch a glance of her in the floor-length mirror leaning against the wall.

You looked absolutely pathetic, worn down to the very end of your awareness as her much larger body nearly swallowed you up whole. She held you, but not tight, just enough to keep you in place, and it felt so fucking good.

"Alright, alright, m'sorry..." A kiss was placed to your shoulder blade as her eyes met yours in the reflection, her muscle-chiseled arms cradling your lower half while she pounded into you at a head-spinning pace. "I'll give you more, just gotta spread your legs..."

Her palm pushed your inner thigh, gripping whatever she could and pulling you apart at the same time her pace picked up. Chuckling at the way your face was squished up against the pillow and your eyes failed to stay completely open.

Yours and hers reflection blurred as tears welled up, juices trickling down your ass the moment you felt a familiar bubbly feeling in your gut. Abby noticed too, though, she always noticed, but she would never confess your own tells to you. That would ruin all the fun.

"You gonna come?" She purred against the shell of your ear, reaching up to grab your face, waking you up from whatever cock-drunk daze you'd been in. "Huh? You gonna come pretty girl?"

You nodded in her hold, humming over and over while you pouted. The silicone drove you insane while rubbing against your clit each time it moved in and out, deep and melodic humps keeping you overwhelmed and fuzzy and at this point you weren't sure you knew your own left from right.

"How much you want it?" You made an unintelligible sound that made her let out a breath of entertainment, grinning at you in the reflection. "What was that?" She questioned, wiping your face to get a good look at you. "Really b-bad Abb-by-"

A sharp intake of air assured you that Abby had in fact heard you. The sound of your voice like a tantalizing song written by the sin of lust itself and fucking hell did it make her drill into faster then she'd already had been.

"Yeah?" You nodded, the waves of pleasure coming from the feeling of your bundle of nerves being abused along with your stuffed hole finally rocked you right over the edge. Hiding a scream into the fluff of the pillow and clawing at the sheets while she cooed little praises into your ear.

Legs shaking and arms having given out, you laid there whilst she pushed her pretend dick back and forth. Listening to the pretty sounds of you talk to her with pure gibberish that made no sense to anyone but yourself and even you weren't sure what you were trying to communicate anymore.

It just felt so good.

She fucked you the whole time you came, the aftershock making you twitch with bliss and finally make a move of your own. You'd begun pushing back, trying to meet her hips at the same times she'd move.

"What're you doing?" She smiled, looking down to where you both were connected, your behind doing a nice little wiggle when she gripped your ass cheek.

"Feels good..." You muttered, her body lifting itself off your own sending a rush of cool air down your spine. You took a deep breath, her chest meeting your back in a quick return only in order for her to press little kisses where your tears had frozen on your face. Sinking into your skin. But the wet marks had stayed long enough for her lips to take them away.

"I gotta clean you up..." She said softly, backing up and massaging your hips knowing that neither of you were quite ready to be done just yet. "You wanna-" She watched you shake your head, turning around as best you could with a pout and furrowed eyebrows.

"But baby... you're all messy." You looked in the mirror at the strap that was still deep inside, your own cum dripping down and onto the bed. "Abby..." You huffed, watching unclip the toy and very slowly pull it from your hole.

"Use your words, Y/n." She set the toy aside, rolling you over onto your back. "Gotta know what you want." She already knew though.

She knew all too well.

"I... Abby I want you to clean me up..." She tilted her head, looking down between your legs. "Yeah? M'gonna need you to be more specific. You want me to get a rag-" "No."

She stared blankly for a moment, examining the way you slowly worked up the courage to ask. A simple question in her mind, an act that she performed all the time, all you had to do, was say it.

"With your mouth..." You mumbled, her eyebrows raising and head tilting in just the slightest. "What'd you say?" Your hands flew over your face to hide any flustered expression you might make, face burning though the blush invisible.

"C'mon, tell me baby..." Her hands lightly pulled yours back by your wrists, pecking your nose when you became visible once more.

"I want you to clean me up... with your mouth."

Abby hummed, kissing your cheek so hard that it squished your face and made you giggle, the girl then moving down to your neck. Then... you felt her tongue glide over your nipple, giving another sloppy kiss to your boob before her warm breath trailed lower and lower.

And then... she was there, hovering just above your little bud, staring into your eyes as her tongue finally slipped from her lips, kitten licking your clit. You jerked in response, a slight gasp leaving your mouth as your gaze flickered over to the mirror.

The floral sheets caressing your skin as you watched her lean in closer, though, her line of sight was focused on you.

"Look at me." She demanded delicately, barely squeezing the underneath of your leg. At the sound of her voice, your head bobbled over making her chuckle while her eyes busied themselves in finding each time your face scrunched in the slightest.

Abby liked when her mouth would wrap around your clit, just like it was now, and you'd make one of those higher pitched whines. Sometimes a sob would follow if you'd been pushed over the edge a little bit too far than usual, and she drank each one up.

"Abby-" She'd begun sucking on the little bundle of nerves, moving just down in the slightest to lick the mess of wetness she'd created. The sounds that came from it were unholy and you wondered how anyone could abstain from the act of sex.

"M-more please..." Your voice was soft, though scratchy and in a slight pain from choking back your noises. She didn't respond as she gathered your slick with her two fingers, pushing into your abused hole while listening to you gawk at the feeling.

"Feels s'good." You sounded like a choir of angels when you spoke, looking down at her with those eyes. Those eyes that just seemed to look right through her the moment you began to shudder at the fluttery feeling of your orgasm on it's way.

Her tongue flattened against your clit moving up and down fast before she'd pull back to give it a few tiny flicks. For a moment, this is all she did, going back and forth between the two motions while you struggled to keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. Heels digging roughly into the bed below you.

"M'getting close Ab-by-" She caressed your thigh, rubbing pretty circles into your soft skin with fingertips that felt quite the opposite. You focused on that feeling, along with the way she pulled her fingers from your hole to massage the area around it.

She was being something close to gentle, bringing you up before she'd bring you down, but you were still climbing. But you'd just kept grinding weakly into her face while following after your climax that was getting only closer and closer as the milliseconds ticked by.

"Abby-" She nodded her head, not pulling away as you finally tripped yourself over the edge. Crying out as you came against her mouth while pawing at her head, trying your best to push her away despite not wanting her to leave. Abby knew your body, though, well enough to know that if she pulled back now, you wouldn't forgive her.

"Abby! Please- please..." You whimpered, a tingly wave of pleasure coursing from top to bottom, breaths shallow until her tongue slowed.

You laid there for a moment, looking at her in the mirror while she pressed a few soft kisses to your pussy. Then again to your inner thigh before pulling back and meeting your eyes in the reflection.

"So... you like the bedframe?" She smiled when you giggled, nodding your head up and down while turning your head to face her. "Mhm." She allowed you to wrap your arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to you despite both your bodies being covered in a sheer layer of perspiration.

"Good..." She purred, kissing your lips and then your cheek, and then a few other places while listening to you laugh. "Sorry it was so much.." You muttered, messing with her baby hairs while staring with blown out pupils and a far away look.

"Worth it." She said, nipping at your nose and smiling when you squealed and turned your head while laughing.

Tagging: @cherriesxinthespring

[bloogers-boogers]

So I decided to put much more thought in this >> (previous)

And I finally came out with a story, I figured I probably written that it was Lilith who asked for a distraction but then I was like?? Meh. So I went for the idea of Eve abandoning Adam for 'freedom' aka (a better life Lucifer promised the humans to have).

When Eve abandoned Adam they had just had Cain. She didn't take Cain cause she knew the angels would go after her (them) and do everything in their power to get him back, and the fact that Adam refused to go with her just made her give up on trying, deciding to leave with Lilith and Lucifer. This of course hurt Adam, feeling absolutely betrayed.

So at this point the only one who is still in the garden is Adam, they tried tricking him into bitting the apple but he didn't fell into this apple idea like Eve did. He knew better he would NOT put his son at risk for the possibility of having 'more'. He was content with his life in the garden just like he was happy with his son.

However one dreadful night Eve snuck back in the garden behind Lucifer and Lilith's back, in a desperate attempt to have her family back she grabbed a apple and forced it into Adam's mouth while he was sleeping.

Adam began chocking, somehow Lucifer and Lilith had a bad feeling when they didn't find Eve laying next to them when they had woken up in the middle of the night. So they ran to the garden and when they arrive they find Adam chocking on the apple of knowledge as Eve held tight on a crying Cain not knowing what to do.

Lucifer in a panic flipped Adam to his stomach, hitting his back constantly making the man try to spit the piece out as he tried grasping for air in his lungs. He saves him.

And all of this incident lead them to be punishment, but considering neither of the women and Lucifer had bitten the apple they were forced to do labor instead, punishing them to live in the garden (they had been living outside the garden). However Adam was forced banishment for being tainted. Cain was initially put into trial on what to do with him, if to give him to the second woman or leave him to the first man. At the end, they decided for the baby to pick ("he is innocent in all of this we shall let him decide, it's the least we could do"). Being in his mother's arms he cried loudly as if he were being tortured and when he was held by his father the cries cease as he was put in slumber nuzzling his father. The answer was obvious.

Considering Adam was forced to eat the apple he was given supplies, food, shelter and to fend for himself and his son in the wild. This made things easier to bear life outside the garden, however Adam was resentful to his wives and Lucifer for what they did to him.

Two archangels now protected the tree of knowledge (Gabriel and Michael), so it made it difficult for the rest to grab the fruit. For a long period, probably a few months after that incident, Eve began missing Cain (she was resentful of Adam for taking him away) so she made a plan with Lucifer and Lilith to retrieve him back to the garden. (At this point the three wanted out, and were already planning to rebel themselves against heaven knowingly it could lead them to falling. But Eve refused to go without Cain).

So the plan involved in dividing themselves in a group of two. They picked Lucifer to do the hard part which was to sneak out of the garden and venture earth to find Adam, grab Cain and rush back to the garden before any angel notices Lucifer's absence. While Lilith and Eve try finding a way to distract the archangels that guarded the tree of knowledge and snatch a apple from the tree.

Everything went well when it came to Lucifer tracking down Adam and escaping Eden but it all went badly when he was caught snatching Cain and running with him in his arms from a pissed off (bear mode) Adam.

So yeah. That's all I got for now. Honestly I just like the idea of Adam telling Lucifer "tell Eve, she picked her choice and I was forced to do mine!"

Calling this au "ForcedApple" or "Father" i really dunno

[babypinkhearts]

forgive me, for i am far too weak to control my desires.

pairing: geto suguru + fem!reader

summary: thrones of splendor and magnificence await you. you are not equals, he believes. suguru is but a mere admirer.

warnings: royalty au, prince!suguru, princess!reader, fluff, fluff, fluff, they both have massive crushes on each other, suguru is so very lovely

word count: 2.5k

a/n: my birthday was this past week and writing this seriously felt like a mini present in itself :3 prince suguru supremacy!

a summer night is tainted with some hesitance. slight frustration, too.

morning feels far.

if you could see it — the light, any peek of sun, it’s down an endless corridor. maybe you can imagine it; hope that it comes somewhat quicker.

and yet prevalence is sickly, and you’re subjected to the dark.

gojo satoru’s land is stupidly big. the palace, even worse. you’ve told him more than once; he’d refute and say he could never imagine himself living somewhere ‘suffocating.’ but there’s too much space for a single person, and the enormous balcony connected to his mere bedroom is just the cherry on top. the absence of humbleness is apparent when you’re around him, he loses some sight. you can only slightly rationalize the size because of how often he’d have people over, all poor victims to his constant need for attention. satoru grows bored easily, and if you’d all let him, he’d take everyone’s belongings and move them into his home immediately. company keeps his world moving.

it’s the reasoning for the banquets — all ‘small’ get-togethers he’d frequently host, inviting those of neighboring kingdoms, as the ‘unpretentious and welcoming’ prince of his family. the gojo clan had respectable reputations, and you loved satoru like a brother, but they all seemed somewhat out-of-touch, no matter your own title as a fellow noble.

it’s around midnight, you think.

you can still hear the band playing. the bass of trumpets and soft melody of violins are almost distant, but you feel the tremors below your feet. it’d been a miracle that you’d momentarily escaped the ruckus, as well as fleeting royals’ hands. to turn down an offer to dance, in the vicinity of hundreds of hungry, watchful eyes — a horrid nightmare.

the noise is muffled from upstairs. every conversation, every obnoxiously loud laugh. surely, nothing can be that humorous.

satoru’s balcony has a nice view, especially at night. however, any verbal compliments have always been sealed tightly between your lips whenever you visit. his arrogance grows stronger day by day — you needed to stunt it for as long as possible. he’d become a bit of a liability, you hardly felt bad for sneaking off to his room for some privacy.

there’s a few clicks behind you when you lean just a little more into the railing.

you pray the footsteps are satoru’s, because the need for some sort of herbal tea is the most prevalent thought in your head, and you have no clue where to look for it. you know that the cabinets in the main kitchen run nearly bare if it’s anything but sugary sweets, and there’s some pool of doubt in you that believes satoru probably lacks anything remotely similar that can satisfy you. he doesn’t exactly seem like the tea type.

you’re a little overwhelmed. you craved to enjoy these banquets — you had imagined that after the fifth one, you’d be adjusted — but your attendance has always felt laborious, and the attention you receive has only grown alongside your age. your head hurts from bowing to lords and queens, the occasional knight and prince. formalities are a chore, a simple game to appear the most presentable.

the footsteps behind you halt. you hold yourself steady, and turn to your right slightly.

locks of black greet you in your peripheral vision. the smell of nice cologne follows right after.

“hate it that much?”

mellow and teasing, it’s suguru’s voice that brushes through. like gently plucking at the strings of a harp, quietly catching your attention. you give him a little glance — to make him feel noticed, and maybe to get a subtle and selfish look at his face. he looks comfortable, you think. at least, as comfortable as you could seem in form-fitted clothing. he looks good, more importantly, blending in nicely with the darkness.

an owl’s coo drives the night, melting like stardust and fading into the sky. it allures you, only draws you closer to the new warmth beside you.

“yes. badly.”

you hear his laugh — it’s the type that trickles with remnants of lasting drowsiness, just hinting at the state. every movement you’re able to peek and see from him is all quite slow, and it’s a mini battle to fight a slight upwards quirk in your lips. he’s tired, it’s obvious. maybe a little inebriated too.

you’ve never felt the need to lie to him. suguru is more like a breath of fresh air; someone genuine in a world of acting.

hesitantly, you turn towards him, meeting calming, honeyed eyes. he’s a little intimidating, even with some visible fatigue. suguru’s gaze has always been piercing, and you’re nearly positive that he’s aware. there’s a confident twinge, a sight of his effect being knowingly apparent. it’s a little annoying.

“you don’t happen to hate it too, your highness?”

when you speak, you break eye contact, far too mentally flustered to continue such embarrassing torture, no matter how addictive. you can feel him still watching you (perhaps, with a small, shameless smirk), and he slowly bows his head in a nod.

“yes. badly.”

it’s you who laughs this time.

you liked suguru. you liked him a lot. since the moment you’d been introduced to him, years ago at a winter’s ball (hosted by satoru’s family, of course). he and satoru were joined at the hip, far too inseparable to even consider letting anyone in between. but then came the addition of shoko, the daughter of one of satoru’s knights (who had later turned into his own), and then you, the daughter of his father’s new royal comrade from a neighboring kingdom.

the two of you don’t swim in riches like satoru. kingdoms separated from the gojo clan require more thoughtful spending — it’s uncommon, the priority your families hold for your citizens. you blame that for the reason why suguru is so easy to talk to, so tastefully levelheaded. he sees through unhealthy voraciousness, just like you.

but a kingdom doesn’t develop without some kind of offering. a trade-off, a contribution of sorts.

you’re shaken out of your thoughts, grimness dissipated, when suguru’s head motions to the opening behind the two of you, left bare and unattended.

you’re slightly surprised shoko isn’t guarding the exterior. but, then again, she’s most likely monitoring the banquet.

“i was growing tired of a bland talk i was having.” suguru explains, leaning ahead, similar to you. an arm stretches out across the railing, and he lets out a sigh. “fresh air sounded much better in comparison.”

there’s something in his voice that you can’t exactly pinpoint. not close to a lie, however not entirely truthful. you’re unable to read it on his face. but, in all honesty, it was hard to pay close attention to anything when he was staring so intently. his eyes might burn through.

transparency reads best. and yet suguru chooses to hide the fact that he’d seen you flee from the chaos of the banquet mid-conversation, and followed right after. the desperation for your attention seemed to had overridden his rationality, and possibly costed him a bit of his reputation. (he’s sure the woman he was talking to might have bored him to death, though).

“it’s suffocating in there.” you reply, shaking your head. “i’m not sure why satoru likes hosting these so much.”

a stamped envelope with a pretty wax engraving shows up outside your castle gates every other month. you hear the stallion of a messenger, and know by the purple hues of the letter that it’s an invitation from satoru. you’ve kept every single one, storing them in a carton box below your bed.

the banquets are phenomenal. you’re left speechless every time you walk inside the ballroom, eyes drinking up every detail from hand-painted flowers on the walls to rich crystal chandeliers. the event itself is an unsaid contest to see who could dress the best, who really screams of royalty.

suguru purses his lips, eyes trailing down below where he can see some guests leaving. servants follow suit. they carry items of negligence, holding on to a toddler’s hand as their parents carelessly cackle ahead.

he makes a motion, beckoning you to crouch from any observant eyes. two young royals sneaking off to a bedroom — it’d be the scandal of the century. his parents had warned him of publicity far too often. you follow his instructions without any complaints.

from the slivers in the space, you still have a good view of the front entrance. roses and topiary line the walkway, leading down a distant road.

a familiar figure steps out, hair slightly blending in with the bright lights behind him. he waves to the departing folk, a large grin adorning his face.

“he likes a crowd. the whole family does.”

satoru was made for royalty.

your shoulders slump in fatigued defeat. the dislike for such public conventions plagues your conscience. you’ll always be tied to them, even unwillingly.

suguru looks to you, fondness in his very gaze. he feels your worry; knows of conversations that you don’t. nothing has ever been fair for you, he’s known it since you were children.

thrones of splendor and magnificence await you. you are not equals, he believes. suguru is but a mere admirer.

he sees you know, grown and enchanting. with a dress that looks so indescribably perfect, and face so pleasantly captivating. you could be in a story book. surely, you aren’t real.

and maybe he is far too smitten, eyes always chasing yours whenever you’re in the same room. at every ball he goes to, every social gathering, he searches for your name on the guest list first.

he remembers when satoru introduced you to him. the all-knowing smirk on his face, the slight shove he had given (mischievous, because he could tell how flustered suguru had become). and yet suguru had kissed your hand ever-so-gently — even bowed in respect.

he keeps hope. that your soul of sun orbits around him for eternity, and that you’ll always be within reach.

there’s more foolish thought, though.

his eyes trail to your bare ring finger.

to wed you —

well, that would be an idea of strictly fiction.

“a duke from the fushiguro clan wanted to ask you to dance. i heard him talking to your father about it.”

suguru’s voice cuts through the silence, cursed words disguised as mystic melodies.

you wince.

it’s hidden through the curtain of your hair, and you’re sure he’s oblivious to it. some part of you wishes he had kept that information to himself.

a dance is all it takes. a dance, then a conversation, then an inescapable ring. marriage is for business, not love. nothing more than the chance to unite two lands — greed runs through royal blood. it all seems hereditary.

you rub your arms gently, and shut your eyes.

“did he?”

suguru raises his head, intrigued.

your voice sounds a little exasperated. breathing a large gust of air, almost in… disappointment.

suguru nods in response, swallowing thickly. you’re friends, you’ve spoken about subjects like this for years. suguru remembers your expressions of secret distaste you would flash to him whenever another royal would attempt to make conversation. you were good at faking interest — suguru thinks you’d be wonderful performing in a play. all maturity (forcefully) weighs you down, however. a means to accept adulthood; accepting a loss of those childish glances and joyful memories. you’re still the same, though.

but could it be, that because you’re older, the age close to a bride, that it all feels much different.

suguru feels a little sick, in fact.

he glances to you, watching as your perched head rests on your hand.

“would you have gone?”

a sound of amusement leaves your lips.

he’s a little cruel to ask for a response so conflicting. it’s all melodramatic, insignificant in the grand scheme of the things. but you know your duty. your heart just doesn’t seem to follow through.

your dress suddenly feels more uncomfortable, and you straighten a little.

“would you like my honest answer?”

you’d never find the courage to lie to him, anyway.

suguru smiles, tilting his head with a small chuckle. once more — you’re a lot less proper in private, always have been. where there’s no fear of gossip or judgement, just your authenticity. no expectations to uphold, just beauty in your natural grace. suguru is blessed.

“enlighten me, princess.”

the name, while being the correct title (something you’ve heard daily your entire life), sounds different when suguru says it. it always has. he’s a siren, you fear. those mystical beings you’ve only heard tales of, the kind that keep your sailors at shore. everything sounds better coming from his lips.

guilt tears you in two.

your best interest should be aimed towards your people — more opportunities, for the price of one measly sacrifice. an unhappy marriage, for many more happy lives.

and yet you say, without giving yourself any time to regret it,

“no.”

you look a little paranoid after you speak, as if guards with chains and pitchforks are just outside the door. but that fear feels minimal when suguru is looking at you, proudly.

some confidence overrides thoughts of ridicule. he’s the armor you desperately desire. quietly, you repeat, “no. i would have said no.”

your interests lie somewhere else. not with a duke who sees nothing further than mere appearance and riches.

weight is lifted.

suguru stares. it’s imminent, his voice. threatening an appearance whenever he swallows too quickly, preparing himself for words he feels are a little too heavy on his tongue. you’re not looking at him — he thanks the heavens that you’re turned away.

he’s unaccustomed to nervousness. you are really the only trigger to it.

he doesn’t dare glance in your direction when he finally speaks.

“would you have gone if i had asked?”

it catches you by surprise.

suguru is looking into the starry distance when you turn to him. he’s smiling a little.

he looks a prince. a real, beautiful prince.

you’d danced with suguru before, dozens and hundreds of times when academy lessons would force the eventual omission of two left feet. learning to waltz was one of the most important rules in the book — a presentation of grace, ‘civility.’ but that was before the simple gesture meant more to the public eye. citizens find such a display as an act of courting.

there’s something in suguru’s expression; sheepish, maybe a little troublesome. like he knows your answer, and only waits for you to confirm it.

you enjoy teasing him, though.

“perhaps.”

there’s a twinkle in his eyes. charm in his gaze is apparent.

the band plays lowly — they’re finishing their last few songs. stringed instruments strum their tune, and it’s delicate harmonies for intimate sways. slow dancing.

a beat goes by. it enhances the feeling of slight wind across your face, pushing back your hair, servicing suguru with a clear view of your reddened complexion.

the midnight moon reaches you, it casts an illuminating glow.

you’re very pretty when you’re looking at him so shyly. as if he’d deny you anything.

a smile reaches his features, eyes crinkling in pure delight.

“well, princess,”

and a single hand reaches towards you, open and inviting.

“will you honor me with a dance?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Price to Pay

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power dynamics, violence, blood, death, grief and trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: a robbery changes your entire life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 Siri's Birthday Bone-nanza! Happy Birthday. Enjoy. I've cooked you up some Mob AU+Andy Barber.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The flashing lights fade away with the squall of the siren. The smell of iron tinges the air and stains your every breath. You shudder as you stare through the tight squares between the bars across the windows.

That grating did little to deter the robber. No, he made you do it. You had no choice. 

You look down at your hands. Will the shaking ever stop? There’s blood crusted around your nails despite the frantic scrubbing in the bathroom. Once the officers took their evidence, you couldn’t stop trying to wash away the taint. 

The floor shows the crimson imprint of where the men fell. Where you went to hold him in the throes of death. The fate you fired into his chest. It was you or him. That’s what you told yourself. It’s what the police said too as they wrote out the report. Come down tomorrow and sign your statement, ma’am. 

Stan couldn’t be bothered to come down to the corner shop. He owns the place but is doesn’t mean he gives a shit. The officers waited for him to show but resigned themselves to following up later. 

He had a gun. You couldn’t do anything else but open the drawer and scoop out the bills. You weren’t going to do anything but hand over the money but then he fumbled and you did too. The scramble for the pistol under the counter slowed time. The pull of the trigger put it into overdrive. 

You can feel the recoil in your forearm. The rest of you is just as stiff. You can’t untie the tension left by the night’s deadly end. You killed that man. He's rolled him out under a sheet.

He bled out in your arms, even as you desperately tried to stem the flow with the dirty rag. Why did you shoot him? Over fifty bucks worth of change? 

Adrenaline. That’s what the cops told you. Stupidity is what you believe. This job isn’t worth all that. 

And you still have to finish your shift. You look away from the faded stain on the floor. He was so young. He just made a stupid decision and you took everything from him. He’s dead. You killed him. 

🚨

You stand outside the convenience store. Strange how it seems just the same as it was. The dingy moniker flaps at one corner as a tear rents the fabric.

Customers come and go as you stand on the curb. You’ve been standing there for an hour now, trying to make yourself go inside. You have to work. If you want to stay in the hell-hole you call a home, you need the stingy paycheck. 

You check the time. You’re not late yet. You only came early because you couldn’t stand to be alone in your apartment. Now that you’re here, you just want to go back. 

A bang jars you and you cry out, spinning to search for the source. A rusty old Chrysler chuffs out black smoke and rumbles loudly. Just a backfire. You knot your shaking hands together and search the block. 

“Heard something about a robbery,” a voice draws your attention towards another car. The model is too nice for a neighbourhood like this. A man leans against it, his hands in his pockets. “Young kid. They took him down to the morgue.” 

You squint at the man in confusion. His suit is finely tailored and his beard trimmed to a tee. He stands out among the sagging jeans and worn leather. You shake your head. 

“I heard...” you croak.  

“Sad. Stupid kid, huh? Stupid decision. All for a couple bucks.” He tuts and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, um, tragic. I...” you look over your shoulder. “I gotta work.” 

You turn away and march across the pavement. Something about the man’s cool demeanour sets you on edge. Or maybe it’s the reminder of the night before. Not that you could forget. 

You enter with the chirp of the bell and greet Mauricio as he plays solitaire on the counter top. Your sneakers squeak to a halt before you can step on the cracked tile with the red splotches. You stare down at the festering memory. 

“Tough night,” Mauricio says. “I never shot one, ya know? Always shoot past ‘em. Give ‘em a scare.” 

You tuck your chin down and step over the tile. Mauricio lets you in through the door and you sidle behind the counter. You put your purse in the cupboard by the cigarettes and sniff. You wring your hands and lean on the shelf as you wait for your shift to start. 

Mauricio shuffles the cards and packs them away. 

“You okay? Police were here earlier.” 

“They were?” You gulp. 

“Might be back. Think they just wanted some Coke,” he snickers and tosses the cards under the till. The gun is still gone, probably down in some evidence locker. “Stan is pissed about the pistol, ya know?” 

“Mm, I didn’t... didn’t mean to.” 

He sniffs as he pats his back pocket, making sure he has his wallet. “Sorry, senorita. It can’t be easy, wish I had some way to help but Stan isn’t gonna pay me nothin’ to stay and I got that gig down at Jethro’s.” 

“I’m fine.” The lie is less than convincing. 

“Told him, shouldn’t have you on nights.” He shakes his head as you move to let him past. 

“It’s work.” 

“Eh, it’s somethin’,” he scoffs and hands over the keys. “Whole thing was plastered in the paper and all over the internet. Should keep the bad ones away for a while. Place is hot now. No one wants to get their ass blown off over pocket change.” 

“Sure.” 

You clip the keys on your belt. You back up and cross our arms. You lean again as you wait for him to go. You can’t say what’s worse, being alone or talking about it. 

As Mauricio goes, a customer enters. She wants a pack of menthol and some scratchers. You ring her through as she snaps her gum between her teeth. The bell chimes with her exit and stutters as another enters. 

It’s the man in the nice suit. He stops at the newspaper rack and grabs an issue. He struts up to the counter and throws it down.  

“Just the paper?” You ask. 

He steps closer and opens the newsprint. The crinkle is deafening in the drone of the local radio station buzzing from the speaker above you. He taps the page. 

“Kid was eighteen.” 

You bite down and stare back at him. You don’t know what to say or do. Is he some sort of detective? His suit might suggest as much but he hasn’t flashed a badge. 

“It was a BB gun. Looked pretty real, didn’t it?” He spits. 

You wince and shrug. You trace your knuckles nervous as you look down at the paper. Your nose tingles, your eyes too. 

He backs up and heaves out a sigh. He glances around and strides up to the stained tile. He looks down at it emphatically. 

“Blood don’t come out easy. No matter how much you scrub or bleach. It’s like that Edgar Allan Poe story...” he raises his chin and closes his eyes, taking another deep. “Do you hear it? His heartbeat? Racing as the life drains out of him?” 

Your lip quivers and you shake your head. You flick away tears before they can fall, “I didn’t mean to.” 

His cheek twitches and he snorts. He turns to your stiffly. He comes back to the counter and you tense as he reaches under his jacket. You shudder and peek at the empty shelf beneath the till where the pistol should be. He slips out a photo and lays it down, his thumb lingering on the frame.  

You gasp. It’s that boy. He’s young and smiling. He doesn’t look scary like the night before. 

“You didn’t mean to kill my son? Over a bunch of piss-stained bills? You couldn’t tell the gun was a fucking toy?!” 

You cower and your eyes well. You rub them with your sleeves. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You fucking will be, sweetheart. Do you know who I am?” 

You stare and your mouth falls open. 

“His name was Jacob. Jacob Barber.” He swipes up the photo and snarls. “Any bells ringing?” 

You gape at him in horror. Barber. Yes, you’ve heard of him. He’s no detective. That suit is just a disguise. His business is deadly. His business is his ego. The personal is professional and you just stepped over the line. 

You brace yourself and drop your arms straight. You watch him, waiting. He looks back at you, agitation rippling above his brow. 

“Nothing else to say?” He sneers. 

“I deserve it.” 

He arches a brow, “deserve what?” 

“To die. So do it, please.” 

He laughs sardonically. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute.” He puts his hands on the counter and leans in. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m gonna do a lot fucking worse.” His eyes flick up and down and he pushes off. “You owe me and I always get what’s mine.” 

He twists on his heel and marches out. You gulp, frozen in fear, and watch after him. You don’t move until the next customer enters. Even then, you can hardly make your body listen to your fractured mind. 

🚨

There is no coming back. Thing’s don’t get better. You don’t calm down. You don’t sleep. You barely eat.  

All you can think about is the blood gushing from that boy’s chest. When you manage to close your eyes, you feel the hot stream flowing through your fingers. You smell it in the air. Beneath it all, you hear his father’s threat. 

‘You owe me...’ 

How can you repay that sort of debt? You killed his child. You didn’t have to. You could have handed over the money and told Stan the kid had a gun pointed right at you. Why did you do it? That question is as torturous as the memory. 

A week goes by. Ragged nights followed by desolate days. You stand behind that counter and stand at the reddened tile, or sit at home and rot. You wait for him to come back. Maybe then he’ll just end it. 

Another week of purgatory and your dissociation gives way to paranoia. Every time the shop door opens, you expect to see him. Barber and his tailored-jacket, a gun in his hand, ready to claim what’s owed. Every stranger on the street is just him in disguise, every shadow in your apartment is him haunting you. 

When he does appear, a month to the day, you’re almost relieved. There he is at your apartment door, stood as he was the first time you saw him. Arms crossed, leaning, looming. You stop and stare at him.  

He looks you in the eye and nods at the door. You unlock it and let him in. He isn’t in a suit this time. He’s dressed down, a hoodie and jeans. He doesn’t seem the type for denim. He struts inside and you close the door behind him. 

The air is static as he examines the bachelor suite. Your whole life in a single room. He is unimpressed as he stops by the table. Stan lets you take the old papers. You’ve brought home every single issue with a mention of the boy; Jacob. You don’t know why. 

His blue eyes are darkened in the gloom of your apartment. His beard is thick across his cheeks and defines his square jaw. His features are stony in determination. 

He pushes them to the floor and huffs. He stalks around the space as you stand by the door. You imagine him spinning to you, pulling a gun from under his sweater and firing. You could smile at the thought of it ending. 

He stops at the foot of your bed. The lumpy mattress sits on a metal frame. Beige sheets are pulled to the corners, a plaid comforter strewn carelessly below a single pillow. A used double you got from the thrift shop with your first pay. It smells like cigarettes. 

You stare at his broad shoulders as he runs his hand up his front. His zipper slices through the silence as he pulls it down. He shrugs off the hoodie and spins on his heel. He slings it over the only chair, right beside the table. He looks up at you, eyes blazing. 

“Strip.” 

His demand shakes you. It’s the first you’ve felt anything but horrible grief and self-pity. You’re afraid. You weren’t before. Just anxious. 

“Don’t say a fucking word,” he snarls as he tugs at his long-sleeved tee. 

You untie your sneakers and leave them by the door. You cross the room, staying far from him as you take in every inch. The apartment feels even smaller now.  

You unzip your jacket and fold it over the side of the plastic hamper in the corner. You pull of your socks and drop them into the depth of unwashed clothes. You undo your fly, your hands clumsy and shaking. The rustle behind you adds to the speckle of ember under your skin. 

You push your jeans down and step out of them. You throw them into the basket and peek over your shoulder. He stands at the foot of the bed once more. His hands are on his hips as he glares at the mattress. He wears only a pair of dark briefs. 

His intent isn’t hard to fathom. It’s not about the act itself, it’s the power, the humiliation. You ruined his life; he’ll do the same. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” he barks. 

You pull your shirt off and fumble with the back of your bra. You can barely get a grip as you quake. You push down your underwear and hang your head. You turn and march forward. He shoves down the elastic of his briefs at your approach. 

He’s a big man. Tall, muscular, stronger than you, without a doubt. Even if he wasn’t, he has all the power to keep you in line. 

“I don’t want to see your fucking face. Get on your stomach.” He commands as he peels off his last layer. 

You put your hands on the mattress and crawl over it. You cry out as he strikes you across your ass and sends you flat. You brace yourself on your elbows and whimper. He grabs your ankles and drags you down the bed.  

He hauls your legs over the edge so your feet are on the floor. He growls and scratches up the back of your thigh. You whine and he swats the back of your head. 

“Quiet,” he warns. 

He leans over you and plants his hands on either side of you. You stare up at the pillow, focusing on it as you desperately search for the numbness of those last weeks. It’s all gone now. You feel everything. The sting of flesh, the futility, the horror. 

He lifts a hand, the bed shifting with him, and traces along your spine. He dips along your ass and kicks your legs wider. He feels between your thighs and jams his fingers against your folds. He’s impatient and cruel. He rams two fingers into you and you squeak, spine arching as you grasp the linen comforter. 

He hushes you as he pushes deep. His knuckles press against you and he draws back. He jerks his hand gruffly, fucking your dry cunt raw. You hold your breath as he plumes out around you. Each intrusion is dull and achy. 

He tears free of your cunt and angles over you. He guides his tip along the swell of your ass and presses to your entrance. There is no time to be ready for him. 

You cry out and throw your head up. It’s like a red-hot iron inside of you, burning from inside out. He snarls and hooks his arm around you, smothering your mouth in his hand. You smell yourself on his fingers as the press against your nose. 

He snaps his hips and buries himself in you. You kick the floor and slap the mattress. Your muscles tighten and your bones thrum. He pushes his nose into your hair and ruts again. You squeal into his palm as your eyes bead with tears. 

He’s methodical. He pumps into you. Long, slow strokes so you feel every inch. He’s taunting you. He’s punishing you. His hot breath wraps around your scalp as he puffs. 

He bends his other arm, elbow digging into the limp mattress, and stretches his fingers around your throat.  He collapses onto you, crushing you beneath him as he squeezes your neck and jaw. He has you trapped in his grip. 

His pace quickens with his breath. He grunts and growls against your temple as the bed frame whines with his rhythm. His flesh slaps between the squeaky tempo and your pathetic mewling stays cupped behind his rough hand. 

He pounds you into the mattress, each dip of his hips heavier than the last. Every ounce of emotion; anger, grief, resent, hatred, is hammered into your helpless body. 

He puts his teeth around the brim of your ear and pinches. He growls and you feel the rumble roll through him. His thrusts turn snappy, punctuated by the bite of your flesh. Harder, harder, harder. He spasms but doesn’t let up. 

He untangles his arms from under you and pins your shoulders. He fucks his cum into you as he lifts himself up. His weight threatens to pop your bones out of joint. He pushes his thighs against yours, splaying you as far as he can. 

His furious onslaught doesn’t let up until your thighs and cunt are painted in him. Until your breathless and babbling, head lolling, defeated as he leaves you smeared across the blankets. He burrows in as deep as he can before he pulls out. 

He pushes off the bed, jarring the world around you, and his shadow hangs over you. He inhales and lets it out slowly. 

“My son. My only child,” he grits out. He bends and feels along your cunt, spreading the slimy mess leaking from your cunt. “You owe me and I will get exactly what you took from me.”