#and they never took it to the dancefloor

[brbarou]

yeah i loved the fitzloved dance scene. that we totally got

[infernal-general]

ღ Valentino~

@cold-inferno

Attraction meme

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme | confidential.

Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Romantic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Sexual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Aesthetic attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

Sensual attraction: none | very low | low | medium | high | very high | extreme

[thepinkmermaidprincess]

you ask rafe girly questions from a girl magazine ♡

“this shit so stupid”,rafe said shaking his head.

“please baby,makes me happy”,you giggled as you sat on your knees in your fluffy pink bed.

rafe was settled against the headboard of your bed with his arm crossed and the cutest frown ever on his face.

“’kay ‘kay,go on dollie”

“ ‘kay….so question one : your bff is crying over a boy! you : a) taker her on a shopping spree,duh! b)offer to kill him c) get her fave ice cream & prepare to listen.”

you raise your head towards him waiting for his answer.

“you’re my best friend,why the fuck would you cry over a boy that ain’t me?”

“rafey,please!!!!!! answer seriously.”

“ i’ll kill him”

“ so answer b !” ( your face’s like 😊) you took your pink heart fluffy pen before writing his answer down on your notebook.

“ ‘kay, question two : there’s a huge party and you’re invited! you can’t wait to : a)shake it on the dancefloor b) coordinate stylish looks c)catch up with friends.”

“smoke with you on my lap.”

“huh….that wasn’t in the proposition...”

“b…i like when you match your lingerie color with my shit”

“oh rafey….you’re so cute”,you said getting on all fours to kiss him sweetly on the mouth.

he tried to deepen the kiss but huh huh…

“no no no,grumpy guy,there’s six questions left…sit down,look pretty and answer me”

“yes ma’am.” (🦋🦋)

“question three: pick a stylin’ way to complete an outfit-”

“why d’you talk with a british accent ?”

“shushhh….a) chanel necklace b) demonia boots or c) leg warmers.”

“the chanel one.”

“yay!!!! we matching”´you said touching the pink chanel necklace around your neck,rafe got it for you on your birthday last year.

“question four : your friends love you ’cause you : a) make them laugh b) aren’t afraid to be yourself c) are caring.”

“the second one. why the fuck would i be afraid to be m’self ?”

“exactly,you’re awesome!”

“awesome?okay kid.”

“whateverrrrr…question five : you’re most likely to : a)take a spontaneous trip to europe b)love horror movies c)volunteer at an animal shelter.”

“a…by the ‘way didn’t you say to sarah you wanted to go to italy ?”

“yes!!!!my dream”

“’kay…pack your shit for monday ‘kay ?”

you started screaming and jumping on your bed before jumping down on rafe’s lap.

“love you love you love you love you”,you started kissing his neck.

“mhm mhm….c’mon baby…there’s three questions left.”

“oh yeah…’forgot all about that…so question six : on valentines,you hope to receive from your partner : a) sephora giftcard b) a signed CD by your fave band c) a plushie & chocolates” , you giggled as took your magazine,your notebook and your pink pen. you knew rafe was never going to admit it but he liked answering your little questions ♡

“sex.”

“a plushie & chocolates!!!! such a good choice baby.”

“TGIF!how do you spend the weekend? a)hit up the city with your girls b) work on your project c)binge ghibli movies.”

“work on shit and listen to you whining that i don’t give you enough attention.”

“blah blah blah…last question : pick a perfect job : a) travel blogger b) fashion designer c) owner of a cozy cafe ”

“ceo.”

“baby..’still not in the propositions….”

“the cafe shit.”

“ ‘kay”

you reread all of his answers before checking in which girly universe does rafe belong in.

“you had 1 a) , 4 b) and 2 c) which means that you belong in monster high and bratz world!yay! so they say «creative is your best talent! you aren’t afraid to be yourself & stand out from the crowd. this makes your fashion-forward and ahead of your time! likely has great music taste» ”

“ ‘f course i’m ahead of my ‘time doll, i’m «awesome»”

“i agree with the quiz b’cause you’re such a brat”

“oh i’m a brat ? huh?…..get on your back i’ll show you how bratty i can be,kid”

hope u loved it ♡ English is not my first language so i apologize for any mistakes <3

based on the magazine by @d3monicas ♡ 🌸

(just a girly song i thought would maybe play in reader’s room)

[kentopedia]

♰ his parliament's on fire — dazai osamu

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 1 - nightclub owner!dazai

every man in yokohama has a long list of crimes they’d commit to be with you, but none quite as long as dazai’s.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, port mafia boss!dazai, port mafia member!reader, bsd typical blood / violence, unprotected sex, established relationship, takes place before doa, dazai & reader are a lil unhinged bc they're in love, praise, soft dazai, riding dazai, sub reader, v slight breeding kink oops — 10.1k

The music shook your chest as you watched people head to the front of the club for a dance, a combination of those that were regulars, and those who were just desperate to blow their money on an evening in one of the finest night clubs in the country.

It had grown hot in the club, even for an autumn evening in Yokohoma. There were more people filling the tables than usual, standing only to swing their partners around on the dancefloor. A woman sung sultrily to the crowd, a song that you hadn’t heard in ages. Even for a Saturday, it was crowded, the capacity met, and then surpassed, packed to the brim as a group of foreign billionaires weaseled their way in by paying twice the entry fee.

You swirled your glass, sitting alone at the bar with your legs crossed, the tight, red dress rising up on your thighs. Beside you, a man was puffing a cigar, blowing the smoke back in your face so frequently that it took all your effort not to cough. Still, he paid you little attention, too enraptured by a skinny young woman that giggled every time he touched her arm.

A few more individuals made their way to the dancefloor, tracking unaccompanied dancers like prey, hopeful that they could score a partner for the evening. It was amusing, really, how often you’d seen some of the same men come back. They’d throw stacks of money on the table in a desperation to acquaint themselves with beautiful, upper-class women, even if they’d go home unhappy and broke.

Ice clinked against the sides of your glass as the last drop disappeared down your throat, warming you up for the rest of the evening. Already, you had caught the glimpse of several men in the club. But those who knew who you were knew to keep their distance, and they never tried to sneak more than a subtle glance in your direction.

Those who didn’t usually noticed nothing but your striking beauty and the allure of darkness that seemed to follow you. They were drawn to you easily, smiling at you like they were entitled to gawk at your appearance, like it would be criminal for anyone so beautiful to shield herself away from the world.

Rarely did that ever end well for them.

You handed your empty glass off to the bartender—a dear friend that you’d convinced to work for you at the club—and made your way over to the dance floor. The crowd parted for you with quick glances and slackened jaws, stumbling on their own feet to get out of your way. Once you passed, the world seemed to resume itself. Everyone continued about their business, averted their gaze, even if they were careful not to get too close to you.

Something about that made you smile.

For a while, you danced on your own, grinning carelessly to yourself as you twisted your hips, unbound yourself to the music and the alcohol that ran through your veins. It was a different kind of freedom, and though you’d once been wary of the watchful eyes, they no longer bothered you. You loved losing yourself in the rhythm, loved feeling transported to another realm.

The setlist for the evening included a few of your favorites, and you carried on until there was sweat on your forehead, a single bead trickling down your temple, one that you hastily wiped off. Breaths came to you more stiflingly, heaving inhales and exhales that paired with your thirst.

Finally, the tempo of the music slowed, just enough to snap you back into the present, and the energy zapped out of you as your mood darkened. The time of the evening had passed when you realized that it was no longer fun to dance alone.

You sighed, and with a frown, let your gaze trail across the room to find the cool brown eyes that you loved more than the music you spun in circles to. But Dazai was already in a conversation with someone else, tapping slender fingers against his glass full of amber liquid. He listened intently to a conversation between two men twice his age.

Beside him, Chuuya stood at the edge of the table like a loyal bloodhound, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall. You caught his eye instead and smiled to him, though not a single muscle in his face twitched. It seemed as though he was intent on keeping up the charade for the evening.

As much as you wanted to smile even more sweetly and taunt him mercilessly, you didn’t let yourself get too distracted. Instead, you refocused your sights on your other goal.

The stocky, tall man was right where Dazai said he’d be, sitting with a couple woman and a few empty glasses in front of him. He had a neatly trimmed, graying beard, sporting a watch that was, at least, a couple million yen.

You caught him watching you over the edge of the table, his smile slow as you bat your eyelashes at him, sauntering past him with a perfectly coy expression. Eyes lingered on the curves of your hips; the smooth skin of your legs revealed by the dress. The lust came in near waves off of him, thick and heavy as they reached you.

It made your job easier, the obvious attraction that they never tried to hide from you. You smiled to yourself, and felt a sense of satisfaction, despite his disgraceful leering.

The seats at the bar had been filled up when you returned, leaving no room for you and your new companion to retreat.

A younger regular, one with an overabundance of nerves and an awkward smile, spoke in hushed whispers to his friend, one that was dressed in a suit far too cheap to be in this club.

You tapped him on the shoulder, smiling at him in the way that had everyone bending over backwards for you. “Excuse me?”

He looked over, irritated for a fleeting second before realizing who it was that had approached him. Immediately, he was to his feet, stammering over a greeting while his friend gawked at him with incredulity.

“Sorry to bother you,” you said, softening your voice. “I was wondering if I could have those seats. I hate to—”

“No, no,” he said, practically shoving the other man away, pushing him out of the chair while he sputtered confused nonsense. “Take them! We’ll be out of your hair.”

You thanked them before placing yourself neatly back onto the stool you’d occupied before. It was far too easy.

The bartender sent you a knowing look, all too familiar with your games, before going back to mixing a drink.

Moments later, you felt the presence of another behind you, an overwhelming smell of tobacco and pine assaulting your senses. He was taller up close, taller than Dazai, at least, and older than you’d originally thought. Deep wrinkles weathered his skin, his eyes, and though there was still a hint of black in his dark hair, it was slowly being overtaken by the signs of a life that was twice as long as yours.

“Pretty dress.” That was the first thing he said to you, letting his eyes wander over your chest, lips curling into an ugly smirk. “It suits you nicely.”

You wouldn’t be won over so easily, so you merely smiled at him, nodding in thanks. Though, that had him coming on twice as strong, as if the simple eye contact that you’d made earlier had been a full invitation to fuck you. He took the seat next to you, signaling the bartender over.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said, and though it was a kind proposition, it always made you laugh. You received a million free drinks from strangers here.

Still, you shrugged and let him, unsurprised that he knew what you’d been drinking earlier. It was a clear sign that he’d been watching you since before you even got up to dance.

“What’s your name?” 

“Should I give it away that easily?” Your voice was silky in your response, unimpressed, but luring him in, nonetheless.

He laughed, and offered you his own instead, Tanaka, as if you didn’t already know it. You’d been planning on springing him into this trap since the moment he’d arrived that evening. It was a target and a plan that had been set in motion for days.

His grin was uncomfortable, but he thought so highly of the way his lips curled, seemingly luring you in.

In reality, you weren’t sure how any woman could stand to get down on her knees for that.

Half an hour passed as you talked with him, preening under his endless string of compliments, wishing that you could string him on for a little bit longer. You enjoyed the words well enough, just another thing to stroke your ego, but the minute he moved closer, you inched away, placing distance between you before he could touch you.

It was obvious it frustrated him, but one look at the flash in his irises had you knowing that he enjoyed the chase.

He droned on, careless conversation about hobbies you didn’t want to understand, and though you smiled, pretending to be interested, your focus drifted to the table where Dazai sat.

His conversation had shifted to Chuuya, the two other men from earlier gone. It seemed strained between them, sharp words spoken as they glared at one another, visibly at odds about something.

Despite the clear dispute, anger cleared away from their expressions within seconds, Chuuya straightening like a board beside his boss once again.

Dazai looked up; it was less than a second that your eyes met, but your knees had weakened, heart stuttering in your chest as it skipped a pulse.

A soft exhale left you, and you longed for Dazai, craved the feeling of his strong palm on your skin, the kiss of his lips on your neck. You had half a mind to say fuck the mission and walk right over to the table and plant yourself on his lap.

It would certainly cause a scene, especially when there were so many new customers there who knew about Dazai but didn’t know about you.

Still, you knew Dazai wouldn’t object. He’d merely smile into your hair and curl his hand around your hip, continuing on with his conversation like nothing was out of the ordinary.

You looked away. If you were to make it through the rest of the night, you couldn’t get distracted by the beautiful man just feet away from you. “Sorry,” you said, turning back to Tanaka. “What were you saying?”

His interest in conversation had already waned, and he faced Dazai, displeased by the uptick of fascination within your expression. “Found someone more interesting already?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you pressed your palms into your thighs. You may have longed for Dazai, been so desperate that you couldn’t spare him another glimpse, but you could still play this role well. There couldn’t be another slip, every move had to be precise.

“I’m just curious,” you said, puckering your lips in a pout. “He looks important.”

Tanaka took a sip of his drink as you spoke, nearly spitting it back out when your sentence concluded. His eyes were hard, narrowing at the sight of Dazai just meters away, surrounded by a security of sorts, “You don’t know him?” He coughed.

You frowned, tilting your head. “Should I?”

“That’s Dazai Osamu. He owns this place.”

There was room for a theatrical pause. You took that moment to pretend to think. “Oh, of course. What a silly question,” you said, humming, and set your chin down on your hand to glance back over at the table of Port Mafia personnel. “I hear he owns a lot of things.” You tilted your head, gauging the man with siren eyes. “Is that true?”

Tanaka huffed, but he didn’t deny it, looking down at his two-million-yen watch like it was nothing more than a trinket. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t worry about him.” He seemed irritated, though he didn’t let it show, his voice the only indicator that you had upset him. “But I can tell you it sure gets hard to run a business in Yokohama when the Port Mafia owns half the city.”

You widened your eyes, leaning forward. “You’re telling me the Port Mafia owns this place?”

Tanaka laughed, loud and haughty, looking at you like you were just a poor idiot from the countryside, even if the dress you wore cost just as much as his entire suit put together. “Oh, hon, if only you knew.”

The condescending tone sent a screech through your entire body, momentarily halting any proper responses in your current act. But he was unfazed, already moving onto the next topic of conversation, telling you all about the business dealings that you’d known about from the long list of jobs within his file.

There was, truly, nothing about him that you hadn’t already dug up. It was boring you immensely, but you smiled on, nodding enthusiastically as he spun the most lackluster story you’d ever heard.

Dazai, across the room, stared at you as you conversed, clenching his jaw at the way the man eyed you, the gaze that scoured your body like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

Oh, he would certainly enjoy tearing him apart later, even if he would be too easy of a case to break.  

“When are we leaving?”

Chuuya’s voice snapped him out of his onlooking, and Dazai leaned back in the chair, shedding the tension in his shoulders to resume a comfortable position.

“Not until they’re both in the car and I can confirm with Tachihara and Gin that she’s safe,” Dazai said, crossing his arms over the table. He couldn’t forget that there were others around him, those who would never say a word to him, but knew who he was, knew what he stood for. Even here, he couldn’t let his guard down.

“Safe?” Chuuya laughed, though it was without any humor. His irises flashed dangerously, steely grey darkening into a deep silver. “You trust that idiot not to lay a hand on her? He’s undressing her with his eyes.”

Chuuya seemed intent on irritating him that evening, as usual.

“I don’t trust anyone who comes here.” Dazai scowled. “Don’t be a fool.”

A moment of silence lapsed between them, and Dazai became sickened by the way the man was eyeing you. Though you took it all in stride, leaning just far enough away so his knee didn’t graze yours, and his palm didn’t brush against your own, it still lit a fire deep within him.

It was all the better, he supposed, to feel such deep hatred for his enemies. It made it easier to tear them apart without any guilt. 

“How long are you going to make her do this, huh?” Chuuya spoke up once more from beside him, his voice nothing more than a grumble as he whispered down to Dazai. “This charade you two are carrying on has lasted long enough. I mean, you’re whoring out your wife for fuck’s sake—”

Dazai reacted without a thought, despite not wanting to take his eyes off of you for even a second. He gritted his teeth and turned on Chuuya, his hand gripping the gun in his pocket, finger tight on the trigger. Enough of a warning for him to know how sincerely the simple comment irritated him.

“Don’t ever insinuate that I don’t love my wife, Chuuya, or it’ll be the last thing you ever say.” Dazai spat the words out carefully, just under his breath, holding Chuuya’s piercing gaze without blinking. “You may be a valuable asset to the Port Mafia, but I will not listen to your opinions on matters that don’t concern you.”

Chuuya stared, setting his jaw before turning away once more. The two of them looked back to where you were smiling, leading the other man out of the room, though still not touching, placing a respectable distance between you.

“I’m just surprised, Dazai.” Chuuya leaned back, crossing his arms as he titled his head, watching your figure fade into the shadows. “You love her so fiercely, and yet, you watch as this carries on time and time again. I don’t understand.”

Dazai stood from the booth, tucking the gun back into his waistbad, under his coat. He straightened his shoulders, inhaling deeply. “I think you’re underestimating her if you truly believe she doesn’t have a handle on the situation.” His hands slipped into his pockets as Chuuya followed, grumbling from just a few feet away. “Besides, I’ve never forced her into anything. It was her idea in the first place.”

“Why?”

Dazai sighed, though it was almost wistful, the mere thought of you enough to turn him into a lovesick fool. “Perhaps it is because there are many men that seem to think they can crawl into her bed so easily, and she enjoys their humiliation when they realize that they are so far beneath her.” Dazai shrugged, and smiled lightheartedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Perhaps, she just wants to make everyone’s lives a little easier, including yours. You should thank her sometime.”

Tanaka sat beside you in the car, his hand lingering in the leather seat between his thigh and your own. Night had fallen deep across the city, the sky a navy through the haze of streetlights. Though it was nearing one o’clock in the morning, there were crowds of people out and about, lines at all of the much more affordable clubs in the area.

It hadn’t taken much to get him to come with you. You’d batted your eyelashes, smiled at him from under them, and told him you had a car waiting out back.

That was enough. When you’d pulled yourself down from the barstool, he’d followed after you, eyes blown wide as you’d begun leading him out of the room.

All it took was a dress that hugged your curves and a small grin, and he was in the car with a man that worked for you, heading to a building that your husband owned.

“Do you live far?” Tanaka asked, itching to put his hands on you, even though you’d convinced him to hold off until you got back to your room.

You placed your chin on the inside of your palm, glancing out the window at your own reflection. “Not too far.” You turned back to him, offering him a shy smile. “Why? Are you getting impatient?”

He grinned wolfishly. Your stomach churned anxiously at the sight of it, even when he was no match for you, nor all the other, powerful individuals that surrounded you. “I don’t think I need to answer that.”

Through the rearview mirror, Tachihara met your eyes, and they softened, just barely, silently showing his support from the front of the vehicle.

It was, in a way, a relief. You relaxed, regained a sense of composure, and let your ruby red lips spread over your teeth, cocking your head as Tanaka indulged himself in whatever fantasy was milling about in his mind. His eyes were cruel, though the darkness in them was nothing compared to what you were used to.

Idly, he made comments in your ear of all the things he wanted to do to you, his unpleasant breath tickling the skin there as you tried your best not to recoil. The smell of him was growing heavy in the car, overwhelming and nauseating. You sat even more stiffly, pressing Tanaka away with a palm to his chest as you giggled to yourself, pretending to enjoy his vulgar words.

Tachihara pulled the car around to the back of the building, letting the two of you out as he put it into park.

Any fool should’ve known where they were, what the dark building in the middle of the city stood for, but Tanaka was all too focused on you, intoxicated and inattentive. The mafia headquarters loomed overhead, dark, and unassuming, a triad of buildings stacked perfectly against one another.

“Thank you,” you said to Tachihara, winking at him as Tanaka turned his back, too disoriented to take in anything but the sight of you right before him.

The car drove away, then, and you were left to guide your guest into the building, towards the room that you had already planned to meet Dazai in. When you reached the elevator, Gin was waiting for you, dressed in female attire, this time, charading as a worker instead of the trained assassin that she truly was.

“Impressive building,” Tanaka said, as if not noticing all the obvious signs of the mafia base. “You must come from quite a wealthy family.”

You smiled at him over your shoulder, curious as to why he didn’t assume you’d come into the riches on your own. “I suppose you could say that.”

Gin opened the elevator, then began typing a message to her boss, alerting him of your arrival. Tachihara had taken the longest route back, giving Dazai just enough time to arrive home before you.

“Are you a renter?” he asked, staring as the numbers on the elevator increased, climbed higher while you went towards a floor that was only two below the penthouse.

“We own it.”

Tanaka turned towards you, eyes wide with surprise, perplexed even further by the alcohol running through his veins. “You didn’t say—”

Abruptly, he cut himself off. Whatever comment he was about to make was overshadowed by the fact that he’d met you at the Port Mafia’s night club. That was certainly no place for anyone that didn’t have a million yen to spare in their pockets.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and you relaxed at the sight of the familiar hall, the carpet that had recently been replaced, the paintings that you’d personally added, ones that had been purchased at an auction. There were traces of you everywhere, and though it belonged to many members of the mafia, it was, inherently, your home.

You grabbed Tanaka’s hand, realizing just how cold it was, wrinkled with calluses and dirtied nails. It took everything in you not to grimace as you pulled him towards the fourth door on the right, the one that had been used for every interrogation over the past two years.

It had become something of a holding cell for the mafia’s enemies, and most didn’t remain here long. You doubted that this man would be of any exception.

Tugging him along, you increased your speed, an invisible string guiding you right back to Dazai. He was your fiery beacon, and though you were still separated by walls, your heart thumped at being so near to him.

“Eager, are we?” Tanaka asked, and when he grinned in the lights, you realized how slimy it was, a hunger dripping off the edges of his yellowed teeth.

You smiled right back, but it was forceful, painful as it etched its way onto your cheeks. An itch started in the cracks of your palm, willing you to snatch it out of Tanaka’s hand and scrub it clean. Still, you held on, remembering that this was for the Port Mafia, this was for Dazai and everything you’d worked for over the years.Your determination increased tenfold. “It’s just around the corner.”

Finally, you reached the room where you knew Dazai would be waiting, and just like every other time you’d done this, every time you’d brought another willing victim into a den of wolves, you could finally relax.

You entered the room, not bothering to flip on any of the light switches. There was furniture, but it was dusty, bloody, and it would make it far too obvious that you were not leading Tanaka back to your bedroom. You didn’t want him turning tail too quickly, running when he discovered you had no intention of rolling around in the sheets with him.

He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, advancing on you like a hunter. It would’ve been threatening, intimidating perhaps, if you had not been able to sense Dazai on the other side of the wall. You knew that whatever control Tanaka thought he had on the situation had quickly evaporated, and it was only a false blanket of security that he’d wrapped himself up in.

“Can I get you anything? Maybe a drink?” you asked, stopping Tanaka with a flat palm to his chest, not allowing him to come any closer. “The alcohol in me is starting to wear off.”

He ignored your wishes entirely, upon you once more. One larger hand ripped yours from his chest, pulling you just another inch closer. “I’ve had enough tonight,” Tanaka said, teeth flashing in the dim starlight. “I’m dying to fuck you.”

You frowned, eyebrows wrinkling. “Well, I’d like a drink first.”

“I’m not in the mood.” He yanked on your hand again, and this time, you knew he’d kiss you, knew he’d plant the cracking pale lips of his own on yours. The thought of it made you ill.

Without thinking, you slung a fist across his face, a crunch sounding from his nose at the force of your hit. Blood trickled from one nostril, flowing in a fast stream over his lips, into his teeth.

He bent over, and you stood, straighter, staring over him as he cursed. The punch had been much more forceful than you’d intended.

“What the fuck.” He was angrier than before, and though his pain was immense, it did little to dissuade him. You kept your face hard, inching backwards as he stood tall, so much bigger than you’d remembered. It wouldn’t take much for him to lift you, throw you onto any surface he wanted.

You’d use your ability if you had to, kill the man if it was necessary, but that would mean the entire plan had gone to waste.

“You bitch—”

Without letting any fear cloud your face, you took a step back and bumped into something solid and warm. A cologne more familiar than Tanaka’s enveloped you in a safety net. 

The older man made it one step further, aggressively, before every ounce of determination waned from his eyes. He staggered, tripping over himself and stared back at the man that had slowly come up behind you. The one that was brushing soft fingertips between your shoulder blades, his steady breath tickling the crown of your head.

Dazai smiled, in a way that was so menacing that your heart thumped twice in its chest before resuming its natural melody. Tanaka took a step back, scrambling away, nearly tripping over himself in the process, eyes dilated in fear.

“You,” he breathed. “Dazai—” Tanaka didn’t finish his sentence, too stunned as he stared between the two of you. “What’s going on?”

Dazai stepped forward, letting his hands fall away from you as he cornered the newest addition to his long list of enemies. Already, you missed the warmth of Dazai’s touch, the security that came with his proximity.

Tanaka cowered before him, suddenly so small, weak under the breadth of Dazai’s power. A sense of twisted satisfaction curled within you, lightning up every pore under your cold skin.

“I believe you owe my wife an apology,” Dazai said, and his tone was even, hard, not a hint of amusement laced within the words. Tanaka’s eyes darted to you, where you stood with your arms loose at your sides, eyes softer, every inch of you more delicate now that Dazai was in the room. 

“Wife—” The word tumbled from his mouth before he could stop it, hesitant. “You said you didn’t know him. You asked me questions about him.”

You slid the ring back onto your finger, the one that you’d kept tucked away in the pocket of your bag. It glimmered in the beams of the moon, the diamond and rubies sparkling. “I can lie just as easily as a man can.” Crossing your arms, you sighed, and stared at Dazai’s taut back, the strained muscles in his shoulders as he stood over Tanaka. “You’re all so stupid sometimes. It only takes a simple question, and you never ask it. Anyone in that club could’ve told you who I am.”

He balked, considering his own ignorance, and followed your eyes back to Dazai, who had gone just a few steps behind you, to the small storage of top-shelf alcohol that you kept locked up in the room. “What is this about?” he asked, shaking his head to clear away his distress. “You’ve obviously brought me here for a reason. What is it?”

“I find it funny that you think you’re the one in control of the situation,” Dazai said, turning his back to fix himself a drink. He didn’t doubt that you would watch Tanaka for him with careful eyes. Even the smallest twitch of his eyebrows would be telling. “You don’t get to ask questions.”

“I haven’t done anything,” he said, and though his voice was hard, there was underlying panic. “I’ve stayed well out of the Mafia’s business, as promised—”

“Perhaps.” Dazai interrupted smoothly, coolly. “Our agreement wasn’t broken, per se. I just happen to think that working with outsiders is an act of much higher treason.”

Tanaka blinked, faltering. His jaw went slack, a mere second ticking before he replied. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try to lie to me.” Dazai glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes narrowing. “I’m talking about Dostoevsky. The rats that are trying to take over my city.” He tsked, rolling the glass around on the counter, clinking it against the granite. Then, he popped a crystal bottle open, letting it fill a quarter of the glass.  “Such a shame. You’ve built quite a name for yourself in Yokohama. Is this really worth losing all that?”

Tanaka stuck both hands in his pocket, shaking his head vigorously. His fingers flexed against his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who that is, I’ve never crossed anyone by that name.”

Seeing an opportunity while Dazai’s back was turned, Tanaka began to pull out a pistol from his coat; one you had, stupidly, forgotten to check for. It seemed he doubted that you were a threat, and if he could just kill Dazai, you’d be an easy target.

You moved without thinking, making the single-step distance between you and Dazai. There was a gun relaxed at his waistband, and you stole it, knowing exactly where he kept it hidden. Before Tanaka could point his own at the head of your lover, you’d acted first, aiming Dazai’s gun, your jaw tense and back straight. “Put it down.”

Tanaka, caught off guard, locked his jaw, and his fingers twisted tighter around the handle of the gun, inching towards the trigger. For a moment, he contemplated, but even without knowing the thoughts in his mind, you could read his actions.

You wouldn’t give him the opportunity to do as he wanted. Instead, you fired your own gun, digging the bullet into his fingers, shattering them, blood spattering as Tanaka dropped the pistol to the floor in a ghoulish scream.

For a second more, he writhed in pain at your own hand, once again. You held your arm taut, before letting the gun drop to your side as Dazai hummed behind you. Tanaka had fallen to his knees, tears welling up, his vision glossy as he dropped the maimed hand to his thighs.

Dazai came up beside you, smiling at you, and brushed his fingers down your arm. Slowly, he took the gun, placing it back into his waistband, his touch electric on every centimeter of your skin. “You’ve handled it beautifully, my love.” Dazai squeezed your hand, tilting his head so dark hair cleared away from his eyes. “I can take it from here.”

You nodded, and though Dazai was, by no means, pushing you out of the room, he could see how exhausted you’d become by the whole ordeal. If you wanted to leave—and you did—he wouldn’t object.

“Will you be long?” you asked, just a whisper over Tanaka’s heavy breaths of pain.

Dazai laughed easily, his breath ghosting the bridge of your nose. “Akutagawa will be here soon.” A touch lingered on your hands for a minute longer before he pulled away completely. “Then, I’m yours for the rest of the night.”

It was already late, but you’d take whatever time you could get with Dazai, even if you were drained. You nodded, and he turned away, going back towards his enemy, pulling Tanaka up roughly by his collar. Dazai’s expression changed into a man you almost didn’t recognize, if it hadn’t been for the moments that you’d had to see him shift into the underworld’s fearsome demon.

You left the room, yawning, Dazai’s voice the last thing you heard before you shut the door silently.

“Now that you’ve learned your lesson, perhaps you’ll be more willing to tell me everything you know,” he said.

Despite Dazai promising to leave once Akutagawa arrived, he’d been gone for nearly two hours, with no indication that he’d be returning anytime soon.

You waited for him in the penthouse of the Port Mafia headquarters, the home you’d come to know well in the past few years. A glass of imported wine was beside you on the nightstand, resting between a book you’d been too tired to read before bed.

You sat up, unable to fall asleep, and chewed your lip thoughtfully. It seemed ridiculous, really, for you to already miss a man that you woke up next to and fell asleep beside every night.

Still, you couldn’t help the desperation in your chest, the need to see him, to brush the mask of the Port Mafia boss away so Osamu could take his place.  

You finished the wine, then headed towards the door. The room felt cold and lonely, and if Dazai wasn’t going to return soon, you’d just find someone else to bother on the lower levels of the building.

Though, just as you were about to slip on a pair of shoes, the door unlocked, swung on its hinges, and Dazai stepped through the threshold, a vision of gore and violence and every ounce the man you adored.

“Osamu,” you said, and even when you’d said his name a thousand times before, it still left your lips like a prayer. A smile formed, and you dropped your shoes, eyes sparkling, as you regarded the mess that he was in.

Dazai took one look at you and relaxed, shoulders falling as you closed the distance between the two of you. “Sorry it took so long, sweetheart,” he said, craning his taller frame down to kiss you.

You gripped the lapels of his coat, holding on tight as you pressed into him, deepening the kiss. Dazai’s bloody fingers cupped your cheeks, smearing red along your jaw, ruining your clean skin. Though, as you exhaled a sigh deep into his mouth, you couldn’t have cared less.

“I thought you said Akutagawa was going to take care of it?” you asked as Dazai released you, offering you a small, almost defeated smile.

He walked past you, towards the bathroom, feet dragging as he shrugged off his dark coat. Under the crisp top, his muscles were stiff, strained from all the stress. He wiped another hand over his face, doing little to clean up the mess of red that remained on his cheeks.

You followed him, trailing a few feet behind, feeling silly for wanting to cling to him so tightly. Yet, you couldn’t get enough of him, and you watched as Dazai remained silent, pausing in front of the mirror to regard his own appearance. He made a face in the glass as he gazed back into his own expression, sticking his hands under the faucet. The water ran in a steady stream, staining the sink a rose color as he scrubbed the blood from his fingers, his nails. There were parts of his bandages that had been soiled, and he ripped them right off, exposing pale wrists that hadn’t seen the sun in ages.

You mimicked his action, washing your hands in the second sink before scrubbing the blood from your face, clearing away the smear of maroon that he’d put there. The water shut off, briefly, and Dazai regarded you, frowning as you rid the evidence of his crime from yourself.

“I sent Akutagawa home.” Dazai finally answered your previous question and sighed, frustration evident. He stretched his hands over his head, the bones popping in one fell swoop. “Tanaka cracked right open; he really didn’t know anything.” He blinked at himself in the mirror once more, tidied his hair, then scowled. “He’s just a low man on the totem pole, and he paid for it with his life.”

Dazai seemed at odds with himself, and he drummed his nails against the countertop before patting his hands dry. The blood had been cleaned from his skin, and even though his hair was still unkempt, it was the only evidence that any wrongdoing had happened at all. Nothing but a speck of blood remained on his collar, the rest garnishing his coat instead.

You shifted, leaning against the counter. “Did you get anything out of him?”

“Names, a location.” Dazai clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides. “He wasn’t lying, but who knows if they’re real or not. He could’ve been given fake locations. I’ve asked Ango to check on it.”

Dazai, once again, left you standing, contemplative, in the bathroom. You could hear him shuffle around in the other room; he released a small sound of relief as he stretched out his sore muscles.

When he’d finished moving around, you returned to the other room, and he was settled in the red armchair, legs spread out in front of him. Dazai rested his head against the back cushion, his eyes closed in serenity, a deep exhale expelling the tightness in his body.

It was almost a sight too serene to spoil.

“Do you want some space?” you asked, and though you’d always respect his wishes, that was the last thing you wanted to give him. You wanted to consume him completely, to press yourself against every crevice of his being and swallow him whole.

Dazai opened his eyes and blinked at you. Instead of replying, he smiled, slowly, and gestured to his thighs, sparing a glance at his knees.

Your heart pounded, launching its way up your throat, and you scrambled over yourself to crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs, the muscle strong beneath you.

Gently, he smiled at you, and brushed your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck. You let your arms rest on his shoulders, and slowly, you removed the bandage from his eye, hating whenever he tried to hide any part of himself from you.

You waited for him to protest, but he relented, and let you kiss his forehead, the very darkest parts of himself on display for you alone. It was hard not to collapse under the weight of your love for him.

You discarded the bandages, tossing them onto the table as Dazai tapped a pattern in the crevices of your skin.

For a moment, neither of you said a word. You noted every feature of his that you loved so dearly, and Dazai just watched you study him, tried hard not to smile against your lips when you kissed him.

If only he could see how beautiful he was, surely, he would understand that he deserved a life so much better than the one he’d been dealt. That someone with a smile brighter than a dying star shouldn’t have it taken away by years of endless anguish.

Finally, Dazai spoke, whispering your name in a tone he never used on any word but that one. “You don’t have to do this anymore if you don’t want to.”

“Hm?” you asked, tilting your head, so distracted by the endless galaxy within his eyes.

Dazai huffed, placing a possessive hand on your hip. His thumb grazed the bone and you shivered, smiling at him in confusion.

“Sweetheart, I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re obligated to do something just because you’re my wife.” He looked past you, an uncertainty beneath his words that he was ashamed of. “If you don’t want to take on any more assignments—"

“I told you already, Osamu,” you began, brushing the hair at the back of his neck that was hidden beneath the collar. “I don’t mind.”

“I know, but—” Dazai hesitated, his gaze steady on the doors behind you, the ones that led to your bedroom. Somehow, he seemed to think all the answers would be there, a script written out for him to recite to you. “Chuuya brought it up to me earlier. He said that I’m…” Dazai swallowed the words, shaking his head. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I just want you to promise me that you know if you want to stop, you can stop. Even if you wanted to quit the Port Mafia altogether, I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”

You smiled, kissing the wrinkle between his eyebrows in the hope that it would ease the anxiety in his expression. The tension was such an unusual thing for anyone but you to see, as Dazai had such trouble revealing his vulnerabilities to the world.

“I promise.” You swept your thumb over his lip, watching as it bounced right back into place, so soft and lovely. “I just don’t want to quit.” You leaned back on his lap, so you were able to see the entirety of his face.  

Dazai’s eyebrows drew together once more, putting that worry right back on his appearance, and a part of you hated that of all the things he had to be stressed about, it was something as silly as you not wanting to quit your job.

“Why?” Dazai asked, tilting his chin, searching the depths of your soul for an answer that would appease him. “I don’t understand. You hate them; you tell me you hate them every time they try and lay a finger on you.”

He wasn’t wrong, certainly not about something like that. You loathed that men looked at you like you were something that they could just steal away, like they were entitled to the subtle way that they brushed your hip in passing, caressed your back when they walked behind you.

You just didn’t hate everything about the work you’d been doing. After all, it was your idea.

“I just don’t want to,” you said, looking over his shoulder to the open curtains, the bright expanse of Yokohama laid out before you. Twinkling star lights from skyscrapers and the port in the distance. “It doesn’t matter.”

It was your home, your city, and it always would be. You wouldn’t let Dazai die, wouldn’t let anyone take him from you—including himself. You’d continue to do whatever it took to protect that. Whether or not you used your appearance to achieve those ends didn’t matter. When it was all said and done, Dazai’s enemies would be dead, and you’d still have him to come home to.

“It matters to me.”

You shook your head, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. There were a million different ways you could’ve explained it, but none that were intelligent. “It’s embarrassing, ‘samu.”

Dazai laughed, a genuine noise, and kissed your shoulder as you sighed, relaxing into him once more. “I can’t think of anything about you that could possibly be embarrassing.”

You held his gaze, wishing for him to relent, to just give up and let you have this one. Instead, he just smiled back patiently, hoping you’d reveal another part of yourself to him as he slowly traced your hard collarbone.

Those pools behind his eyes were too distracting, the thumb on your neck dangerously close to your throbbing pulse. You swallowed, letting him feel every movement as your throat bobbed up and down.

“I guess,” you said shyly, “I like it. I like leading on your enemies, letting them think that they could possibly have a chance with someone like me. I like the look on their faces when they realize they’ve been made a fool of, that the girl who they wanted so badly belongs so completely to the boss of the Port Mafia.”

Dazai studied you for a moment as you shrugged the revelation off, his deep brown eyes darting over every crevice of your face. “You want to make them jealous of me?”

“Maybe.” Your cheeks heated, and though you’d been together for years, loved him for even longer, you still shied under the weight of your own desire for him. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want them all to know that I’m as much the boss of the Port Mafia as you.” You wound your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him, the only person you’d ever need in the dangerous world. “They’re blind to their desire, and they refuse to see that I have complete control over them.” You smiled, lazily, fondly. “Don’t they know that this is my city, too?”

Dazai’s strength made an appearance then, and he gripped your cheeks, holding you with a spiraled mix of possession and affection. “It is,” he whispered, ghosting his lips across your own, “and I’d burn it all down before I let anyone take it from you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his deepened tone, the seriousness that drew on his normally playful inflection. You grew hot, and a twist of desire started deep within you, spreading down easily, slowly turning your thoughts into a muddled mess.

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your words steady as Dazai drew lazy circles up and down your sides. “Everyone knows.” You met his eyes, soft, yet dark, clouded with a longing you weren’t unfamiliar to. “The woman who brought them to their knees is still nothing more than a simple fool for Osamu Dazai.” You inhaled drawing your fingers to his open collar, the crisp bandages around his chest. “What could they ever do to deserve that kind of devotion?”

Dazai waited, watched your smaller hand run across his neck, his smirk slowly growing on his lips. “I’m a lucky man, indeed,” he said, drawing the words out slow and lazily. He tipped your chin down to him, his smile displaying the almost sharpened points of his canines. Slender fingers caressed your hipbone, pressing you farther down onto his thigh.

You let out a small sound, not taking your eyes off of his as his expression grew wily, and the slip you wore slowly began to rise up your thighs, exposing the softer skin of your leg.

“I admit, I can’t stand that everyone in this city wants you so fucking bad.” Dazai sunk his lips to your neck, kissing the space between your shoulder and jaw. “But I can’t blame them. My beautiful angel.” He smiled under your jaw, gripping your hips harder, forcing you to drag against his thigh. A puff of air left your throat as Dazai grinned, spiking your arousal. “It’s for the best, isn’t it? I’ve ruined you for anyone else.”

Your eyes flashed; Dazai bounched his leg, just once, his eyes shining, every move calculated. He’d always known exactly how to touch you, and he’d never forget, never stop enjoying the way you jerked so easily under his palm, the way you were already trying to rub yourself against him.

“Osamu,” you began, desperate for just a moment of friction, to feel his rigid muscle drag against your cunt. You wanted him so badly that your heart stumbled over itself, all the love you held, locked up there and looking for a way out.

He made a sound of disapproval, holding you still with a tight grip on your hips. His fingers dug into the bone, but it did little to ease your aching need for him.

“See?” Dazai’s kisses were light as he whispered against the shell of your ear, the sound nothing more than a breath of air. “I barely have to touch you and you’re a whimpering mess.”

You swallowed, tugging at the hair at the base of his scalp, trying to remain steady, if only for him to give you what you wanted.

Dazai seemed to be in a generous mood, worn from the previous mission, and he was grinning lazily, two fingers slipping under your dress.

His grip loosened, and you shifted, letting him pull on the strap of your panties, drag them down your thighs, over your knees, to discard beside the chair. Already, there was evidence of your desire, a spot of wetness obvious against the red satin.

He let the garment hang between his fingers before he looked back at you, watching as it softly fell to the floor. “If only they knew how easy it was to get you wet,” he said, shrewdly, “they’d want you twice as much as they did before.”

You let out a soft whimper, trying to direct his beautiful hands back between your thighs. Though, Dazai kept his fingers away, and in an act of desperation, you pressed your forehead to his, conveying every ounce of your affection for him.

“Osamu,” you breathed, blinking into his warm irises, a shade of brown that had easily become your favorite. “I’m so crazy about you.” You kissed his cheeks, smearing your lip gloss all over the skin he’d just wiped clean. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. Everyone in Yokohama watches me, but I ache for you.”

His eyes flashed, pleased, and he relented, nudging his thumb to the inner most part of your thigh. The smile was still mocking, but he gave you at least some relief; Dazai let you sink back down on his thigh, the pressure just enough to have you clawing your nails into his chest.

He kissed your nose, but kept you where you were, perched on the middle of his leg and much too far from his cock. “What would you ever do if I wasn’t here to take care of you, hm, darling?"

You softened; even if his gaze was taunting, there was utter devotion between his dilated pupils.

All those men who fell for your act may have been complete fools, but Dazai was even worse off than them: he was a fool in love.

“It’s so hard not to crawl into your arms every time you’re around,” you admitted, grabbing the buckle of his belt to undo it with a clank. The mere sound, the feel of the leather between your fingers, nearly had you salivating. “I’m stronger than a lot of men in Yokohama.” Your features contorted then, eyes vulnerable as you looked up at him through delicate lashes, no longer a vision of authority, but of someone who desperately wanted to be taken care of. “Not you, though.”

Dazai’s grip on you relaxed, and something in his eyes shifted, lips parting as an exhale left them. He said nothing as you removed the belt, and instead, let himself sink deeper into the cushion, bearing your weight.

Hastily, you pulled down the zipper of his slacks. The weight of his heavy cock in your hands was so familiar. You stroked him gently, watching for any reaction, and while his face remained steady, you could sense the change in his heartbeat.

“I don’t need you to be strong around me,” Dazai said. His voice had deepened, your name leaving his lips, raspy by the end of his sentence. “You can fall apart if you want to, my love.” His erection grew slowly in your palm, and he brought you closer, your bare, soaked cunt dragging against his thigh. “I’ll always be here to put you back together.”

You smiled, flushing as he hardened, his breath growing uneven. When you had him leaking within your palm, you shifted forward on your knees, grinning at his reddened cheeks. Dazai’s eyes drifted towards your chest, just inches from his face.  

Uncertain, you hesitated, even though you wanted him, needed him with every fiber of your being. It was an unfamiliar position. He could take control of the situation at any moment, but you weren’t usually the one looming over him.

“Osamu—”

“What?” he released with a sigh, and in one swift motion, lifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. “You walk around my nightclub in those dresses I buy you, force those pretty tits into other men’s faces, but now you’re too shy to fuck your husband?”

You made a face, knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of you, and if only to prove a point, you sunk down on him, your folds slick. Dazai slid into you easily, a sinful noise breaking the silence between you as he grinned. “I’ll f-fuck you,” you stuttered, swallowing under the heat of his watchful eyes. “It’s just…” Your words failed again as his cock went deeper in you, your focus entirely on your own pleasure.

“Just what?” He stopped you for a moment, planting you on his thighs, his cock still straining, filling you. Glaring, vibrating with need, you opened your eyes, lips parting as he whispered against your mouth “Finish your sentence, sweetheart.”  

“It’s not my fault, Osamu,” you said, on the edge of a whine, squirming within his hold. “I can’t help that they stare.”

He laughed, then, and it was just a brush against your swollen mouth, the one he kept coming back to. “They can stare all they want,” Dazai said, tilting your chin up. “As long as they know who you belong to.”

Finally, he let you go, his hands tracing the edges of your knees, and you started a slow, steady pace, gasping as you held onto his neck tightly. He bowed his head into your collarbone, and kissed you once, before leaning back lazily, watching you take and take and take.

“Doing so good, angel,” he said, watching you with such a passion that it was distracting, as he let his palms rest simply on your thighs. “You always look so pretty stuffed full of my cock, don’t you?”

“Feels so good,” you muttered.

“I know.” Dazai seemed too devilish with his dark hair fanned out against the red chair, grinning in a way that twisted up your insides, sweat beading down your forehead as you tried to reach your orgasm.

You were hot with his piercing gaze upon you, but he didn’t bother to move his hands, did nothing to even pretend like he was fazed. You sunk down faster, heart racing, as the muscles of your hips strained, burned. Already, you were growing tired, sleepy from a full evening, but still so desperate to come around him.

You leaned forward, trying to angle your body, gain some relief from the position. Though it did little, and instead you were left sighing in frustration, wishing that he would do anything, instead of just look at you with a lust blown smile.

With every moment, the pain began to grow, the ache in your legs far too much to give way to pleasure. You started back at Dazai, frustrated, eyes glossy with need.

Dazai laughed at you then; it wasn’t quite mocking, but it wasn’t kind either. “Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

Frustrated and impatient as you dripped down your own thighs, you grabbed his throat, thrusting his head into the back of the chair.

Dazai, eyes wide with surprise, stopped smiling as you curled your hand around his neck, his fingers digging into your thighs.

“Are you just going to sit there, Osamu?” you said, your words high-pitched and desperate. “Or are you going to—”

The end of your sentence was cut off by him gripping the back of your hair, smashing your lips into his own. The hand on his neck fell away, drifting to the lapels of his bloodstained collar, as he brought you down hard on his cock, hitting a place deep inside you that you hadn’t been able to reach with your own strength.

Dazai’s fingertips left bruises on your skin as he devoured the inside of your mouth, bringing you down over and over, stretching your walls with each movement.

“So pretty and desperate for me,” Dazai laughed, but he was breathless, his own tenacity crumbling from adoration. “Can’t do anything by yourself, can you, baby?” His kisses were sloppy as he dragged them across your neck, tongue grazing the sharp vein under your ear.

“No, but you said—” you were losing your breath and your words. “You said you’d take care of me. I don’t want to cum all on my own, ‘samu.”

Dazai groaned, his gaze drifting down to the space between your bodies, where you were sucking him back in, your own body aligned with your heart, never wanting to let him go.

“Fuck,” he said, slamming you back down on his thighs, his eyes hazy with love. “Of course I’ll take care of you.” One hand guided your hips as the other curled around your jaw, setting the pace with half his strength. “You’re my whole world.” His words stuttered, aching cock twitching inside you. “I’m nothing without you, understand?”

You nodded, but you weren’t quite thinking straight, the words a jumbled mess when they entered your mind. “I love you,” you said, gasping the end of his name. “I love you, Osamu, need more.”

Dazai breathed, just as heavily, softening as he regarded you. He’d always loved the look on your face as you came apart. “You take it so well,” he said eyelids fluttering over hazy eyes, and he kissed your forehead. You dragged your hands all over his chest, just wanting to touch any part of him. “Wish you could see yourself. You’re so beautiful.”

You groaned, pulling him closer, until there was nowhere left to go, surrounded completely by Dazai; the smell of him, the taste of him. “Say it back,” you muttered, “say you love me too.”

He choked on a laugh, and the lewd sounds of your wet arousal were loud as he came in and out of you. “I love you, angel, you know how much I love you.” Dazai kissed you, then, and your heart sped at how hoarse his voice had become, how easily it was for you to make the most powerful man in Yokohama fall apart at the seams. “You’ve got a pretty ring to prove it, don’t you? I don’t want anyone but you. I never will.”

“Come inside me.” Your eyes squeezed shut as his cock reached impossibly deep within you, stretching you, your legs shaking as you tried to ignore the dull ache within your tense muscles. Tears sprang to your eyes, coating your lashes; it was almost devastating how much you loved him. “Please. Feel so full, ‘samu.”

“Yeah?” He reached between you to play with your clit, and you were so close, crying out a broken moan as he touched you. “Need to remind everyone that you’re my girl, hm?” He knew just how you liked to be touched, how easy it was to get you to come when he fucked you like you needed. “Want me to put a baby in you next, sweetheart? Shit.” He curled his fingers, bruising your mouth as he stole the oxygen from your chest. “Everyone would know then, wouldn’t they? How could they doubt you’re mine when you’re carrying my child.”

You cried out, then, breaking, spasming around his cock as you fell onto his chest. Dazai said your name, kissed the top of your head, but you were too full of love for him. You breathed heavily as he brought you down once more, twitching against him from the ache in your sensitive cunt.

A moment later, Dazai jerked, then came inside you, spilling his warm cum against your folds, the white ropes dripping down your thighs, staining his dark, wrinkled slacks. Slowly, he pulled out of you, letting you rest on his chest as you breathed, your legs sore. A gentle touch ran up and down your spine as Dazai wrapped his arms tight around you, his cheek resting against the top of your head.

“God, you’re perfect,” Dazai said, and his voice sounded almost broken, devastatingly emotional. “You can’t ever leave me, okay, angel? I need you right here by my side.” Lips grazed your temple, so sweetly, gently. “What’s the point of all this if I can’t share it with you?”

You smiled, resting your head in the crook of his neck, eyes full of tears as you kissed him. “I’m not going anywhere, Osamu. I promise.”

OCTOBER MASTERLIST - leave a comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the tag list

tag list: @satohruu (hannah i planned this one bc of your tags on my last pm dazai fic HDSFHSFH) @cha0thicpisces

[jyoongim]

Okay okay hear me out: possessive!annoyed!Alastor x naive!reader

The whole gang goes to Consent (the sex club) and manages to drag Alastor and reader with them.

Reader thinks everyone is so lovely and friendly, Alastor is overstimulated by the techno music, flashing lights, and loud crowd and ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽s͓͓̽̽e͓̽ ͓̽f͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽c͓͓̽̽k͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽w͓͓̽̽h͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽s͓̽ ͓̽t͓͓̽̽h͓̽a͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽k͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽p͓̽ ͓̽l͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽o͓͓̽̽k͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓̽ ͓̽h͓͓̽̽u͓͓̽̽n͓͓̽̽g͓͓̽̽r͓͓̽̽i͓͓̽̽l͓͓̽̽y͓̽ a͓͓̽̽t͓̽ ͓̽r͓͓̽̽e͓̽a͓͓̽̽d͓͓̽̽e͓͓̽̽r͓̽

Cause imagine Alastor standing behind you, scaring the shit out of the person dancing with you….

something short

“I thought you said we were going a club?”

Charlie said nervously as the gang stood outside of Consent.

A club.

A strip club.

Angel had suggested that if Charlie wanted the residents to form trust then that going to a club would do that.

He failed to mention the whole nudity part.

You could sense that the group were a bit disgruntled, so you smiled at Angel “I think this is great Angel! I’ve never been to a club like this before what about you Al?” You turned to your attention to Alastor. 

Normally Alastor would have did an disappearing act on everyone when activities were done, but you were actually excited.

You were a rare thing that graced Hell. You were sweet and friendly. Had a good head o your shoulder…but you were horribly naive and had no sense of when people were insincere.

Or trying to gain your attention.

You were bopping your head to the music, swaying as you sipped on whatever concoction the bartender had made.

Your senses were in overdrive as you took in the loud music and flashing lights.

it was so much.

Angel had pulled you onto the dance floor, twirling around you, showing off his moves.

You giggled at his flashy display, laughing as several of the dancers swarmed around you, naked bodies rubbing against you.

This was so fun!

This is absolutely not fun.

Alastor was barely holding it together. The loud music and flashing lights were making him restless. He preferred quiet places with soft jazz playing and pleasant food.

Not establishments where he was pretty sure drugs were near the food.

He stayed seated at the bar. His very presence was enough for sinners to stay away from him.

He sipped his whiskey as he scanned the crowd. Vaggie and Charlie were sitting in a quiet corner, trying to keep Niffty stable.

Sir Pentious was trying to chat up some sinner, Angel was being Angel, and you….

 His eyes narrowed as he watched you watch in awe as several strippers danced on you. You were blushing but a smile still on your face regardless. You were unaware of the hungry looks that some of the male patrons were giving you.

But Alastor saw. Saw as some unsightly sinner began to approach you.

You felt a body press up against you. Heavy hands found your waist and pulled you into how they were swaying. 

“A pretty doll like you shouldn’t be alone on the dancefloor” a voice purred in your ear. You turned around, blinking at the stranger before giving him a smile “Oh you wanna dance with me?” You asked innocently. The sinner grinned, “suuuurree sweetness anything you like” he chuckled moving with you to the music.

Alastor had crushed the glass he was holding, static buzzing around him causing the lights to flicker slightly.

He took a deep breath, downed some whiskey from the bottle, and made his way through the crowd, brimming with dark energy.

The crowd practically parted like the Red Sea as Alastor made his way towards you and the filth who was being too handsy.

You smiled when you saw Alastor, completely oblivious to the rage emitting off him “Alastor this was so fun!” You shouted over the music. Alastor tilted his head, eyes narrowed and smile pulled in a tight snarl as he kept his eyes on the demon behind you. “Oooh really dearest?” The demon behind you was shaking in his boots as the Overlord gently pulled you towards him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Mine. 

You were tipsy and babbling away as Alastor dragged you off the dance floor, teleporting you both back to the hotel away from prying eyes.

You blinked, seeing you were back at the hotel. “Wha-?”

A body wrapped itself around you, pulling you into a rumbling chest. Alastor huffed as he buried his nose in the crook of your neck.

”That place was horrid. Medium playing less than pleasant tunes, and those filthy sinners were all over you” he growled.

He was rambling to himself, growling in your ear. You jumped slightly feeling his sharp teeth your at your neck, your hazy mind not comprehending why Alastor was so upset.

”Al?”

”I’m going to show those pathetic sinners just who you belong to my dear”

”that you are mine”

You were spun around and lips slammed on yours.

————————————————————————

“Where the hell did toots go?” Angel asked, confused as he did not see you with Charlie and Vaggie. He last saw you dancing before you basically disappeared.

Husker smiled “Bossman took her back to the hotel”

Everyone was confused, then Angel smirked “Ooohh Freaky Face is SO gonna fuc-”

”Angel please! There’s no way” Charlie said, interrupting him.

You were such a sweet thing, there’s no way you would let…there’s no way Alastor…right?

They had made it back to the hotel and there was no sign of you or Alastor.

”Holy shit!” Angel laughed as he picked up on the loud banging coming from somewhere in the hotel.

easy to say, you now understood what was happening at the club and so many other times

@yakultt-art @coleisyn @alastorsfawn @alastorss @alastwhore666

@senseichaos @markster666

Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged in my works… I’m still working out the kinks

[reilemon]

🍸⋆｡°✩ Passion Star Martini ✩⋆｡°🍸

♡︎ synopsis: Xavier can't help but feel a little jealous when he sees you having a good time on the dancefloor.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: drinking alcohol, some grinding on the dancefloor, semi-public sex (bathroom sex), hair pulling (just a little), Xavier being a tease (and possessive), also choking (barely tho)

♡︎ word count: 3k

♡︎ a/n: Is it dancefloor or dance floor? 🕴️

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

You exit the bathroom after freshening up. Tonight, one of your friends is celebrating her birthday at a nightclub and you are so glad you had time and energy to go out because you were having a blast. First of all, you’re with all of your friends, the DJ was playing good music (he also said that he’ll grant you and your friend a music wish, something that never happens) and the bartender made your favorite cocktail just right. Also, you know you look good because you’re wearing your new favorite mini dress and your hair and makeup are flawless. But most importantly, your boyfriend is here!

Xavier came to the club after you drank your first cocktail. He finished his mission later than expected, and on top of that, he also needed to shower and dress up. The two of you never spent an actual night out together, so you were hoping that he’ll show up. Obviously, you wouldn’t mind if he didn’t, but there is something so exciting about enjoying some mindless fun with your partner while also looking cute. Hot, actually.

When you noticed him approaching your booth, your excitement fizzled out immediately because you noticed how tired he is. He didn’t let it show, but you spent enough time with him to know by just his walk that he is ready for bed.

He settled next to you after greeting you and your friends. He gave you a peck on the lips and then his eyes took in your whole figure “You look stunning.” You heard his voice good enough over the music.

You blushed and thanked him, wrapping your arms around his bicep. You’ve received so many compliments this evening, but his is the only one that mattered.

Now that you can got a better look at his face and his heavy eyelids, you couldn't help but feel guilty. “You really didn’t have to come if you’re so tired.”

He looked at you for a moment then shook his head. “I’m not. Let’s go get drinks.”

He was in fact tired. Poor guy started nodding off in the booth after getting drinks, so you tried to convince him to go home, but he was set on staying. Downing your second drink, you hit the dancefloor with your friends, letting your boyfriend continue sleeping resting his eyes in the booth.

You go back to your friends, just in time to hear the DJ playing the song you requested. You were hoping you’d be dancing with your boyfriend to it, so you glance at the booth, hoping he’s awake. Your eyes scan in the direction where he should be, but you only see some of your friends sitting there.

A gasp escapes your lips when a hand snakes around your waist from the opposite direction.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

To say that Xavier was exhausted was an understatement. Not only did he get held up at the mission longer, but he had to go to a nightclub as well. His usual routine after finishing work was – shower, eat either alone or with you and then fall asleep reading a book, preferably with you snuggled up in his arms. And he could’ve just rejected your invitation, but he knows that it’s good to break a routine once in a while. But more importantly, he got to spend more time with you like this and in a different setting.

But the darkness inside the nightclub mixed with the bass made him even more tired. And he felt so bad about it, because he saw how excited you were when he came.

And you look so breathtaking. You’re always beautiful but tonight you really went out of your way to look good, and he couldn’t help but stare at your body, how that dress fit you perfectly – and how it barely covered up anything.

His new mission was to stay awake.

But his eyes were betraying him and soon he had to convince you that he’s fine and that he’s just going to rest his eyes for a bit.

With his arms and legs crossed, he started dozing off, the thrumming of the bass weirdly lulling him to sleep.

But then he’d open his eyes, searching for you.

That’s how the beginning of the night went for him – resting his eyes for a moment, and then the next he’s watching you on the dancefloor, making sure that you’re okay.

You were more than okay.

Xavier was happy to see you having a good time, dancing and laughing with your friends. Then you started dancing with your male friend. Nothing inappropriate, but the sight of that man getting to touch you at all made his heart skip a beat. It’s fine, you give him no reason to worry. He doesn’t want to act all jealous and ruin the mood. He should just sit here for a little longer, recuperate some more and then he can join you.

But his mind doesn’t let him rest for long, so he looks for you again.

You wandered off with your friend to the DJ booth. What are you doing there? He can’t get a good look from where he’s sitting, so he stands up and moves through the crowd. He manages to find a good spot where you can’t notice him but he has a good enough view. The way you talk, smile, and even look at that man makes his heart race. And when he sees the way that man checks you out as you walk away is where he gets pissed off.

He shouldn’t be, but he is.

He knew how friendly and flirty you get when you have alcohol in your system, and he can’t blame others for staring because you’re so irresistible.

You walk away from the DJ booth to the bathroom, so he uses that time to go to the bar and take a shot.

He’s wide awake now.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

You crane your neck and your eyes meet Xavier's - those deep blue eyes are definitely not sleepy anymore. The words get lost in your throat under his intense gaze, so you just smile and start dancing to your song. The hand around your waist goes to the middle of your belly to press you against against him, still leaving some space for you to move, while the other one rests on your hip. You act coy as your butt grazes his crotch as you sway and move to the rhythm. You can feel his body move perfectly to the beat, and you can't help but look over your shoulder to see him dance, his hips and shoulders moving in just the right ways while his full attention is on you, which makes him so much more attractive.

The song changes to a slower one so he spins you around, pressing you between your shoulder blades, bringing your chest flush against his. A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his firm thigh sneak it's way between your legs and against your clothed sex. You’re met with a lustful gaze when you look at him to comment on the position he has you in. You're speechless once again as his hands start guiding your hips, making you slowly and subtly grind on his thigh.

And you give in.

The dance floor is packed - everybody’s just enjoying themselves, minding their business, lost in the music or drunken daze. The two of you managed to separate from your friends while dancing, and some of them went back to take a break in the booth. You felt like you were in a trance; the bass was pulsating through your body, Xavier’s hands on your hip and lower back, taking the lead and moving your hips in the rhythm of the songs, arousal pooling between your legs.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a searing kiss. His hand starts roaming - one holds you by the back of your neck while the other one teases it's way under the hem of your dress.

Lithe fingers tickle the soft skin of your inner thighs, making your pussy flutter and you pull back from the kiss, stopping the roaming hand by the wrist "We should go back to my friends."

Xavier exhales through his nose and rests his forehead against yours. "Are you sure?" You open your mouth to answer but the thigh between your legs moves up at a particular angle, catching the hood of your clit and eliciting an embarrassing yelp from your lips.

You hold onto his shoulders as he continues moving his his leg, and you have to gather all of your willpower to resist moving your hips to hump his thigh.

"Xavier, people are gonna see - " You pant, your voice barely reaching him over the music

"So? They should know you're mine." You hear his steely cool voice perfectly.

You frown in confusion as you observe his serious face "What are you - ?"

"Everyone got your attention tonight, what about me?"

You pull away from his embrace at the ridiculous comment, and you can see the instant regret on his face when you do so, with his puppy eyes widening and lips parting.

You barely hear him utter "excuse me" as he lets go of you and hurries off the dance floor.

You stare at his back for a moment, and then you start following him immediately or you'll lose him in the crowd. Squeezing through dancing bodies, you manage to spot your boyfriend's silver fluffy hair going towards the bathrooms. You take in a breath of relief as you stagger away from the stuffy dancefloor, just in time to see Xavier shut the door behind him. The fresh(er) air and brighter lights, also your runaway boyfriend, flush away most of the alcohol buzz you had. Now Xavier is to blame for how wobbly you are in your heels, and your tingling lips.

You knock on the door and call out to Xavier to let you in. A few seconds later, the doors open just enough for you to sneak inside, although there was no one around at the moment.

You step into the single stall bathroom. This one is a little different than the one you were in, with the pink lights and aqua blue lit up sink counter. You love how it actually smells nice and is clean (perks of spending money on a fancy nightclub).

You lock the door and then lean against it, Xavier right in front of you.

You cross your arms "So what was that?"

Xavier, still looking like a hurt puppy, lightly caresses your upper arms "I'm sorry, that was such a stupid comment. I shouldn't complain when I spent the whole night sleeping in the booth."

"But why did you say that everyone got my attention?"

He steps away from you and leans on the sink "I - " He exhales and shakes his head "Doesn't matter. Wanna go back to your friends? Next round's on me."

You push yourself off the door and step towards him "Did I do something? I though we were having a good time."

Xavier softly smiles and shakes his head, "You were wonderful." His fingers graze your cheek and he carefully places a light peck on your lips, worried you might reject him. His shoulders relax when you don't, and he presses a more deliberate kiss.

You uncross your arms, your hands holding his face. You chuckle against his lips "You're such a dummy."

He blushes at your words and laughs softly, his arms wrapping around your torso to pull you into a tight embrace, your head resting on his shoulder.

"And I'm sorry if I took it too far at the dancefloor." He murmurs.

You chuckle and look up at him, "You didn't."

With that, you peck him on the cheek and move to take a look at yourself in the mirror (it's cool that it lights up at a touch), bending over the sink, and Xavier takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, admiring you in the reflection. You smile at him in the mirror before turning the light off.

"We should go back." You tell him when he doesn't move.

And he still doesn't. He only hums in response and starts nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent, hands roaming from your waist, to hold your hips, gently swaying them this time how he pleases.

He whispers, "You look so irresistible," a whimper escapes your lips as he grounds his crotch against your butt, lifting your dress in the motion, "it felt so good to have you dance against me like that."

You hold onto the sink as you arch your back and close your eyes, the feeling of his hard clothed cock rubbing against you awakening your arousal again, the dress now almost completely hiked up. His lips latch onto your neck as they suck hungrily on the sensitive skin, and one hand starts fondling your breast.

"Xavier - " You pant "We have to - " you whisper weakly, the rest of the sentence evaporating from your mind as you feel him sneak a finger over your soaked panties.

"You're right," He coos as the fingertip finds your bud, slowly rubbing it, "We don't wanna keep them waiting."

You don't notice when his hand leaves your breast from how dazed the finger on your clit is making you feel. Then you hear the belt buckle clinking and unzipping, and you only half open your eyes, meeting Xavier's in the mirror.

"That's right bunny, keep your eyes on me" He whisper as he pulls your panties to the side, sliding his cock back and forth between your folds, getting soaked in your essence.

You whimper as the tip pushes through your entrance, the slight sting disappearing quickly as Xavier rubs soothing circles on your clit. His other hand finds your breasts again, impatiently pushing down the top of the dress along with your bra, your breasts spilling out, his fingers toying with your nipples.

Your head drops as he bottoms out and you bite your bottom lip to prevent a loud moan slipping past your lips. But the finger on your sensitive nub is ruthless, making you cream around his thick cock that's starting to piston in and out of your fluttering pussy. He then picks up your leg with his other hand and resting your knee on the sink, giving him a better view of your dripping entrance taking in his dick. You arch your back more, holding onto the sink, eyes squeezed shut, your lips timidly spilling out quiet mewls and whimpers as Xavier is now pounding into you, both hands holding onto your hips in a bruising grip. The squelching sounds of your cunt and skin slapping fills the bathroom and you're sure it can be heard from outside even over the music.

Then you feel one hand on your scalp, grabbing a fistful of your hair and gently tugging it, making you lift you head and look at him in the mirror and your pussy clenches at the sight of his hooded eyes laced with lust, knitted brows and parted lips.

He grunts "Eyes on me pretty girl." The hand on your hair moving to wrap around your throat, only lightly squeezing the sides of your neck. "Let me hear you."

You purse your lips and shake your head, or as much as you can move in his grip.

Suddenly he completely pulls out, and you whine as your needy hole clenches around nothing.

He chuckles and leans forwards, his breath fanning over your ear, giving you goosebumps all over your body.

"I guess we can go back to your friends then."

Your mouth falls open but nothing is coming out. You just gape at him for a few seconds shocked, but then you protest in a breathless voice "But what if someone hears us?"

"Let them." You jolt as he lines himself up again, "I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel." and a loud moan escapes your lips as he grabs your hip and buries himself to the hilt in one sharp thrust.

"Good girl."

Between his own grunts he praises you breathlessly

as he's thrusting vigorously, your butt bouncing with every thrust and smack of his pelvis, his hand leaving your throat to rub your clit again.

you're so beautiful

you're taking me so well

my good girl

The leg that you're standing on starts to shake as you feel the heat pooling in your lower belly, your pussy spasming around his cock that's hitting all of your sweet spots.

"Eyes on me, bunny." Xavier rasps, his own release nearing, when he notices your eyes fluttering shut.

With a vice grip on the sink you come hard around his dick, your eyes barely open, and you almost tumble over as your leg gives out from the intensity of your orgasm, but Xavier's hands wrap around your torso to keep you from falling. He presses his own against your back, arms wrapped around your waist as he ruts into you, riding out your high and chasing his own. Xavier buries his face in the crook of your neck, and pants mine, mine, mine before his mouth latches onto the soft skin. Your eyes roll back, head thrown back as he sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, burying his throbbing dick inside your still fluttering cunt, and filling you up with his hot cum.

With languid thrusts, the last spurts of his seed come out, both of you catching your breaths and coming to your senses. Xavier sucks and licks the bruised skin and then places a soft kiss on your sweat covered temple.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" You turn your head over your shoulder and you meet those familiar soft eyes.

"I'm okay, don't worry."

With a relieved sigh, he gives your lips a tender kiss.

⁺˚⋆｡°₊✩₊°⁺˚⋆｡⁺

Before you exit the bathroom, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, eyeing the angry red love bite.

You turn to Xavier who's unlocking the door, "This is gonna be really hard to hide."

He looks back to see what you're talking about. When you point at your neck, he sweetly says "Sorry about that."

He's not sorry at all.

[evansbby]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader, mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smutt, noncon, dubcon, daddy!kink, dd/lg vibes, choking, spanking, anal play, fingering, size difference, innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You never thought you'd be stuck between two beefy basketball players who have it out for each other - but which one do you choose?

𝐀/𝐍: This is part 3 of my fic, Wicked Games. I'm literally so nervous about posting this. This is 21k words long. I hope you enjoy and forgive any mistakes!

“I told you, Wanda. I barely remember anything from last night,” you say, balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you manoeuvre the vacuum cleaner around your room. You’d woken up feeling like shit – hungover and with a terrible headache to boot. But a warm shower and some skincare later, you’d decided to do some chores in order to clear your mind. “I do remember you ditching me though.”

“I didn’t ditch you!” Wanda screeches from the other end of the line, and you wrinkle your nose, holding the phone away from your ear before she speaks again. “Curtis told me you’d left, and then he took me back to his place! I left you a message and everything, but maybe it didn’t send because the service was so shitty.”

You hadn’t received her message until you got home last night, along with about a dozen more from Ari which you also still hadn’t looked at, let alone responded to.

“Wait, you went home with Curtis?”

Wanda giggles, “Yeah. I didn’t think someone as popular as him would ever be interested in me but he was! And he was so good, and gentle too, and–”

You stay quiet, letting her gush on and on about her magical night with the basketball player, ooh-ing and aah-ing and gasping at all the right places. The truth was, the moment she’d mentioned Curtis’ name, the memory of him cornering you on the dancefloor and giving you drink after drink had all come back to you. How he’d offered to take you upstairs before Ari had interrupted… Oh, but what did that matter? It’s not like you didn’t already have your hands full with a basketball player of your own…

“So, what about you?” Wanda finally asks, “Do you really not remember anything?”

You inhale deeply, “I remember talking to Ari.”

No. You remembered more than that. You remembered the thumping music, the flashing lights, the crowd surging around you. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck. His words in your ear. How he’d fucked you right there in front of everyone… All of that had come back to you in the shower this morning, but you’d been trying not to think about it ever since. All you could really do was persuade yourself that it was too dark and crowded for anyone to have seen that.

“Ew. Not that two-timer. Please tell me you didn’t fold.”

Scrunching your eyes shut, you bite your lip, “We hooked up.” You weren’t going to delve into the details of where you’d hooked up with him, though.

“OH MY GOD, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS?!” Wanda screeches again, and you press your lips together. It was a valid question, but you just weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

“You ditched me and went home with Curtis. Please spare me the lecture, Wanda.”

She’s silent for a handful of seconds, “Okay fine. But how did you get home? Did Ari give you a lift?”

You frown, “He must have. I don’t really remember–”

At that moment, your eyes land on a blue and white varsity jacket draped over your desk chair, and your heart jolts all the way up to the roof of your mouth. Wanda’s voice prattles on, but the phone falls slightly from your hand.

Steve. You’d met a guy called Steve last night. It was slowly coming back to you now. How Ari had broken your heart in that bathroom, how you’d felt so alone and heartbroken the rest of the night. Blurred bits and pieces slowly join together like a jigsaw puzzle in your mind… Steve had found you, and you’d talked to him. And then…? Ari and Steve had faced off, and you’d chosen to leave with Steve…

You couldn’t remember anything after that. But surely Steve had called a cab and dropped you home, right? You had no recollection of what happened in the cab, however. You just have a vague memory of feeling cold and Steve giving you his jacket while you were both in the backseat. But that was the gentlemanly thing to do, as was dropping you home after the terrible night you’d had thanks to Ari.

“Hello? You still there??”

You blink, pressing the phone back against your ear, “Uh, yeah, I’m here. I don’t know what happened after that, but I got home safely so I guess that’s a win, right?”

Wanda agrees, before launching into a detailed account of how Curtis had let her sleep over and he’d even gotten her coffee in the morning after allowing her to sleep in. You sit there, half listening and half staring at Steve’s varsity jacket on your chair. Inexplicably, your fingers itch to touch the soft material, to hold it against your nose and see if you can detect a scent to try and remember more of what had happened last night. You have a vague memory of how heavy and secure it felt around your shoulders, but you can’t recall anything else no matter how hard you try.

A distinct rattling against your doorknob distracts you momentarily, and before you know what’s happening, your door flies open, and Ari appears. The spare key you’d given him clenched tightly in his fist, and a scowl on his handsome face.

“Why the fuck have you been ignoring my messages?” He snarls.

Seeing him now, seeing his devastatingly handsome face, his hair which is slightly wet at the ends, as if he just showered. His grey tank that clung to his body and showed off those incredible, tanned biceps. Oh God, seeing him now just makes you feel all weird, hurt and angry and helpless and yet so attracted to him all in one. And you wonder if all these conflicting emotions show on your own face as you stare him down.

You sniff in what you hope is a dismissive way, “I’m on the phone with Wanda right now.”

It takes him two seconds to cross the room, snatching the phone from your hands before speaking into it gruffly: “Fuck off, Carla.” He hangs up while you gape at him in shock and annoyance, before throwing your phone to the other end of your bed. “Answer me. I won’t repeat myself.”

He’d been messaging you nonstop all night and even this morning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them. Not after how much he’d hurt you last night in the bathroom.

“Why would I reply to your messages when I have nothing left to say to you?” You say, priding yourself on keeping your voice level and calm.

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair like he usually does when he feels insulted or frustrated, “Watch your tone. That’s no way to talk to someone who’s been worried sick about you since you let that asshole abduct you last night.”

Your jaw drops open, “Worried sick? Are you for real, Ari? You weren’t worried sick when you left me in that bathroom even after I begged you to stay with me.”

Ari blinks, crossing his arms over his chest, “You remember that?”

You side-step your vacuum and square up to him (as well as you could possible square up to someone who is almost double your height). “I remember how heartbroken I felt, how hopeless and drunk I was. And you… you didn’t even care! Not even a little bit…” Your voice breaks, and you hate it and you wish you were stronger but you feel your shoulders crumple and your eyes well with tears.

“Aww, baby…” Ari’s strong arms wrap around you, and he pulls you into his solid chest. And he smells so good, like fresh soap and aftershave, and his embrace is so familiar, so safe, and you hate him for that. “Don’t cry, baby. You know I hate it when you cry. Look, I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to. Sharon was making a scene and multiple people were looking for me.”

At the mention of her name, you push him away immediately and take a few steps backwards to create some distance between the two of you. No, you wouldn’t let him sweet-talk you this time, you wouldn’t fall victim to his manipulations. You were going to stand your ground.

“Don’t, okay? You don’t need to make all these excuses because you basically laid it all out on the table last night, Ari. I remember everything.”

“Baby, listen–”

“No, you listen! You strung me along for weeks, telling me you’d make me your girlfriend one day. I told you I’d do anything for you. I let you fuck me wherever, however you wanted! I begged you to stay, but you told me you already had a girlfriend, and now I know that if it came down to it, you’d always pick her over me. So, I’m done.”

You swallow back your tears and stand with your head held high, heart pounding at everything you’ve just said. But you also feel exhilarated, liberated because you’ve never voiced your thoughts to him like this before. And he just stands there, eyes narrowed as he stares you down and yet he says nothing, and you wonder if you’ve finally rendered someone like him speechless.

With triumph, you turn on your heel, walking past him and into your bathroom. You have nothing to do in there but you busy yourself with rearranging your lotions and creams, determined to ignore him until he leaves.

“I could take you out tonight,” he calls from the bedroom, “Like a real date. We could go to one of those Italian restaurants downtown. And we could stay at a hotel after that, I can easily get us a penthouse suite at the Hilton, I know you’d like that.”

You would like that. In fact, your heart lurches in excitement. A romantic, public date with Ari? Oh, that would be incredible! But your happiness is short-lived when you realise that none of it meant anything if he was still with Sharon. That meant this date would probably take place in the shadows of the night, with him on edge over someone spotting the two of you together. And you refused to be his second-choice, his dirty little secret, any longer.

“I’m not interested, Ari,” you mutter, pretending to read the label of your shampoo bottle. A minute passes before you look up, disappointed when he doesn’t answer. Had he left? Oh, you were hoping he would’ve stayed longer and grovelled a bit more. Or even grovelled at all because he still hadn’t apologised. You resist the urge to call his name as you stare hard at your shampoo bottle, so hard that the label blurs. Still nothing. You sigh before leaving the bathroom, heart sinking that he left.

But Ari’s still there, standing in the middle of your room. Deathly still, and in his hands is Steve’s blue and white varsity jacket. Shit. You’d completely forgotten it was there.

“This is his.” Ari says softly.

You don’t say anything.

His blue eyes meet yours, narrowed and accusatory, his jaw tense with contained anger. He holds the jacket up as if it’s a piece of damning evidence in a murder case, and you’re the convict on trial. You see a glimmer of betrayal on his face, and his lips press into a thin line.

“Why is this here?”

Your mouth suddenly feels dry. It’s like his demeanour has completely changed in the past thirty seconds. You’d never seen him so calmly angry before. It’s almost eery.

“I asked you a question.”

You chew on your lower lip, “I-I was feeling cold, so he–”

Again, he closes the gap between you with just two long strides. But this time, he pushes you against the wall, his hand going around your throat and giving you the strangest sense of dejavu.

“Was he in here? Did you let him fuck you?”

He shakes you when you don’t answer, and his fingers squeeze your throat threateningly.

“No, okay!” You say, feeling your windpipes close. Of course, you and Steve hadn’t slept together – all he’d done was give you a ride home, right??

“Did you let him touch you? Did you!?” He shakes you again, “Did you hook up with him? Tell me the fucking truth.”

“NO! Get the fuck off me!” You cry, pushing at him feebly.

“Do you remember everything? Tell me right fucking now, because if you don’t remember then that means that asshole took advantage of you while you were drunk.”

“I REMEMBER EVERYTHING, OKAY?!” You lie, “Nothing happened. H-He gave me his jacket because I felt cold, then he dropped me home. Nothing else happened, just let me go!”

Ari does let your throat go, but his menacing eyes never leave yours. You’ve never seen him so… affected before. He was always so cool, collected, so nonchalant… but right now, he almost looks frenzied. The sneer never leaves his face as his hand slips up to grab your jaw instead.

“Are you sure?” His every word is enunciated slowly, in a frighteningly level manner as he stares you down. “You better be fucking sure, because I know guys like him. He’s a fucking slimeball who would’ve been happy to touch you even if you were unconscious.”

Your heart sinks at that, but you know Ari’s just speaking out of anger. Steve had been so sweet, and he’d never do that. You were sure of it…

“All he did was give me a lift home!” You try to wiggle out of Ari’s grip but he holds you firmly against the wall, his huge body pinning you flat against it similar to how he had last night when he’d fucked you. Out of nowhere, a wave of anger surges through you, the memory of him using you and disposing of you flashing through your mind once again. And now he had the audacity to get mad at you for going home with someone else? The next words out of your mouth are spiteful:

“But it wouldn’t be a problem if I did hook up with Steve, would it? I mean, it’s not like I have a boyfriend.”

Quick as a wink, Ari flips you around, till your cheek is rammed up against the cold wall, and you can practically hear the angry rumble from his throat. He roughly yanks your shorts down your legs, along with your panties too. You struggle against him, but your protests die as his palm cracks down on your bare ass hard.

“Don’t you fucking even think about that.” Ari hisses, smacking your ass four times in quick succession.

“Stop!” You squeal, pushing back against him but he’s too big and strong, “Stop, you jerk! It hurts!”

“Don’t you ever even entertain the idea of hooking up with someone else.” Ari growls in your ear, his unforgiving hand raining slaps down on your poor, ass which already feels raw, “You’re mine. I own your whole fucking body and nobody else can touch you. Say it.”

You sob in pain, fighting against him, “No! You don’t respect me, you don’t–”

“That doesn’t fucking matter,” he says through clenched teeth. Roughly, he pulls your pyjama shorts down, and your panties are quick to follow. His palm collides with your ass over and over again, alternating between your two bare cheeks with unforgiving slaps whilst ignoring your cries of protest. “I had you first. That means you’re mine, and he can’t have you. No one can have you unless I fucking say so.”

Your eyes widen, his words chilling you down to the bone. Never before has Ari ever sounded so serious, so scary. You swallow harshly, before gasping when he pinches your ass meanly. It hurts, you feel like your ass is on fire as he resumes slapping it over and over again. His other hand holds you tightly by the hip to keep you in place – otherwise, with the force of his smacks, you’d have gone flying across the room.

“Stop it, Ari! Fucking stop it!” You beg, trying to keep resilient despite the fact that your backside is stinging so bad. The last thing you want to do right now is start crying and fall into a submissive stupor that has you begging for his forgiveness and approval. And you know that very well could happen, because that’s what’s always happened in the past when he’s punished you.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“No! Fuck you!” You weren’t gonna give in to him. Not this time.

You squeal when his hand presses against your lower back, bending you over slightly. He spreads your glowing ass cheeks, swiping his finger up your slit. You squeeze your eyes shut when you hear him smirk at your wetness. Your body can’t help but respond to his touch… but it’s your mind and willpower that you need to keep strong right now.

“You won’t say it, huh? What, you decided to develop a mind of your own overnight?” He gathers your wetness on his finger, steering clear of your clit completely as his finger moves upwards instead. You clench involuntarily when you feel his digit probe your asshole, “I make all your decisions, you got that, sweetheart? I own you. I decide what you do, who you talk to, all of that shit.”

Oh, how was he so possessive over you when he couldn’t even call you his girlfriend? You just couldn’t understand him…

He forces his pointer finger into your asshole, making you scream out loud at the intrusion. He’s fingered your ass before, but never as roughly as now. You bite down on your lower lip – you’ve already screamed once but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing it again. His other hand leaves your hip to grab your hair, pulling your head back.

“Say you’re mine, or I’ll add another finger.”

“How can I be yours when you’re the one who doesn’t want me to be your girlfriend!?”

Ari scowls, and yet he doesn’t respond. Instead, he continues to spank your ass. And his finger continues to pump in and out of you, and you find yourself biting your lip now to suppress your moans.

There was just something so carnal, so raw, about him finger-fucking your ass. He was stoic and angry right now, but in the past Ari would always tell you how obsessed he was with your butt. How cute and round it was, how it drove him crazy when you bent down in your cute little skirts. How you had the type of ass that was always just begging for a smack. And he’d always find reasons to “punish” you, insisting on spanking you for the smallest of offences. He’d told you that he loved how needy you got when he spanked you, and how he knew it got you horny when he fingered your butt.

But right now, it seemed like Ari was more fuelled by anger and jealousy than lust. And a part of you, despite everything, the neediest and most insecure part of you is happy that he’s so jealous. That he’s so affected by the prospect of you getting with Steve. And yet… Yet it clearly isn’t enough to get him to leave Sharon for you…

“I own you.” He grunts in your ear, “I don’t fucking care if you say it or not. But you’re not gonna speak to Steve Rogers again. Do I make myself clear?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer, probably because he knows you won’t right now. There’s a shift in energy, you both can feel it. You know he can sense your mind fighting against him harder than ever before. It’s in the way you keep your mouth clamped shut, despite inwardly wanting to moan in pleasure.

Ari slips his hand down your front, cupping your mound as he continues to finger your butt with his other hand. You suppress another gasp, fighting the urge to press against his palm. You hear him smirk again from behind you, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. You exhale loudly, thrill shooting straight down to your core.

“Don’t think I give a fuck about you giving me the silent treatment,” he says into your ear, “Daddy can still make you cum harder than anyone else ever could, and you’ll cry like a fucking baby while you do it.”

His words go straight to your pussy and you clench hard. Your hips move on their own accord, thrusting forward to hump straight into his hand before you still them. But it feels so sinfully good, your clit rubbing against the hard heel of his palm. And it doesn’t help that he knows exactly how to move his hand against your bundle of nerves, circling and pressing and rubbing at you.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

“There she is,” Ari murmurs cockily, “There’s my girl. I guess the little baby didn’t lose her voice after all…”

“I mean, fuck you.”

He snorts, rapidly pressing his finger in and out of your puckered hole with such force that he rocks you forward, making your pussy press deliciously against his hand.

“You’ll listen to me,” he says beguilingly, licking the shell of your ear, “you’ll do exactly what I say. I don’t care if you want to throw a tantrum right now and act out and pretend you don’t want me anymore. I own your pussy, and I decide when we’re done. Not you. Me.”

You drop your head in shame, the pleasure in your tummy making you almost dizzy. Your body sags, surrendering to him physically as he mauls you. The tight walls of your ass swallow his finger up each time he thrusts into you with it, the force jolting you forward, making you dry hump his hand. Your ass burns and yet it feels so sexy, and you know you’re losing yourself; you know you’re losing the battle…

“Say it. Say who’s making you feel this good,” Ari breathes, rubbing your clit sensually, coaxing you to rut against his hand, to chase your pleasure while he dangles it in front of you like a carrot. “Nobody else will ever make you feel like this, you got that? Just me. So, say it.”

“Ari,” his name falls past your lips in a choked whisper, and you scrunch your eyes shut as you cum violently. You spasm in his arms, pussy walls clenching and releasing over and over again as you squirt all over his hand.

“That’s a good baby,” Ari coos, holding you up because your legs feel like jelly, and you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. “It’s okay, you can be mad at daddy all you want. But I know what’s best for you, and I lo–” He pauses, clearing his throat and pressing his lips down on your neck, kissing and licking at your skin, “I own you, you got that?”

You don’t answer, and he walks backwards with you in his arms. He lays you down on the bed before making a show of licking your cream off his fingers. You lie there, watching him and trying to catch your breath. Coming down from that orgasmic high, a dark feeling manifesting in the pit of your stomach. You’d let him get to you…again.

“We’ll go out tonight,” Ari announces, “I’ll pick you up around nine, and we’ll go wherever you want to go.”

“No.”

His eyes narrow, “What?”

It takes you a second to gather up your strength to sit up. Your orgasm has weakened you – or maybe it’s the emotional weight of what you’re about to say next.

“I said no, Ari. I don’t want to go out with you.”

He blinks, but doesn’t say anything. You take that as your cue to continue.

“I’m done, okay? I’m serious this time. I don’t wanna be with you if you’re still with her.” You suck in your breath, looking somewhere beyond his shoulder because it’s too intimidating to meet his gaze. “I don’t wanna go on a date that starts at nine in the evening when it’s pitch-black outside, just because you can’t risk being seen with me. I deserve better than that.”

Ari crosses his arms over his chest, regarding you carefully and yet he still doesn’t say anything.

“A-And I deserved better last night. I didn’t deserve to be left alone in that bathroom. I was high, and drunk, and I begged you to stay with me,” you bow your head, “I-I deserve someone who isn’t embarrassed of being with me in public, Ari.”

“I’m not embarrassed of you, I just can’t–”

“You can’t risk it, I know. You have a girlfriend. And I wish to God it was me, but it’s not. So, I’m done trying to persuade you.”

He scoffs, “You don’t mean that. You’re just in a mood, but you’ll come crawling back to me the moment you start feeling needy again.”

You shake your head sadly, “Think whatever you want to think, Ari. I’m done.”

Sighing lowly, you keep your head bowed as you pick at a loose thread on your quilt. You can’t bare to look at him, because a part of you knows that looking at him would make you melt and then he’d have you back eating out of the palm of his hand. But you were done this time, you were so exponentially done, and–

“Listen to me,” In a flash, Ari grips your chin harshly between his thumb and forefinger. Forcing you to look into his menacing eyes that flash with indignation and anger. “If you end this now, then that’s it. We’re done. I won’t ever speak to you again.”

Your heart jolts, stunned by his harsh words. But that was what you’d decided you’d wanted, right? For you and him to be done? Or had you wanted him to grovel, apologise, break up with Sharon and shack up with you? Nevertheless, you try to remain strong.

“Okay. That’s fine.”

“I’m serious. I know you think this is some kind of game and you’re playing hard to get, but I swear to God, I will leave this room and never even look at you again. Is that what you fucking want?”

His face is inches from yours, and you try to read his eyes. Try to understand him on any level, try to detect if there’s an inkling of care behind those eyes, even an iota of love or adoration for you. A desperation to stay with you, be with you. But you can’t. His face is unreadable, like a mask. And so a lone tear breaks free and meanders down your cheek, and you speak in a broken whisper:

“Maybe it’s for the best…”

He backs away as if you’ve stung him, or flung a vial of poison right in his face. His eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, chest rising and falling with each breath as he glares daggers at you. And a large part of you just wants to take it all back, to jump into his arms and burst out crying like you always do, and he’d make you feel better for the night and then leave before you woke up tomorrow. No, you had to stay strong.

Easily, like he’s slipping on that damned mask once more, Ari’s features morph from anger to nonchalance, and he straightens up and shakes his head.

“Fine. Then we’re done.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something else before thinking better of it. Instead, he turns and leaves without a second glance back at you, his fists balled up at his sides.  

It’s only when he’s gone, and the door slams shut with a crushing finality, that you allow yourself to burst into tears. Loud, wracking, sobbing tears, and one word falls past your lips in a choked whisper:

“Bye.”

***

Heartbreak felt strange. For one thing, it was constant. You missed Ari all the time in the days that followed. You thought it would get easier after a few days, but two weeks later and you still felt like your heart had been sawed in half. And every time you’d see him on campus, your heart would jolt.

In the past, he’d always smile at you or give you a wink – even if he was with his girlfriend. Now? You may as well have been invisible for all he cared. He never looked at you, or whenever his eyes did glance in your direction, it was like he’d see right through you or over your head. You didn’t exist to him anymore. And it hurt.

But isn’t this what you had wanted?

Well, yes. And yet, you can’t fathom how it’s actually happened. A large part of you had expected him to come crawling back to you like how he had last time. You’d expected your phone to blow up with texts and calls from him, expected him to show up at your door at midnight for a booty call, even. But nope. Radio silence. You and Ari were well and truly done and he’d moved on.

And often, when you were getting ready in the morning, your gaze would fall on the blue and white varsity jacket still draped on your chair and wonder if it was time for you to move on to someone else too…

But Ari still plagued your mind, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to contact Steve or even if you wanted to. After all, all he’d done was give you a ride home when you were messy drunk and probably at your most unattractive. He probably wasn’t even interested in you like that…

“Oh my Gosh, Curtis is coming this way. Do I look okay? Do I need to powder my nose again?” Wanda hisses at you. The two of you are sat on one of the wooden tables in the campus courtyard. She quickly grabs your compact, not waiting for you to answer as she scrutinises her reflection in the tiny mirror.

Oh, right. Another important advancement in the past two weeks: Wanda and Curtis were now a thing. Which made it even harder to avoid Ari, who was Curtis’ best friend. Even now, as you look beyond Wanda’s shoulder, you can see Curtis walking towards her with Ari right next to him. To your relief, Ari hangs back, getting his phone out instead.

“Hey, babe.” Curtis pulls up behind Wanda, wrapping his arms around her while she throws your compact back at you so she can squeeze his bicep. It hits you in the face and you huff to yourself as you put it away, pointedly trying not to look at the two of them while they start to make out. Watching them be a happy couple especially stung seeing as your own “relationship” had ended in such a disaster.

Looking beyond them proves to be a mistake, however. Ari’s now been joined by Sharon, and the two of them are also wrapped up in a kiss. God, what was with everyone? You scowl and look down at your lap.

“What’s wrong with your friend, sweetie?” Curtis asks Wanda, his voice dripping with smug amusement. You almost scoff out loud at the use of “your friend,” as if this man hadn’t been flirting with you the night of the party two weeks ago. You still haven’t mentioned that to Wanda – not when she’s so happy with him now.

“Oh, nothing. She’s always moody nowadays.” Wanda says flippantly, pulling him down to sit on the bench next to her as the two of them continue to kiss obnoxiously. The buzzcut-haired man squarely grabs her breast and gives it a squeeze – right out in the open! But Wanda only giggles, letting him pull her into his lap and feel her up as their make-out session takes a quick, R-rated turn.

“That’s my cue to leave,” you mutter to yourself, gathering your books and standing up. The happy couple doesn’t even glance your way or even acknowledge you’ve said anything. You sigh, wondering whether this was what the rest of your college experience would be like. You’d had your fun at the start of the year and now you were doomed to be the third wheel to these two…

“Oh my gosh, you’re the girl from that party, aren’t you?”

A high-pitched voice knocks you out of your hole of self-pity, and you almost run smack into… Sharon. She’s standing by your wooden table now, hand in hand with Ari, who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“H-Huh?” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. You’ve never spoken to Sharon before – and how could you? How could you even look her in the eye after you’d spent weeks and weeks sleeping with her boyfriend?

“You’re the girl from the party,” Sharon repeats, elegantly raising her voice over the obscene making out sounds coming from Curtis and Wanda. “I was pretty drunk but I remember you! You were in that gorgeous red dress, right?”

Your heart’s racing, and you wish you could disappear. Instead, you nod and force a smile.

“Yeah, that was me. Hi.”

“I thought so! You have to tell me where you got that dress, girl! I honestly couldn’t stop talking about it. I mean, just ask my boyfriend!” She nudges Ari, who is trying his best to appear nonchalant, ignoring her as he texts someone on his phone. Sharon rolls her eyes before continuing, “I was totally off my face drunk, but if I remember anything, it’s that dress.”

You nod, forcing a tight smile. “I was pretty drunk too. And the dress is from this website called White Fox Boutique. Look, I have to go–”

“Did you get home okay?” Sharon interrupts, her face morphing into a look of concern. And God, you hate how kind she’s being. It would have been easier to swallow the fact that you’d slept with her boyfriend had she been a bitch. Not a ray of literal sunshine who was so pretty to boot – with messy blonde hair cascading down her back in perfect waves, and the sparkliest blue eyes. No wonder Ari had chosen her – she was absolutely stunning, and even more so up close.

“Yes, I got a lift home–”

“Oh, that’s right! You were with Steve Rogers, that guy from St. Jude’s!” Sharon says excitedly, clasping her manicured hands together before grabbing Ari’s bicep, “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend now. Although it’s a good thing we both had our boyfriends there that night to get us home safely.”

Ari snorts, finally deciding to contribute to the conversation: “He’s not her boyfriend.”

“Um, okay. And how would you know that, babe?” Sharon smiles sweetly up at him.

The brunet freezes, glancing at you for a nanosecond before he clears his throat. “That guy couldn’t hold down a girl if his life depended on it. He’s too volatile.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “You’ll have to excuse my boyfriend. He has this weird rivalry thing with Steve Rogers. They’re both basketball players, you see.”

You nod, trying to pretend like this is all new information to you. “Uh, right. Well, Steve isn’t my boyfriend, actually. I only met him that night and he was kind enough to give me a lift home. Speaking of home, I gotta g–”

“You and Steve would make a cute couple,” Sharon muses, “you guys looked good together that night.”

You smile awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other and not knowing what to say. She clearly had an excellent memory of that night considering she was off her face drunk for the majority of it.

You hear Ari huff while you’re wracking your brain for an excuse to leave. Sneaking a glance at him, you find him frowning, his hands curled up into fists by his side. Oh, he was affected! Did that mean he still cared? A lightbulb goes off in your head…

“M-Maybe I will go out with Steve. We’ve been texting a lot since that night.” Your voice comes out shaky, the lie feeling foreign on your tongue.

Ari glares daggers at you, “That’s a bad idea.”

Sharon slaps his chest lightly, “Don’t be rude! I think that’s a fabulous idea!”

The brunet bristles and looks down at his girlfriend with an annoyed look on his face, “Don’t you have a class you need to be getting to?”

“I do but–”

“Go.”

Your eyes widen at his gruff tone, and you’re even more surprised when Sharon nods at his command. What was it about Ari that made every girl around him bow down to his authority so easily? You’d been guilty of it too in the past…

“Okay, grumpy-pants,” she says easily before turning to you, “it was nice meeting you! I’m Sharon, by the way.”

You tell her your name.

“Cool, I’ll find you on Instagram. You can text me the details of your dress there!” She says happily, and all you can do is nod while Ari continues staring at you with a steely expression on his face. Clearly, he was bothered by the idea of you and Steve texting! So what if it wasn’t even true?

You stare back at him defiantly, finally feeling like you’ve gained the upper hand in the two weeks since you two have been apart.

In response, Ari narrows his eyes, grabbing Sharon as she’s about to walk away. Your heart drops when he kisses her right in front of you, his gaze fixed on you as his lips move against hers. You feel your face grow hot, then cold, then hot again, heart feeling like someone’s shredding it into pieces. How could he? Your eyes well with tears, but you fight to keep them at bay because you can’t cry here, not in front of everyone.

He continues making out with her, being as obscene as possible as his eyes lock with yours, and you just stand there, frozen and gormless, not even able to look away. Finally, after what feels like ten years, they break apart. Sharon giggles, and Ari slaps her ass before sending her on her way. You wish you could gouge your eyes out.

“You’re unbelievable.” You mutter lowly once Sharon is out of earshot.

“And you’re a liar.”

“What?”

Ari steps closer to you, “I can always tell when you’re lying. You’re not texting Steve.”

You roll your eyes before pushing past him, “It’s none of your business anyways.”

Curtis – you’d forgotten he was even there – breaks a kiss with Wanda to grin up at you. “Don’t mind Ari, he’s just been extremely crabby lately. Not getting laid does that to people.” He goes in for another kiss, adding against Wanda’s lips, “Same can’t be said about you and me, huh, sweetheart?”

Ugh.

“Wanda, I’m leaving. Are you coming?” You ask, doing your best to ignore the two basketball players.

“What? Uh, no, I’m busy,” your friend answers distractedly before Curtis pulls her back in for another kiss.

“You’ll stay away from Steve if you know what’s best for you.” Ari says quietly.

Great. Was he seriously threatening you now?

“I’ll do whatever I want,” you raise your chin up at him defiantly once more.

Ari scowls, running a hand through his hair. You know him well enough to know that he does that when he’s frustrated. “Look, I’m being serious. It’s for your own good–”

“Why do you even care? I thought we were done, Ari.”

“We are done.”

“Then leave me the fuck alone, okay!? I’ll date whoever I want to date.”

“Not him.”

“Yes, him.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“We’ll vacate this bench if you two need the space to fuck.” Curtis offers jokingly, but both of you ignore him as you stare each other down.

Finally, you huff, attempting to sidestep him but he’s way too big and easily blocks your path. A second attempt, and he blocks you again – and this time he has the audacity to smirk amusedly. That boils your blood, and you glare up at him. How dare he try and tell you who you could and couldn’t date? When he just made out with Sharon five inches away from your face not even two minutes ago!?

 “Just listen to me for once,” Ari grabs your wrist but you’re quick to tug it back. His scowl deepens, but he doesn’t grab you again, “Steve is bad news. He–”

“He can’t be any worse than the guys I already do know.” You cut him off pointedly before turning around and walking away without a second glance.

***

“I can’t believe I let you drag me here.”

You’re all too familiar with the university’s basketball court – you used to come here all the time to watch Ari play. That didn’t mean you wanted to be here now. In fact, it was the last place you wanted to be, and you’d told Wanda that several times but she wouldn’t hear any of it.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Curtis is playing, and as his girlfriend, I need to be there for moral support.”

You wrinkle your nose; she’d only been going out with Curtis for a few weeks now and yet she was running around acting like Curtis was the president and she was the first lady or something. She didn’t really have any time to be your best friend anymore. You and Wanda had bonded at the start of the academic year – doing everything from attending society meetings together to having movie nights and sleep overs.

But now, it was all “Curtis wants me to go to this new club with him,” and “Curtis says that it’s okay to bunk lectures once in a while!” and “Oh sorry, I can’t hang out tonight – Curtis’ schedule just got cleared up so he needs me to go to his room.” It made you wonder whether you’d been this insufferable too when you were with Ari.

“Moral support? Wanda, this isn’t even a proper game. It’s just a practice,” you remind her, “and anyways, I don’t know what I’m doing here. It’s not like I’m dating Curtis.”

“Of course not, you’re not his type at all. I just couldn’t show up alone, that’s just sad,” says Wanda before she spies Curtis in the corner of the court with a few other teammates, all of them stretching and doing warm-ups. She waves at him like mad, blowing kisses in his direction. He shoots her a quick smile before turning around to talk to a nearby cheerleader.

You spot a familiar figure, tanned, tall and muscular with his long brown hair pushed back with one of those metal wire headbands that men wore, barking out a game plan to the rest of his team. Ari. You freeze.

“Wanda!” You hiss, tugging hard at her sleeve, “You said that Curtis told you that Ari was sick and wouldn’t be at practice today!”

Wanda blinks, “Oh. That was a lie.”

“What!?”

She shrugs, “Come on. I needed you here today and I knew there was no way you’d come if you knew Ari was here. Hey, does my lip gloss look okay, by the way? I’m gonna go say hi to Curtis.”

“Don’t leave me all by myself!”

Wanda rolls her eyes, tugging her arm out of your grasp, “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right back anyways. In the meantime, just find us a good spot to sit. Somewhere close to the front where Curtis will be able to see me.”

And she’s gone before you know it. Great. The last thing you needed right now was Ari thinking you’d come here specifically to see him play. And with his big head – that’s exactly what he’d think. You contemplate just leaving – you could tell Wanda that you’d had a medical emergency or something. Or maybe you could just sit somewhere in the back or hide in the bleachers, and Ari would never have to know you were here. He was too busy ordering his team around, he hadn’t noticed you yet anyways, and maybe you could–

“Sweetheart, I was hoping I’d see you here.”

A warm hand grasps your waist, and your first reaction is to jump back and smack whoever’s touching you in such a forward way. But then you turn, being met by a sturdy chest covered by a blue and white St. Jude’s basketball jersey. Golden hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Angelic face.

“Steve!” You exclaim, before realising that you sound way too happy to see someone who is essentially still a stranger to you. You clear your throat, trying to sound more casual. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Our court is being renovated, so we got permission to practice here with your team.” He flashes you a bright smile, his hand still on your waist, his thumb stroking you from over your blouse. His eyes rake over you unabashedly, and you find yourself growing hot under his gaze. “This is a really pretty outfit you got on, sweetheart. Is it for anyone in particular?”

You were wearing a pink blouse and cardigan set, with a matching pink tennis skirt which had unfortunately shrunk in the washing machine. You’d still worn it though, promising yourself you wouldn’t make the mistake of bending over and giving everyone within close vicinity a good eyeful of your panties.

“Oh, uh, no, not for anyone in particular,” you babble. You feel nervous around him, but not necessarily in a bad way. “Thanks for getting me home safely that night, by the way. I, uh, I meant to thank you the next morning but I didn’t have your number or anything.”

Steve nods, shooting you a wink, “That’s alright, princess. I think it’s me who should be thanking you for that night.” His hand slips down to your hip, giving it a warm, meaningful squeeze.

You frown, “Why would you be thanking me? I didn’t do anything.” Your Uber ride home with Steve was still a blur to you, but you doubt anything eventful had happened during it. “Oh, don’t tell me I kept you entertained with all my drunken chatter. I’m sorry, I do that sometimes, and I was so embarrassingly drunk that night.”

He blinks, before a slow smile spreads across his face, “Baby girl, don’t you remember?”

“I remember me being a total embarrassment, and you being a total gentleman. You even gave me your jacket and I still have it now!” You say brightly, picturing his varsity jacket still hung up on your desk chair back in your dorm room. “I wanted to return it to you but you never called, or texted, or…” your eyes widen when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, not that I expected you to call me. I understand that all you did was give me a lift home. I’m not insinuating that you had to call me, or that you’re attracted to me–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve easily grabs your chin before his thumb brushes upwards over your lips, effectively shutting you up. His eyes are intense, and so close, his lashes fanning his cheekbones as he looks down at you, “I am attracted to you.” He says squarely, before chuckling, “I thought that much was obvious. I should’ve gotten your number that night, baby girl, but you’d been drinking a lot.” His eyes glint as he licks his lips, “And I’d never take advantage of you when you were drunk.”

Oh, he was such a gentleman! Of course, he’d never take advantage of you while you were drunk! Unlike dumb, stupid Ari! As if on cue, you look beyond Steve’s shoulder, the tiniest part of you hoping that Ari’s watching this interaction between you and the blonde. But the brunet is busy warming up now, grunting as he does his push-ups in the corner of the gym, his tanned, muscular arms bulging. You almost bite your lip before focusing back on Steve.

“Give me your phone,” Steve says suddenly, and you’re obeying him before you’ve even registered what he’s asked. He smirks, taking it from you and typing his number in, saving it before handing it back to you. “You’ll text me tonight, won’t you?”

Was he asking you or was he telling you? Either way, you find yourself nodding.

His eyes bore into yours, “Say it, then. Say you’ll text me tonight.”

Oh, he was so intense! But you don’t seem to mind one bit. Again, you nod. “Y-Yes, Steve. I’ll text you tonight.”

He gives you a relaxed smile, “Good. We can discuss where I’ll take you on our first date.”

A thrill ripples through you. A date?! You’d never been on a date before! Oh wow, this was–

“Hey, you guys!”

Sharon’s bright voice echoes across the gym as she makes her way over towards the two of you. Sharon. Of course. Of course, she’d be here – she was a cheerleader. And she looked beautiful as she always did, with her blonde hair piled up in a messy bun, her cute cheerleading outfit accentuating all her curves perfectly. You’re hit with a sudden wave of insecurity – would Steve forget about you now that she was here? – but you try to keep it at bay.

The truth was, Sharon had requested you on Instagram a few days ago as she’d promised she would. And you’d had to follow her back, which was painful enough seeing as half of her pictures were her with Ari. But she was sweet when she texted you asking about where your red dress was from, and a few more mini-conversations and a bit of small talk later, clearly, she thought the two of you were friends.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Sharon squeals, giving you a quick hug which you reciprocate whilst wondering why exactly she’s so happy to see you. She nods at Steve with a humorous twinkle in her eye, “And you’re Steve Rogers, aka Ari’s best friend in the whole world.”

Steve snorts, “Yep. That’s me.”

She giggles, looking from him to you and back to him again, “Let me guess. You guys are a couple now.”

You shake your head, “No, we–”

“–We are.” Steve cuts you off, winking at Sharon before wrapping his arm properly around your waist and pulling you into him. Your eyes widen, cheeks feeling hot. You weren’t at all used to public displays of affection like this, nor were you used to anyone being as forward as Steve was being right now. After all, this was only your second time meeting him- how was he already telling people you were together? And why weren’t you objecting to it?

Sharon clasps her hands together excitedly, “Yay! I told her you guys would make the cutest couple.”

Steve chuckles, and your eyes widen when his hand meanders downward. His palm settles on your ass, cupping it as he casually speaks to Sharon. She’s in front of you, so she can’t see it, but your eyes nearly bug out of your head as you feel his big, warm hand cup your ass through your tennis skirt, even giving it a squeeze.

“Careful, Sharon. You might get in trouble if your boyfriend sees you talking to me.” Steve jokes airily, as if he isn’t kneading your ass cheek at the same time. Your face is on fire, but you also feel your walls clench, turned on by the extra attention he’s giving you as he nonchalantly talks to someone else. It’s hot.

“Pfft, no way. Ari doesn’t care who I talk to, he’s not really the possessive type.”

“Interesting…” Steve murmurs softly, almost to himself.

“Look, there he is now,” Sharon waves across the court, “Hey, babe!”

You follow her gaze, watching Ari as he dribbles the basketball casually. Upon hearing her voice, he looks up. He’s got a disinterested look on his face as he nods in acknowledgement at Sharon, but then his eyes meet yours. And it’s like the whole world freezes over, and your body freezes and your blood freezes.

Ari’s face contorts from disinterest to shock as he drinks in you standing with Steve. You feel your chest tighten, as if your body can’t decide between feeling triumphant that you’re making Ari jealous, or upset that you’re making Ari jealous. Either way, you hear Steve smirk, and then he pulls you closer, giving your ass an even harder squeeze that has you yelping.

The shock on Ari’s face quickly morphs into hatred and disdain. He’s all the way across the court, and yet you can see his knuckles redden as he grips the ball so tightly you fear it may explode. A part of you wants to move away from Steve out of respect for Ari, but you couldn’t do that even if you wanted to. Steve’s grip is like iron around you, his palm glued to your ass as if he owns it.

Almost like he’s doing it on purpose…

You don’t know what to expect from Ari, but you brace yourself nevertheless as he makes his way over. But the dark look on his face has melted away, and by the time he reaches you, he looks cool as a cucumber, almost as if he’s slipped on a mask of nonchalance at the drop of a dime. You always wondered how he did that so easily…

“Why aren’t you out there cheering me on?” He asks Sharon, pulling her into his chest and pointedly kissing her. Your blood starts boiling once more and you subconsciously sidestep closer to Steve, lifting your chin up in defiance in Ari’s direction. The brunette side-eyes you and clutches Sharon closer in return.  

Sharon beams up at Ari, “I was talking to Y/N. I’ll go in a second, because the squad is starting a new routine today and I want us to get it down in time for the next big game, and–”

But Ari’s no longer listening to her; him and Steve have now locked gazes much like how they did weeks ago at the party.

“I’m not sure why you even decided to show up today, Steve.” Ari breaks the steely silence first, “No amount of practice could help your godawful team beat mine.”

Steve smirks, undeterred. Pointedly, his arm tightens around you. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Something tells me you’ll be distracted tonight.”

Ari – somehow – looks equally unbothered, never breaking eye contact with Steve. You think you see his lip curl into a snarl for a millisecond, but it’s gone before you can be sure. “Even distracted, I’d still beat your ass.”

The blond snorts, “Your overconfidence is going to cost you, Ari. It’s what made you lose her.”

“Lose who?” asks Sharon, but she quickly grows distracted by the cheerleaders that are in the corner of the court, “Ugh, I gotta go. They’re trying to practice the pyramid and we need six of us to make it work. I’ll catch you later, okay? Please don’t try to kill Steve while I’m gone.” She kisses Ari’s cheek before waving at you and Steve and skipping away.

That just leaves you, standing frozen by Steve’s side while the two men lock eyes in their silent battle. And why does it kind of hurt, the fact that Ari hasn’t looked at you even once throughout it? In a way, you’re relieved that all they seem to be disagreeing over is basketball and who would beat who (aka lame boy stuff). But then that in turn makes you wonder: Is Ari not even affected by Steve’s arm around you? But then why did you even care if he was or wasn’t affected? And how was Steve being so forward, and, and, and–

“I-I gotta go. Wanda’s calling for me.” You lie, slipping out of Steve’s grip and scurrying away. The energy bouncing off both of them made you feel nervous, on edge, almost unsafe. You look back over your shoulder now to see them still staring at each other. Cold, barren stares that seemed to have grown more intense now that you’d left. It makes you gulp, and you wonder if it’s just a basketball rivalry between them after all – or it it’s something more.

“Where the hell have you been? Didn’t I tell you to find us good seats?” Wanda rolls her eyes, grabbing your hand and yanking you over to the last remaining front row seats. You try to clear your head of any thoughts of Ari or Steve, instead marvelling over how many people had showed up to watch these two teams play together in what was just a practice match.

“I was, uh, I just saw Steve.”

“Who?”

“He’s the… he gave me a lift home the night of the party.”

Wanda wrinkles her nose, about to say something before she grows distracted, “Look! There’s Curtis! The game’s about to start!!”

You never held much of an interest in basketball, even when you used to watch Ari play. But now, you pay attention carefully as the teams hit the court. Ari’s team have maroon jerseys and Steve’s team are in blue. They huddle on opposite sides of the court before the coach blows a whistle and they start playing.

“Look how good Curtis looks in his jersey,” Wanda gushes.

Ari looks pretty good too, you almost say out loud. And Steve too.

Both Ari and Steve were very similar on the court. Both the respective captains of their own team, you observe them ordering their teammates around, calling out strategies and gameplans, hyping the players up. They moved around similarly too, both so big and beefy and yet so fluid and lithe when dribbling the ball across the court. They were both clearly the most talented players out of everyone, yet you couldn’t tell who was better between the two of them.

“C’mon Rogers, is that the best you can do!?” Ari taunts after shooting an easy three-pointer about a minute into the game.

Steve rolls his eyes before beckoning one of his teammates closer. He’s a brunette with “Barnes” printed on the back of his jersey. The two of them confer for a few seconds while Ari and Curtis laugh and gloat with their own teammates. Then the coach blows the whistle again.

You zone out for a while, the maroon and blue jerseys becoming a blur as they whiz across the court. A bunch more points scored, the roar of the crowd, Wanda shrieking happily every time Curtis scores or jogs close to your seats. You, however, are much more interested in the way Steve had brazenly felt you up just now before this practice match had begun. Or how Ari hadn’t even looked at you when he’d come over to confront Steve. Or how…

“You fucking tripped him.” Steve seethes, the frustration in his voice carrying across the court and making you refocus on the game which has suddenly halted. The blond looks pissed, a borderline lethal look on his face as he kneels down next to his teammate. The brunette, “Barnes” is on the shiny floor, clutching his knee in pain.

Ari shrugs, “No I didn’t.”

Curtis snickers behind him.

Steve gets to his feet and shakes his head, but he barely has time to react before Ari throws the ball at him. Hard. It hits Steve squarely on the chest before he catches it, his jaw twitching as he does.

“C’mon, Rogers. You got a sub for your friend or are we gonna have to call it like last time?” Ari grins.

The brunet called Barnes limps to his feet, “Nah, I can play.”

Ari frowns. But the coach blows the whistle and the game resumes. This time, you pay closer attention. You note how Curtis is playing dirty, shadowing Barnes till he’s nearly on top of him, even trampling on his feet a few times.

And it’s meant to just be a practice game, but Ari and Steve look like they’re playing in the basketball world championships – or whatever it was called, it’s not like you would know. Both look stone-faced and determined, stealing the ball from each other multiple times, blocking each other, not letting each other shoot. They seem to be within a game of their own, one which was mental almost as much as it was physical.

“Is that all you got, Steve?” Ari taunts as he steals the ball from the blonde.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve mutters, stealing the ball straight back.

Back and forth it goes, neither of them letting the other shoot. Taunting and jeering each other every chance they get.

“What’s the deal with them?” You find yourself asking Wanda, your eyes glued to the court, “Why do they hate each other so much? Has Curtis ever told you?”

Wanda shrugs, “All I know is that the last time our team played against Steve’s, he lost it and got a yellow card, making his whole team lose. Curtis told me that. Basketball is a competitive game, Y/N. I thought you knew that.”

This seemed more than just a silly sports rivalry, though…

“I fucking saw that, you bald fuck!” Steve rages at Curtis, halting the game once more. “If you trip another one of my guys one more fucking time–”

“You’ll what? Blow your top off and get another yellow card?” Ari smoothly steps in front of Steve, squaring up to the blond with a smirk on his face, “Not a single person in here would be surprised, pretty boy.”

In a flash, Steve has hold of the front of Ari’s jersey, “Keep fucking talking–”

Ari doesn’t back down, and your heart begins to thud like crazy as you watch them. They’re quite close to where you and Wanda are sat, but you have to lean forward to hear what exactly they’re saying.

“Not so fucking smug now, are you?” The brunet sneers lowly. “Thought you could dangle her in front of my fucking face? But you can’t keep a girl, pretty boy. And you can’t keep your cool either.”

They’re like two Adonises, one as ripped as the other. One every bit as tall and built as the other. One every bit as handsome as the other. And both with an equal look of hatred on their faces, a kind of deep-seated hatred that made you uncomfortable, that chilled you down to your bones as you sit frozen in place, watching it all unfold.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve murmurs threateningly, a blue vein in his forehead looking like it’s about to pop.

Ari smiles coolly, “Or what? Gonna let your team down again, Rogers? Maybe a yellow’s not enough for you, maybe you’re aiming for a red card this time, huh?”

“A red card’s worth splitting your fucking skull–”

“ROGERS, LEVINSON, BREAK IT UP!”

You jump when both the teams’ coaches blow their whistles, making their way over to the two captains. Curtis drags Ari away, and a guy with “Wilson” on his jersey, as well as Barnes both pull Steve in the other direction too. A five-minute recess is called, and you can’t believe what you’ve just seen.

In his team’s respective corner, you watch as Ari snatches up a bottle of water and takes a long swig before pouring the rest of it over his head, as if to cool himself down. Swivelling your eyes, you see Steve in his team’s corner of the court, his hands curled into fists by his side as Barnes and Wilson speak lowly to him. But his blue eyes seem far, far away. And his jaw remains tensed, a dark, almost unreadable look on his face.

The game resumes, but this time it feels different. The dynamic between the two men is completely juxtaposed from what it was the night of the party. Then, Steve seemed in control, laughing as Ari lost his cool. Now, it’s the complete opposite. Ari seems to have recovered from the scuffle, resuming his taunts and insults as he dribbles the ball up and down the court like a pro. But Steve is somewhat out of it, still playing well but almost as if he’s out-of-sync with himself, as if his mind is elsewhere.

And Ari seems to have picked up on it.

“What’s the matter, Rogers? About to lose it again?” Ari snickers after he’s dodged Steve and scored another three-pointer.

Steve says nothing.

St. Andrews (Ari’s team) is up by three points. There’s no scoreboard as it was just a practice and not an official match, but there’s a freshman in the front row – Jake Jensen – who’s acting like a play-by-play commentator.

“Will Steve Rogers lose his marbles and cost his team another match?” Jake speaks into his headset in a suspenseful tone, “Will this all-star athlete crack under the pressure? Will he succumb to the opposition’s tireless taunts? Will the golden boy lose his cool once more? Will he–”

Steve swiftly tosses the ball aside, and the ref barely has time to blow the whistle to call for a time out before the blond grabs Jake Jensen by the collar and hoists him up in the air as if the freshman weighs nothing more than a feather.

“You say one more fucking word, I’ll shove this headset up your fucking ass, got that?” Steve shoves Jensen back in his seat before throwing the poor freshman’s headset at his face, knocking his glasses off. Jake swallows and nods, his mouth clamped shut and a frightened look on his face.

You bite your lip and watch as Steve returns to the game. He’s still got that far-away look in his face, as if he isn’t quite one hundred percent there. He also looks agitated, rattled, unnerved. You feel wary of him, and yet at the same time you also feel a pang of pity, a part of you wanting to go up there and give him a hug despite the fact that you don’t know him like that.

The game starts up again, and quite frankly, you really just want this damned practice to end already. The atmosphere is so intense, so thick, you could practically cut through it with a knife. Steve scores a point, then Ari does, then Steve, then Ari – it’s almost like they’re playing a one-on-one match and everyone else on the court is a paid actor.

“You’re losing your edge, pretty boy,” Ari starts his taunting once more, “Do it. Lose it. Let everyone down, Rogers. Show everyone what a–

“GODDAMIT, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

 Steve explodes. What happens next happens very quickly. Steve, in a fleeting fit of rage, throws the ball straight at Ari’s face. Hard. Except Ari dodges it just in time. You hardly register what happens after that, and –

THWACK.

The ball hits you right in the face.

Commotion around you. Yelling. Whistles blowing. People talking. Whispers of your name. You think you even hear a snicker from right next to you. And yet you hardly take in any of it, trying your best to catch your breath. Your ears are ringing, your face burning with immediate pain.

Oh god, oh god, oh my god!

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Ari roars at Steve.

You try and find your voice, try to voice that you’re okay, try to grab for Wanda’s hand but it’s like you’re stunned into place. And truth be told, you’re not okay. The whole right side of your face where the basketball hit you hardest throbs in pain. You can even feel the tears brimming in your eyes. Oh, but you can’t cry here, you just can’t! But it hurts! Oh, it hurts so bad!

The next thing you know, you’re being scooped up into someone’s muscular arms.

“Are you okay?” It’s Ari. You blink several times to clear your fuzzy vision. Were you imagining him? No, his arms feel very solid and familiar around you as he lifts you up, carrying you out of the crowd and to the side of the court.

“It hurts!” You can’t help but whimper, feeling like a baby. A disoriented, helpless baby.

“Oh my gosh, is she okay?!” You hear Sharon run up to you two. Shit. Ari wouldn’t be caught dead holding you in his arms in front of his girlfriend, would he? Despite your disoriented state, despite all the pain, you brace yourself for him to drop you.

“Go get some ice,” Ari orders her. “There’s an ice box in the locker room. Go.”

You’re too preoccupied with your throbbing face to really notice Sharon’s reaction, but she dutifully does what he tells her.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay,” He murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry,” Now you hear Steve’s voice, a scuffle which was him probably pushing past people. You try to straighten up in Ari’s arms so you can look at the blond, but dizziness overtakes you. You can still hear him though, despite the ringing in your ear, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“You stay the fuck away from her,” Ari growls.

“Shut the fuck up, I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m talking to you, asshole. You’ve already done enough.”

Ari walks away with you in his arms. You’re finally able to look over his shoulder as he carries you, and catch one last glimpse of Steve just standing there. He’s staring at his hand, flexing it in front of him as if he can’t believe what he’s just done. But it wasn’t his fault, was it?! You can’t think straight, and your face throbs with pain if you try to touch it.

“I can’t fucking believe him,” Ari fumes, as he walks the two of you into a bathroom off the side of the court. You welcome the privacy, being away from the multiple pairs of eyes that had been ogling you when the basketball had hit your face. He gently sits you down on the sink before grabbing a first aid kit that’s conveniently in one of the drawers. “I told you he was trouble, didn’t I? Now he’s physically attacked you in front of everyone. He’s a fucking psychopath–”

“Ari, it hurts,” you interrupt, your voice all wobbly.

The brunet’s features soften. He’s got an ointment in one hand, but he uses his other one to brush your cheek, coming up to stand between your dangling legs.

“This’ll numb the pain.” He says, his voice soft like a cloud. And you’ve never felt this type of softness from him before. Especially not in the past few weeks whilst he’s been giving you the cold shoulder. He spreads the numbing ointment over and around your eye, and you sigh, feeling a little relief.

“That’s a good girl,” Ari murmurs, his hand coming to rest on your leg and giving it a squeeze, “He got you straight in the eye, that dumb fucking prick. It’s definitely gonna bruise, but you’re doing so good, baby. You’re being such a brave little girl.”

Oh god, the way he was speaking was giving you butterflies! Why was he doing it? Did he still care about you?!

“Why are you being so nice?” You blurt out, the pain on your face making you deliriously bold.

Ari snorts, squeezing your thigh, “Baby, I can be nice. You know that.”

Well, he’d been awful these past few weeks. He’d been awful to you the night of the party, too. And yet… You can feel yourself slipping, getting lost in his blue eyes that seem to be sparkling with earnesty, and– No! No, you weren’t going to let yourself go there. Not this time!

“Y-You weren’t being so nice to Steve tonight.” You accuse, trying to shake off the romantic tension that seems to be creeping up on both of you, trapping you in that bubble of desire that you always seem to find yourself in alone with him.

Ari scoffs. “Don’t defend that asshole, not after he gave you a black eye.”

“He didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him? That he was bad news?” Ari’s hand doesn’t leave your bare thigh, and you’re acutely aware of his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Now he’s gone and hurt you just like I knew he would.”

“You were goading him the whole time, Ari!”

“That doesn’t give him the excuse to physically assault you.”

“That’s not what it was!” You try to frown, but it makes your eye throb with pain, and you wince instead.

“Well, either way, you’re never gonna see him again after tonight.” Ari declares.

Your jaw drops open, “Excuse me?”

He meets your gaze squarely, the hint of an amused smile touching his lips, “You heard me. He’s too volatile, and if you had listened to me, you’d know that.”

“He only blew up like that because you wouldn’t stop insulting him!”

It’s his turn to frown, “He blew up like that because that’s who he is.”

You regard Ari suspiciously, “How do you know him so well?”

Ari sighs, suddenly devoting all his attention to screwing the cap back on to the ointment bottle. He takes his time, carefully placing the bottle back in the first aid kit before he refocuses on you. You expect him to answer your question, but instead he cups your face (the side that hadn’t been hit by a basketball).

“Sweetheart, the bottom line is that he hurt you.” Ari’s voice drops a few octaves, his face suddenly so close to yours, so close that you can see his long lashes flutter as he blinks, “I didn’t like that.”

You bite your lip, goosebumps running up and down your arms. You feel a sudden sense of dejavu – being in a bathroom with Ari alone like you were all those weeks ago at that party. The bathroom where he’d left you. “Wh-Why didn’t you like it?”

“You know why.” He moves even closer, his lips looking so plump and pink…

“No. Tell me.”

“Because I care about you. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone that night.”

Tenderly, he kisses you. And you don’t even fight it, easily melting into it despite everything. Despite how much you’d coached yourself not to fall for him again. His lips just feel so good, so natural, so him. And he’s holding you so gently, almost like you’re made out of glass. It’s like it’s a different Ari that’s kissing you now, so different from the man you’d gotten to know, from the man who’d hurt you and lied to you countless times.

The two of you pull apart, before instinctively pulling back in for another kiss. And you don’t know if it’s you or him that initiates the second one, but it’s like there’s an invisible string between the two of you, keeping you connected no matter how hard you try to run away.

“Ari,” you whisper against his lips, “Ari, what does this mean?”

He says nothing, continuing to peck at your lips. His hand slips up your skirt, but you quickly grab it to halt him. No, you needed answers this time before you took it any further.

“Y-You said you care about me.”

“Yeah, I did. I do.”

“Are you going to break up with Sharon?”

Silence.

And just like that, the bubble pops. You crash back down to reality. Your black eye throbs, your heart throbs, and now your head’s throbbing too. Sighing sadly, you push Ari away.

“Hey, look, I’ll figure something out.”

You shake your head, “I don’t have time for you to figure something out, Ari. It’s either me or her. Because honestly, Sharon doesn’t deserve this and neither do I. And I’m not going to start sneaking around with you again if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ari doesn’t say anything, but his eyes look torn. He opens his mouth as if to say something before clamping it shut again and sighing. Running a hand through his mane, he leans forward as if to kiss you again, but you turn your head, not wanting to give in to the temptation a second time.

His silence is all the answer you need. With a heavy heart, you sigh.

“We need to pull the plug on this – whatever this is.” You say firmly, “and maybe it’s time for me to see other people so I can properly move on from you.”

Immediately, Ari’s eyes narrow, “What, like Steve? I already told you he’s dangerous.”

“He likes me and he’s not afraid to be seen with me in public!”

“He’s not afraid to physically assault you in public, that’s for sure.”

Round and round the two of you went, in this never-ending circle of fighting then making up then fighting again. It needed to end. You had to end it.

“Steve asked me out earlier today, and I think I’m going to go.” You scoot off the sink, feeling a bit shaky on your feet but overall alright enough to walk away.

“No, you’re fucking not.” Ari blocks your path, looking frustrated beyond belief. “Look, the only reason he even asked you out is because he wants to get back at me.”

Your jaw drops open for the second time in the span of five minutes. Angrily, you push past him, “You’re a fucking dick, Ari.”

“I’m not saying it to hurt you, I–”

“No, just shut up!” You interrupt, “Another guy asks me out and you can’t help but make it about yourself, can you? Because God forbid a guy likes me for me, right? Fuck you.”

He opens his mouth to as if to say something, but the door to the bathroom pushes open at that exact second.

“There you guys are!” Sharon huffs, looking red and out of breath, with a bag of ice in her hands. “It took me ages to find the ice box, are you okay?!”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You answer, but she insists on icing your eye for you. It makes you feel even worse, standing there and allowing her to gently press the ice against your injury. The physical relief is instantaneous, but you feel icky on the inside. Yet again, you’d kissed her boyfriend behind her back. And it was even worse since you and her were kind of friends now.

Ari slips out of the bathroom without another word, and you watch over Sharon’s shoulder as he leaves. As he disappears down the corridor until he’s just a shadow, and only then you allow yourself to let out a long sigh. There. It was done. You and Ari were over now.

Forever.

***

“Sorry again for the black eye,” Steve says, his hand pressing against the small of your back as he leads you up the cobblestone pathway to his front door. “I promise I don’t usually have to resort to violence to get a girl to go out with me.”

It’s been a week since the fateful basketball practice game. Steve had texted you that very night, apologising over and over again for throwing the ball at your face. You were forgiving, naturally. It wasn’t his fault, and it’s not like he was aiming for you anyways. After that, the conversation had quickly flowed over to other things, and you found Steve easy to talk to over text. It wasn’t as intimidating, and he led most of the conversation, telling you how he’d love to take you out that weekend. The two of you had texted all week – and it was a welcome distraction from Ari, anyways.

Now, you giggle, feeling all glowy and special because the day of your date is finally here. You’re outside, the sun is shining and Steve’s confidently taken your hand in his. In comparison, you can’t even remember the last time you’d held hands with Ari – or if you’d ever held hands with Ari for that matter.

“That’s alright, Stevie. Just as long as you promise not to do it again, I don’t think I’d fare well as a battered and abused wife.” You answer before your eyes widen once you’ve realised what you’ve said. Had you just referred to yourself as his… wife? On your very first date? God… What the fuck was wrong with you?

But Steve only smirks, pulling you up the stairs leading to the front door of his house before yanking you into him, taking you by surprise. Your face collides with his hard chest as he kisses the top of your head. Your cheeks immediately go hot – he was so forward sometimes! No. All the time. He was incredibly forward all the time. And you don’t think you mind it in the least.

“Trust me, sweetheart. If you were my wife, I wouldn’t have allowed you to run around in that slutty little outfit at practice in front of so many feral basketball players.” He says, grabbing his keys from his pocket and going to unlock the door.

You bite your lip, “Are you calling yourself feral?”

His gaze is intense as he looks back at you, but then he chuckles, “Baby girl, with you prancing around in that tiny excuse of a skirt, who wouldn’t be feral?”

Your eyes widen and you stare down at the floor again, cheeks forever hot at his way with words. Steve smirks, pulling you inside. You find yourself in a massive foyer. You’d never seen anything like it, because the front door to your family’s house back home simply led into a living room. But this place was all marble floors and crystal chandeliers and grand staircases – like a fairytale palace.

Everything leading up to this moment had felt surreal like a fairytale. Steve had picked you up promptly at 4pm, just like he said he would. And he’d checked every box on the imaginary first date checklist in your mind that you didn’t even know you had. His hair was all windswept and gorgeous, starting to grow longer down his neck. His face was clean-shaven, blue eyes sparkling as he’d kissed you on the cheek when you’d opened your dorm room door to greet him.

With your hand grasped tightly in his, he’d tugged you to his car. Held the door open for you, helped you inside and he’d even secured your seatbelt for you.

“I’m so excited!” you’d blurted out when he’d got into the driver’s seat. And Steve had smiled, leaned over the console and kissed your forehead, murmuring in agreement. And it had made you swoon, your eyes widening at how forward he was, how comfortable he was with you when this was only the first date.

And then he’d grabbed your chin and looked at you with those intense eyes, “Baby girl, you know what would make this date even better?”

Entranced, you’d asked him: “What?”

His features had hardened for a second, and his grip on your chin tightened all of a sudden too, “You don’t mention Levinson tonight. Or ever again. Not when you’re with me. You got that?”

Your jaw would’ve dropped open had he not been holding your chin so hard. But you’d shaken your head hastily, not wanting to do anything to upset him or ruin your first date, “O-Of course, not, Steve, I wouldn’t, I–”

“I’m serious,” Steve had said softly, and yet he sounded almost threatening, “I hear his name come out of your mouth even once, and I’ll be very angry. Got that?”

“Y-Yes, Steve.”

“And if I find out you’re dating me just to make him jealous, I won’t be happy. Understood?”

You had swallowed harshly. Was that what you were doing? Oh, you didn’t even know! But you decided to focus entirely on Steve after that.

“I understand.”

And then he’d changed, letting go of your chin and shooting you a winning smile. His demeanour relaxed once more as he’d started up the car, and all the tension in the air dissipated. He began complimenting your dress, your hair, telling you how beautiful you looked and how much fun the two of you would have tonight. His warm hand patted your bare leg, and then it stayed there for the duration of the car ride, making you relax, making it seem as if that moment had never happened.

And that’s how you’d ended up at Steve’s house. And sure, it was a bit strange that you were at Steve’s house for your first date with him. But he’d said something about checking on a few things at home before he took you out. It was a casual date anyways, so you didn’t mind. Plus, he looked so handsome and earnest in his pressed white shirt and navy jacket, how could you ever say no?

“This place is huge,” you can’t help but marvel.

Steve shrugs, “I guess. It’s pretty empty nowadays – my parents are both surgeons and they travel overseas a lot to perform big surgeries. And I live on campus at the frat house, so it’s just my little sister here now. I like to check in on her every now and then.”

Oh, he was so sweet! Nothing like Ari, who was looking worse and worse by comparison. Ari, who never took you out on dates. Who only ever wanted you for sex. Whose love language seemed to only consist of lying to you, and the only times he was ever sweet was when he was manipulating you…

And yet… despite everything, your mind flits back to the way he’d carried you off when Steve’s ball had hit your face. How tenderly he had stroked you and tended to you. How sweetly he’d kissed you, making the butterflies in your tummy grow alive with excitement and nerves.

Stop, stop, stop thinking about Ari!

“So, where are we going for our date?” You ask brightly, letting Steve grab your hand again as he pulls you through a large, carpeted corridor.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Steve says vaguely, “But I thought we could hang here for a while. Do you want anything to drink?”

He leads you into a modern yet grandiose looking front room, with luxurious leather couches and a fireplace and an ornate coffee table that looks more expensive than your whole house back home. There’s also an open plan kitchen, also modern and minimalistic, and Steve drags you over, pulling out a chair and pushing you down by the shoulders to sit at the marble island.

“Water is fine.” You answer politely, not wanting to ruin your appetite before the date itself had even begun. Again, you start to wonder what he has planned for you two… A cute café? A posh restaurant? An aesthetically pleasing diner, even? Your heart somersaults excitedly at all of the potential prospects. The closest you’d ever gotten to a date before this was Ari ordering Nobu to your dorm room and the two of you eating on your bed while you forced him to watch Gossip Girl with you on your laptop…

 “What’re you smiling about, gorgeous?” Steve interrupts your thoughts.

“Huh? Nothing.”

He shakes his head and gives you another one of his charming, lop-sided smiles, “You sure you want just water? We’ve got some good bottles of wine down in the cellar. Or I could mix you a drink, although I’ll warn you now, I’ve been told I’m a bit too generous when it comes to measuring out the alcohol.”

Your eyes widen – was it a thing to drink before a first date? You didn’t know, since you’d never been on a date in your whole entire life. Would you look dumb if you just stuck to water? Could he tell how much you were currently overthinking things? It’s not like you were against drinking – it’s just that you had done so much of it on the night of the party that you were looking to steer clear. Plus, you wanted to be completely sober for your first date, and–

Steve chuckles, “Okay then, water it is.” He tosses you a bottle of still water and you catch it gratefully. Unscrewing the cap and taking a swig, you watch him as he moves around the kitchen island, settling down on the seat next to you before grabbing your chair and pulling it over till you’re very close to him.

“I’m really happy you said yes to this date, baby girl,” he says in that intense way that he speaks, all up close and his blue eyes sparkling like a crystalline lake where the sun’s hitting it just right. It reminds you of Ari’s eyes, actually – and it was crazy how both Steve and Ari had the exact same shade of blue eyes.

“Oh, uh, I’m happy too,” you say shyly, gulping as he pulls you even closer, his hand coming to rest on your bare thigh. He strokes your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he fingers the lacy hem of your sundress.

“And I love this little dress you’re wearing,” His voice lowers, and your lips part as you watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows, his face so close to yours. “I love that you wore it for me today, sweetheart. You did wear it for me, didn’t you? Just me?” His grip on your leg hardens slightly, but you’re too busy focusing on his long lashes to even notice.

“Y-Yes, I thought it would look cute for our date,” you breathe, acutely aware of his fingers playing with the soft material of your dress, lifting it up slowly.

Steve smirks, “You do look cute, in your pretty pink dress that you wore just for me.” He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you forward, his eyes hooded and lips hovering over yours. Just an inch away, and your heartrate quickens, and you move closer–

“Steve! I thought I heard you come in!”

You and Steve spring apart when a girl appears in the doorway of the kitchen. But her wide smile is immediately replaced by a look of embarrassment and even fear the moment she sees that you’re there too.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company…” she stutters, backing out of the room.

“Kira, wait, don’t go,” Steve jumps up and grabs the girl’s arm before she can escape, “Come meet my date. Babe, this is my little sister, Kira.”

For some reason, when Steve had mentioned his little sister living here earlier, you’d automatically just assumed there was a pre-teen running around somewhere in the house with a live-in nanny chasing after her. But Kira looks about the same age as you, and she also looks somewhat petrified. Standing there next to her brother, wringing her hands together and barely being able to make eye contact with you.

“Hey, Kira, it’s nice to meet you.” You say pleasantly, and she returns your smile awkwardly for a nanosecond immediately looking back down at her feet, as if she felt embarrassed in her own skin. She’s pretty, with pale skin and blonde hair just like her brother. But Steve was big, assured and confident, whilst Kira looks extremely shy, with a slight build – much smaller than him. Her hair is scraped back in a tight plait down her back, and her glasses were slightly crooked on her face.

“Hey,” she whispers softly, and she looks at you for a second or two, but seems to grow alarmed when you meet her gaze. Quickly, she looks to the floor again, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

“She’s the girl I’ve been telling you about,” Steve says to his sister.

Your heart swells, and you beam up at him, “You’ve been talking about me?”

He gives you a wink, “Of course. You’re practically a household name, sweetheart.”

Kira clears her throat, backing away slowly, “I-I should go, uh, it was nice meeting you–”

“Stay, Kira, please!” Steve says, “We’re leaving in a second anyways, then you’ll have the whole place to yourself.”

The poor girl looked extremely awkward, and a part of you feels sorry for her as she stands there quietly, with Steve beaming next to her.

“I like your sweatshirt.” You say after a few seconds of silence.

“Th-Thank you,” Kira answers, glancing down at her front before shooting you another quick, tight-lipped smile. “I – uh – I thrifted it a while back.”

“I love thrifting! I’m new to the city though, so I don’t know any of the good places.”

“Kira could show you around!” Steve suggests. You nod politely. Kira smiles too, but you can tell she still looks mortified. You try not to make it obvious, but you’ve noticed how her hands are shaking as she keeps them clasped in front of her. A part of you can relate – you still get shy and awkward around people you don’t know, too.

Kira starts backing out of the room again, “I – uh – I’m so sorry, I have a report, I–”

“No, please! You’re good!” you say, “It was really nice to meet you!”

“You too,” she answers, before leaving the room and closing the door gently behind her.

A few beats pass before you speak.

“She seems really nice,” you say, taking another sip of water.

Steve nods, looking distracted as he watches after his sister through the glass pane of the door. His smile from earlier is still plastered on his face, but it no longer seems to reach his eyes. The atmosphere, the air itself, suddenly feels heavier, different in a way, and you can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

When Steve finally looks at you, he’s got a dark look suddenly shrouding his face. But he smiles nonetheless, grabs your hand and pulls you up to your feet, “Yeah, she’s great. I know she didn’t talk much but that’s only because she tends to get really anxious around people she doesn’t know. But I promise you, she’s a good kid.”

“I totally understand.”

“No really, if you get to know her, she’s a lot of fun. She doesn’t really go out much…” His voice trails off, but you feel him squeeze your hand tighter as he leads you out of the kitchen and into a spacious corridor.

“I get that,” you answer honestly, wondering if you should say anymore or whether it would be overstepping. But Steve still looks distracted, and you want to show him that you’re present and attentive and interested in what he’s telling you – which you are. “Honestly, I get it. Does she have a good group of friends at her college? I know that friends can be–”

“She went to your college.” Steve interrupts you.

 Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “She goes to St. Andrews’? No way, that’s so cool! I don’t think I’ve seen her around but that’s probably ‘cause the campus is so big, but wow, I–”

“No, she used to go there,” he says, stopping in front of what you assume is his bedroom door, and turning to look at you with a peculiar expression. Steve, always so forward with his emotions, but right now his blue eyes gaze at you with a look that’s almost unreadable, and his words come out blunt. “She doesn’t go there anymore. She dropped out.”

Oh.

You can feel his hand clutching yours very tightly, his grip almost crushing. And yet, despite the physical contact, he seems far away. Like he’s lost in his own world, like there’s something brewing inside his head but you can’t seem to read him and figure out what exactly it is. His full lips are pressed into a thin line, and his other hand grips the doorknob tightly for a handful of long seconds before twisting it and pulling you into his room.

“Steve, I…”

He shuts the door before turning to face you once more, and he’s still got that stormy, distant look on his face, a look you’ve never seen before now. It’s almost eery, how quickly his demeanour had changed. Just a minute ago, he was being charming as hell…

But then his face suddenly relaxes, lips twitching into that lop-sided smile of his. The familiarity of it relaxes you too, makes you not fully notice how it still doesn’t reach his eyes as he tugs you into him.

“Why did she drop out?” You breathe.

Steve’s face is so close to yours, his blue eyes blazing and his jaw tensing and untensing almost rhythmically. He sucks in a breath, his charming smile freezing on his face as he looks somewhere beyond your shoulder.

“She just didn’t have the best time there,” his eyes darken, the grip he has on your hand not relenting in the slightest, “There were some people – one person – who just…” He trails off once more, before his gaze suddenly snaps back to you, and he clears his throat, “It was just one of those things where she decided it was best for her to drop out. That was last year, and she’s taking some courses online now.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. That must’ve been so tough for her,” you exhale, unaware that you’d been holding your breath in.

He nods, and you watch him closely. His eyes twitch before he smiles once more, pulling you towards his bed, “Yeah, it was.”

He backs up till he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling you on top of him till you’re straddling his lap. Automatically, your arms wind around his neck, and you don’t think you’ve seen a more intense-looking pair of eyes than his in that moment. Neither of you say anything, but his fingers dance up and down your bare legs. Slip up your hips and give them a squeeze, and you bite your lip.

He kisses up your neck, the first few being feather-light before they grow more frenzied. His hand cups your ass through the material of your dress, giving it a squeeze that has you breathing hard.

 Wait, what was happening? Just a second ago he was opening up to you about his sister, and now…?

“Steve, what’re you – ah – wh-what about our date–?”

He’s got a glint in his eye when he looks up from kissing your skin, “I didn’t forget about our date, sweetheart. I just thought we’d take a little detour first.”

Oh. Okay. It’s easy to grow distracted when his kisses on your skin are making the butterflies spiral and flutter in your tummy. You want to melt into his arms, let him kiss you all the rest of the day and all night too. Let him take you on this amazing first date that he’d painstakingly planned for you, and in doing so erase the thought and touch of Ari from your mind completely, till your body forgets about the man you’ve been nonstop thinking about for the past month. Maybe this was it, maybe it was time for something new. Someone new. All Ari ever wanted from you was sex, but Steve? Steve was different.

“I wasn’t – ah, Steve – I have to say, I wasn’t planning on kissing you until the end of the date, definitely not before it,” you giggle, pushing at his chest to try and get a word in as he tugs the strap of your dress aside and trails his lips down your shoulder blade.

You feel him smirk against your skin, “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll be a gentleman and save our first kiss for the end of the date, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things right now.”

You feel your core thrum with excitement at his words, and you look up to beam at him except he’s too busy pushing your dress down to meet your gaze. The sun shines through the open window, making his hair glisten golden, and you wonder if the sunlight makes his eyes glimmer like that too. But he’s not looking at you.

“Steve,” you push at his shoulder, “Steve, won’t we be late for our date?”

His fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress, and with ease he unfastens it before looking at you, and his eyes are so dark, “Who’s planning this date, sweetheart? Me or you?”

You giggle nervously, “You, of course. But–”

“Who’s in charge?”

“Y-You, but–”

“No, no buts. We’ll go when I say we’re ready to,” he runs his hand down your bare back through the gap created by the open zipper of your dress, his calloused fingers running over your sensitive skin and making your heart skip a beat. His tone is distracted, and yet there’s a finality and authority to it that makes you listen to him.

Before you can think of a response, he grabs you by the waist and pushes you down on the bed before climbing on top of you. You gulp, a huge part of you so turned on by how in control he is, and yet it’s such a contrast from the easy-going Steve’s you’ve gotten to know today. But at the same time, you get a strange sense of dejavu, as if you’ve been in this situation before with him… But that wasn’t possible at all, was it?

“Stevie, please, my hair and makeup’s gonna get ruined!” You laugh, trying to bat him away as he kisses down your chest, pulling your dress down with him, “I worked really hard on it, you know!”

You wait for him to quip back, say something funny or charming to reassure you and make you feel all warm inside. Like how he’s been doing today ever since he picked you up from your dorm room. But he doesn’t reply at all, too focused on tugging your dress off. It’s crazy, almost as if his personality had completely switched since he’d dragged you from the kitchen into his room. He seems distracted, frenzied, unresponsive almost as he licks and nips at your chest.

And a large part of you wants to give in. You know your panties are soaked through, and it would be so easy to just relinquish control completely, till you did that thing where you went all dumb and submissive. But then… what about the date? You’d been looking forward to finally going out with a guy, really going out instead of just hanging out in a bedroom…

Was that all you were worth?

“Steve! Stevie, c’mon. I don’t wanna wrinkle my dress before our date–”

“Then just take it off,” he yanks at the fabric hard, and you hear a rip.

“My dress!” You cry, but he pins your arms above your head with just one of his hands before you can survey the damage. His face is hovering over yours, so close that his nose brushes against yours, and yet despite the closeness, his eyes look so far away. So dark and far away, even the sunlight from the window doesn’t seem to reach into them.

“Steve, please slow down–”

“C’mon, baby girl. The innocent act is cute but everyone knows you’re not exactly a prude…”

“Huh?”

His kiss swallows you whole, and his lips are so soft, so warm. They mould perfectly against yours, and you momentarily forget everything, your arms winding around his neck as you kiss him back. For a few seconds, it’s magical. It’s different from kissing Ari – but not at all in a bad way. When Ari kissed you, it felt like the whole world stopped moving, like everything came to a halt except him and you. But with Steve, it felt like the world was spinning doubly fast, making you feel light and heady and excited, like you were in the midst of a whirlpool, like Steve was consuming you whole.

But only for those precious few seconds, before he bites down on your lower lip, and you feel a jolt of pain. He ruts against you, his movements rough and animalistic. You make a sound of protest, but it’s drowned out by another loud rip, and you feel your dress coming further undone.

“Hey, stop!” you manage to pull away, the metallic taste of blood invading your tastebuds. You wipe your mouth, heart beating faster than a drum. You look down at your dress – the front of which has been ripped down to your waist, and a horrified feeling spreads through your chest. “M-My dress…”

“It’s not a big deal,” he tries pressing his lips against yours again but you dodge him.

“It is! H-How am I gonna go on our date if my dress is all ripped?”

Steve blinks, “We’ll figure something out, sweetheart.”

“No, wait! Please… I was looking forward to–”

He cuts you off with another rough kiss, his hands spreading the tear of your dress to expose your bra. He palms your breasts through the lacy material, and you don’t know whether to give in to the pleasure or address the sinking feeling in your chest. You’d gotten all dressed up for him, for this date! And now?

“S-Steve, can we please just stop for a second – ah!”

He pulls the cups of your bra down, his mouth latching on to your nipple. And oh, it feels so good! And yet…

You push him off you, “Please, Steve. Slow it down!”

Steve blinks, his eyes looking so deeply stormy, so dark and far away despite the fact that he’s making direct eye contact with you, “That’s strange.”

“What’s strange?”

He grips your chin roughly with his thumb and forefinger, “Playing hard to get isn’t really your strong suit, so I don’t get why you’re doing it now. You didn’t do it the night we met.”

He’s back on you once more in a flash, when his words haven’t even properly sunk in. His lips brush past your collarbone, kissing back down to your bare breasts. He circles your nipple with his tongue, grabbing your hands and squeezing them before bringing them up to his abs. Your breath hitches, the feel of his mouth on you… and his body, so hard and masculine and big, it’s got your mind clouding over. You almost forget what he’s just said…

You force out another giggle, although you don’t much feel like laughing anymore. “What do you mean? Look – ah! – please just stop for a second –”

“That’s not what you were saying the night of the party,” Steve mutters against your neck, pushing your hand past his waistband, his grip too strong for you to pull away from. “You clearly didn’t have a problem spreading your legs for me then.”

Your blood runs cold. What did he mean by that?

He gets rougher, biting and sucking on your nipples, manhandling your body till he’s got your legs spread and he’s slotted himself between them. Lewdly, he thrusts his clothed dick against your panty-covered pussy, and you suppress the need to moan. Your entire body’s screaming for you to just lay still and let him do what he’s going, because it feels so fucking good. And yet, once more, your palms press hard against his chest to push him off.

“Steve, stop, I don’t think–”

“Shut up.” He bites down on your nipple harshly and you gasp, continuing to push at him. How had his whole demeanour changed in such a short amount of time? Where was the sweetness and the charm he’d shown you less than half an hour ago?

“Wh-What, Steve, I–”

“You heard me. Don’t act like a nun all of a sudden, not when you let Levinson fuck you in the middle of a party in front of the whole fucking world.”

Your heart drops all the way down to the pit of your stomach. Your blood freezes up, making you go deathly still. You feel like there’s poison in your veins all of a sudden, turning all your insides into black tar. Your hands stop pushing him, dropping to your sides like you’ve forgotten how to use them.

Steve stops too, blinking suddenly as if he’s just woken up, as if he’s just been doused by a bucket of ice water.

“Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that–”

“Get off me.” Your voice sounds oddly thick, and you feel the sudden urge to cry.

Steve doesn’t budge, still on his knees on top of you. He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I said I’m sorry.”

“Get off me. Get off me. GET OFF ME!”

He does, regarding you carefully as he stands up beside the bed. Watching as you scramble to your feet, feeling disoriented, confused, hurt, used, upset – oh, and so much else! So he knew about what you’d done with Ari the night of the party… But for him to use it against you? After being so charming and perfect all day? You don’t know what to think anymore as your mind feels like it’s moving a hundred miles per second.

Steve sighs, reaching for your hand, “Baby, I didn’t mean–”

“I’m going home.” You say quietly, fixing your bra back into place before reaching behind you to zip your dress back up. Praying to God that you don’t struggle with the zipper just this once. And by some miracle, you get it zipped up in one go. Not that it does anything to rectify the fact that the front of your dress is torn down the top. Another wave of tears threatens to spill from within you.

Steve’s eyes narrow, “Home? Why?”

You stare at him incredulously before quietly making a beeline towards the doorway, holding the front of your dress together almost pitifully. You need to get out of here, get out before he sees you burst into tears.

Steve grabs your arm before you can get to the door.

“Look, let’s just go on our date. We can talk it out, I just said I didn’t mean to say that.”

You shake your head, “I just want to go home.”

His eyes flash dangerously, and you find your heart beating faster than normal as you shrink back, trying to tug out of his grip but to no avail.

“I fucking apologised.” He says sharply, “I’m taking you out now, so stop trying to leave.”

“You never wanted to go on a date with me.” You say shakily, tears welling in your eyes. And that’s when you realise it, like it’s just dawned on you that all of this… him asking you out, picking you up in his car, acting all sweet, introducing you to his sister… All of it was just so he could get you into his bed.

All men were the same. Ari, Steve, all of them…

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I do want to take you out, so let’s just go.”

Steve tugs hard on your arm, making you cry out in protest. His eye twitches, and he reaches down towards your face as if to tuck your hair behind your ear. But you can’t help but flinch, and then another realisation slowly dawns on you. You’re afraid of him.

You tug with all your might, freeing your arm from his and shaking your head profusely.

“I-I-I need to go home. Just, please. I need to–”

“GODDAMIT, I SAID I WANTED TO TAKE YOU ON THE GODDAMNED DATE.”

There’s a loud crack. You duck in fright, hands covering your face. When you peak through the gaps of your fingers, you see Steve breathing hard. His fist, driven straight through the wall, has created a massive hole and several cracks in the plaster.

Silence. Except for the sound of your heartbeat. You don’t even think you breathe; you’re so paralysed with fear. You watch Steve as he slowly removes his hand from the wall, as he examines his fist with an unreadable expression on his face. He flexes his fingers, and his whole hand looks red – as does his face. His jaw is tensed, almost to the point where it’s vibrating.

And then he looks at you.

“Look, I’m sorry. Sometimes I…” his voice trails off, and he shakes his head as if trying to clear his own thoughts. “Let’s just go on the date, okay? Just let me explain–”

“P-Please, just let me go home,” you beg, and it comes out as a broken, scared whisper. You can’t take your eyes off his fist, or the gaping hole in the wall. You’d seen men punch through walls in movies, but never in real life. Your heart still hadn’t calmed down, and now you’re even more sure you have to leave.

 “Goddamit, why can’t you just listen to me?” He takes a step towards you and you flinch, cowering back once more as if he’s going to hit you next. Instead, he freezes, taking in your expression. He swallows, blinking several times. “Look, let’s just calm down. This doesn’t have to ruin the date, you can borrow something from Kira and I’ll buy you a new dress, alright?”

“I c-can’t, I…” you don’t even know what to say to him. What could you say? That you felt unsafe? Afraid? Not to mention, betrayed and used too? How could he possibly expect you to forget all that and go out with him?

You take a deep breath, tightly holding the top of your torn dress together with one hand. You dart towards the door, hoping to slip out without him catching you. But he’s too quick, and once again takes hold of your elbow just as you exit his room and come out into the hallway. This time, you can’t help the tears as they spill down your face.

Steve’s blue eyes flash once more, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Didn’t you hear what I just said? Borrow something from–”

“Let me go, Steve,” you tug once, before growing more panicked and tugging again, harder. “Let me go, let me go, let me go–”

“I’m sorry you feel scared, I didn’t mean for that. Sometimes I get like that – just stop fucking struggling for one second, okay?”

“Steve, let her go.”

Both of you look up to see Kira standing in her doorway across the hall. Steve’s grip loosens momentarily, and you take his distraction as your opening. You break free, hastily making your way down the stairs. You don’t dare look back, focusing on the steps beneath you because the last thing you want to do right now is fall.

“Let her go, Steve. Just… Just sit down.” You can hear Kira say.

“No, she can’t just leave. I need to–”

“Please, Steve. You’re freaking out again. I’m gonna have to call mom and dad if you don’t sit down right now.”

And that’s all you hear, both Steve and Kira’s voices fading as you descend further down the stairs. Through the kitchen, your shoes pitter-pattering over the marble floors of the lobby. The ornate front door is heavy as you pull it open, escaping to the fresh air outside. You don’t dare look back, too scared to see if Steve has followed you or not.

You’re halfway down the porch steps when you hear the door open behind you. You’re about to break into a run lest Steve grab you again, when–

“H-Here.”

It’s Kira. You turn around and she throws you something soft. A pink hoodie. Despite your frazzled, haphazard, frightened state, you can’t help but feel gratitude. You quickly put it on, and it smells sweet – like candy perfume. It solves the problem of your ripped dress, and yet it does nothing to calm your frenzied heart, or stop the tears that drip past your cheeks. You back away from the town-house quickly.

“Thank you, Kira. I need to go, I need to–”

She nods as if she understands, “W-Will you be okay?”

You bite your lip to stop from bursting into full on tears. All you can think right now is that you need to get away. Far, far away. Somewhere quiet where you can think, where you can straighten your thoughts out, somewhere where you’re alone. Away from Steve, away from Ari, away from boys like them, away from everyone.

You leave, hoping she’ll understand. After all, she’d helped you – and it wasn’t her fault that her brother had been so… so…

Oh, you don’t even know what’s just happened! Your speed walk turns into a slow jog before you all but break into a run, only slowing down once you’re off his street. How had he just said all those things to you? How had he known about Ari fucking you at the party? And what did Steve mean by you spreading your legs for him the night you’d met him?

He thinks you’re a slut, you realise. All he ever wanted from you was sex, and you were stupid, stupid, stupid to think this first date was going to be something special. Or anything at all apart from sex.

You feel like crying, screaming, sobbing, pulling your hair out. But you can’t do that here, not while you’re on some random street so close to Steve’s house. Instead, you take a few deep breaths to gather yourself. Wait until you get home, wait until you’re alone in your room, you coach yourself, desperately holding on to the single thread that’s keeping you together right now. When inside you feel all torn – he’d torn up your heart just like he’d torn up your dress.

You call an Uber, luckily only having to wait a minute or two before it arrives. The ride home is silent, you just stare out the window and try your hardest to keep your tears at bay. Oh, why couldn’t you be like those other girls? The ones who could easily find a boyfriend who loved them for them? Boyfriends who liked to hang out, go on dates, cook together? Why did no boy ever want that with you? Were you only ever worth their time when you spread your legs for them?

You feel numb by the time you reach your dorm building. It feels like you’re wading through cement as you forlornly walk inside, not even noticing the familiar car parked outside. You fish your keys out of your purse only to find your door already unlocked. You swing it open, ready to just burst into tears and sob into your pillow and–

“I broke up with her.”

Ari is sitting on the edge of your bed – you’d forgotten he still had a key to your dorm – with a bouquet of pink roses his hand. Pale pink, delicate, tied together with a pink satin ribbon. But you didn’t care, not anymore.

He stands up as you walk in, slowly shutting the door behind you. You hardly register him, your mind still racing with thoughts of: Steve used you; he didn’t really want you. No man could ever really want you. They all just want one thing. They all just–

“I broke up with Sharon,” Ari repeats. “It’s over between me and her. I told her I wanted to be with someone else.”

You still don’t say anything. He may as well be speaking in gibberish.

“Go away,” you say, but it barely comes out as a whisper.

Ari grabs you by the shoulders, his blue eyes sparkling. And he looks so devastatingly handsome, his hair brushed back, wearing a crisp white button-up as if he’s gotten ready just to tell you all this. “You were right, I should’ve done it a long time ago. But who cares, we can be together now.”

“Go away.”

“I told you I’d make you my girlfriend, didn’t I?” He says cockily, thrusting the pink roses into your hands. And yet the bouquet feels like nothing, like you’re holding on to air. Ari doesn’t seem to notice your lack of enthusiasm as he continues, “And now we can do all that shit you always told me you wanted to do. I’ll take you out somewhere nice, in fact we can go right now, we can–”

“Go away.” You say it much louder this time.

He hears you, his brows etching upwards in a frown as he regards you almost suspiciously. As he looks at you, really looks at you, slowly drinking in your shrunken demeanour, your dishevelled hair, the numb look on your face, the dried tears on your cheeks, how your eyes don’t quite meet his.

He squeezes your shoulders before his hands freeze, and you look up to see him staring at the hoodie you’re wearing. You see a flicker in his eyes, but it’s so fleeting it’s almost like you imagined it. He inhales deeply.

“Where did you get this?” He asks, before he grows distracted when his gaze flits over to your dress. Your poor, torn dress. His frown deepens, slowly turning into a snarl, “Who the fuck did this to you?”

You shrug out of his hold, feeling like you’re a million miles away, “Just go away.”

Ari’s lips press into a thin line, his jaw tensed up as he surveys you carefully. His hold on your shoulders never loosens.

“He did this to you, didn’t he?”

“Go away.” You feel like a broken record.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Ari’s features harden like stone, his fists curling at his sides as he surveys you. “I knew this would… Fuck, I can’t fucking believe–”

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME!? I SAID GO AWAY!”

You erupt like a fucking volcano, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as if you can’t hold them in anymore. But you feel more rage than sadness: rage at him, at Steve, at yourself. You throw the bouquet of pink roses at his chest. Hard. They bounce off him at fall to the ground in a dejected heap. The look of seething anger on Ari’s face is replaced with one of shock, and then concern. But was it even real? Was it ever real when it came to you?

“Just get out of here, Ari!”

“He’s a piece of shit, and I’ll fucking kill him, alright? I promise he’ll never hurt you again.” Ari says it slowly, trying to step closer to you but you immediately push him back. One shove turns into two before you lose it, your tiny fists landing on his chest over and over again.

“I DON’T CARE, OKAY!? I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU DO JUST GET OUT OF MY FUCKING ROOM!”

You scream it at the top of your lungs. You’re pretty sure everyone in the building heard you, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything anymore. All you want to do is be left alone.

“Hey, hey, stop. Calm down.” Ari grabs your fists in his hands but all you feel is trapped. Like you did back in Steve’s bedroom. Like Ari’s about to administer his sweet manipulations once more so that you end up in bed with him. It was all you were good for after all, wasn’t it?  You jerk away from him, shaking your head fiercely.

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!”

“What the fuck did he do to you?” Ari looks like he’s at a loss, and yet at the same time he looks livid, “Hey look, you’re okay now. He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re okay. Just calm down–”

“Get out!”

You scream it over and over again, till your throat feels hoarse and yet you still don’t stop. You just want him out, want him gone. You push at him again, and then again, and he’s so strong and solid that he doesn’t even budge, and this makes you even more upset. He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, but there’s also a softness in his eyes but you don’t know if it’s real or if you even want it to be real anymore.

“Baby, you’re okay. Just calm down, you’re safe now, I won’t let him hurt you again.”

He sounds so soft, so kind, so unlike himself. He’s acting, you think to yourself. Acting just like how Steve was acting. He doesn’t really care about you. Neither of them do. You’re the idiot. You’re the fool. You’re the slut.

“GET AWAY FROM ME OR I’LL FUCKING SCREAM!”

Ari is the most stubborn man you’ve ever met, and he never takes orders from you, that much you know. And yet, by some miracle, he backs off. Maybe he sees how broken you look, how there’s nothing he could really do in this moment that wouldn’t just make you angrier, and push him away even more. You also believe there’s a large part of him that wants to genuinely kill Steve – for whatever reason – probably pride – and yet, you don’t care.

And so he does leave, but not before promising once more that he was going to murder Steve Rogers. He says some other things too, but you’re too distraught to even take them in. He tries to touch you again, but you bat him off, screaming even louder. Finally, he just leaves, an unreadable look on his face and his hands still curled into fists, undoubtedly going to find Steve.

And that’s when you collapse to the floor, the tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks as you cry and cry and cry. You grab the pink roses, and in a fit of uncontrollable rage, you rip them apart. Rip flower from stem, petal from petal, throwing them on the floor with such vitriolic rage and sadness all rolled into one.

Ripped flowers. Ripped dress. Ripped heart.

AHHHHH OMFG OKAY!

I want you guys to know that I literally don't even know if I like this. I do but I also don't... Basically I'm super insecure about it. Nevertheless, please do tell me what you think!!!! ANY SHOCKS?? ANY SURPRISES?!?! OMFGGGG.

I prepared a few questions, although you guys don't have to answer them!! These are just for fun hehehe.

So... whose team are you now on? Team Ari or Team Steve? Hehe.

Why did Steve's mood suddenly change during their date???

IS WANDA A GOOD FRIEND?!?!?!

Any ideas NOW on why Steve and Ari hate each other?? What could it have to do with... I wonder...

ANYWAYS thank you guys so so much for reading! I love you all so so much, please reblog and give me feedback as I live for that and sajdjag IDEK ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY

[goxjo]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 ⋮ 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮

↪︎ bridesmaid series ∘ haikyuu mlist ∘ general mlist

In which you, a bridesmaid, come across a groomsman who cannot wait to get away from all the drunk and lovesick fools at the wedding reception, much like yourself ⋮ Alternatively, in which you get to know each other while he’s balls deep into you

pairing. groomsman! miya atsumu x bridesmaid! reader

warnings. no reader pronouns, f anatomy! reader, hookups, just a bunch of horny strangers, semi-public touching and grinding a.k.a. inappropriate pda, pet names (darling, sweets, he also keeps calling you cute & pretty), wedgie, masturbation, cockwarming, overstimulation, creampie, pillow talk, pregnancy joke, breast/nipple play

word count. 3.5k

an. this was the first smut I ever wrote (like 4 years back). this is also rewritten & reposted <3

꒰ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 — 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 ꒱

Your bridesmaid flower crown is long-forgone, swept along the late afternoon tide. The midnight blue scarf wrapped loosely around your neck is about the only thing keeping you warm and. Your borderline-sheer bridesmaid dress would’ve definitely suited the beachy occasion if it weren’t for the fact that temperatures this time of the year are starting to drop.

Still, you pay no mind to the cold when the salty breeze beckons you to dip your toes in the sea, leaving your woes behind in a quick attempt to remove yourself from the reception. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. And to think you’re the only one in your friend group who didn’t come with a +1. No wonder you came to the sea for some company when everyone else has just about taken the dancefloor, dancing not alone to some mood music.

You run your fingers through your hair, pulling it back in a lazy attempt at keeping it in place while you indulge in the ocean breeze. The cold wind kisses your now exposed back, hairs on your nape prickling as you close your eyes and tilt your chin up, baring your neck to the chilly sensation on your skin.

Snapping you out of your daze is the wind snagging the scarf off your neck — the garment didn’t go far but tides have started to be unforgiving at this hour.

It takes you a few good seconds to decide if it’s worth the risk of getting your dress wet, let alone accidentally drowning with no one aware of your whereabouts. Only, anyone who could save you is either drunk or lovesick.

Screw it. You reach for the hems of your dress, holding them up to your knees, about ready to brave the 2-feet-high seawater.

And as if the sea gods had just answered your plea, you freeze in place when you hear a snicker coming from behind you, the apparent source of it walking past you, beating you to your scarf.

It’s one of the groomsmen from your now friend-in-law’s side of the family. Dirty blonde with a clean black undercut, white dress shirt that’s four, five buttons undone, exposing his toned chest.

You wonder how long he was able to make a spectacle of you before rushing to your aid when you realize he’s already barefoot and had more than enough time to take off his shoes and socks. Funny, he didn’t even bother to fold his beige pants before charging on. He shoots you a smirk before picking up your scarf, gently wringing the saltwater out. His shins splash against the tides as he makes his way over to you, looking far too amused for someone whose getup had been needlessly soiled by the ocean.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you, uhm—”

“Atsumu?” He says it like it’s a sarcastic reminder, as if his name is something you’re already supposed to know. “Seemed like an important scarf, and uh — you can thank me tomorrow over dinner.”

You thank the sea gods for answering your prayers even though it almost took a human sacrifice (you) in order for them to grant you company — and someone so easy on the eyes too.

“I feel like I’ve seen this already,” half-impressed, half-suspicious, you say as you take your scarf back.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, in Hercules or the ones you see in clichés. You know… the whole damsel in distress trope? Then the hero conveniently hears her distress call, comes to her rescue, and they both get wet for it.”

“Darling, you barely even dipped in the water. I didn’t get you wet, did I?”

Your lips purse in amusement, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek as you chuckle. “Just a little. But don’t worry, you don’t have to commit.”

“But what if I want to?”

“Then I guess we could look into it after dinner tomorrow. I’m ___. Nice to meet you, Atsumu.”

“Scarf and a date. Must be your lucky day. Pick you up at 8?”

“Sure, but promise me you’ll change into something dry.”

That earns you yet another snicker from him. “I will if you will.”

Your planning is interrupted by the sound of roaring cheers and clinking bottles apparently for someone who had just passed out. It’s ridiculous since it’s only been barely a few hours into the afterparty.

“Whad’ya know. And it’s only 6 o’clock,” you huff out knowing you have to sit through more of these tonight, already mentally exhausted at the thought.

“To think there’s going to be 5 more hours of this or so.”

As if the gods hadn’t blessed you enough today, you find your would-be date as engrossed at the scenery as you. It turns out, he’s as impressed with you as you are with him. His face instantly switches from a scowl to an inquisitive one with a cocked brow. You swear you hear his thoughts as clear as day asking you ‘you thinking what I’m thinking?’.

In case the message didn’t come across, he holds a hand out, asking you again, “Wanna get outta here?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

…

Like some horny teenagers who had just gotten off prom, you find yourselves hand-in-hand running through endless corridors, leaving trails of giggles and sand past concerned staff and other guests on your way to your hotel room.

You try your hardest to brush off your pseudo-savior's eagerness while still in public. But with the way he keeps kissing the back of your hand and persists on planting kisses atop your shoulder every time anything blocks your way, you can’t help the lewd sounds that escape your lips.

The knowing looks that come your way don’t help either, not when Atsumu is just keen on trying you in every torturous way possible as some form of pre-foreplay.

Atsumu is ruthless even as you enter the elevator that had a family and a few other guests on board. He leads you to the back in his half-hearted attempt to be discreet.

Still a couple floors away, he passes the time by snaking both hands around your waist, pressing you up against his chest. As if timed right at the ding of the elevator, you feel two fingers pinch your ass, making your breath hitch a tiny squeak, forcing you to cover your mouth, and it takes everything in you not to take him on then and there.

“Atsumu, stop,” quietly, you plead, chuckling between syllables.

Ding, the elevator goes again, and for revenge, you grind your ass against his crotch.

“Mm,” he hums, chuckling low and breathy at the sudden wave of pleasure forcing him to dig his fingers into your waist.

“There are children in here,” one snarky lady comments as she tries to cover her children’s ears.

“Don’t worry. When they grow up, they’ll understand—”

“Atsumu!” You cover your mouth instantly in a futile attempt to stifle your laughter, earning daggers of stares from everyone else on the elevator.

The elevator dings one more time as the screen flashes your floor number, signalling your stop.

“Sorry!” You yell out when the doors are about to close with Atsumu dragging you to your feet, looking back to the unforgiving looks from the people left at the elevator.

…

“What’s taking so long, ___?” Atsumu whines.

“Shut up, I’m looking okay?”

You scramble through your tiny purse, cursing and wondering why your keys are never where you need them to be.

“Take any longer and I wouldn’t think twice to have you right here.”

“You’re not helping— found it!”

Atsumu stands right behind you as you fiddle with your keys. You can feel his impatience growing and pressing against you as he parts your hair to one side, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on your jaw, down to the crook of your neck.

You suppose it’s the excitement in the air, where love and love-making are to be expected — the culprit behind why Atsumu just couldn’t wait to kiss you until you’re at least inside your room, where you’re hidden from the security cameras. It’s that or the party really must’ve sucked. In the heat of the moment, you kiss him back, hands roaming every which way, from his silky locks down to his biceps that feel so taut underneath your palms. You wonder if you’re probably putting on a good show for the people behind the cameras.

You enter your room after what felt like hours. Atsumu grabs your hand, interlocking with your fingers as he leads you to your bed. Mouths still latched onto each other’s, the need to be rid of clothes becomes urgent to say the least.

Shoes kicked off, and scarf discarded, he sits on the edge and you straddle him as you unbutton his shirt. The second you pull out, calloused fingers snake around the back of your head, and without an ounce of care, Atsumu pulls you back in, crashing his mouth onto yours.

“Sweets, you taste like heaven,” he says, moving on to trail your neck with kisses.

He runs his hands over your thighs, giving them a tight squeeze before he attempts to undress you. He attempts to tug at the zipper of your dress but it doesn’t budge.

”You’re hopeless,” you tease, playfully punching his chest. “Let me help you”

“I’d offer to rip it off but really, I just wanted to watch you strip.” He props his hands behind him, smirking as he chews on the inside of his bottom lip, eyes glistening with anticipation as he watches you get out of your dress. You take off both straps, letting your dress fall to the ground.

“Hh-ooly fuck,” he whistles, chest emptying out the chunk of breath he held back, pupils blown out as he takes the sight of your exposed top. His eyes are dead glued to your figure. With labored breaths, he slowly cups his aching bulge a few times before swiftly unbuckling his belt with one hand, head of his cock creating a dent on his boxers when he unbuttons his pants.

“My turn,” he coos, throwing his pants and shirt aside, revealing a rock hard build that could only belong to a sculpture of a Greek god. His breaths grow heavier the second he takes his cock out of his boxers, you gulp at the size of his girth alone, never mind the length you’re sure you’re not going to be able to take. His chuckles are low and carnal, ones that can’t wait to devour you.

He knows that look on your face. It’s one he’s so used to seeing upon showing his former lovers and fuck buddies his full and hard cock for the first time. The hollow of his palm gathers the slick from the tip. “Fuck, ____. The things I can’t wait to do to you.” He grunts while his fingers play with his foreskin, afterwards smearing pre-cum across his hard length.

With one hand slowly pumping his cock, he reaches for you with his free hand, drawing you back to him with your knees on either side of him, his free hand caressing your sides.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he utters and you feel his soft hair brush over your collarbone as he plants a kiss on your breast. He moves his mouth south of your nipple, tongue flicking the bud before capturing it in his mouth. He releases with a pop, alternating between licking and sucking on your supple flesh.

”Atsumu,” you mutter his name, fingers brushing through his silky locks while he’s in your embrace, clothed cunt lightly rubbing on the tip of his cock, “please,” you murmur.

”Hm? Can’t hear you,” he hums, teeth sinking into your tit as his tongue plays with your nipple, not having had his fill with them yet. He knows full well what you need with his fingers tracing along the hems of your underwear.

“F-fuck!” you cry from the sudden burning sensation on your ass down to your cunt, holding onto him for dear life as you try to grind against the much-needed friction, and you realize he’d pulled a fistful of your underwear from behind you.

“God, you’re so pretty. Even the sounds you make are so pretty.” He tightens his grip on your panties, running his free fingers between your spilled labias.

“You weren’t lyin’ about getting wet after all, were you, sweets?”

“S-stop teasing, Atsumu—fuck!” He parts your underwear and runs a finger through your slippery folds. “Mmf,” you mewl when he pinches your clit, teasing your sensitive bud, your body practically melting into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders.

“I’m just stating the obvious, ___. You’re so wet, it’s so cute. So eager. So fucking ready for me.”

“You fucking idi—ahh!” Atsumu relentlessly pumps his middle and ring finger into your wet hole, his thumb drawing fast slimy circles onto your clit, making you collapse onto him as he fucks you with his fingers.

“You want my cock? Say it. Say you want my cock. Beg for it sweets. I want to hear you say it. C’mon, say it.”

“P-please… your cock… Atsummff— hha!!” You whimper, head bowed, forehead leaning on his shoulder. You’re losing rhyme and reason as you mount his hand, hips bucking onto his touch riding your first orgasm, all while Atsumu peppers your shoulder blade with kisses.

“You’re so fucking cute, wanna hear you cummin’ all night long.”

Before you could shoot back a response, his mouth is on yours again, kissing you fervently with his tongue battling against yours. You moan into his mouth as he rubs now-menacingly slow circles on your sensitive bud, letting out a whimper when he slides two digits again inside you, exploring your velvet walls.

“Please, please, please, ‘Tsumu,” pressing your forehead against his, you purr, making Atsumu curl his fingers inside you.

He lets out a soft breathy chuckle. You could tell he’s pleased with himself, toying at you who has already come undone with just his fingers.

He hooks his hands under your thighs, fingers digging in your skin as he lifts you, gently laying you down on your bed.

His brown eyes are fixed on yours while he removes your underwear, making your breath hitch at your full exposure. His head tilts, looking at your puffy cunt with such hunger in his gaze. He lines himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock accidentally rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the way your mouth instantly formed an ‘o’.

And for the last time, “Atsumu, please. I need you,” you beg.

“So fucking pretty.” He shoots you a smirk before wrapping your legs around his waist, fully thrusting all of his length inside you, not giving you time to adjust at all. Luckily, your own juices help with the stretch as he pounds into you on all fours.

”Ah—god, Atsumu!” your eyebrows furrow as you cry out in pleasure. To stifle your moans, you bite onto your thumb, but that seems to do something to Atsumu, his gaze and pace both turning into something more animalistic.

”Fuck, keep doin’ that and I’ll be done in a matter of seconds,” his clicks his tongue and you feel him twitch inside you.

Wanting this to last as long as possible, you obey him, clutching onto the sheets instead. But at the rate he’s going, you can’t help but arch into him as you feel yourself nearing your climax once more.

“So glad we left the party,” you mumble to which Atsumu laughs. “Fuck yeah.”

Your breaths are getting shorter and you start to feel tears pricking your eyes. ”I’m almost- almost there- a-almost-“ Your eyes close shut, head craning back subconsciously as you await your orgasm.

”No, no. Fuck. Look at me, I wanna see your pretty face,” he demands as he continues to pound into you. You follow his command despite your self-consciousness over your unravelling expression, but a bolt of heat shoots down your stomach so hot, it stifles any complaint that could come from your mouth.

”Perfect,” he says as he clasps his calloused hands on yours, forcing you to let go of the sheets.

His strides have gone uneven at this point and you wrap your legs tighter around him, waiting to hit your peak for the nth time. Open mouthed and breath hitching, you force yourself to look at him while your insides clenches around his throbbing cock. You’re trembling in your high as he slams one more time into you — grunting in his own release before plopping on top of you.

“Damn,” you breathe out.

Clearing your throat, you lightly urge him to shuffle from his position.

“Damn,” he says back, leaving you a chaste kiss on your cheek, and for some reason, that makes your heart skip a beat in a different way compared to the intimate exchange you just had.

It doesn't miss you that he’s still in you, hard. He lays on his side after he exits you, and you bring your leg around so that he’s spooning you. You jolt back when you feel him sliding his cock back in from behind you, but the stretch is one you welcome, too tired to even complain about all the cum he’s squeezing out of you.

”You’re not gonna look me up three months later asking for support aren't ya?” he pants.

”You seriously only thought to ask that only now?”

He laughs sheepishly and you add, ”Don’t worry, we’re good.”

“How’d you end up going to the ceremony anyway? Big occasions don't seem like your type.”

“You — you’re not just trying to make small talk, are you?” you tease as Atsumu fiddles with your breast. Even during pillowtalk, he’s quite on brand as the tits kind of guy.

“Darling, it’s called ‘getting to know you’,” he retorts, squeezing your tit.

“I just like the beach,” you say plainly, slightly taken aback by the sudden interrogation. “And how are you related to the groom?”

“We’re cousins. But he’s closer to my twin than me.”

Looking over your shoulder, “you’re a twin?!”

Your insides suddenly twitch at your discovery, making him jolt forward “Careful there!” he grunts, warning you as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“Same undercut, dark hair. That’s right, I saw him too. How did I not see you were twins?!”

You feel the grumble of his chest while he chuckles, feeling hints of exhaustion in his laughter while he’s pressed up against your back. He kisses your shoulder, feeling his weight on you as he leans into you even more. “You musta’ just been looking at the right sort,” he replies cheekily, hand latched onto your breast again.

“By ‘right’, you mean you?”

“Yeah? You seemed to think so when you were screaming my name two minutes ago.”

”I’m just saying. I wouldn't know if you're the better twin. Just ‘cause—”

“What’s that?” He brings a hand over to your clit, viciously rubbing your sensitive bud, making your hips shake. He’s banking on your overstimulation from your multiple orgasms, obviously unwilling to let you finish whatever it is you were gonna say.

“What is it?”

“Nothingfff— I—”

“I what?”

“Feel so good, d-don’t stop—fuck!”

He lifts you by your waist so that you’re on all fours, fingers still stroking your clit. It doesn't take much until he’s thrusting into you again. This time, you grab hold of the headboard as he moves one hand to cup your breast and another on your back, keeping you just where he wants you.

The ram of his hips against your as is a mix of sticky and slippery, sticky where his cum began to dry out seconds ago. He pounds into you harder this time, apparently unhappy with your supposed comparison.

“‘Tsumuuuu,” you purr. If a while ago you were merely oriented with the stretch of his cock, now it’s something so familiar you’re sure no other cock can quite fit like a glove compared to his. And you suddenly remember that you had practically just met this person and yet he’s already balls deep into you for the second time today.

The sound of his rock hard thighs ramming onto your ass sends your insides coiling. Still slightly sticky from the cum that hasn’t fully dried out, your clit sticks onto the base of his cock before he fully exits and pounds into you again. Cunt gummy, slimy, and stuffed all at once, a bolt of heat from your stomach shoots down to your center making you scream in pleasure.

He squeezes your tit one last time before bringing his hand to rub circles on your clit. Once more, you arch your back, whimpering as you get off from your high. Pretty soon, he’s coming off from his own high, stuffing you full of his hot and thick seed.

“Just so ya know, I forgive you. Clearly, you weren't thinkin’ straight a while ago,” he says and you could almost hear the smirk in his face by how he said it. He plops back down on the bed, pulling you close to his sweaty, panting body.

“You are so full of it,” you sneer.

He pulls you in tighter before asking, “so, 8 PM tomorrow?”

“Deal.”

[johnbrand]

The Resort

It was another Friday afternoon at an exclusive, private resort. The only way to get to the property was by the resort’s own transportation, the bus filled with 40 or so gay men arriving promptly as always. They were typically chatty, the usual friendly-flirty with each other before they would begin bragging about their lifestyles and work. Bear or twink, hairy or hairless, lots of boasting and a few not-so-subtle hints that their relationships would be non-existent for the weekend.

I made sure to greet each of them as they entered the main building, handing them their room keys and identification badges. All of them were assigned separate rooms, although most joked they would not be using them over the weekend. I always withheld a chuckle at those remarks, knowing better than their catty ways. Each of them had been preselected, carefully selected from a database of all LGBTQ+ individuals in the city. When the invitation had been sent out, they had no idea that only gay men were invited to the resort.

Soon, it was time for the party to begin. Within the booming house music played my special audio track, humming pleasantly beneath the sexual chaos on the dancefloor. I always kept my eye on a particular guest over the course of their stay; I enjoyed watching an intimate progression throughout our time together. For this weekend I had chosen Nicki: a small, meek college student who found himself more often in a library than a club. The young boy was one of my favorite types to watch.

The shift itself is clear, if one knows what to look for. Some guys stood a little straighter, correcting the hip that had previously popped unconditionally. Shorts grew longer, and maybe a few stretched out into plain, baggy pants to display little effort in fashion. Abs tightened up, pecs twitched, and biceps pumped all around the party. But the men just assumed it was the lights and sweat playing tricks on their eyes. Had they always been able to so easily define each other’s muscles?

Slowly, things would begin to shift physically as the men would drift apart from each other. They had started the night playfully rubbing up against the other attractive, sexually-like minded creatures, but now they found themselves a bit more distanced, creating space out of respect and something else. Being so close to a man had sort of become…a bit nauseating. 

Instead of playing with each other, they would eventually begin to play with themselves, whether they realized it or not. Hand crammed down their shorts, either softly pawing or stretching seams. Some were soon even grunting or mumbling slurs to themselves right in the middle of the dancefloor. The virility of such an act in public was becoming indifferent to them, they were being told it was simply a natural thing to do.

Most men were easily converted to more heterosexual destinies, but a few were often drug out of the spell accidentally. Take Nicki for example, who I spied as he backed away from the party. His pre-conceived caution had made him aware of the changes happening around him, although he had yet to realize he had been affected already too. Nicki had gained a few inches, and his shirt had magically evaporated to reveal two dense pillows above a rippling set of abdominals.

Nicki left the dancefloor as quietly as possible, assuming he could escape. But he could have never known the special audio had not been playing from the speakers, but instead the identification badge that had been handed to him upon arrival. It would be repeating the special audio as long as I wanted it too, brainwashing up until the moment they left to cause permanent results. The physical changes would be long finished by then, but the mental modifications took the full stay to hold. 

After giving him a head start, I exited out an employee door to find our lost Nicki. About 30 minutes later I caught up to him, frantically rubbing his body down, hoping to somehow clean his acts. His muscles had grown even larger during our time apart, and an impressive funk was now registerable from my position a few feet away. During our time apart, Nicki had ejaculated to the thought of a woman. He did not realize that each future interaction with his thickening cock would reconnect that pleasure with the imagery in the female body. My programming instructed them that it felt good to adjust, give in to what was natural.

By the time the identification badges were collected, the 40 or so men who reloaded onto the bus were completely changed. Over the course of the weekend, the once rowdy gays of all ages had been converted into God-fearing, fag-jeering, chick-leering men. Although he would never know it, I possessed a fatherly pride watching Nick (the “i” at the end had disappeared as fast as submissive demeanor) ascend onto the bus. I waved as my newest group of guests were sent back to the city before instructing my employees to get to work. After all, we had our next batch arriving at the end of the week.

[c0eu4]

Part 2 of the tits fic?

LN4 | Tits ♡

Summary: Y/n and Lando goes out for his birthday and they finish in their hotel room more quickly than expected.

Warning: smut, oral (m receiving), swearing, unprotected sex, dom+sub!lando, dom+sub!reader

A/N: yep. This is 1.3K word of smut. Hope y'all will like it <3

part one - part two - part three

MASTERLIST requests are open

She feels a sensation of deja vu when Lando lean against the counter, asking to the bartender for another drink. She lets her fingerstip running throughout his hairs on his arm as he smiles lovely at her.

''Have I ever told you that you're super pretty?'' She chuckles and kiss him tenderly. ''All the time since this afternoon.''

To celebrate Lando's birthday, Carlos threw a party at one of the many clubs in Las Vegas. And Y/n accompanied Lando as his new girlfriend.

Lando's hand slid on her waist, keeping her close to him as he takes his drink. He took a sip of it but almost spit it out, ''Can you sign my tits?'' She asked him, laughing softly at his face. ''I would love to.'' He asked to the bartender for a pen and he gives one to him. Lando doesn't even ask this time and he puts his hand on her left breast, stretching the skin to allow the pen to work better. He signs it, writing 'for Y/n, with love' and he does the same on the other one.

He gives the pen back to the bartender and takes his drink again. ''Hope you still have energy to dance?'' She dragged him to the dancefloor, his hands never leaving her hips. He forgets his drink in a corner, too busy dancing against his beloved.

He can feel her small body moving against him, her ass pressing against his now little bulge. She keeps moving like that, feeling all Lando's body against hers. His forehead fall against her shoulder in a deep moan. They were literally teasing each other in front of everyone.

''Fuck Y/n, don't you want to go back at the hotel?'' She doesn't even answer, already taking his hand and getting out of the club.

They run they way back to the hotel, walking quickly in the cold streets of Las Vegas. Lando carries her like a princess, already imagining all the position he will do with her.

When they entered the elevator, Lando doesn't wait any more and let her get back on her foots before pinning her against the wall, his hips slamming against hers. ''Feel how much you make me feel.'' He rubs himself against her, his tights pant hurting his hard member.

They urge to their hotel room, him already taking off the button on his shirt. This time, it's her who pin him against the wall. She grabs his cock over his pants, kneading him hard. He lets his head fall down in a long and deep moan. He take off his shirt and she gets on her knees.

Lando's eyes were full of lust. He imagined this hundreds of times. And finally, the day comes. She takes off his pants and his boxer simultaneously, already jerking his hard cock. She bites her lower lips, wanting nothing more than take him in her mouth.

''Ah..Please..'' Lando beg her, too needy. She licks his length and kisses his tips, using her thongs to make circles around it. Lando pass his hand in her hair, pulling it into a ponytail. He guided her head to his cock, feeling her tight mouth around him.

Lando has always been very loud in bed. He never holds back his moans and always says whatever comes to mind. She suck him, using her hands to play with his balls and jerking where she can't suck. Lando's breath became quicker as he feels the knot in his lower abdomen untied.

''Wait wait wait.'' He pulls her away, his cock glistering from her mouth. ''Use your breasts.'' She smile naughtily, taking off her dress and underwear. She gets back on her knees and squeezes her breasts. She lets his cock slide between her tits, moving up and down. ''Ahhh!! Fuck!! Y/n!!'' It was even better than all the times he imagined her breasts instead of his hand.

''Oh fuck!! Carlos would be so jealous...'' He moaned loudly, keeping back his orgasm. Seeing her tits move up and down against his cock and what's more, seeing his own signature on them makes him want to cum even more. She quicker her movement and spit on his tips. And it was enough to make Lando cum between her breasts, spilling all of his hot seed onto her collarbone and breasts. She uses her fingers to collect his cum and eats it sensually.

''On all fours, now.'' He said strict yet sweet. She obeyed him, feeling him behind her. He let his fingers passing throughout her wet folds, feeling her wetness. ''So wet and only for me, mh?'' He squeezed her ass cheek, rubbing his dick head against her tight entrance. ''Please..'' She whines, her liquid already falling down her pussy. ''You're going to have to beg a little more.'' He entered his pink mushrooms inside her but take it off immediately. ''Lando! Please! I need you so much! Please, please, please, please, plea-'' She moaned loudly when he brutally push his length into her, her wall squeezing him so much.

He grips on her shoulder and hips, starting with a slow pace. ''You like it, mh? Being my dirty little whore?'' He increase the pace, taking it almost out and back in, roughly. He keeps a slow but hard pace, making her eyes watered, her moans muffled by the pillow.

''Lando!'' He gets quicker, feeling her wall clenching around him. His hips slaps hardly against her ass in a dirty we song. He suddenly take it out, a moan of frustration escaping her lips. He made her turn onto her back, grabs her hands and put it above her head. He push back into her, pounding in her merciless. The headboard hit the wall hardly, in rhythm with his hips thrusts.

She cums loudly around his cock, drowning him with her sweet nectar. But it doesn't stop Lando. He takes out again, carry her as she find the strength to wrap her legs around him. He pins her against the wall, already pouding into her again.

He slams his hips against hers, his balls slamming roughly against her. He can't stop moaning, mixed with her moan, it made a symphony. He only want one thing. Everyone to ear that he own her.

''Who makes you feels that good?'' He slowly gets tired but want her to cum one last time. ''Y-you Lando!'' He keeps pouding into her, her climax already here. She drowning him a second time and he allow himself to empty his arching balls in her.

He drops her again on the mattress, laying next to her. He takes her in his arms, passing his hands in her sweaty hair.

''You wanna take a bath?'' He kisses her cheek, really tenderly. She yawns and cuddle her nuzzle against his neck. ''Just want to stay in your arms.'' She said with a sleepy voice. ''Sweetie, you need to go to pee. I don't want you to have an infection because of me.'' She groans and sit down on the bed.

As she tries to walk but failed, Lando gets up and helped her to go to the bathroom. He filled the bathtub with hot water as she quickly pee, removing a bit of Lando's cum from inside her.

He makes her sit in the bathtub, himself sitting behind her. She leans against his chest, her eyes heavy from all the orgasm she just had. He stroke her waist, looking at all the bruises and red marks he makes on her body.

When the water start to be lukewarm then cold, they get out and change into something more comfortable. While Y/n brush her teeth and try to arrange her hair, Lando change the sheet of the bed, really not wanting to sleep on something full of cum.

He goes back to see her and carry her like a princess. He pulls the blanket over their chin, wrapping his arms around her waist.

''Have a good night, my love.'' She only answer with a sleepy 'mh', pulling all the blanket to her. Lando understand that she wish him a good night too. And he let her takes all the blanket. If it makes her more comfortable.

[pepsiboyy]

JUST US TWO.

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader summary: the things that run through christopher's mind when taking you out to prom, and he finally decides to tell you he loves you for the first time. warnings: fluff !!, established relationship a/n: i NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING i hope u guys love this!! love this guy fr ):

chris's mind never stopped racing from the moment his eyes had opened in the morning.

standing in front of the mirror to adjust his tie for thirty minutes before stomping to his mom to help him out, his face pink with anticipation at the thought of seeing you today.

when matt pulled up front of your house to pick you up and chris insisted to go to the door and greet you - his brothers had no idea that he would be invited inside.

the way chris nervously tapped his leg with his fingers as he waited for you to emerge from your bedroom, sipping at the water that your parents had offered him.

and the look on his face when his eyes met yours. or you, rather.

they ran across your hair, your shoulders, your waist, your face... every part of you.

he was so in awe and his entire face lit up when you called him out for it. "you done starin'?"

"i was not staring."

the way your fingers interlocked with his as you both walked into the building, loud music heard from outside.

your hand fit so perfectly in his, he thought.

"can we get a drink?" your voice tore him from his thoughts and he smiled at you with that look you knew all too well.

"of course. let's get you whatever you want."

chris would sit with his brothers for a little bit while you ran off with your friends and danced with them, but his eyes never left you.

"dude, are you even listening?" nick smacked chris on the back of his head, resulting in chris swinging around and raising his hand threateningly.

"you really like her, don't you?" matt spoke up.

chris let out a deep sigh of defeat, slumping slightly in his seat. "i think i love her."

nick and matt both exchanged glances before they both shrugged. "we know," they said in unison, making chris's ears redden.

"what do you mean you know, there's no possible way you know. i mean seriously, i don't make it that obvious-"

your hand rested on chris's shoulder to lean over past him and grab your drink. you didn't even know how nervous you made him.

"you guys don't look like you're having fun!" you shouted over the music.

the boys would shrug and defend themselves, but chris's eyes never left yours. the small smile he had on his face never left, even when you grabbed his hands and pulled him onto the dancefloor with you.

the way chris's hands would snake around your waist when the music died down, your own arms raising to gently wrap around his neck and shoulders. his blue eyes remain locked onto your own, that smile never leaving his face.

"why are you cheesing?" you questioned with a smile, making chris chuckle softly and shake his head.

"you look beautiful tonight," he stated softly.

you felt your face heat up. "well- you look... not too bad yourself."

"ouch." chris smiled as he moved a hand to gently cup your cheek, where you subconsciously leaned your cheek against.

"no but, really.. you look great." your cheeks heated up, and chris couldn't to do anything other than smile lovingly at you.

your eyes remained locked, both smiling brightly at one another.

the music was soft, yet loud, and the voices of the many people in the room made it hard to process what exactly was going on.

but nothing mattered to either of you.

all that you could hear was each other down to the breath, and the music seemed to fade out, of feel muffled between each of your words.

"you know something," chris whispers softly, his forehead gently pressing against yours. "in a room full of people, it feels like it's just us two."

you smiled, closing your eyes softly as you swayed your body beside chris. "i agree."

chris took a deep breath, his eyes closed as well, before he gently pulled you impossibly closer to him.

"i love you."

your eyes snapped open as you smiled widely. "r- really?"

chris's face was the deepest shade of red to exist, but he kept it up. "i love everything about you. your name, your smile, your charm, even down to your terrible... terrible jokes."

you smacked him on the arm before chuckling and pulling chris into a tight hug, which he reciprocated just as tightly.

"i love you too, dummy."

chris smiled warmly at this and pulled away from the hug to gently take your chin between his thumb and index finger. he pulled you towards him and into a soft kiss, his eyes closed as his curly bangs tickled the bridge of your nose.

your arms wrapped back around his shoulders and neck, and you two enjoyed the last few moments of the song, embraced within one another.

⚜ masterlist ⚜

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker @lovesturni0l0s

[gotham--fc]

Avergonyit - An Alexia Putellas Imagine

Not requested, just a little idea I had as I emerge from my woho brainrot and get back into woso

R moves to Barcelona and tries to learn Catalan, what happens when she hears her girlfriend Alexia teasing her about her pronunciation with the team?

I don't speak Spanish or Catalan so I apologize if anything's incorrect I did my best

It probably wasn’t the best idea, moving to Barcelona without knowing any Spanish. Y/N hadn’t planned on transferring, but when Barca Femini makes an offer, well, it’s not like Y/N could refuse. It all happened very quickly, the offer coming towards the end of the transfer window, not leaving Y/N much time to prepare. It really was only a few weeks between the offer coming in, and Y/N landing in Barcelona. She’s extremely grateful that the team got everything set up for her in Barcelona, so Y/N didn’t have to worry about trying to find an apartment or any of those things during the whirlwind of packing and moving across the globe to a place she’s never been.

Needless to say, Y/N’s Spanish was very bad, at least at first. It was a challenge, trying to find her way to the training centre, the nearest grocery store, when she’s not able to ask anyone for directions. Add on that most people speak Catalan anyway, any rudimentary Spanish Y/N could muster didn’t do much for her.

It got easier, the longer she’s here. The team speaks a mixture of Spanish and Catalan, but most speak English too, or at least enough English that Y/N can talk to them. She picks up words and phrases, mostly football terms, since that’s what she hears most often. She’s able to understand what the coaches yell at the team on the field, most of the time, and she finds the areas of the city where people speak English and she’s settles in as well as she can.

What really helps her settle in is the team. Y/N bonds with the other non-Spanish players, them being the first ones she could really speak to without needing someone to translate everything. As time goes on, Y/N finds herself gravitating towards Alexia more and more.

Alexia, as captain, took it upon herself to make sure Y/N was settling in well, and the two hang out outside of training as Alexia gives Y/N a tour of the city and takes her out to her favourite restaurants and coffee shops. The more and more they hang out, the more and more it stops feeling like a captain trying to help a new teammate settle in. Y/N isn’t really sure what to make of it, she knows the ways she’s starting to feel about Alexia, but she’s not sure about Alexia’s feelings.

Things really shift after a tough game, a hard fought win, when the team, despite all being exhausted and sore, decide to go out to a club after. Y/N’s having fun, laughing and dancing with her teammates, and she takes a quick break from the dancefloor to get a drink from the bar. She’s sipping her drink, watching her teammates, when a body slides up next to her.

“Hola carinyet,” Alexia says. Y/N smiles as she turns to Alexia. She’s asked before what the nickname means, but Alexia just smiled and told her not to worry about it.

“Hola Ale,” Y/N says.

“Very good,” Alexia says, “Soon you will be speaking Catalan better than me.”

“I just said hello,” Y/N says. She notices suddenly that both her and Alexia have been leaning towards each other and now Y/N can clearly smell the scent of Alexia’s perfume. Y/N’s distracted by it that she misses what Alexia says next. She zones back in as Alexia laughs and places her hand on Y/N’s arm.

“Do you want to get some air?” Alexia asks. Y/N nods. She quickly downs the rest of her drink and follows Alexia outside.

The air is cool, much cooler than it was inside and Y/N shivers involuntarily. Alexia leans casually on the wall, watching Y/N with a look of amusement.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Nothing, ets bonica.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Y/N says.

“Vull fer-te un petó,” Alexia says in response.

“Ale…” Y/N whines, “Stop bullying me, you know I don’t know what that means.”

“It means,” Alexia takes Y/N’s hand and tugs her closer, “I want to kiss you. Is that okay, carinyet?”

“Oh.” Y/N breathes, surprised. Alexia doesn’t falter, stays where she is, the same easy confident look on her face as Y/N processes her words. “Yeah. Yeah. You can.”

“Bona.”

After that kiss, and the next morning where Y/N woke up with a hangover in Alexia’s bed, they’ve been inseparable. They’ve been dating ever since and Y/N couldn’t be happier. Alexia makes her feel so happy and content and loved. They’ve had a few bumps along the way, but nothing very serious and nothing that isn’t fixed easily.

“Hola lovebirds,” Mapi says as she and Ingrid walk into the locker room. Alexia rolls her eyes and Y/N sticks her tongue out.

“She’s in some kind of mood today,” Ingrid says as she sets her things down in her locker.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it amor,” Mapi says.

Y/N smiles as she listens to her teammates. She really loves it here and she loves listening to her teammates tease Mapi and Ingrid for being grossly adorable. That, and whenever they tease Mapi they don’t tease Y/N and Alexia.

“Ale?” Y/N says while the team is semi distracted, “What do you want to do, uh, després de la pràctica?”

Since they started dating, Y/N has been trying to learn Catalan. It’s a slow process, but she has managed to pick up a lot of words and phrases and ‘after practice’ is one of them. Y/N speaks Catalan more at home when it’s just her and Alexia, mostly because she’s still not confident in her skills. She’s trying to speak it more with the others, but she still can’t do more than basic sentences.

Before Alexia can answer, Mapi snorts.

“‘Després de la pràctica’” Mapi says, “A pronunciació no és important per a tu, Ale?”

“Està massa ocupada amb altres coses,” Patri says, wagging her eyebrows.

“What are they saying?” Y/N asks Alexia. Alexia hesitates in answering.

“Hey Y/N,” Mapi says, “Can you tell me what this says?” Mapi turns her phone to Y/N, a word, embarbussament, written in her notes app. It’s not a word Y/N has seen before, and not one Alexia has taught her, but she tries. As she stumbles her way through, the snickers around the room get louder.

“Are you sure you’ve been teaching her Catalan?” Patri says. “She’s worse than CGH.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N says. Y/N tries to grab Alexia’s arm, but she doesn’t pay attention as she heads over to where Patri and Mapi are sitting and continues joking with them about Y/N’s pronunciation.

Y/N can feel the embarrassment building. The more the laughter builds, the more Y/N feels like crying. She’s been trying her hardest and Alexia has been, until now, so patient with her. Alexia has always praised Y/N for her Catalan, gently correcting her when needed, but always telling her how proud she is that she’s trying. But now, listening to Alexia laugh at her, Y/N wonders if Alexia really is proud of her, or if she just says that to Y/N’s face, and then makes fun of her behind her back. Along with the embarrassment and humiliation she feels, Y/N also feels betrayed. Alexia knows how nervous she is to speak Catalan in front of the team, terrified of making a mistake. Y/N always thought she would Alexia in her corner, no matter what, but now Y/N realizes that was never true.

***

Y/N stops speaking Catalan after that.

She still wants to learn, but after what happened, she can’t bring herself to try again. Alexia keeps asking if she wants to practice her Catalan, but Y/N says no every time. She’s not going to give Alexia anything else to make fun of her about. Y/N starts to distance herself from Alexia. It’s not intentional and not what she wants, but whenever they’re together, Y/N can’t help but remember how she felt hearing Alexia laugh at her.

“Do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” Alexia asks. Y/N shakes her head.

“I’m pretty tired, think I’ll just stay home.”

“I don’t mind staying in,” Alexia says, “We can order something or I can cook something for you, carinyet.”

“If you want to go out, then you should go out. I’m sure you can find someone who wants to grab dinner with you. I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N…”

“Just drop it Alexia,” Y/N says, “Go have fun with your friends, I don’t care.”

Alexia doesn’t go out, she orders food for them both and they eat in silence. Alexia tries to make conversation, but Y/N stays quiet. After they finish eating and cleaning up, Alexia grabs Y/N before she can go sit by herself.

“What is going on? What’s wrong?” Alexia asks. Y/N shakes her head. “Don’t lie to me. I know something is wrong, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Why?” Y/N mumbles, “So you can go laugh about it with Mapi and Patri later?”

“What?” Alexia says, “What are you talking about? What do they have to do with anything?”

“You were making fun of me!” Y/N says, feeling tears spring to her eyes, “The three of you, you kept making fun of me.”

“When? What are you talking about?”

“You were being mean about how I speak Catalan. You were being mean. I felt so embarrassed,” Y/N can’t stop the tears falling. “I’m trying my best and I know I’m not good and I know I screw up but it’s not like I grew up speaking it like you! You know how nervous I am to speak it and you were mean to me about it.”

“Bebita, we were just teasing. We weren’t trying to be mean.”

“It wasn’t funny!” Y/N takes a shaky breath. “You embarrassed me, Alexia. In front of the whole team. I felt so stupid. I feel so stupid. You keep saying all these things about how proud you are of me and how well I’m doing and then you let everyone make fun of me and you join in yourself!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were upset,” Alexia says, “I am proud of you and I am impressed by you learning Catalan and I didn’t mean those things I said. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to. I love hearing you speak Catalan, mistakes and all, because it shows how dedicated you are. I love getting to share my language and my city and my culture with you. I’m so, so sorry that I ever made you feel like I wasn’t proud of you, or that you are not the most wonderful, and amazing, and caring person I know.”

“It didn’t feel good,” Y/N says, “It made me feel like crap. My girlfriend being so mean to me to her friends, it doesn’t feel good, Ale.”

“I’m sorry,” The longer the conversation goes on, the more distressed Alexia looks. “Please, por favor, what can I do? What can I do to fix this?”

Y/N shrugs. She doesn’t know.

“I promise that I will never make you feel like that again. Every minute of every day I will tell you how amazing you are, and I will never make you feel like you’re not the most incredible person. Te amo, carinyet, t'estimo tant.”

“I really want to believe you,” Y/N says, “I want to move on from this whole thing and forget about it, but I can’t.”

“I’m so sorry, I feel terrible. I hate that I hurt you. I mean it when I say I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I promise I will.”

“I know Ale.”

Y/N finally allows herself to fall into Alexia’s arms, lets her wipe away her tears. She lets Alexia hold her and comfort her and whisper apologies and comforting words in her ear. Y/N doesn’t know how they’ll fix this, but she does know that Alexia will never stop trying to make it right.

[infernal-general]

@winters-club

“Did you...did you say ‘loveable’ ?”

[nhlclover]

𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 | 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: despite your differing personalities, you and quinn find yourselves drawn to each other. but you know what they say? opposites attract.

warnings: none :)

word count: 0.78k

Quinn leaned back on the club's sleek bar, the polished surface cool against his skin as he observed the chaotic dancefloor. The thumping bass reverberated through the room, syncing with the erratic flickering of the strobe lights.

Amidst the mass of dancers, his eyes were on one figure in particular. You stood out among the pulsating crowd, commanding attention effortlessly. Adorned in a shimmering mini-dress that caught the lights with every sway of your hips, you exuded a magnetic aura. Quinn’s eyes followed your graceful movements as you twirled around with one of your friends, laughter ringing out above the music. In the midst of the chaotic dance floor was where you seemed most in your element.

It wasn’t uncommon for your relationship to raise eyebrows. You had always been a glass-half-full kind of person and always carried an effervescent demeanor. Your positivity was a beacon, drawing people towards you like moths to a flame. Meanwhile, Quinn was on the quieter side, not necessarily grumpy but far from the ray of sunshine that you were. Compared to you, Quinn was the calm after the storm, a steadying force that balanced your whirlwind of energy.

As Quinn continued to watch your effortless moves, he marveled at the way you situated yourself in the mass of people, your smile never wavering and your movements staying fluid and confident. Moments like these reminded Quinn of how he was drawn to you in the first place. You brought a lightness to his life, a spark that he hadn't realized he was missing until you came along.

His brief daydream was interrupted by Maya, one of your friends, sidling up beside him. “Hey, Quinn,” she said, knocking the neck of her beer against his glass.

Quinn offered her a small smile. “Hey, Maya. Having a good time?”

She took a sip of her beer and leaned on the bar beside him, her eyes following his gaze to you. “Always,” she replied with a grin. “You know, I’ve never seen her this happy with anyone before. How are you two doing?”

Quinn's smile widened as he glanced back at Maya. "We're good," he said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "She's amazing, you know that.”

Maya looked between the two of you, a small smile on her lips. “You guys are total opposites though, aren’t you?” she asked.

Quinn chuckled softly, glancing back at you as you continued to dance with abandon. “Yeah, you could say that. But somehow, it works.”

Maya nodded knowingly. “She brings you out of your shell.”

“Exactly,” Quinn replied with a nod. “Even when she doesn��t realize it.”

As if on cue, you bounded over, a radiant grin lighting up your face. “Quinn! Come dance with me!”

Quinn chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him at your presence. “I don’t know how to dance, y/n.”

Your eyes sparkled, shrugging your shoulders as you took hold of Quinn’s hand. “Well, it’s never too late to learn!”

Reluctantly, Quinn allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor. The music seemed louder there, the bass thrumming in his chest. You started moving immediately, your body swaying in time with the beat. Quinn tried to mimic your movements, feeling awkward and out of place.

You took notice and giggled. “Quinn, it wouldn’t kill you to move your body a little.”

You placed your hands on his hips, forcing them to move to the music, but his body seemed to fight you.

“It actually might,” Quinn replied, his eyes glancing around to see if people were watching.

You laughed again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Just follow my lead.”

Quinn took a deep breath and tried to relax. He honestly didn’t know how you were just naturally full of energy and positivity. However, your energy was infectious, and soon he found himself moving more naturally, though still far from graceful. You teased him about his lack of rhythm, but your laughter was warm and encouraging.

“Baby, you’re doing great!” you said, your smile radiant. “See, I knew you could dance.”

Quinn felt his hesitation fall away as you continued to dance, your movements becoming synchronized as you lost yourselves in the music. Your friends cheered from the sidelines, Maya giving Quinn a thumbs up when she caught his eye.

A couple of songs later, you and Quinn headed off the dancefloor. You made your way to the table your friends had commandeered, Quinn pulling you into a tight embrace.

“You were right,” he murmured into your ear. “That was fun.”

“Told you so,” you replied, grinning up at him, eyes sparkling with the same energy that had captivated Quinn from the beginning.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [31] - Secrets

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Keeping secrets from business partners can lead to issues.

Word Count: 3300

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well if that didn’t prove your worth as a potential heir, you didn’t know what would.

For a couple of seconds, no one spoke. You could feel Bucky’s quizzical glances on you but you managed not to look at him or your father who was staring at you in shock.

Ian was the first to break the silence.

“Chicago?” he asked and scoffed. “I know you’re new to this whole thing and Bucky doesn’t share everything with you, but Chicago is impossible.”

You let a smirk curl your lips and turned to the rest of the table.

“A deal with Chicago would ensure—”

“We can’t get Chicago,” Ian cut you off and you arched a brow.

“You can’t,” you told him. “I can.”

“How?” Natasha asked and you shrugged your shoulders, leaning back in your chair.

“Rhett is an old friend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the puzzled expression on Bucky’s face and as much as you wanted to explain it to him, you reminded yourself that it could wait. Steve pulled his brows together while Sam looked between you and Bucky, and Tony sat up straighter.

“You’re telling me you know the king of Chicago?”

“No Tony, I’m telling you the king of Chicago trusts me.”

“Why?”

“Because I made sure of that.”

“And you didn’t bother telling us about this?” Clint asked Bucky and that made you finally look at him. Bucky stared at you in silence, a fire burning in his eyes before he clenched his jaw and turned to Clint.

“Matter of trust I guess,” he said curtly, drumming his fingertips on the table and you could feel your stomach doing an unpleasant flip at the sight of carefully controlled fury on his face, then took a deep breath.

“The underworld in Chicago works a bit differently than here,” you said. “They never had the need to do business with any other cities and no, Rhett wouldn’t do business with any of you. Bucky knowing me or being married to me wouldn’t have changed anything either, Rhett will want to make a deal with someone he actually knows.”

“No,” your father spoke for the first time. “You’re not getting involved in this Y/N.”

“With all due respect father, your heir is obliged to listen to you,” you said and shot him a small smile. “I’m not.”

“But hold on,” Yelena asked. “How do you know him?”

You liked the night life in Chicago almost as much as in New York. While your and Becca’s surnames made sure you could get into any place in New York, it also meant that there was more of a chance of someone in the club letting your father or Becca’s father know you were there. More often than not, you’d run into Steve or Sam or Bucky—

No.

You weren’t going to think about Bucky.

Bucky was a fucking asshole.

“All I’m saying is that you broke up more than a year ago—” Isla shouted over the music as the bartender put your drinks in front of you. “And don’t get me wrong, Ethan is cute and all but he can’t keep giving you puppy dog eyes whenever you’re around.”

“He’s not,” you said, leaning back to the bar as you took a sip of your cocktail, keeping your gaze on your other friends who were still dancing on the dancefloor.

“Yes he is,” Isla said. “Even Bradley is aware of it.”

“Well Bradley was the one who introduced us,” you reminded her with a grin and she rolled her eyes.

“And I apologize for my boyfriend’s lack of foresight,” she said. “No seriously, you need to move on.”

“I did move on!”

“But you still feel guilty.”

“I don’t,” you argued as someone took the spot next to you by the bar and Isla repressed a grin, giving you a look. You turned your glances to the person to see him eyeing you up and down, and he smiled at you as soon as he realized you were looking at him.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Tommy.”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself and he nodded.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I already have a drink,” you stated with a grin, holding up your cocktail glass and he hummed.

“Ah,” he said. “I guess I can wait until you finish that one then?”

“So you’ll just watch me drink?”

“Sounds like a plan—” he started but was cut off when another guy walked through the crowd to nod at you, then mutter something into his ear. Tommy’s eyes widened and he put his beer bottle on the counter.

“Sorry,” he said without so much as a glance at you, then walked away from you.

“The fuck?” Isla muttered while you arched a brow, glaring at the guy.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Kyle. My boss wanted me to tell you that everything you ladies drink tonight is on the house.”

Isla blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“And he asks if you’d like to join him upstairs,” Kyle told you, making your eyes narrow in fury. “Your friends are welcome to join as well, of course.”

Ah.

Well, that explained things.

This whole nonsense of getting someone intimidated with a mere order was way too familiar to you, and you clicked your tongue while Isla shifted her weight.

“Um, Y/N maybe we should go somewhere else…”

“It’s fine,” you assured her. “I got it. Kyle, isn’t it?”

He nodded, stealing a look at the mezzanine where a couple of guys were having a conversation on. You couldn’t exactly make out the faces from the club lights, but if you had to guess, the guy who didn’t look interested in the conversation and was instead leaning on the rails and watching the crowd had to be Kyle’s boss.

“And your boss’s name?”

“Rhett Davis.”

The prince of Chicago.

Lovely.

“Great,” you said. “Well Kyle, why don’t you go and tell your boss that I don’t appreciate him interrupting my conversations and I’m not a fucking dog to go to him when he whistles, hm?”

Kyle gawked at you. “He’s—”

“I know who he is, our fathers are in the same line of business,” you told him, making his eyes widen.

“Y/N?” Isla said and you waved a hand in the air.

“Everything is alright, don’t worry.”

“Whose daughter are you?” Kyle asked and you gave him a smirk.

“I believe you have a message to deliver, Kyle. Run along now.”

Kyle hesitated only for a moment before walking away from you to climb the stairs and you turned to Isla.

“What was that?” she asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Long story,” you said as your friends called out your and Isla’s names, motioning at you to join them on the dancefloor. You let out a laugh, and shook your head.

“I think I’ll finish my drink, but you go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, go,” you said with a smile, pushing her gently and she walked to the dancefloor while you sucked on the straw of your cocktail. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to send a quick text to Becca, letting out a small laugh when you saw her response.

It was only when you lifted your head from your phone that you saw the bartender’s eyes widening before you felt someone step forward to take the spot beside you, making you look over your shoulder before you turned around.

The infamous prince of Chicago was hot, even you had to admit. He had to be only a couple years older than you; his disheveled curly hair giving him an air of nonchalance, and his blue eyes sparkling even under the club lights, reminding you of Bucky’s just a bit. There was a small smirk playing on his lips and when he motioned at the bartender for a drink, you could see the tattoos scattered along his muscular arms before you forced yourself to raise a brow at him, but that just made his smirk bigger.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he said calmly, then offered his hand. “I’m Rhett.”

You tilted your head, then shook his hand before introducing yourself as well and he pulled his brows together.

“The prettiest girl in the club is New York’s underworld princess,” he commented. “Figures.”

“And the cockiest guy in the club is Chicago’s underworld prince,” you said, your voice silky. “Shocker.”

That made him chuckle and he raised his hands, gesturing surrender. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Makes one of us.”

He looked genuinely entertained at your snappy retort as you finished your empty cocktail glass down and he motioned at the bartender for a refill which made him rush to prepare your drink as fast as he could. You raised your brows.

“I can order my own drinks, thank you.”

He hummed.

“Well, I can’t have you return to New York and tell your daddy Chicago was anything but nice to you.”

“And you want to be nice to me?”

“Depends,” he said, his unwavering gaze sending a fire your cheeks. “Do you want me to be nice to you?”

You could feel your heartbeat getting faster but you chastised yourself in your head, then scrunched up your nose.

“I don’t date or sleep with people in the business,” you told him as the bartender put your drink in front of you. “So you can go away now.”

Rhett’s amused smile widened. “Are you ordering me around in my own city, Y/N?”

A smirk curled your lips and you heaved a deep sigh.

“Someone has to,” you said. “Are you telling me you’re not good at following orders, Rhett?”

“I’m good at giving them.”

You pouted your lips, then took a sip of your drink.

“Well,” you said. “Turns out you and I have something in common then.”

“I went to college in Chicago,” you told Yelena. “We kind of ran into each other.”

Your father’s frown deepened. “And you didn’t think to mention that?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” you told him. “I met a lot of people in Chicago, Rhett just happens to be the most important one for business, that’s all.”

Bucky nodded to himself slowly, still keeping quiet as he fixed his gaze on the table, but you could see him clenching his jaw.

“And you’re confident that you can convince him to make a deal with New York?” Steve asked and you nodded.

“As long as we have a good offer.”

“I can show you the latest offer we made him,” Clint told you. “You can go over it so that you know what he refused the last time.”

“Yeah, that would be—” you started but was cut off when someone knocked on the door, then stepped inside. The bodyguard approached Natasha to mutter something to her ear, making her grit her teeth, then she pushed her chair back, Yelena jumping on her feet.

“Nat?” Steve asked and she took a deep breath.

“There’s been an attack on my territory,” she said curtly. “I must cut this short.”

“Of course,” your father said as everyone stood up as well, Clint already walking outside with Natasha and Steve and Sam going after them. Tony nodded at you before he walked away as well and you stole a look at Bucky who was walking to the door without so much as sparing you a glance but before you could say anything, you heard your father’s voice.

“Y/N, a word?”

“Um,” you blinked a couple of times. “Bucky—”

“See you at home,” he said, still not looking at you and he walked out of the room, making your stomach do an unpleasant flip.

“Leave us,” your father told Ian and even though he looked like he wanted to protest, he heaved a sigh and left the room as well. You sat back on your seat, drumming your fingertips on the table.

“Yes?”

“Was it you?”

You tilted your head. “Hm?”

“The first attack on the shipment,” he said, making your stomach drop. “Before the raid. Was it you?”

Fear surrounded you so fast that for a couple of seconds, you couldn’t hear anything because of the blood rushing in your ears, making your hearing muffled. The invisible fist around your throat was getting tighter and tighter but you forced yourself to keep your expression as calm as possible.

“Is that what we’re doing now?” you asked. “Blaming each other?”

“Was it you?”

“No!” you exclaimed, a hysterical laugh escaping from your lips. “Is that what Ian told you? What, he wants to kill me now, is that it?”

“No one is going to touch a hair on your head, I just want to know—”

“I would be killed if anyone suspected I broke the truce!”

“I will cover it if you did break the truce,” your father told you, making you pull back slightly.

“…What?”

“Do you seriously think I’d let anyone harm you?” he asked. “Are you that blind? You’re my daughter, I would start a war against all these families if they tried to do anything to you.”

“Truce is important—”

“Anyone who tries to harm you will meet their death,” he told you, looking you in the eye. “No exceptions.”

You swallowed thickly. “Even Ian?”

“Even Ian,” he said without hesitation, making you gawk at him. “Tell me the truth. Was it you?”

 You dug your fingernails into your palms and took a deep breath, then shook your head.

“No,” you rasped out. “But I’m not going to pretend I’m not happy that it happened.”

He held your gaze in his as if trying to see whether you were lying or not, then leaned back on his seat as well.

“And this Rhett deal?”

“We used to hang out when I was in Chicago,” you said. “Simple as that. I know how he operates, me knowing him wouldn’t have worked if you or Bucky or anyone else tried to make a deal with him. He will want someone in the business.”

“And you are in the business now?” he asked you and you clicked your tongue.

“I am.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I don’t like most of the decisions you make when it comes to business,” you retorted. “Especially recent ones, but here we are.”

He narrowed his eyes at you before a rare smile curled his lips and he let out a loud laugh.

“Never the one to shy away from honesty, are you?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Learned from the best.”

He reached out to squeeze your hand, making you smile as well.

“Wine?” he asked and you turned your glances to the door, biting inside your cheek before turning to him again.

“Bucky will be busy I guess,” you said. “Sure, wine works.”

                                        *

As you expected, when you returned home Bucky wasn’t there. In fact, he didn’t return home until early in the morning, and by that time guilt was already churning your insides. If it were him who pulled what you had in the meeting, convincing you to make him a part of the meeting only to reveal he had a different plan in mind, you would be furious as well so you understood why he hadn’t bothered coming home last night.

Didn’t mean you liked it though.

You tried not to get discouraged when he ignored your “good morning” and went straight upstairs to take a shower while you sat by the kitchen island, pushing your breakfast around, petting Alpine with your other hand. Being nervous wasn’t new to you but this was the first time you were sure that Bucky was actually pissed, and you didn’t know why it bothered you so much, but it did.

So when you heard him walking downstairs, you sat up straighter, doing your best to ignore the tension in the pit of your stomach.

“Buck?”

He only hummed, putting his cufflinks on and you licked your lips as Alpine jumped from the counter.

“Can we talk?”

“Now you want to talk?” he asked, still not looking at you and you bit at your fingernail.

“Yeah,” you said. “Listen, I know it looks like I went behind your back.”

“You did go behind my back,” he corrected you and you pushed yourself off the stool, clenching and unclenching your fists.

“I get that you’re upset,�� you stated and he scoffed.

“No shit I’m upset,” he said. “All this time I thought we had a deal, that we were in this together but you…what, you just decided to keep me out?”

“What does it matter?” your voice was way too defensive and he stared at you.

“You can’t be that self-centered,” he said. “Right? No one can be that self-centered.”

“Bucky—”

“Newsflash Y/N, I’m supposed to be informed about your fucking strategy if I am a part of it!”

“You were informed about the strategy you were a part of,” you defended yourself and he gritted his teeth.

“And the rest?”

“I—you—” you stammered. “I have been planning this for a long time Bucky, I’m not going to just…”

“You’re not going to just trust me?”

You rubbed at your eyes, then took a deep breath.

“I need to prove myself to others,” you said, trying to keep your voice stable. “I need to make sure that everyone around that table prefers me to Ian—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Me having a direct connection to Rhett will ensure that,” you continued as if he didn’t cut you off. “And it will be good for business—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It will give a message—”

“Tell me why you didn’t!”

“Because you could take it from me!” you snapped back before you had the chance to stop yourself. “And it was my move, it was my strategy, it was my plan, okay? No one else’s!”

Pain flashed over his handsome features and he stared at you as silence fell upon the room. You closed your eyes for a moment, reminding yourself to be calm despite the tension clenching your muscles together and opened them again, clenching and unclenching your fists to focus.

“I didn’t—” you stammered. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He was quiet for a couple of seconds before he took a deep breath.

“Nothing I do makes a difference to you, does it?” he asked, his voice low. “No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to prove to you that I…”

You tried to fix your breathing. “You what?”

A dry laugh climbed up his throat and he shook his head. “Never mind.”

You could feel your eyes burning but you tried to focus as he ran a hand through his hair, then clenched his jaw as if trying to pull himself together.

“You’ll make a great boss,” he rasped out and your head shot up, the corners of your mouth twitching upwards.

“…Thank you.”

A painful smile pulled at his lips. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

Your brows pinched together in confusion and he shook his head slightly, grabbing his jacket off the hanger.

“You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my entire life,” he told you. “And there’s no one you wouldn’t waste just to get what you want. You’ll be the best among us, I’d say.”

An ache appeared in your chest. “Bucky, can we please—”

“You wanted to be business partners?” he asked as he put his jacket on, his piercing gaze pining you to your spot. “Fine. But don’t fucking come crying to me when I treat you like one.”

With that, he slammed the door behind him, leaving you there frozen.

Chapter 32

[nastyaromatherapy]

"Fuck Maddy" (18+)

Nate fucks you at a party in a way to get back/over his ex.

to the anon who sent me an Ethan request, i see u 🫡

pairing - nate jacobs x fem!reader

one shot length, 1.3k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, swallowing spitting, delusional ass reader, teensy bit of drinking

You had a crush on Nate Jacobs since eighth grade. But it was nothing special. Who didn't? He was cute, played football, and came from a respectful family. What was there not to love?

You've had your eye on him since you were 13, and you were now a senior. Still no luck with him. Your friends would always tell you to give up, especially after he started dating Maddy Perez. She was the hottest most confident cheerleader in school. But there was a party coming up and you knew they were fighting. You knew it was your time to shine.

You didn't tell your friends because you knew they would obviously not approve. "Y/n, what the fuck were you thinking?" You could just imagine their scolding.

So, you got one of your guy friends to drop you off, one that was semi close to Nate. They played football together. You never considered him because he was sweet, kind, medium ugly, not the best at football just not your type.

The two of you enter the party and quickly go your separate ways. You wore a skimpy dress which kept hiking up whenever you took a step. You took a scope of the cars and didn't recognize any of them except for Nate's silver truck. You rushed inside to search for your parasocial boyfriend. And then there he was in the kitchen, downing shots like a champ.

You rubbed at your waterline just in case, trying to erase as much flaking mascara and eye boogers as possible. You approached the island with a smirk you've practiced for awhile. "Can I take shots with you?" You ask him confidently. "No," he gawked, making a face. You kept your face straight, you've been teaching yourself things about Nate. One thing was to not take the stuff he said to heart. He chuckled when he noticed your never changing expression. "Okay yeah, sure."

He knocked the stuff off of the island, making people gasp and groan at his arrogance. Typical. He laid you on the cold surface, lifting up your dress. "Body shots," he said with a smirk. Everyone cheered his name as he poured the bottle of liquor down a line on your body, from your chest to your naval. He's quick to lick it up and he stares at you coldly as he does so. God was he hot, you felt heat build up in your core. Your cheeks flushed, and you sat up on your elbows after he finished slurping the drink and everyone stopped their cheers.

He smirked and walked off through the crowd, probably going to talk to McKay or something.

Nate's friends started to egg him on. "Yo, that girl was fine as hell hit that before I do, shi," and "I heard your girl Mads was getting around, fucking some bitch in the pool," "Shit that's my mom's pool!" It all started to get to Nate's head. You were hot, sure, but you weren't Maddy. But if Maddy got to fuck a bitch, why couldn't he?

He found you dancing on the dancefloor with some of your guy friends and approached you. "Y/n, right?" He asks with a smirk. "Yeah," you giggled out, a little tipsy. "Care to dance?"

You agreed and started to dance as he joined in. The two of you inched closer to each other, and soon the dancing became grinding. You could hear his groans, even over the loud music. His eyes flicked to out the window where he saw Maddy all over some random guy. "Come on," he said, dragging you by your wrist. You stumbled behind him and he led you to a bathroom.

He threw his lips onto yours, groaning into your mouth. He knew you were just a random girl, but he imagined you as Maddy. His girl, not a random one. You knew that, but you didn't care, this was your chance with fucking Nate Jacobs.

He reached his hand up your skirt, finger pads coming in contact with your damp panties, making your breath hitch. He smirked against your lips.

He slipped his tee off, exposing his fit torso. He's quick to take off your dress as well, leaving you in your matching set. He reaches down to grab your ass, and sits you onto the countertop. He reconnects his lips with yours hungrily, tilting your head up by the back of your neck.

He pulled away and grabbed your tender thighs, spreading them open. He slipped your panties off and crouched down to be eye level with your pussy. He licked a stripe up it, not breaking eye contact, before plunging in two fingers then standing back fully up.

Your eyebrows curled upwards as you looked in his eyes. He bit his lip, focusing on his movements, fingers curling inside your wet cunt. Your dreams were becoming a reality. He slowly left his mouth agape and continued to finger you, your legs inching wider and wider.

You felt that knot build up in your stomach, moans starting to escape from your lips. You didn't care how loud you were, no one would hear you or care. Your sounds just made him hungrier and he thrusted faster. Wet squishy sounds filling the room. With a final moan coming from you, you cum around his fingers, thighs clenching.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, pulling his fingers out of your cunt and sticking them into yet another wet and warm hole: your mouth. You took his fingers and gagged on them as he chuckled to himself. His fingers were salty, and it could've been because of your unconditional attraction, but you found it intoxicating. He pulled them out of your mouth, a string of spit following after it, making you pant slowly.

He looked down at you while biting his lip as he started to unbuckle his jeans. His pants dropped to his knees, followed by his boxers, leaving his cock free. You just so badly wanted to suck him off, practically salivating. But he had other plans. He spread open your aching thighs once more, lining himself up to your gaping opening. He leans in to the crook of your neck, teeth grazing on your shoulder as he slid in, your pussy swallowing his length whole.

You whined when he entered you, gripping on the faucet and the edge of the counter. He started moving in and out, slow but deep. He breathes loudly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your hairs stick up erect. Your moans in his ear make him greedier, speeding up, hitting that same spot inside of you repeatedly. The two of you stayed silent for most of the time, letting out grunts, groans and moans but no words. Just focused on the pleasure of the moment.

The mirror behind you started to cloud as he started to get close. You could feel him twitch inside of you and him getting louder. You clenched tighter around him, wanting to feel that sweet cum inside you, but again that's not what he had in mind.

He picked you up off of the counter, still inside of you, before finally pulling out and putting you down on the ground in front of him. Your mouth watered being eye to eye with his throbbing cock, covered in your wetness before taking it into your mouth, sucking him sweetly. He groans as you work your tongue around his shaft as your throat takes his tip, gagging when it hits your esophagus. He throws his head back and starts to buck his hips in and out of your mouth before cummings down your throat. You pull off of him and regurgitate the semen, letting it drip down his cock and your chin to the floor.

He pants, wiping sweat off his forehead before removing yourself with your heavenly mouth.

He pulls his pants and boxers back up and grab his shirt from the floor. "Yeah, fuck Maddy," he says before leaving the room.