#my friend wanted to come so i met up with her and she came to coles with us

[midnightsinjune]

I could literally write an essay on all the things that led to me ultimately walking away from this friendship but it would be impossible to list it all. It was a decision that was a long time coming but was difficult to end because there’s no right way to end things unfortunately when you just simply come to terms with the fact that you don’t want to continue a friendship anymore. The harsh realization that you would not be friends with this kind of person if you were able to make the choice fresh today. Ultimately it took time alone to reflect, growing and healing myself to realize that feeling drained and negative after you are around someone you consider a best friend for years isn’t normal. I have had many close friendships with women throughout my life and nothing came close to how this one made me feel. She tried to appear like a positive person but she held a lot of negativity inside and as someone who was close to her for a long time it was very visible. I was just young and naive at the time the friendship started (she literally told me she initially didn’t like me before I even knew her or we had properly ever interacted lmao, red flag from the beginning) so after that when SHE extended starting a friendship with me for some reason I chose to be friends with someone who held many very visible toxic behaviours that I usually steer far away from. Immaturity, passive aggressiveness (this was so acknowledged as a part of her personality it was something constantly joked about in our friend group) pettiness, being judgemental (although always claiming she wasn’t but tbh I don’t think she realized she wasn’t good at hiding it at all), subtle digs, being condescending, crazyyy internalized misogyny, secret competition etc. Literally remember her telling me she prefers being friends with guys to girls at our big age and me sitting explaining why that’s not okay. Her not having any other close best friends who are women in the 10 years I knew her. I hope she genuinely thinks about why that is. So many examples I can remember of her just randomly disliking so many girls we knew and when I would ask why she’d say “she could just tell the vibes were off”. Honestly had never met anyone like that before and thank god have never since. Anybody else who knew the feeling of being her friend would have walked away sooner. The best way to describe it was uncomfortable. Always calculating, holding back, made me so uneasy. I never had the relaxed feeling around her that I had with other friends. With my other friends I always feel like both our walls are down. But with her it felt one sided always and I remember telling her this too. So many moments I look back on and realized were not okay but I just let slide. I regret not calling it out and but I honestly didn’t understand it and tried to see the good overall. These last few years I started really coming to terms with all of this, it’s like I always felt unhappy but never verbalized it. There was some good in there, which made it confusing, but ultimately it was largely overshadowed by all of the above. She would always tell me she felt lighter after hanging out with me and that was most often not the case with me. In fact it was the opposite, I would feel heavy. Ultimately I realized a lot of her negativity and pettiness rubbed off on me. Hence why I am blogging about this which is very out of character for me. The damage is done after associating with this behaviour for so long I have absorbed a lot of it. Hence why I finally decided to distance myself and then everything hit the fan. But honestly what ended up happening was just the catalyst I needed to finally walk away. Everything happens for a reason and definitely lessons learned. Trust your gut.

—Virginia Woolf

[wosov]

trigger warning - car accident, death, funeral, guilt

It starts with an argument. A stupid, heat of the moment fight that Kyra will never forgive herself for.

Rain pelts the windows as voices rise in your shared flat, your voice shaking with frustration, hers tight with hurt. The storm outside is nothing compared to the one inside the room. The hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the wall clock, the occasional thunder, all background noise to the crumbling of something once solid.

“You never talk to me about how you're really feeling, Kyra! I can't keep guessing if I'm enough for you.”

Kyra stands near the kitchen counter, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her voice comes out sharper than she intends.

“You are! You always have been. I just… I'm tired. Everything’s been too much.”

“You think I’m not tired?” You pace near the front door, keys clenched in your fist. “I show up for you. I hold space for you. And you keep shutting me out like I’m a stranger.”

“I don’t know how to open up!” she snaps, her voice rising. “You think I like this? You think I don’t want to be better?”

The words hang in the air, venomous and heartbreaking. A silence falls, bitter and thick.

“I can't do this right now,” you mutter, shoving your coat on. “I’m going to Steph’s. I need to cool off.”

Kyra’s eyes flash with panic. She takes one step forward. “Wait, don’t…!”

But you’re already at the door. You don’t turn around.

She hesitates. Just for a moment.

She almost calls your name.

Almost runs after you.

But pride and pain win out. And then the door clicks shut.

She stares at it for a long time.

The kettle boils behind her. She doesn’t move.

An hour passes.

Then two.

She sends a text. No reply.

She tries calling. Straight to voicemail.

Another hour.

And then the phone rings.

A number she doesn’t recognize.

A quiet voice on the other end. An accident. Emergency services. A crash on Holloway Road. The rain. A loss of control.

You never made it to Stephs house.

You never made it anywhere.

Kyra drops the phone.

The world spins.

Her knees buckle.

Everything goes quiet.

The hospital room is sterile, lit too brightly. Kyra doesn’t remember how she got there. Caitlin’s hand is on her back. Katie is speaking softly with the doctors, both of them casting a gentle glance over her every so often. 

But Kyra doesn’t hear anything. Everyone’s voice sounds far away.

And when they tell her again when they say confirmed fatality and immediate, Kyra shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers. “No, that’s wrong. She just left. She’s mad at me. She… she just left to go to a friends house.”

“Let me go home, please! I’ll go home and she’ll be there, pacing. She always paces when she’s upset. I just need to get home.” Kyra all but begs the doctor but it is no use. You are gone and nobody corrects her. Caitlin just holds her tight and Katie has visible grief in her eyes. 

That night, Kyra sits in the guest room of Katies flat. Her phone buzzes once, then twice and then is silent again.

She clutches your hoodie to her chest. It still smells like you. Coconut shampoo and that soft, warm scent that used to feel like home.

She tries to sleep but all she sees is the last look on your face. The anger. The hurt. The slam of the door.

And the silence that followed.

She screams into the pillow. Bites her hand so hard she leaves teeth marks. Anything to not feel the weight of what she’s done.

You were right.

She never learned how to let you in.

And now you’re gone.

The day of the funeral came by far too quickly and Kyra stood at the front of the church clutching a piece of paper. A piece of paper that she had tried and attempted to cram her love and memories onto. 

“I met her on my first day. I turned up late, full of jetlag, stiff muscles and annoyance after the airline lost my suitcase. I was already so nervous being in a new country and joining a new team but she was already there, waiting outside for me. 

Flashback to first meeting 

It had been a shit morning. 

She had landed in London less than 24 hours earlier but everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong. The airline lost her suitcase, her phone charger stopped working mid-flight and to top it all off there was a screaming baby that seemed displeased about anything possible. 

And now, now Kyra was late. Of all things that could’ve happened, she was late for her first day at Arsenal. 

The taxi ride was a blur of grey motorways and random fields containing the odd cow. She barely registered the entrance of the training ground as the car pulled up.

Kyra checked the dashboard the moment the car stopped and she swore she felt her stomach drop.  

9:32 am

She was supposed to be there by 9:00 am and was halfway through trying to convince herself not to cry when she stepped out of the car, and then promptly tripped over her own foot. 

The pavement rushed up to meet her and before Kyra could even process the fall, she crashed into you. 

You had been waiting outside. No one had asked you too. No one expected you to. But you had seen the schedule and the name - Kyra Cooney Cross - and you had insisted on being there. 

Something about first impressions. Something about how hard it was to arrive in a new country alone. 

So there you were. Jacket zipped up to your chin, hands tucked up into your sleeves, leaning against the railing with a quiet kind of patience. You had been there a while, but you never left. Not even where you started to wonder whether this girl was actually going to turn up. 

But when a slightly dishevelled Kyra landed in your arms with a startled yelp, your first instinct wasn’t annoyance, it was laughter. 

A soft surprised laugh that cut right through the tension and stress that lingered in the air and Kyra’s chest. 

“Bit of a dramatic entrance, huh?”

Kyra scrambled off you, face flushed from both the cold and embarrassment. 

“Shit, sorry! I didn’t see you, I mean I was late and…”

You waved a hand, brushing imaginary dust off your hoodie. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t complain having a pretty girl fall head over heels for me!”

Kyra blinked. Then laughed, small and disbelieving.

“Right, yeah” she said (still catching her breath) “You must be?”

“Yeah,” you said, offering your hand out. “I’m the one who has been freezing her ass off for the past thirty minutes waiting for you” You spoke with a cheeky smirk adorning your face. 

Kyra took your hand. And somehow, that was it. 

The start of everything. 

Back to present day

“I was already so nervous being in a new country and joining a new team.” Kyra spoke with a sad smile and tears glistening in her eyes. “But she was already there, a cheeky smile plastered on her face and an overly enthusiastic handshake.” Kyra paused to wipe away the tears that were falling freely now. “And after that, the world didn’t seem so big.”

Kyra took a deep breath before continuing. She didn’t look at the crowd nor the framed photo of you by your coffin. She just looked down. Down somehow past her shoes and starts talking like you are still here. Like this is just another one of your long deep and meaningful chats after training. 

“The other day I went out to get some air.” She started.

“Didn’t even know where I was walking. Didn’t even realise I’d gone that far. But I turned the corner near that cafe you liked. “

Her voice cracks, just slightly. 

“The one with all the suncatchers in the windows and the terrible oat milk. And that’s when I saw them. This person selling roses right on the corner and I actually laughed. Right there in the street just because I could hear you in my head.”

Kyra closed her eyes, smiling now through a shaky breath. 

Flashback to last valentines day

Kyra barges through the front door, holding a bouquet of long stemmed red roses and a triumphant grin in hand. 

“Look what I got you!” Kyra says proudly, like she has just won the World Cup.

You barely offer a second glance away from the tv where you are currently trying, and failing, to fight off a creeper in your minecraft village. 

“Uhh… A takeaway?”

“Nope! Something even better” she states, still holding that cheeky grin as your village gets blown up. 

You look up from the couch, unimpressed. “Oh, oh no.”

Kyra’s face drops. “What?”

“Are those…” You squint like you are trying to identify a rare disease. “Roses?”

She blinks. “Yeah? It’s romantic.”

You groan like she has just kicked your dog. “Kyra. Babe. That’s peak valentines aisle cringe.”

Kyra’s brow furrows. “They were expensive!”

“And they look like they were grown in a factory that also makes sad greeting cards.”

“They are predictable” you shoot back. “You have been living in England way too long. Next thing, you will be bringing me a Tesco meal deal and calling it love!”

Kyra stares at you. “...Would you prefer peonies?”

You pause, “Peonies have character.”

She groans. “You are such high maintenance.”

“And you” you say, plucking one rose from the bouquet and dramatically sniffing it, “Are a walking pinterest board.”

Kyra rolls her eyes and mutters, “Remind me never to try and be romantic again!”

You snicker before saying “Oh no, please do” you say sweetly. “I love watching you fail!”

Back to present day

Kyra lets out a soft laugh, the kind that hurts on the way out. 

She made fun of me for days! She put them in a vase and labelled it ‘Kyra’s cringe corner’. Everytime I would pass them she would be like “Oop! There's that heterosexual energy again!”

Laughter echoes gently through the room, and Kyra’s eyes shine but she doesn’t pause to wipe the tears away.

“She hated roses. Thought they were a cliche, but she still kept every single one. Even dried them out and hand pressed each one to keep them forever. Called it ‘ironic’, but I think she secretly loved them. I think she secretly loved all the things she pretended to hate.”

Kyra swallows hard. Looking out at the many somber faces in the pews.

“I’d give anything to walk through that door again with the stupidest bouquet I could find, just to see her roll her eyes at me.”

Her voice drops to a whisper, as if Kyra was speaking to just herself and nobody else.

“And say something like, “God, you are lucky I’m hot.”

The church has now quieted down. All the laughter from Kyra’s earlier stories; the flowers, the pouting, the dramatic declarations of love. The way you would pout and cite psychological torture if you were left alone for more than 10 minutes.  

That's all gone now. 

What remains is a hush, heavy and waiting. 

Kyra grips the lectern tighter. She swallows hard, eyes red, voice quieter now. Lacking the usual light joviality it normally holds. 

“There’s one more thing” she says. “Something I haven’t really said out loud yet.”

She hesitates. Then takes a deep breath.

“We fought.”

Her hands tremble slightly as she folds the paper and places it flat on the podium.

“She thought I didn’t care. She thought I wasn’t trying. That I was shutting her out.”

A soft breath, sharp at the end like she’s holding something back.

“She was right, in a way. I was shutting her out. But not because I didn’t love her.”

She looks down. Her voice drops.

“It’s because I did.”

Flashback three weeks earlier

It started with something so small.

Kyra was late, again. She was out with a few of the aussie girls but was supposed to be back by now. You were waiting at home for her, pacing. Trying not to check the time for the third time in 5 minutes.

And then the door clicks and in walks Kyra. She walks in muttering something about an apology and a dead phone. You just look at her. 

Her eyes flick to yours, cautious and wary. 

“What?” she says, already bracing for the incoming argument. 

“You could’ve called” you say “You could’ve sent one text.”

Kyra sighs, taking off her shoes. “I said I was sorry.”

You sigh, incredulously, “It isn’t about the text Kyra! This” your hands flailing wildly around you. “It's not about the text.” 

Kyra’s shoulders go stiff, as if she already knows where this is going. 

“You’re not here even when you are here” you say. “You sit across from me and barely say a word. You hold my hand but your mind is somewhere else. I feel like I am dating someone else sometimes!”

Kyra opens her mouth, to argue? To defend herself? But you cut her off.

“Do you even want to be in this anymore?...”

That breaks something in Kyra. Her face crumples and she shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. 

So you try again, one more time. 

“Just talk to me. Please. Just tell me what is going on.” You plead with her. 

But Kyra can’t. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to, of course she does. 

She wants to tell you about the ring she has kept hidden in her gym bag for days. That she has been brainstorming location ideas with Steph, Katie and Caitlin. That she has been carrying it around with her. That every time she looks at you, laughing on the couch or brushing your teeth half asleep, she thinks ‘God! I want that forever.’

But she doesn’t say any of that. 

Instead, she says:

“I don’t know.”

You stare at her like that answer physically hurts you. Because it does. 

“Okay” you say, stepping back. “Okay.”

You grab your keys. You don’t even cast a second glance back over to Kyra. 

“I am going to steph’s, I need a break.” 

And then you are gone. Kyra lets you go, watching the door slam shut and thinks ‘ I will make it up when she gets back, I will explain everything and ask her to marry me. Everything will work out.’

But that never happened, and Kyra just lets you go.

Back to present day

“I thought we had time,” Kyra says softly.

“I thought I’d give her some space, wait for her to cool off. I thought I’d surprise her in the morning. Coffee in one hand, ring in the other. I even practised what I was going to say.”

She gives a watery laugh. It hurts.

“I was gonna say… ‘You drive me insane. You correct my Spotify playlists. You talk during movies. You never clean the coffee machine. And I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. Will you marry me?’”

Her voice cracks.

“But I never got the chance.”

“I got the call less than an hour later.”

The air in the room is sucked out.

“I thought it was her calling to say sorry. Or to tell me to come pick her up because she forgot her pillow. She never could sleep without her pillow.”

“But it wasn’t her.”

A pause.

“It was the police.”

Kyra reaches into her jacket pocket.

She pulls out a small, worn velvet box. It looks like it’s been opened and closed a hundred times. Because it has.

She flips it open.

Inside is a ring, delicate, classic, and quietly beautiful. The kind you’d say you hated because “It’s too normal,” but she knew you’d secretly love.

“I bought this a month ago,” she says, holding it up with trembling fingers. “I was just… I was waiting for the perfect moment.”

Her voice shakes.

“But the perfect moment never came. And then she was gone.”

“She died thinking I didn’t love her enough to try. But the truth is…”

Kyra closes her eyes.

“I loved her so much I couldn’t breathe.”

She swallows the lump in her throat.

“I wish I’d told her that. I wish I’d opened my mouth and said anything. I wish I hadn’t let her walk out that door thinking she was alone.”

A breath.

“I would’ve given her the world. I would’ve spent every morning for the rest of my life proving I could love her better.”

Her gaze lifts.

“I still talk to her, you know. When I come home. When I see her favourite flowers. When I open the fridge and find the stupid oat milk she always made me buy. When I hear a song she hated and pretend she’s next to me rolling her eyes.”

A faint smile trembles on her lips.

“She’s still everywhere.”

Her hand closes the ring box gently.

“And I never got to ask the question. But I know the answer.”

And then Kyra whispers quietly, intimately as if she is speaking to just herself again. 

“She would’ve said yes.”

And with that Kyra folds the piece of paper up, her voice breaking as she looks up. 

“I love you, still. Always.” 

[tooearlyforthis]

Owner of a Lonely Heart

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: (4.4k wc) Steve didn't want to ever attend another Halloween party. Especially since this is the second time he's spilled a drink on a pretty girl.

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied smut (I tried to write the scene I really did but I just don't think smutt writting is for me)

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

This has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for over a year and I somehow finished it lol who wants a halloween fic!

The last time Steve was in Chicago, he threw up. 

He had been nine, excited to visit the new city his cousins had moved to for Thanksgiving break. If he was being honest, he was happy at first. They went sightseeing, met up with their family, and had an overall great time. 

That was all quickly ruined by Thanksgiving dinner.

Looking back on it, that day was the beginning of the end. His mother had found out that his father was cheating, resulting in what could only be described as a food fight mixed with a WWE match. Steve remembered sitting at the dining room table, sick from all the commotion - the pumpkin pie he had eaten just minutes before coming right back up.

His parents never ended up getting a divorce, thus beginning their unhappy marriage and his shitty childhood. He stopped believing in love that day, stopped believing that anyone could be happy with a significant other. But then Nancy came along and fuck, he had fallen fast. Things were looking up, despite the interdimensional monsters they faced. Life was good. 

And then Halloween happened.

It was safe to say it was now his least favorite holiday — yes, even beating Thanksgiving. So when his best friend, Robin, asked him to visit her up at Northwestern for Halloween, Steve didn’t think things through. Blindly he said yes, wanting any excuse to see her after months apart. So there he was on Halloween night in Chicago, wearing a very uncomfortable costume. 

“The people a few floors up are throwing it,” Robin told him, walking out of her room and toward the elevator. 

Steve trailed close behind, itching at the upside down funnel on his head. She somehow convinced him into a group costume, the Scarecrow and Tinman from The Wizard of Oz. 

The only reason he agreed was because he wanted to see his best friend and she agreed to assemble his costume. She chose the Scarecrow, her nose pink from lipstick and wore a patchy shirt and pants. Steve was of course then the Tinman, a flipped funnel on his head and adorning a silver suit. 

As the elevator doors closed, Robin swatted his hand away from itching his head. “Hey stop that! I worked hard to paint it silver.”

“You know I don’t do hats, Rob, it flattens my hair,” He said, dropping his hands back to his side in defeat. 

Other students filed in as they began their journey up to the party. Steve gave a polite nod, shifting closer to his friend to make room for everyone. 

Robin squished into his side, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “She likes the movie, okay?”

“Oh you’re doing this for Becky?” Steve asked, a little too loud for Robin’s liking.

She shushed him quickly. “Jeez, say it louder huh?”

The doors finally opened, letting all the occupants out onto the party floor. “You really like her huh?”

Waiting until everybody else was out of earshot she replied, “Yes I do, okay? So wear the stupid funnel and look happy.”

“Yes, mom.” 

Robin snatched his hand, pulling him down the hallway toward the party. Steve would’ve been lost without her. Every door around them was open, people funneling in and out whenever they felt like it. They passed people in every type of costume from current pop culture characters to almost every slutty thing one could think of. People were making out, dancing on beds, smoking near a cracked window. 

It made Steve envy them. Not because of what they were doing but because of what they were getting to experience. He was bummed when he didn’t get into college and slowly developed a routine over the past year that made him more confident in his decision. But now, seeing the rambunctious young adults having the time of their lives, he was beginning to doubt his life choices.

“Be polite if we see her okay?” Robin said as they passed through the entrance of the official party.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I don’t know, I'm just nervous!” She began shaking her hands, trying to get all her jitters out.

He planted his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Just calm down, we’re gonna be fine.”

Nodding, she took a breath. Steve let go of her shoulders, facing toward the party next to her. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s rock this party.”

Madonna, Blondie, and Bowie shook through the speakers, young adults dancing like there was no tomorrow. And for once, Steve felt like there was no care in the world. 

He danced with Robin to the groove of the music, not caring about the bodies bumping all around him. It was…good? It was good. The thoughts of his ex were pushed to the back of his mind and instead he focused on having a good time with his best friend.

“I’m gonna go get us drinks!” Steve yelled over the music. Robin only nodded, continuing to sway to the beat of the music.

Pushing his way through the impressive number of people at the party, he finally made it to the kitchen. He had to guess that whoever owned this dorm was the RA having an almost full sized apartment compared to the standard room Robin had. 

There was a bowl of punch and he poured a glass for her before grabbing a bottle of beer for himself. Taking a moment, he leaned against the counter sipping on his cold drink. 

It had been a while since he had been happy, truly happy. Hawkins just wasn’t the same without her and the younger kids needed him less now that they were sophomores in high school. Hell, Dustin just got his learner's permit. Soon he wouldn’t even need a ride. 

Looking up from his drink he spotted Robin walking over to him, a girl trailing behind in a Dorthy costume. He had a pretty good guess at who it was.

“Steve, this is my neighbor, Becky,” she said, trying her best to not add a weird inflection in her voice. Still, Steve could understand what she was trying to say. 

Smiling, he nodded at her. “Nice to meet you, Becky.”

“You too,” the girl responded. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Same,” he replied and in his peripheral vision he could see Robin’s cheeks getting red with embarrassment, regretting introducing them in the first place. 

“We,” Robin swooped in before more could be said. “Are gonna get out of here.”

That time she made no effort to hide what she meant. Steve’s eyebrows raised. How had she gone from barely being able to flirt to getting a girl back to her place?

“Okay,” he said calmly. Becky began to walk away, a coy look on her face as she dragged Robin close behind. “I’ll find someplace to go!” He yelled after them. 

“I owe you one!” Robin yelled back before disappearing out of sight. 

Chuckling to himself, Steve went to take another sip of his beer to find it was empty. Without looking too carefully he turned around bumping into someone who in turn, spilled the punch spoon all over their shirt. 

“Oh shit!” Steve exclaimed, moving fast to grab a napkin.

This was too eerie, too familiar. His heart began to race, handing the napkin over to the stranger he bumped into. It was a girl, about his age, then again everyone at the party was. She murmured a thanks as she dabbed the napkin into her shirt. 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said quickly. “Like really, really sorry. I’m pretty sure vinegar can get it out? I don’t know if there’s vinegar here.”

“I don’t think there is,” the girl responded plainly, clearly still pissed off. “It’s fine, I'll do it in the morning.”

“I’m really sorry.” 

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. “You said that already.”

“Right…” Steve trailed off. He tried to calm himself down but it was just too much. The Halloween party, the punch, the girl…He didn’t even know her name and yet it felt like he was losing control of everything… like that night with Nancy was creeping back up to haunt him for the rest of his life.  

She definitely could tell something wasn’t right because instead of him consoling her, it was the other way around.  “You okay dude?”

“Y-yeah,” he stumbled to say. “I’m just - I wasn’t looking where I was going and, gosh, you’re wearing white that’s hard to get out-”

“I’ll be fine,” she interrupted him. “I’m just gonna go clean up in the bathroom.”

Without another word she turned around, and Steve instantly followed. “Here, take my jacket,” he said, shedding it off his shoulders. “It’s silver, not sure if it’ll match but it can help cover the stain.”

Finally finding the right door, she placed a hand on the door knob, the other pushing the jacket back toward him. “It’s okay, my night was pretty shit anyways.” Opening the door, they could spot two people inside making out. “Get out of here lovebirds some people actually need to use this place.” Detangling themselves, the couple left, stumbling back into the party drunk. 

The minute they left, Steve began rambling again, his panic working faster than logic. “I’m still really sorry that I-”

“If I let you help me would you stop apologizing?” she asked, interrupting his sentence.

Pausing, he nodded, not knowing if he could say anything else. She nodded back, propping herself up on the sink while he closed the bathroom door. The loud noises were muffled as they were enclosed, music softening in the distance. Taking a wash cloth that was folded next to the sink, the girl ran it under the water for a moment before handing it to him.

Steve was hesitant to take it. But this is what he wanted right? To help get the stain out? It felt important to him. Like helping this stranger would fix the wrong doings in his past. Taking a deep breath, he took it. He started on her arm, washing away as much of the reddish liquid as he could. The movement of his cloth on her top was almost cathartic.

“I’m Y/n by the way,” the girl finally said. He looked up at her. “In case you were wondering.”

“Y/n,” Steve repeated, feeling the way her name sounded on his tongue. “That’s really pretty.” Y/n raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Uh, I mean my name is Steve. Yeah…”

Chuckling at his awkwardness she asked. “What major are you?”

“Oh uh, I don’t go here, my friend does.” Nodding, she let the room fall back into silence. But it felt like a dam had opened between them. “You uh, said you were having a shitty night?”

She let out a long sigh. “Yeah I was. And then this happened.” She raised the arm he was cleaning slightly. 

“Do you mind sharing? I’ve had a pretty shitty night too,” he asked, earning a glare from her. Wrong move, definitely the wrong move. She didn’t even know him. Why would she share with him? It was weird enough, he thought, that she even agreed to let him help her.

Not daring to look up, he continued to clean her arm, wetting the wash cloth again as it started to dry up. “What the hell,” she said with a sigh.

Oh so maybe not the wrong move.

“I got my midterm back this morning,” Y/n began. “Didn’t do so hot. My roommate thought the party might cheer me up but then I saw my ex with someone…we, uh, broke up a month ago so…now I’m here.”

Steve responded softly, letting his thumb graze over her arm in comfort. “That does suck, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…” 

Feeling satisfied with the amount of punch he got off on her sleeve, he moved up to the next affected area. He paused, realizing it was her chest. Looking up at her, he found her eyes were already on him. They looked soft, a stare unlike the more stern ones she had given him before.

He felt like he could get lost in them, the intricate colors shining brighter than any eyes he had seen before. She gave him a slow nod, an indicator that it was okay. He smiled back reassurance as he gently touched the wash cloth to her chest. Moving it gently, he tried not to think about how intimate the situation felt. Then again, it was better than having her take her shirt off for him to clean.

“So, you’ve been having a shitty night too?” she said, probably trying to distract herself from the almost stranger standing between her legs. 

And Steve had no problem with distractions. 

“Yeah, it’s been, not the best.”

“Care on sharing?”

He met her eyes for a moment but instead of getting lost, they both erupted into giggles. It was such a weird situation laughter felt like the only option. 

“My friend, the one I came to visit, she went off to hookup with someone she’s been crushing on so I’m kind of homeless for the night.”

“Oh,” Y/n began a softness to her voice, like two longtime friends confiding in each other. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he retorted. “It’s nothing compared to your day. I shouldn’t even be complaining, it's just…” 

He debated on talking about Nancy, about how she was the first one to break his heart on a night very similar to the one they were currently having. It felt easy to talk to Y/n. He wanted to pour his heart out to her. But then again, they had only just met. 

Instead he said, “Halloween is just a sore topic for me so when she left-”

“-it felt like she was abandoning you,” Y/n finished. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Steve nodded. When had anyone understood what he was feeling so fast? She was able to summarize his emotions in so few words, it made him wonder how he never thought to describe it that way before. Pulling back the wash cloth from her chest, he tossed it into the sink. 

“There, uh, not the best but better than before right?” He scratched at the back of his neck, watching her hop off the counter and turn to examine her shirt in the mirror. 

With a smirk, she turned to him. “Not bad, Steve.”

Shrugging, he said, “I tried my best.” 

Their interaction was coming to a close and Steve didn’t know how to react. He liked this girl way more than he should for just having just spilt punch on her. But she could relate to him, made him feel okay in a situation that would otherwise have him searching for his anxiety meds. 

But with her shirt cleaned up there was nothing more to say. Smiling, he inched toward the door. “I guess it was nice meeting you-”

“Do you wanna go steal pudding?”

He cocked his head to the side, letting out a breathful laugh. “I’m sorry what?”

“Do you wanna steal pudding? From the cafeteria? Sorry just we’ve both had shitty nights and this party doesn’t seem like a cure. Plus, pudding is like the only good thing in the caf.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile, feeling flustered at the mere mention of spending more time with her. He opened the bathroom door, the volume of the party increasing to a blaring height. Over the noise, he shouted, “Lead the way!”

“Hmm” Steve groaned, taking another scoop of pudding. “How is a cafeteria pudding this good?”

Y/n chuckled in her seat across from him. She was leaning back in her chair, her feet planted on his lap as a makeshift stool. “I don’t know man. Every other food in this place stinks. But this? I could eat it forever.”

He laughed at her statement, trying not to spit out his mouthful of pudding. Looking around the dark cafeteria that was only lit by the moonlight pouring through the sky roof. Taking a more in depth look, he noticed the lack of security.

“No guards?” he asked.

Y/n raised her eyebrows. “You’ve really never been on campus huh?”

He shook his head as she took her feet off of his lap. Y/n placed down her pudding and scooted her chair closer to him, their shoulders almost touching. He tried not to blush but felt himself failing miserably. 

Why was she so easy to talk to? He wanted to blurt out his life story to her. Talk through what he felt was wrong in his life. He wanted to hear about her too. Console her from the ex boyfriend, make sure that neither of them ever feels broken again. 

Caught up in his own world, Steve blurted out, “My girlfriend dumped me on Halloween.”

He felt Y/n stiffen next to him.  

Retreat, retreat, RETREAT!

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said, placing her pudding down. Turning in her seat, she tried to get a better look at him. “I’m sorry she dumped you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, facing her. His gaze was toward the cup in his hands and he forced himself to set it down and look at her. “It was two years ago just- she called me bullshit. Our relationship was bullshit, even though I loved her and-” He stopped himself, trying to think back to the point he was trying to make.

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t like Halloween that much so I really appreciate this.”

There was a look in her eye, like something changed but Steve couldn’t point out what. “Y/n-”

He couldn’t say anymore as she pressed her lips to his. It was a shock, something that took him a moment to recover from before kissing her back. He wrapped a hand around her waist the best he could in their awkward seating arrangement. She felt her hand cup his chin guiding him in a way that was more dominant than any other kiss he had had. 

Breaking away, both of them let out a long sigh. But despite the smell of alcohol on their breaths, they remained close, foreheads almost touching. Steve was still in shock, watching as a smile crossed Y/n’s lips. 

“You know,” she began, “My roommate isn’t going to be home tonight.”

He knew what she was insinuating. And while in the past he would want to take a girl on a date before his bed, there was something about Y/n that made him rethink his rule. 

The sun shined through the blinds of the dorm room, a beam of light hitting Steve perfectly in the face. With a groan, he lifted his hand, trying to block the exposure while scrunching his face. 

As his hand lifted he felt something shift next to him. No, not something, someone. Y/n, to be more specific. The room slowly came into focus as the events of the previous night flooded his mind. 

Stumbling into the dorm. Her lips on his. The pull on his hair, the moans she let out. The weight of her on top of him… He smiled at the memory. 

Y/n turned into his side, her face snuggled into his side as an arm landed across his stomach. He watched as she slowly opened her eyes, scrunching her face the same way he had moments before. 

“Morning,” he said in a soft tone.

As her eyes landed on him, a smile etched at the corner of her lips. “Morning,” she replied, a slight seductive tone to her voice. Steve thought she would turn away at the sight of him. Usher him out of her room and say it was all a lapse of judgment after a difficult breakup. But she didn’t do that, quite the opposite in fact. Y/n leaned more into him, letting her face linger in the curve of his neck. “I had a lot of fun last night,” she told him, her voice a little hoarse. 

Steve didn’t wanna fuck this up. Mess up the first good thing to happen to him in months. So, he went with a simple yet still effective response. “Me too.”

He looked down at her. She looked ethereal, like an angel sent down to earth specifically for him. The hand she had curled around him pressed softly into his side. Like she was making sure he wouldn’t leave her. God, he wanted to kiss her. It would be so easy to lean down and connect their lips. To savor the taste of her against his mouth. But he wanted to be better than that, to set boundaries. Was this just a casual fling? The very thing Steve told himself he would avoid? Or did she want more than that, to keep in touch, to see him again…

He got his answer as she leaned closer to him, capturing his lips on hers. It was a lot slower than it was the night before, less urgency. Now, he really had time to savor it. The cracks in her lips, the taste of her mouth - cherry lipstick mixed with morning breath but he didn’t mind one bit. 

Just as they began to pull away, to discuss the logistics of what was going to happen next, the door flew open. A gust of air hit them as Y/n ducked into his side, Steve pulling up the comforter to cover them. How did someone get inside? Weren’t these dorm rooms supposed to be locked?

A girl stumbled into the room, not drunk but clearly not sober. “Hey Y/n, you won’t believe what happened last--” She paused, taking in the sight before her. 

Steve in her bed, her huddled into his side. The girl’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god!” the girl gasped. 

That seemed to pull Y/n out of her haze. She peered up from her place wrapped in Steve’s arms to look at the intruder. “Gosh, Becky! Don’t you knock?”

Becky. Where had he heard that name before? No, it couldn’t be…

“I live here,” the girl -- Becky -- exclaimed. “Plus you didn’t put a sock on the door.”

That made all three of them realize that the door was still wide open, students passing by for morning classes and showers. Some turned to give a passing glance as they walked by. 

A voice called through the crack of the door, becoming louder and clearly heading in their direction. “Becky, is everything okay?”

Robin rushed through the open door, holding on to the knob to brace herself. She looked disheveled and a little out of breath, like she had rushed over to make sure no one was hurt. 

“I could hear you from all the way down the hall,” Robin continued before turning to look at Y/n and Steve, both too shell shocked to say anything. Robin’s mouth formed an O, her eyebrows raising the same way Becky’s did just moments before.

“Steve? What the fuck are you doing?” Robin shouted, arguably louder than anything Becky had previously said. 

“Uh, sleeping with Becky’s roommate apparently,” he responded. He didn’t know why he said the joke, but everything about this interaction was making his brain falter. Y/n giggled into his side. With every laugh, his arm wrapped around her shoulders bounced. 

“This is Steve?” Becky said to Robin, pointing a finger at him.

Robin groaned. “Unfortunately.” 

“Hey!” Steve said, slightly offended. It wasn’t like he knew he was sleeping with Becky’s roommate. 

“Oh my god, okay,” Y/n interrupted, sitting up in bed. She pulled the blankets up with her to shield her, exposing more of Steve’s bare chest. “You two are going to go back to Robin’s room and get dressed okay? Then we can go to that diner on 3rd for breakfast and we can all talk about…” She gestured to all four of them. “This.

Robin and Becky agreed, walking back out of the room, not without a couple of glances at Y/n and Steve. Once the door was closed, Y/n slumped back into the bed, her head resting on Steve’s arm across the pillows. 

“Well,” Steve began, trying to calm his heart. “That was interesting.”

Y/n reached over, putting a finger up to his mouth. “Nope, we’re not talking about this right now. She slowly let go, tilting her head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I just wanna stay here with you for a few more minutes…is that okay?”

Is that okay? It was more than okay for Steve. He would never leave this bed if she told him to. He had only known her for approximately 12 hours, but it felt like his entire world had shifted. There was something in their conversation the night before that just clicked for him. It felt like a new chapter of his life was starting and he wasn’t scared by it. In fact, he was jittery with excitement for it to begin.

“Y-yeah, that okay,” he said, trying not to sound too happy. 

He rested his head back to look up as well, closing his eyes to ground himself. He felt Y/n lean back into him, fitting perfectly in the slot between his chest and shoulder. Her arm circled his waist, putting just enough pressure for him to know it was okay to scoot closer. 

If this was the start of the next chapter of his life, that meant he needed to do the things that he was scared to do before. And that included being upfront about how he felt and wanted.

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he said plainly. His eyes were still closed as his words drifted into the air, nothing being said back. 

A moment passed with no response. Steve opened his eyes to look down at her. She was already looking up at him, a smile forming on the sides of her mouth. In lieu of a response, she slid her arm up to cup his jaw, pulling him in for another kiss. It was just as good as the last one. Sweet, slow, good. 

When she let go, her hand drifted back to rest on his chest. “Me neither.”

Now Steve was the one smiling. “Cool,” he said. “Uh, not cool. I mean it is cool I was wanted to say something that wasn’t lame--”

“Steve?” Y/n said, interrupting him. He looked down at her. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t hide his smile this time. 

Taglist: @Afraidofshrimp @lovesanimals0000 @cilliansnostalgia @hollandweather @Nix-rose @halflifejess @Palmtreesx3 @superlegend216 @sweetdazequeen @blckburd

[cinnxmxngxrl]

“Already ruined”

Harry Da Souza x f!Reader

Harry’s masterlist here

Summary: Does being Jan’s friend and secretly fantasizing about fucking her husband make you a terrible person?

WC: 5,8k

Warnings/tags: intense smut, pwp, minors DNI, unprotected piv, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m!receiving), creampie, infidelity.

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Jan and you used to be inseparable in high school. Wherever you went, she followed, and the same the other way around.

She made you laugh like nobody else could. She was your safe place, holding your hair back the first time you got so drunk you ended up puking in her bathroom. She was your shield when your first boyfriend broke up with you, hugging you through the ugly sobs. She was celebrating with you when you got accepted into college, jumping up and down in your room like it was her dream, too.

But then life happened. College. Work. Family. The slow drift that neither of you could stop, even if you wanted to. You traveled around the world because of your work, never staying in one place too long.

That was until a few months ago—when you ran into her in a café.

“Jan?” you said, almost dropping your coffee, your breath catching in your throat.

She turned, eyes widening. “Oh my god—is that you?!”

You two hugged, tight, like no time had passed. Like you were sixteen again, giggling over secrets and crushes.

“Where have you been? What are you doin’ here?” she asked, clutching your arms like she was making sure you were real.

“I came back from Spain last week. Got a job offer here in London.”

She looked so happy, her voice trembling with emotion. “You don’t know how much I missed you.”

“I missed you too. God, I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

You two had coffee right then and there, catching up as much as you could. Laughing, remembering, filling in the years like pages in a book that had been dog-eared too long.

Before you left, she gripped your hand and smiled. “Come to dinner Friday. Meet my family.”

You agreed. How could you not?

Jan’s life seemed perfect. A beautiful home, a smart, gorgeous daughter, the kind of settled comfort you used to dream about.

And then you met Harry.

Oh, Jan. You lucky, lucky woman.

That man was the finest you’d ever seen. Tall, broad, devastatingly handsome. The kind of man who walked like he didn’t care who watched. Who spoke in that gruff, velvet-lined voice, a slow, deep rumble that vibrated straight through your chest and between your thighs, making you press them together. You felt it the moment he said your name. Like he already knew how you tasted.

“This tiramisu’s unreal’,” he’d said that night at dinner, taking a bite like it was something filthy. “You make this yourself?”

“Yeah. Learned how to make it when I lived in Italy.”

“Best I’ve ever had, swear down.” he said, licking the back of his spoon like he wanted to make it last.

You smiled, tried to play it off. But your body betrayed you. Heat bloomed in your chest. Your thighs pressed together beneath the table. You couldn’t stop watching his mouth.

Later that night, alone in bed, your hand slid beneath the waistband of your panties, fingers finding your soaked heat.

You were drenched. Embarrassingly wet. Pathetically turned on by the ghost of his voice in your head.

“Best I’ve ever had…”

The sound of it playing on a loop. The slow drag of his tongue against that spoon. The look he gave you like he already knew how you’d sound falling apart beneath him.

You moaned into your pillow, back arching, hips rolling against your own hand. You came hard. Fast. Sloppy.

Your body shaking, thighs clenched, slick coating your fingers as you bit your lip to muffle the cry building in your throat. And even then, when your breath slowed and the world stopped spinning, you didn’t feel relief.

You felt haunted. Hungry. Unsatisfied. Because no matter how many times you touched yourself after that. It was never enough. Not when what you really wanted was him.

You started seeing the cracks in Jan’s perfect world soon after. She’d told you Harry worked in security. A “consultant,” whatever that meant. He was barely ever home. Never touched her. Barely talked.

Jan confided in you—wine in hand, sitting out on her balcony, her voice tired.

“So I started therapy. And he promised me, right? Promised he’d come. Take a guess.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the ache in your chest. “Jan, how long are you gonna put up with this? You deserve so much better.” Your voice soft, but your meaning anything but innocent.

“Sometimes I think he only married me because I got pregnant with Gina. That he never really loved me.”

“I’m telling you, babe… sometimes divorce is just the best option.” The words came out silk-smooth, but your pulse was racing. You hated yourself a little for saying them. But not enough.

Jan sighed again, curling into herself. “I just wish he’d look at me the way he used to. Like he wanted me. Like I was enough.”

Silence stretched between you. Thick. Loaded.

“God,” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. “What the fuck happened to us?”

You didn’t answer. Because part of you—the selfish, hungry, shamefully honest part—didn’t care.

Now here you are. Jan had forgotten her coat at your place the night before. You’d texted her, and she’d told you to drop it off.

You knocked on their door, your stomach twisting with something that wasn’t nerves—it was anticipation.

Harry answers it barefoot. Black pants hanging low on his hips. White shirt clinging to his chest. Hair damp from the shower.

You almost forgot how to breathe.

“Hey, love,” he says. “You after Jan?”

You nod. “Yeah, she forgot her coat.”

“Right, right. Come in,” he says, stepping aside. His voice rumbles in your chest. “She’s, uh… in therapy right now.”

You already knew she wasn’t home. That’s why you came. You’d timed it that way. Carefully. Shamefully. But even as guilt whispered in your ear, your body buzzed with something deeper—darker. The need to be alone with him, even if it was just for a moment.

“You wanna stay for a bit? Wait for her?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

“Course not, love,” he says, already walking toward the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Tea would be good.”

You follow him, your gaze shameless, drinking in the muscles in his back as they shift under the soft stretch of cotton. The way his forearms flex as he fills the kettle. The tiny scar on the back of his neck. The slight curve of muscle where his hip meets the waistband of his pants. You imagine pulling it lower. With your teeth.

The kettle clicks on. Steam rises. You lean against the counter, pretending to be casual, but your heart is pounding. Loud. Desperate. You shouldn’t be here. But you are.

And when he turns to hand you the mug, your fingers graze his, and you swear you feel the air crackle between you.

You meet his eyes. And something passes between you—quick and dangerous.

You take a slow sip, letting the silence grow heavy.

“So, how’s life going?” you asked him, voice soft, careful, trying to break the silence—trying to open something between you. Something raw and hidden.

“It is goin’,” he replied firmly, eyes fixed somewhere far behind you. His jaw tight, his shoulders stiff. Like the words tasted bad in his mouth.

“You’re not in therapy with Jan.”

He snorts, dry. “Nah… had bits to sort. And didn’t feel like gettin’ yelled at today.”

You nodded. He chuckled then, low and bitter, the sound scraped raw.

“Bet you think I’m a right bastard.”

Nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Why would I think that?” you asked, stepping closer, just enough for the heat between your bodies to start warming the space.

“Because you’re Jan’s friend. And she’s probably told you all about the shitty husband I am.”

“I don’t think badly of you, Harry,” you said, your voice low, intimate. “I feel sorry for you.”

He hummed softly, brows raised. “And why’s that then?”

“Because you’re trapped in a relationship with a woman you don’t love.” You said it bluntly. Bold. A truth with no cushion.

“I love Jan.”

“No, you don’t.” You took another step forward, close enough to feel his body tense. “You’ve grown used to being with her. That’s not being in love.”

His nostrils flared. “What makes you think you know anythin’ about me?”

“She’s told me. That you don’t ever kiss her. That you don’t even fuck her anymore.”

Silence. But his breath hitched.

You heard it. You felt it. Something shifting in him.

“Tell me, Harry,” you whispered, eyes locked on his mouth, your voice a slow seduction. “How do you blow off the steam, then?”

Your fingers reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging gently, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the fabric. He was burning. You could feel it. And so were you.

“You must be really stressed,” you murmur, “she said you haven’t fucked her in over a year.”

“Don’t,” he said, grabbing your wrist and taking your hand away from him. But his grip lingered. His fingers didn’t let go right away. And that pause—God, that pause said more than anything else.

“But you still get hard, don’t you?” you whisper, watching his eyes darken. “Still wake up aching. Needing.”

“Think you best go.”

“Why?” you breathed. “Am I tempting you?”

His jaw clenches. “You’re her friend.”

You stepped in closer, deliberately brushing your chest against his arm as you leaned in. “C’mon, Harry. She doesn’t have to know.” Your voice dropped, seductive and cruel. You didn’t care about Jan or about the consequences anymore. You just wanted him. “You don’t touch her but I bet you want to touch me though.”

“Why are you doin’ this?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and strangled with something he didn’t want to name. Desire. Longing. Guilt. All tangled in his throat.

“Because I’m not stupid,” you whispered. “And I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”

You leaned in more, lips close to his jaw, your breath hot against his neck. “And I want you just as much.”

His entire body went still. Rigid. Like he was trying not to explode.

“I think about you,” you admit, voice sultry and low. “At night. In my bed.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” He whispers.

You meet his eyes, voice velvet-smooth and deadly. “Everything.”

Then—without a word—he grabbed his keys and coat, slammed the door behind him, and left you standing alone in his house.

But he didn’t say no. He didn’t say he didn’t want you.

That night Harry—the same man who had had an almost nonexistent sex drive for the last couple of years, always blaming work, stress, fatigue—jerked off in his shower like a man possessed. Like a man starving. He fisted his cock hard and fast, eyes clenched shut, your voice in his head, your lips on his neck, your breath whispering filth into his ear. He came with your name on his tongue, his release violent and shuddering, crashing against the tile with a groan that bordered on a sob. He stayed there afterward, forehead pressed to the wall, shame washing over him in waves—but even that couldn’t drown the way you made him feel. Alive. Desired. Addicted.

This Saturday night Jan had invited you for dinner at her house. But when you arrived it was Harry who opened the door.

He didn’t say a word—just looked at you for a beat too long, eyes dark and unreadable—then let you in without speaking.

“Where’s Jan?”

“She’s runnin’ late. Took Gina to the dentist.”

You nodded slowly, stepping past him into the hallway, tension already humming low and hot beneath your skin, each breath suddenly heavier.

He didn’t offer you his usual small talk, didn’t ask how your day was—he just closed the door behind you with a soft thud and leaned against it, like he needed the wood at his back to stay upright, watching you like a storm he couldn’t outrun.

“Said she’d be back in about an hour,” Harry finally said, walking past you and toward the kitchen.

His voice was hoarse, almost reluctant, like each word cost him.

He pulled two glasses down from the shelf and reached for a bottle of red. “Asked me to start with dinner. Figured we’d open this in the meantime.”

You took the glass he offered, letting your fingers brush his again—warm, calloused, familiar. And this time—this time—he didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch. Just stared. Like he didn’t trust himself to speak.

You sat at the edge of the kitchen table, legs crossed, sipping the wine slowly, eyes locked on him.

“You kissed her when you got home today?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

“What?”

“Jan. Did you kiss her?”

His lips twitch. “No.”

“Did you fuck her?”

A pause. Sharp and heavy. “No.”

Your throat is dry. You take a sip of wine. “Right.”

“You ever thought about tellin’ her?” he asked suddenly, not looking at you.

Your stomach twisted. “Telling her what?”

“That you’ve been undressin’ me with your eyes every time you walk through that fuckin’ door.”

You shrugged. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you said. “Did you know she stole my boyfriend in high school? Yeah, she was a wild thing back then.”

“So what is this? An eye for an eye? She stole your high school boyfriend and now you want to steal her husband?”

You chuckled. “No, this has nothing to do with her, Harry. This is about you and me only.”

You took a slow sip of wine, let the silence stretch until it grew thick, nearly unbearable. “You’ve been thinking about it,” you say softly. “About me.”

His jaw ticks, mouth tightening like he’s holding something back. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You laugh, but it’s low and smoky. Dangerous. Temptation wrapped in silk.

“Then why’d you leave the other day, Harry? Why did you slam the door like you were running from something?”

“Listen, yeah?” he said. “I can’t do this. I ain’t that bloke. I won’t cheat on Jan.”

“You already have,” you whispered. “Not with your body. But with your thoughts. You’ve been fucking me in your head for weeks, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Besides, It’s not cheating if you don’t love her anymore, you’re a man with needs, after all. Needs she can’t satisfy,” you said.

“Stop it,” he growls, barely above a whisper.

“I dream about you,” you murmur. “Every night I wake up wet. Needing you. Begging for you.”

He growled, voice low and tight, like he was fighting something inside him. “This ain’t right.”

“Maybe not,” you said, voice velvet-smooth, fingers brushing his chest. “But it feels real, doesn’t it?”

“I’m married,” he snapped, more to himself than to you.

“And you don’t love her. You care about her, but you don’t want her.”

“Don’t,” he rasps, voice shaking like something was breaking inside him. “This isn’t—this can’t—You’re gonna ruin everythin’.”

“Maybe it’s already ruined,” you whisper.

His mouth crashed onto yours, rough and bruising. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate, like all the guilt and anger and need had finally broken loose and found your lips.

Your legs parted instinctively, and he stepped between them, pressing hard against you. You could feel him—hard, straining in his jeans—and that only made you bolder.

You tilted your hips up, rubbing your soaked center against the rough denim, grinding into the thick press of him with a needy little whimper, and he shuddered. You could feel how badly he wanted to fuck you—how close he was to tearing through the rest of his restraint.

“I shouldn’t—fuck, I shouldn’t—” he gasps, dragging his mouth down your neck, his voice a ragged edge, teeth grazing your skin like he wants to mark you. Nothing left of the man trying to stay good.

“But you are,” you whisper, your hands slipping beneath his shirt, feeling the hot, tense muscle of his back. “And don’t you fuckin’ dare stop now.”

You tugged his shirt up, greedy, fingers exploring every inch—hard ridges of muscle, the heat of his spine. You dug your nails in, dragging them down, and he groaned low and deep like it hurt so good. His cock twitching against you through his jeans.

He kissed you like a man drowning. Like he’d wanted to feel this way for years and never dared to admit it.

“I think about your mouth,” you gasp, grinding against him. “Think about your hands—your cock—”

“Jesus Christ,” he growls, like you just punched the air from his lungs.

His hand slid up under your dress, fingers brushing the damp lace of your panties. He growled low in his throat when he felt how soaked you were.

“You came here like this?” he demanded against your mouth. “Drippin’ for me already?”

“I get like this all the time, just for you,” you confessed, breathless.

He let out a sound—somewhere between a snarl and a moan— his fingers curled into the lace, yanking it to the side with a roughness that made your breath catch, and slipping a finger inside you. One thick, knuckle-deep stroke that made your eyes roll back.

You gasped, clutching his shoulders.

He moved that single finger like he was learning you. Testing your walls. Curling just right—so fucking right—you almost sobbed from the sensation. He knew exactly where to press, how to rub the inner wall that made your toes curl.

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, voice rough with disbelief. “Tight little cunt… ’course you’ve been thinkin’ about this.”

He pumped slow and deep, watching your face with wild eyes. His thumb finds your clit like he knows exactly where it is, lazy, cruel circles, barely enough to satisfy.

“More,” you whimpered, desperate. “Please, Harry—more.”

A second finger slid in beside the first, thicker now, the stretch pushing at the edge of too much—but you welcomed it, reveled in it. His thumb kept teasing your clit, giving you exactly what you need—and you cry out, your body arching, the heat inside you building so fast it’s almost unbearable.

“Does she feel like this?” you purred in his ear. “Bet she’s not this tight… she doesn’t get this wet for you.”

He growled when you clenched around him, fingers fucking up into you harder, faster. Slick sounds filled the kitchen, obscene and raw, and it only pushed him further.

“Oh—Fuck, don’t stop,” you hissed, hips rocking into his hand. “Right there, Harry—fuck, yes, there—” your voice broke into a sob.

He cursed. Low and violent. “I’ll never forgive myself for this.”

“You will,” you breathed. “Because I’m not sorry.” “And I’d let you do it again. Every damn time you want it.”

His fingers were still working inside you, steady and slick, his breath hot against your throat. Every time your hips bucked against his hand, he growled. Like you were making him lose his mind.

You whined, thighs shaking, body trembling from the inside out. Every flick of his thumb made your vision blur, and you were so close—so close.

“Look at you—fuckin’ perfect mess, makin’ these filthy sounds just from my fingers…” he rasped, voice thick with lust.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your back arching off the edge of the kitchen table. He wasn’t gentle—no, he was rough, greedy, like he needed to feel every tight inch of you around him.

“That’s it,” he grunted, watching you fall apart under his touch. “Cum for me. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers.”

You came hard on his fingers with your forehead pressed against his chest, your cry muffled by the cotton of his shirt, your body trembling like something had finally broken loose. Your body shattered around his hand and you clenched tight on his fingers, your thighs shaking, mouth falling open in a moan you couldn’t even recognize as your own.

Your cunt fluttered around him, hot and dripping, soaking his fingers to the knuckle. He cursed again—raw, reverent. “Fuckin’ hell… you just soaked me.”

He kept working you through it, thumb relentless on your clit, fingers fucking you through every spasm, every pulse of heat. You were boneless, trembling, already soaked—and he hadn’t even unzipped his jeans yet.

When you finally lifted your face to look at him, you saw it—the ruin in his eyes. The guilt. The hunger. The part of him that knew he should’ve stopped this before it started, and the part of him that never wanted to stop again.

You pulled his hand out from between your legs and brought it to your mouth, licking your release off his fingers, your tongue slow and deliberate

You sank to your knees before he could say anything.

“What’re you doin’?” he rasped, fists clenched at his sides like if he didn’t hold himself back, he might wreck you entirely.

You looked up at him, lips parted, dress still bunched indecently around your hips. “Making you feel good.”

You tugged his pants down, exposing the thick bulge pressing against his boxers. He’s already hard. Heavy. You can see the shape of him straining through the fabric, a wet patch already forming at the tip. He twitched when the cool air hit him, the thick head of his cock nudging against the seam of his boxers, begging to be freed. You bit your lip, breathing hard.

The sight made your thighs clench. Fuck, he was big—bigger than you imagined, bigger than you dared to dream. The kind of cock that made your mouth ache and your cunt throb just looking at it.

You swore you could feel your pussy flutter just at the sight of him—thick and leaking and perfect. Like your body already knew how it would feel to be split open by him.

You glance up. “Didn’t even touch you yet.”

His hand curls into a fist. “I know what’s comin’.”

His voice was wrecked—already. Rough and fraying at the edges, like the thought of your mouth around him was enough to undo him completely.

You smile, wicked and warm, and then lean down between his thighs. You mouth him through the fabric first—slow drags of your lips over the swollen head, breathing hot against the damp cotton. His body jerks beneath you, a growl rumbling from his chest.

You made a show of it, dragging your tongue across the damp patch, letting your breath soak through. He twitched again, his hips bucking just slightly, like even this was too much.

“You little tease, aren’t you?” He bites out.

He hissed when his cock sprang free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Your mouth watered. He was so fucking hard it looked painful.

Your hand wrapped around the base automatically, thumb swiping over the swollen, weeping head, and he shuddered—like you’d just zapped him with electricity.

“Jesus, Harry…” you murmured, wrapping your hand around him, loving how he twitched in your palm. “You really have been thinking about this.”

“Oh, shut it, love,” he growled. But it was weak. Desperate.

You loved him like this. Barely hanging on. His jaw clenched, his chest heaving, like he didn’t know whether to let you worship him or fuck your throat raw. His breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as you stroked him slow, dragging your thumb along the thick vein pulsing up his shaft.

You licked a long, slow stripe up the underside of him, savoring the way his breath caught. Then you took him into your mouth—slow, teasing, letting him feel every inch of your tongue.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips jerking. The weight of him filled your mouth, stretching your lips wide, the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue. You moaned around him, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mmm you’re so sensitive,” you said, teasing him. “You’ve been neglected, haven’t you?”

Your voice dripped sin. You knew what you were doing. Knew exactly how tight your lips felt wrapped around him, how filthy you looked on your knees with your mouth stretched wide and spit pooling at the corners.

“No one’s been takin’ care of this, huh?” you whispered between licks. “Poor baby… too fuckin’ hard for too fuckin’ long.”

Your lips stretch around him, sinking down slow, letting him feel every inch of your mouth as you slide lower and lower. You gag just a little when he hits the back of your throat—and fuck, he groans. Loud.

You pulled back, sucked just the head, and then slid back down again, deeper this time—letting your throat tighten around him, your jaw aching, tears prickling your eyes, and you loved it.

You wanted to cry on his cock, wanted to ruin your makeup for it, let him see how much you loved being full of him.

You worked him deeper, hands on his thighs, loving the way his abs flexed, the tremble in his voice when he muttered, “God, your fuckin’ mouth—yeah, just like that.” His hand finds your hair, threading through it, holding—not forcing, just claiming. “You’re too good at this. Too fuckin’ good.”

You pull off with a wet pop, spit trailing from your lip to the flushed head of his cock. “She can’t suck you off like this, can she?”

“N-no,” he said through his teeth.

“Didn’t think so,” you whispered, before swallowing him down again. Your hand pumped the base of him, twisting just right, matching the rhythm of your mouth.

“She doesn’t get you like this, all twitchy and leaking just from my mouth.” You said, hand pumping his length. “She doesn’t deserve it, Harry. But I do. I earned this.”

Harry’s voice was ragged, “You’ve got me harder than I’ve ever fuckin’ been. You’re fuckin’ poison. You know that?”

You bobbed your head slowly, hollowing your cheeks, your eyes locked on his. He couldn’t look away—he looked wrecked. Like he was watching something forbidden but too far gone to stop it.

Your hand pumps what your mouth can’t reach, slick and messy with your spit. You moan around him, the vibration making his hips jolt.

He started to roll his hips, fucking just a little deeper each time, more desperate with every thrust.

“When was the last time you had your dick sucked this good?”

“Never like this. You’ve got me losin’ my fuckin’ mind.”

“She doesn’t touch you enough, does she? Poor baby. Walkin’ around with this big cock all ignored…”

“You’re gonna do me in, I swear it.” he panted, his hand tangling in your hair.

You moaned around him, the vibration pulling a savage curse from his lips. “God… she’s wasting this cock. It needs someone filthy.”

You swirled your tongue around the head, teasing his slit with delicate flicks until his knees buckled and he had to lean against the counter to stay upright.

“If I were your wife, I wouldn’t let a day go by without treating you like you deserve. I’d wake you up with your dick down my throat.”

His hand tightened, pushing you down, controlling your pace just slightly. Guiding you. “Shit—just like that—yeah, that’s it…”

You took him deeper, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat. again. You hollow your cheeks and suck harder, your tongue teasing under the head while your free hand cups his balls, squeezing just enough to make his head fall back. He’s cursing under his breath, grinding up into your mouth now, losing the thread of control.

“Filthy fuckin’ mouth,” he groaned, barely coherent. “You’re gonna make me cum down your throat—you want that? You want me to fuck your mouth ‘til I lose it?”

You moaned again, bobbing faster, eyes locked on his like a challenge. Your mascara was already smudged, spit dripping down your chin, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He tasted too good—looked too good—completely undone just for you.

“Fuck, fuck—stop,” he grunted, pulling you off with a gasp. His cock was slick with your spit, twitching in the air between you.

You wiped your mouth, still on your knees, chest heaving. “What? Don’t wanna cum yet?”

You smiled like a devil. Your lips were red and swollen, chin glistening, dress still hitched high like a perfect little mess. “You just needed someone to worship you, huh? Treat this cock like it deserves.”

He reached down and hauled you up with both hands, slamming his mouth onto yours again—rough, unrelenting. His tongue tasted like wine and lust and regret. You could taste yourself on him, feel his cock pressing hard against your stomach as he kissed you like he was ready to fuck you right there, standing, against the counter. And maybe he would.

And then he was lifting you onto the table, pushing everything aside without looking, yanking your panties the rest of the way off.

“You think about me, do you?” he murmured, kissing down your neck, down your chest. “When you’re touchin’ yourself? Got me in your head, yeah? Think about my cock in your mouth? Imagine me pushin’ my cock all the way up your cunt till it’s nice and full?”

His lips were hot and hungry, teeth scraping your skin like he wanted to devour every inch. The way he looked at your breasts—wide-eyed, starving—made your cunt clench around nothing.

“I think about it inside me,” you gasped, grinding against him. “I think about how good it’d feel to finally get fucked like I need to.”

Your hips rolled against him, desperate, shameless. You weren’t asking anymore. You were begging with your body.

He groaned like he was in pain. “You’re fuckin’ dangerous.”

“And you’re fuckin’ hard.”

His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to his, lips ghosting over yours. “You want me to ruin you, yeah? Want me to make it so you can’t even fuckin’ look her in the eye after this?”

“You’re the one who won’t be able too look at her again after this.”

He growled—actually growled—and grabbed himself, thick and throbbing in his hand, rubbing the leaking tip against your slick entrance. The head of his cock slipped through your folds, catching at your hole, wetting himself with your arousal like he was savoring every second of this tease.

You wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Condom?” you manage, voice wrecked.

“Vasectomy,” he says against your skin, not missing a beat.

“C’mon, Harry. Ruin me.” Your voice was wreckage. A dare. A plea. His control shattered the moment you said it.

He groans—loud, guttural—and thrusts into you in one deep, brutal stroke.

You screamed. Nails raked down his back. Your walls clenched around him, still adjusting, the stretch delicious and overwhelming. He filled you—completely—like he was made to. Like your body had been waiting for this moment all its life.

“Fuck—so deep—” you cried, legs shaking already. “Feels too good—Harry—”

He starts to move, rough and unrelenting.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Take it. Take all of it. So fuckin’ greedy for my cock.”

The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room—wet, primal, obscene. He was buried balls-deep and fucking you like he didn’t care if someone heard you.

“Jesus,” he mutters, eyes locked on yours. “So fuckin’ tight. So wet for me.”

And then—mid-thrust—he growled and grabbed the neckline of your dress in both hands, yanking it down violently until your tits spilled free, bouncing with the force of every brutal snap of his hips.

“Wanted to see these,” he grunted. “Wanted to see ‘em fuckin’ shake while I wrecked you.”

He slapped one breast, not hard, just enough to make it jiggle for him. His mouth descended without warning, biting, sucking, claiming one nipple while he rammed into you, the brutal drag of his cock inside you matching the rough, possessive rhythm of his mouth.

Your tits bounced between you, raw and exposed, his chest dragging against them with every punishing thrust, the friction only adding to the electric firestorm already raging in your belly.

His teeth bared like it hurt to hold back. Like the way your pussy sucked him in was going to fucking destroy him. He pounds into you, hips snapping, your bodies slamming together like they were meant to be.

Harry groans “Fuckin’ hell… so tight, warm—fuckin’ built for me—fuckin’ meant to wrap around my cock. I’m never gonna stop wantin’ it.”

The table creaked beneath you. His sweat dripped onto your chest. You were trembling already, thighs wrapped tight around him, arms clinging to his shoulders like you might fall apart without him.

Your cunt made wet, obscene noises every time he bottomed out, the slap of his hips echoing off the walls like a warning. This was sin. And you were fucking drowning in it.

“Is this what you wanted, love?” he grunted, breath ragged against your ear. “Me breakin’ every fuckin’ promise I ever made?”

You moaned, biting his shoulder. “Yes.”

He hissed at the sting, fucked you harder. Your teeth still buried in his skin. The taste of him—sweat and skin and sin—flooded your mouth as your moans turned to whimpers.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl,” he snarled, grinding so deep you swore you could feel him in your throat. “Takin’ me like you fuckin’ own me.”

His hand gripped your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. “You don’t know what the fuck you’ve done to me. No one’s ever made me feel like this. No one.”

His eyes were wild—burning. Like he hated how much he needed you. Like he was punishing you with pleasure, and himself with every thrust.

Your moans fill the room, his name a broken prayer on your tongue. Every thrust is an apology. A confession. A betrayal. But your body didn’t care. Your pussy clenched tighter with every snap of his hips, your clit throbbing, your whole body coiled like a live wire about to blow.

“Does she let you fuck her like this, Harry? Does she moan like this when you’re inside her?”

“Fuck—no. She never has.” He groans, thrusting harder. “This cock’s yours now, yeah? You fuckin’ own me, don’t you?”

His hand slides between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing harsh and fast, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Oh, you’re so good, Harry. Fuck—fuckin’ amazing. Gonna make you cum so hard for me you forget her name.”

You screamed—loud and desperate—your whole body arching up off the table as the pleasure tore through you. His fingers kept rubbing fast, desperate circles over your swollen bud, slick and ruthless, never missing the spot—even as he slammed into you again and again, hips snapping hard and unforgiving. You could feel the way his cock filled you, thick and relentless, slamming into you from below, his balls smacking wetly against you with every thrust.

His thrusts are deep and punishing, his grip bruising on your hips, dragging you down to meet every snap of his pelvis. He groans like it hurts to be inside you, like the pleasure you’re giving him is too much to bear.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” he growls. “I wanna feel you fall apart on my cock.”

He fucks you like he’s trying to fuck the guilt out of himself. You feel him everywhere—stretching you, filling you like you’ve never been before. You can’t think. Can’t speak. Just take it. All of him, over and over again, the way he drives so deep you swear he’s splitting you apart, slamming into that sweet spot again and again.

You came hard—with a cry that felt like surrender. Your pussy clamped down, squeezing him like a vice, your legs shaking as the orgasm ripped through you like a firestorm. Your whole body spasmed, overwhelmed, undone.

Harry’s body jerked. “Babe, please—shit, I’m gonna—”

He fucks you through it, his movements going sloppy, frantic, and then he groans—deep and low—and you feel him cum inside you, pulsing hard.

Hot spurts of cum filled you, thick and endless, coating your walls. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, twitching, gasping your name like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Do you cum this hard for her, Harry? Do you beg her like this?”

He can’t answer, he just collapses on top of you, panting into your neck, skin slick with sweat. You lie there together, breathless, ruined.

His cock still inside you, twitching with aftershocks. Your body limp, used, still fluttering from the orgasm that broke you open. And neither of you said a word—because you both knew this wasn’t over.

And then—you hear the front door open.

Jan’s voice, cheerful and unsuspecting:

“Harry? I’m back!”

He freezes inside you. Still buried to the hilt, still pulsing from his orgasm, his breath caught in his throat like a man about to drown.

“Fuck,” he mouths, eyes wide, panic flashing through the haze of lust still clinging to both your sweat-slick bodies.

You’re still trembling—his cum leaking out of you, still stretched open around him, your dress bunched around your waist, your tits exposed and heaving. His body is flush against yours, every inch of him still hot and hard and soaked in sin.

He moves then—scrambling off you with a guttural curse, shoving his spent cock back into his pants without even wiping it off. You flinch as the loss of him leaves you aching and empty, cum dripping down your thighs as you try to sit up.

“Get dressed,” he hisses, voice low and frantic. “Fuck—get dressed now.”

You’re already pulling your panties up—sticky, soaked through, unwearable—and yanking your dress back over your breasts with shaking hands.

Your fingers fumbled the hem. Your thighs were still trembling. His cum was leaking out of you, warm and wet, dripping into those ruined panties as you tried to force your body into pretending nothing had happened.

He’s shoving the table back into place like that’ll erase the way your body’s still imprinted on it. The imprint of your ass on the wood, the smears of sweat, maybe even a drop of his cum left behind—he wiped it all in a frenzy, chest still rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. Or like he wanted to fuck you again.

Jan stands there, smiling, purse still slung over her shoulder.

“Oh! You’re here,” she says to you, polite, unaware. “I’m sorry, Gina’s appointment took forever.”

You force a smile, “Don’t worry, Harry and I were just catching up in the meantime.”

Your voice barely held. Your lips were swollen, your cheeks flushed, your knees still weak. You prayed to God she didn’t smell sex in the air—the sharp tang of sweat and cum and heat—or notice the way Harry wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Well, good. I’m glad you two are getting to know each other.”

You stay through dinner, legs pressed tight, trying not to wince every time you shift in your seat. Trying not to gasp when you feel a fresh trickle of him slide out of you. You sit on soaked panties, his cum warm against your folds, the ache between your thighs throbbing in time with your heartbeat.

You chew the food, but it tastes like him. You smile, but your mouth still tastes like his cock.

Every time Jan speaks, you nod politely, and all you can think is: she’s sitting three feet away from the man who just fucked me raw against her kitchen table. Who just came inside me like he had every right.

And you wonder how long you have before this lie shatters completely. Before she notices the tension. The way you can’t look her in the eye. The way Harry looks at you like he’s already ruined everything and wants to do it again.

And God knows how badly you wanted to do it again.

A/N: To everyone who was waiting for this — I hope it lived up to the expectations (I also hope it wasn’t too long).

As always tysm for reading and for your nice words🫶🏻

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[hwangjoanna]

'Red Light, Green Light.'

SKZ Squid Game AU

Hyunjin X Reader

Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers

Dom/Hyunjin, Sub/Reader

Possessive & jealous Hyunjin

Hyunjin, Seungmin & Minho are all mean (sorry)

Felix and Jisung Besties (Soft boys)

Warnings - MDNI 18+ Swearing, threatening behaviour, nightmares, violence, weapons including guns, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, gaslighting, mentions of debt, non consensual sex, smut, use of pet name - babe, dom/wooyoung x sub/reader, degradation, use of the word whore/slut/fuck toy/cock sleeve, elements of bondage.

A/N - Thanks to everyone who got involved in the poll I uploaded a few days ago! It was great to see what you guys are thinking 🫶🏻 please heed the warnings on this one, it’s a heavy chapter!

Word Count - 7,510

Chapter 9 - Here.

Chapter 10

Y/N POV

Your favourite anime played on the TV for the hundredth time as you sat on your plush velvet sofa, the sun casting shadows from the billowing curtains, a gift from your mother when you moved in a few years ago. A shame she wasn’t here still, she and your father had died in a plane crash on the way to another one of their countless ‘business trips’ that you were never told details about.

Today was your first anniversary with Wooyoung; he’d been out working all day, but you didn’t mind. He wanted to “pay his way” as he lived with you free of charge. He’d moved in with you after four months of being together. It felt too soon, but you allowed it anyway, knowing he struggled financially. You had more than enough to support the two of you, your families wealth passed to you after their deaths, the inheritance was a good amount to live freely without the need for a job. You had one anyway at the local bar, just part-time, good for socialising with no need for career progression. It was perfect, your best friend Hyeji owned the place, so having her as your boss was great.

Wooyoung had started working longer hours, but you admired him for it. The front door to your apartment opened, and he walked in a huge smile on his face with a playful glint in his eye.

“Hey Babe,” he called as he walked over to the kitchen counter, putting his bag on the side and hanging up his leather jacket on a nearby hook.

“You’re home early,” you replied with a chuckle. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I wanted to see my girl, it’s our anniversary after all,” he said as he came over to you. He sat down and leaned in, and you kissed. It was always sweet with him.

“Is it?” You asked feigning confusion. Then you winked at him and pecked the corner of his mouth as he scoffed a laugh.

“Let’s go out, grab some dinner,” he said. He started leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, and then he whispered. “And when we get back, I want you for dessert,” he smirked, and you giggled.

His smile faltered for a moment, “Urm, I’m not sure what I can afford though,” he started, but you stopped him from continuing. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll get it.” You said, still smiling at him.

He looked down at your intertwined hands, he ran his thumb over your palm. “Are you sure? I’m sorry, it’s our anniversary and I can’t even treat you to anything.” His voice was slightly broken.

You reached up and held his cheek, “Being with you is enough for me, you’re my treat.” You spoke just above a whisper. His eyes met yours, his gaze soft. “What did I do to deserve you?” He kissed you again, this time deeper. Your tongues meeting as he moaned into your mouth.

After a while, you both came up for air and started laughing. “Come on babe.” He took your hand and began walking you both to the bedroom. “Let’s get ready for our date.” He said, with a huge grin.

You both took your time kissing in between getting dressed before you started complaining that he kept ruining your lipstick. You felt so good when you were with him. You had no idea that after that night, things would start to change between the two of you.

You both decided on your favourite lobster and steak place on the other side of Seoul. The lighting is romantic and low, the chairs are comfortable and modern. The food was impeccable. The beginning of the dinner started like it always did, with endless flirting and teasing across the table.

“So, how’s the new job going? Are you enjoying it?” You asked as you took another bite of wagyu steak, the salty meat melting in your mouth. You hummed in delight, and he smiled at you. “Yeah, it’s okay, it’s easy mostly.” He trailed off looking anywhere but at you. “I actually wanted to tell you something.” He met your gaze for a moment but his eyes seemed distant.

You put down your chopsticks and held your palm out, open on the table. You wanted to be there for him and encourage him to open up to you, as he seemed hesitant. He put his hand in yours with a sigh and continued. “Work is going to get a lot busier, now I’m getting offered more hours. I also…” he paused and took his hand away.

“You can tell me,” you said, though your brow was furrowed, the worry you felt written all over your face. “I might be going away, just now and then. For work.” He said it ominously.

“Well, that’s okay,” you replied, you didn’t wanna ask too much and get his back up. “You know I’ll still be here for you, I’m proud of you and how hard you’re working.” With that, his face changed from a smirk for a split second to his usual sweet smile.

The rest of the dinner, he was on and off his phone, but you didn’t question it. You didn’t want to burden him with your worries about his job suddenly becoming more demanding.

You finished your meals and you paid as always. The two of you hand in hand as you went back to the apartment.

△ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △

When you walked through the door, Wooyoung was on you in a second. He pinned you against the cold wall, his body pressed against yours.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night in that little skirt, babe.” He whispered against your cheek before his mouth was on yours in a kiss so desperate and needy it made your knees weak. His tongue stroking yours, wet and hot. You hummed as he brought his hand to your breasts, his thumbs pinching your nipples through your thin blouse.

“Come here, you.” He said as he picked you up, your arms flung around his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist. He held your ass in his palms, squeezing the flesh as he walked you both to the bedroom, kissing your neck on route.

He laid you down and pushed your skirt up, biting and nipping at your inner thighs. “Fuck, Woo.” You said breathlessly. He kissed the marks he left on your skin before he pulled away and looked up at you. His eyes turned dark, a smirk forming on his perfect face.

“Babe.” He started, his tone coaxing. “I may have gotten you- well, us a gift.” He said, his pupils blown out wide as he spoke.

“You didn’t have to, what is it?” You asked excitedly. You assumed it would be something like lingerie from your favourite store.

He rose from the bed and got a black box from the cupboard, bringing it back over, biting his bottom lip as he sat back down and placed it in front of you. “Open it.” He said plainly.

You smiled wide and pulled the red ribbon away before taking off the lid. Your eyes wide in shock.

The box had a silk blindfold, red ropes and vibrator inside.

“Wow,” you dry swallowed.

“I love you, Y/n, and I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while, and I thought with tonight being our special night-“ he paused, his features pulled into a grimace as he began to worry about your reaction. “Babe?” He said when you didn’t reply, still staring at the contents like it was going to bite.

“You hate it, don’t you?” He went to take the box, “It’s okay, we don’t-“ you interrupted, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards you. You had always wanted to try it too, but before you had been scared to give over control to someone else. Your whole life had been controlled by your parents, and you didn’t know whether you’d ever trust someone enough but Wooyoung had always been so sweet that in the moment, you felt comfortable enough to allow it.

“I want to.” You whispered against his lips, and he smiled and started kissing you again. “If you’re sure?” He asked again.

You nodded, “Yes, I’m sure.” You started stripping off your clothes, keeping your eyes locked on his the whole time. He stared at you in awe, his tongue darted over his lips, wetting them before he started to take off his own clothes.

He approaches you with a wicked smile, his eyes glinting with mischief and desire. He has the soft red ropes in his hands, and he begins to tie you to the bedframe, his touch gentle yet firm.

You feel a thrill of excitement and nervousness as he secures your wrists, leaving you vulnerable and at his mercy.

"Comfy, babe?" he asks, his voice a low rumble as he steps back to admire his work. You nod, your breath already coming in short gasps. He smirks and reaches into the box again, pulling out a sleek vibrator. "Today I want you to see everything I do to you,” he put the box on the bedside table with the blindfold still inside. “Let's see how many times I can make you beg before you get what you really want." He turns the vibrator on, the low buzz filling the room as he teases it along your inner thigh, inching closer to your clit but never quite touching where you need it most. You arch your back, trying to press against it, but he pulls it away, a dark chuckle escaping his lips.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs, his free hand trailing up your stomach, squeezing your breast, and pinching your nipple. You gasp, and he leans down, capturing it in a fierce suck. "You're mine tonight, babe. Every fucking inch of you." He said in a smooth voice. His tongue lapped at it a few times before biting the other nipple. You yelp, and he chuckles. “Green for okay, yellow for slowdown and red for stop.” He said, your expression already glazed over with need as you nodded. “Words, babe.” He said sternly. “Yes, I understand.” With that, he laughed again. “Good girl, colour?” He replied.

“Green, so fucking green.” You smiled.

He pulls away and moves the vibrator to your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you cry out. You feel the knot in your stomach building already, “ahh, fuck!” You moan.

“You don’t fucking come until I say, got it?” He growls. But your climax continues to build, your pussy clenching as your clit pulsates against the vibrator. He denies you your orgasm at the last second, pulling it away and leaving you panting and desperate. "Please, Wooyoung," you beg, your voice hoarse with need.

"Please, what, babe?" he taunts, his eyes dark with lust. "You want to come? You want my cock? You want to be a good little slut for me?"

You nod, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal. He smirks and leans down, his breath hot on your ear. "Then beg for it, babe. Beg for my cock."

He continues to tease you, bringing you to the edge of orgasm only to deny you time and time again. You're a mess of sweat and need, your body trembling with the effort of holding back your release. He praises you between calling you a slut, telling you how well you're taking his teasing, how beautiful you look tied up and desperate for him.

"Such a good little fuck toy, aren't you?" he growls, his voice unhinged with lust. "My perfect little babe, all tied up and ready for me to use."

He finally, mercifully, presses the vibrator against your clit and holds it there. “Come, come for me, babe,” he commands, and your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing as you cry out his name. He watches you, his eyes wild and possessive, as you ride out your release.

But he's not done with you yet. He tosses the vibrator aside and climbs onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kisses you deeply. You can feel his hard length pressing against you, his precome coating your core, and you wrap your legs around him, urging him on.

"Fuck me, Wooyoung," you whisper, your voice raw and hoarse. "Please, I need you inside me."

He groans and positions himself at your entrance, pushing in slowly, inch by inch, until he's fully sheathed inside you. He starts to move, his hips snapping against yours as he takes you with a wild abandon. You meet his thrusts, your body arching to take him deeper.

"You feel so fucking good, babe," he grunts, his voice strained with effort. "So tight and wet for me. My perfect little slut."

He reaches between you and rubs your clit, his fingers rough and demanding. You come again, your body clamping down on his cock as you scream his name. He groans and thrusts a few more times before stilling, his own release ripping through him.

He collapses on top of you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. You lie there, your body sated and boneless, as he unties your wrists and ankles, rubbing the circulation back into your limbs.

"Fuck, babe," he murmurs, his voice soft and content. "That was... fuck."

You smile, your body aching in the best way possible. You know you'll feel him tomorrow, know you'll be reminded of every dirty word, every demanding touch.

But this night was only the beginning, and Wooyoung had just found his way in, his way to control you. And now, he was going to take his opportunity and run with it.

Over time, the relationship between you had deteriorated. Wooyoung would leave at weird hours of the night and come back smelling like alcohol. At first, you didn’t question it; you knew he was working hard, and you wanted to support him.

You would check your bank statements, he’d been using your card frequently in different parts of the city and across Korea, where he’d been on his business trips. Again, you didn’t bring it up, you had given him permission to use it whenever he wanted to previously, wanting him to feel independent enough to do what he wanted.

But the amounts were getting higher and higher, in the thousands, and you felt the need to confront him on it. So one night, when he got home at 1 am, this time not drunk, you thought it would be your chance.

“Woo?” You called out to him as he got into bed with you. He cuddled up to you and pecked you on the cheek. “Yes, babe?” He replied in a sleepy tone.

“What are you using my card for? You know I don’t mind, but the amounts that have been spent on them are crazy.” You replied softly.

He tutted, “Look, babe, I don’t ask what you spend your money on.” You turned to him then, lying on your side.

“But Woo, it’s… my money you’re spending.” Your voice came out weakly, and like a shark smelling blood in the water, he took his chance to control you again.

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the mattress. You could feel the anger radiating off him, but also the undeniable heat of his desire. He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, his grip firm and unyielding.

"This is what you get for questioning me," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a harsh, punishing kiss. You could taste his anger, feel it in the way he dominated your mouth, his tongue invading and conquering.

He pulled back, his breath ragged. "I don’t wanna hear a peep from that pretty little mouth," he warned, his hand moving to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you swallow hard, your eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.

He positioned himself at your entrance, and with one swift, brutal thrust, he pushed himself fully inside you. You cried out, the sudden intrusion burning and uncomfortable. "Wooyoung, yellow," you gasped, using your safe word, asking him to slow down, to give your body time to adjust.

But he was beyond listening, beyond caring. He held his palm over your mouth, his fingers digging into your cheek as he began to move, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal, punishing rhythm. "Shut up, you ungrateful bitch," he muttered, his voice a harsh tone. "You wanted to question me? This is what happens."

He leaned down, his teeth finding your nipple through your thin sleep shirt, biting down until you whimpered. He released your mouth from his grasp, only to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Eyes on me," he commanded. "I want to see those pretty eyes while I fuck you like the disobedient little slut you are."

Your body began to respond despite the lack of preparation, despite the slight pain. You could feel the familiar heat building in your core, your traitorous body betraying you as it always did with him.

Wooyoung felt it too, a smug smile playing on his lips. "That's it," he panted, his voice hoarse with effort. "Come for me. Beg for it."

But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he slowed, his hips stilling. "No, whores don’t get to come," he said, his voice a cruel mockery. "You’ll take what I give you, be a good cocksleeve for me."

He began to move again, his pace slow and torturous, denying you the release your body craved. You whimpered, your hips bucking up to meet his, trying to force the pace, trying to make him give you what you needed.

He tsked, a sound of disapproval. "Greedy little thing, aren’t you?" He sped up, his body slamming into yours, his breath coming in harsh pants. He held your hips down, "Fine, take it. Take my cock. Take my come."

With a final, brutal thrust, he came, his body shuddering above yours, his release triggering your own despite his earlier denial. You cried out, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you, your vision going white.

He rolled off you, his chest heaving with exertion, a sheen of sweat covering his body. He turned to you, his eyes softening slightly, a contrast to the harsh words he spoke. "I love you, but don’t question me again," he said, his voice a soft caress. "Next time, it won’t be so pleasant."

With that, he rolled over, his back to you, and went to sleep, leaving you awake and processing the intense encounter, your body still throbbing with the aftermath of his punishment.

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That night was one of the last times you heard the words “I love you” come out of Wooyoung’s mouth, you were no longer babe, it was y/n and sometimes just plain ‘you’.

Your relationship didn’t feel like anything but two people sharing a house, only you were pretty much the only one there and the only one paying for anything, the only physical contact would be sex, and even then you wouldn’t be cuddled and loved like you were in the first year of your relationship, you were just used or what he considered “punished” for arguing with him. The sex had almost become sadistic.

You would try to distract yourself with work, seeing your best friend Hyeji or going to parties and getting drunk just to forget everything. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. You still loved him underneath it all, you fell in love with the Wooyoung you met, the fun, chatty and kind guy who had made you feel comforted after your parents' death.

But as time went on, he’d practically become a stranger. Like a ghost, like ships passing in the night.

You started to suffer from nightmares like when you were a child. Your anxiety was back tenfold, and Wooyoung didn’t seem to care when you explained how you felt. He’d shrug it off and tell you to take sleeping pills, or he’d be too drunk to answer and just hummed as you spoke.

One evening, you decided to see your friend Hyeji about what was going on, you headed to the bar and met her outside her apartment door. She opened it with a huge grin on her face, but then she saw you were crying.

“Babygirl, what’s happened?” she stepped aside. “Come in,” she took off your coat and brought you to her living room, sitting you down on the couch and wrapping you both in a blanket.

“It’s Woo,” you said, wiping your tears away. “I should have known y/n, he’s not come into the bar to pick you up in weeks, and you’ve been so distant.” She replied. “I didn’t wanna say anything, but I was worried.”

“He’s just…” You continued to sob. She grabbed a tissue and handed it to you. You paused gathering your thoughts. You felt too embarrassed to bring up the money situation, so you kept that part to yourself.

“He’s been working a lot, he’s always tired or drunk when he gets home, and he doesn’t kiss me anymore. He just fucks me and then leaves me alone. No aftercare, no sweet words like he used to.” Hyeji’s face was pulled into a frown as you spoke, she nodded but stay silent letting you get it out.

“He just doesn’t feel like my boyfriend anymore, he’s not the same guy I met two years ago,” you said before blowing your nose in the tissue.

“That doesn’t sound like him,” she said, confused. “Is it maybe that work is getting to him? He’s just taking his frustration out on you, I’m not condoning it! But there could be a simple explanation.” Hyeji said, she was always the kind of girl who saw the good in everyone. Much to her detriment sometimes. You realised there and then she’d be there for you but she wouldn’t have the answers you needed, especially since you withheld some information.

“You wanna stay here tonight?” she asked. You nodded, “I’ll just text him to let him know.” You didn’t owe him that at all, but you also didn’t want to do exactly what he was doing, which was not contacting when he was out till the early hours.

“Okay let me get you some pyjamas,” she said softly with a small smile. She headed to her bedroom as you sent Wooyoung the text.

Not a minute later, he replied, much to your surprise.

[Wooyoung:]

Not tonight, I want you home when I get back later.

Hyeji came back with fluffy, cute nightwear in her hands but you were just staring at your phone, shaking.

“You okay?” She asked tentatively, placing the clothes on the arm chair, “what did he say?” She looked over your shoulder, reading the text and turned to you. “It’s up to you, hun, you could stay here, but maybe you could talk to him? Tell him how you’ve been feeling?” She spoke, gently rubbing her palm over your back.

You finally looked up at her, forcing a smile, “You’re right, I should try and see what’s going on with him.” You willed yourself to sound fine but your heart was racing, your lungs felt devoid of oxygen.

“You got this girl, I’m here for you whenever you need me okay.” She said, pecking your forehead.

You left her place feeling cold and lost, you knew she was there to support you, but you felt alone in your feelings, like know one would understand you. All of your friends loved Wooyoung, most of them complaining that they were jealous their own boyfriends weren’t as sweet as him.

Oh, how wrong they were now, as you got on the subway you sat in the carriage trying to think back to where you may have gone wrong. Did you do something to make him feel this way? Did he still love you like he did before? You had no idea, but you would have to confront him tonight.

You noticed the train had come to a stop at the station closer to home. When you stepped off, a man in a black hoodie knocked into you, his long dark hair and hood covering most of his face, the only thing you noticed was his nose piercing and plump lips. He mumbled an apology and walked down the train. You shook it off and headed home, not thinking on it anymore as your nerves set in, the anxiety you felt about talking to Wooyoung stayed in your stomach as you walked through the door.

But he wasn’t there, you stripped off and got into bed, not bothering to put on your sleep wear, it was hot and you had no energy to do so, you lay awake till 2 am, the anxiety eating away at you. You checked your phone, no texts or calls from Wooyoung.

Finally, through exhaustion, you fell asleep.

The train moves slowly, only darkness can be seen outside the windows.

You’re standing upright but you sway with the movements of the train like it owns your body.

The man in a dark hoodie stands across from you and steps forward his velvet mouth against your ear, “he’s coming.” He whispers like a secret.

You feel the bed dip under the weight of another body. Wooyoung must be home, but you can barely open your eyes from how tired you feel. He shifts, and his body presses against you. The heat from him burned against your cold skin.

You could smell the alcohol on him. The putrid stench you had almost started to become accustomed to. He slid his hands over you, grabbing, messy, with no rhyme or reason just pure drunk lust. Your tears sting your eyes.

“Please stop.” The words died in your mouth. Choking on your own breath. His hand reaches over your face. Palm pressed against your lips. You couldn’t breathe, your lungs were pure fire.

“Just take it, babe”, he whispered.

Babe, he hadn’t called you that in a long time.

Desperately trying to regain your connection with him you spread your legs, though you were still crying, and his hand was still over your mouth in a possessive grip. The other holding your thighs open.

He pushes his length inside you and starts fucking you with no thought for you or your pleasure. This is all for him, to take from you again, like he had so many times before, your body, your love, your money.

That’s all you were to him, just a thing he could drain till it ran dry. You knew it in your heart there and then. His glassy eyes, boring into yours. Gone. He wasn’t yours anymore, but you were still his.

△ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △

Your shift at the bar felt like it had gone on for eternity, and your legs ached as much as your heart did. Ever since that night, you hadn’t seen or heard from Wooyoung again, you assumed he had been staying with a friend or was on another work trip.

So when you arrived back at your apartment, you put your jacket on the hook absentmindedly, but as you turned your eyes wide and your jaw hanging in shock.

Most of your belongings and some smaller bits of furniture had gone; you ran to your bedroom, your heart beating in a panic.

Your bed was still there, made as it was when you left it, you opened your closet and found that all your designer clothes and jewellery were gone, along with all of Wooyoung’s belongings.

You began to sob, your body shaking with anger, you felt so betrayed.

You grabbed your mobile and called him.

“This number is not recognised.”

The asshole had blocked you, you texted him but it just bounced back.

You sat on the sofa and curled into a ball and just cried, it could have been hours or mere minutes. Time felt like it stopped.

Once you had cried all you could you started ringing your group of friends, all of them informing you that they hadn’t seen or spoken to him.

You felt completely overwhelmed by his absence. You searched high and low for any signs of where he could be, but he hadn’t even left a note.

Your phone started ringing and you answered urgently.

“Hello?” You said. You were preying it was Wooyoung.

“Hello, is this Miss Y/L/N?” The ominous male voice rang through.

“Yes,” you said, doubt swimming through your mind.

“You’re behind on your loan payments, I am calling as I final reminder before we send the bailiffs” The words shocked you so much that your body jumped.

You tried to remember when you had ever taken out a loan, you had never needed to, then it hit you. Wooyoung, had he set one up in your name?

“Miss Y/L/N?” The voice called out.

“Yes- sorry, I, uh-“ you stuttered. “I haven’t taken out a loan, can you tell me the amount and when it was set up, please?”

“Certainly, Miss, the account was set up a year and a half ago.” Your heart sank, that long, and you hadn’t even realised. “The remaining amount is 289,538,340.” You could throw up right now but you swallow it down. Trying to breathe normally.

“-and uh, when did I last make a payment?” You asked, breathlessly.

“Three months ago, Miss.” he stated.

You could speak, you couldn’t believe it, the betrayal was just getting worse. You hung up without saying goodbye and logged into your banking app immediately.

It had been nearly fully drained, a huge amount taken a week before he left. Maybe enough to get you through another few months, but that was all. You kicked yourself for not noticing sooner. He had taken out the money and not even walked out the door yet, like he knew you trusted him, so you wouldn’t look. Curse your stupid, loving and trusting past self.

You felt angry at yourself that you would allow a man to have a hold over you like that, to fully trust someone with all your being, only to be gaslighted the whole time.

You screamed.

You had no idea what else to do.

Then, as if your mind was making you move without thought, you looked at the emergency contact Wooyoung gave you for a friend of his. He said to never call the number unless it was necessary, but right now it felt pretty fucking necessary.

A landline number for Seoul, he must have lived close, as the area code was similar to yours.

You dialled the number and let it ring, The phone rang out three times before a smooth male voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is San there?” You asked, no idea who you were speaking to.

“Urm, hang on a sec.” The voice said.

You heard muffled male voices through the phone, but you couldn’t make out the conversation.

“He’s busy right now. Can I take a message?” The man said, but he sounded annoyed.

“Uh, who am I speaking to?” You felt weird giving information to some random guy, the situation was too personal to share.

His voice came across more aggressively, “I’m his roommate, who am I speaking to?”

Your breath hitched but before you could speak, you heard a rattling on the other line. Then another male voice, unfortunately not Wooyoung’s, not from what you could hear, maybe San?

The voice was muffled, but this time you could hear the conversation: “I told you to hang up!” The voice, angry, shouting.

Then you heard another ruffled noise before the other male started breathing down the phone, “Don’t fucking call this number again,” you could tell he was speaking through clenched teeth.

Beep.

The phone went dead.

As if your situation couldn’t get worse, it did. You suddenly heard a loud thumping at your door.

Your body started to tremble, you stood locked in place, your legs unable to make your way to the door.

“JUNG, YOU LITTLE CUNT! OPEN THE DOOR!” A man screamed as he continued to bang on the door.

The door shook violently, the sound echoed through the apartment.

You started to move backwards towards your bedroom before you called out. “He’s not here,” then the banging stopped, only for a moment. You could hear your heart beating under your shirt, you breathing shallow and loud.

Bang.

Bang.

It sounded like someone was kicking the door down, you ran to your bedroom and hid under the bed like a fucking child, god you felt so pathetic in the moment but what else could you do? Jump from the window? Your apartment was on the eighth floor, there was no way you’d land unscathed.

Then another loud noise, the door broke open.

You began to sob you could hear at least two sets of footsteps making their way through the apartment before the door to the bedroom slowly creaked open, as if taunting you.

You put your hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your cries. You closed your eyes willing them mentally to leave.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed your ankle and dragged you from under the bed. You screamed and kicked but a man slapped you across the face and held you down on your knees his hand fisting your hair.

“Ooo, she’s a feisty one.” He said to the other man. He was a lot taller and muscular.

You cried, “please, Wooyoung’s not here.”

“Fuck, he sure picked a pretty little bird.” He sneered, pulling your hair to make you meet his gaze. He stunk of old cigarettes. His smile was revolting.

Your tears ran down your face, and his smile grew to a maniacal grin.

He grabbed your jaw his fingers digging into your cheeks. “Where is he?” He sounded out every syllable through his yellow teeth.

“I don’t know, please, I don’t know.” You begged.

The men both chuckled at each other, before looking back at you.

Slap.

The sting on your face was burning, and you tried to breathe properly but it felt too difficult.

Then he kicked you in the stomach, and you fell to the floor. You screamed and sobbed. “Please I honestly don’t know, he left me!” You shouted.

The man hummed and grabbed you by the throat. “Surely he wouldn’t leave such a pretty little thing all by herself.” He snarled.

You just cried, his face was level with yours, his rancid breath against your cheeks.

The other man’s phone started ringing and he picked it up immediately, “Yes boss?” He said, with a pause. “Right away, sir,” and he hung up.

He turned to the man whose grip was still firmly on your neck, “come on, we’ve got another job.” He stated.

The latter tutted, “saved by the bell, little bird,” he sang. He made you feel sick, his eyes looking over your form like you were a piece of meat. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you very soon.” He paused and licked his lips. “Then I can get my fill of that pretty cunt between your legs,” he laughed.

You couldn’t say anything, you didn’t want to anger him more. He pushed you to the floor and loomed over you. “Tell that little cunt Jung that we’re looking for him, and if he doesn’t miraculously come back...” He paused speaking as he walked to the bedroom door, then he turned slowly back to you with a smirk. “Well it won’t look too good for you little bird.”

He and the other man left cackling amongst themselves as they left, slamming your front door closed.

The next day, you head to the bank to make a payment towards Wooyoung’s loan he had taken out under your name.

You clutch the envelope of cash tightly in your hand as you weave through the busy streets. The city hums around you, indifferent to the weight on your shoulders. Every step toward the bank feels heavier, as if the burden of your ex-boyfriend’s debt is physically weighing you down. You know it’s not your responsibility, but losing your apartment would be devastating.

You get on the train, sitting down at the front. Your mind full of fear and confusion.

Why did Wooyoung do this? Why did he treat you like this? Was he ever who you perceived him to be?

The memory of the man hitting you last night clouds your mind for a moment and you almost miss your stop.

The dim fluorescent lights flicker overhead as you step off the train, the stale air of the station washing over you. The envelope of cash in your bag feels like a lead weight. You’re focused on reaching the bank, but as you head toward the exit, a man in a suit steps into your path.

“Excuse me,” he says with a charming but unsettling smile. “Would you like to play a quick game? You can win some money, right here, right now.”

You hesitate, glancing around. “I… I don’t have time for games. I have somewhere to be.”

“It won’t take long,” he insists, pulling out two coloured envelopes. “If you win, I’ll give you cash. If I win, well, let’s just say it’s a harmless little consequence.”

You feel the pressure mounting. This could be a way to lighten your load, but the man’s intense gaze makes you uneasy. Still, the thought of extra cash is tempting. “Alright,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. “How do we play?”

“It’s simple,” he explains, placing one of the envelopes on the ground. “You try to flip it over by hitting it with yours. If you succeed, you win. If you fail, I get to… well, slap you.”

You hesitate, but only for a moment as you’ve been through a lot worse the past few months, you could handle another hit.

He hands you an envelope. You take a deep breath, crouch down, and whack your envelope against his. It doesn’t flip. He grins, and before you can react, you feel a sharp slap on your cheek.

“Fuck!” you gasp, stepping back.

“Want to try again?” he asks, holding out a small wad of cash. The sting on your cheek reminds you of the risk, but the sight of money makes you continue. You need it now Wooyoung took almost everything you owned.

After a few rounds, your cheek is sore, and your heart races, but you finally manage to flip the envelope. The man chuckles and hands you the cash. “Congratulations. You have potential. If you want to earn more, there’s a bigger game I can introduce you to.”

You stand there, rubbing your cheek, the cash in your hand feeling both like a victory and a warning. This encounter is just the beginning, a doorway to something far more dangerous than you could ever imagine.

But you don’t know it yet, he hands you a crisp business card, and you turn it over in your hand, inspecting it. The only thing on there is a phone number and the other side three shapes- a square, a circle and a triangle.

You nod at the man and leave without another word. You add the cash that you just won to the envelope and continue your path to the bank.

△ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △ ○ □ △

That night, you had called Hyeji and told her everything, and she offered for you to stay with her while you figured everything out. You accepted, you had no one else to support you, Wooyoung had kept you in a little bubble where you had shut yourself off from your friends. Hyeji was your lifeline.

You started working more shifts as well, trying to get money together to afford to live and pay off the debt Wooyoung had left you.

After two days of living there, you were closing the bar alone, Hyeji’s night off and your other colleagues had headed out, saying they all needed to finish early. It was a regular weekday, so you felt it was fine. Around half past midnight, the door to the bar flew open and the men from the other night strolled in like they owned the place, you froze and the man with the yellow teeth pulled out his gun and cocked it.

“We meet again, little bird.” The nickname made you grimace. He stepped up to the bar, “Don’t move, unless you want me to redecorate the walls red.”

You trembled under his gaze. “I’ll take a whisky,” he said plainly and laid the gun on the bar out of your reach.

You stared at the two of them for a moment before you turned to serve him the whisky, the glass cold against your red hot fingers, your blood pumping at a hundred miles an hour.

You laid the glass in front of him and he suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him over the bar, the wood digging into your stomach. You yelped, and he chuckled.

“Any new ideas on where that little boyfriend of yours went? Hmm?” He whispered menacingly, his lips grazing your ear making you feel sick.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore, I don’t know, he left me, I told you,” you sobbed.

“See, the thing is, little bird,” he paused to take a drink, you could tell he was enjoying tormenting you. “I think you’re lying to me, I think you know exactly where that little cunt is.” He twisted your wrist and pulled you towards him again, you cried out. Your body hung over the bar limply, the pain from your wrist bending at a weird angle consuming you.

“I-I promise I’m not lying!” You said, your voice broken, tears running down your cheeks.

“Hold her still.” He said sternly to his built and tall colleague. He started to walk around the bar whilst his partner held down your arms.

You started screaming, “No! Please, please, I’m not lying please.” You squirmed in his grasp, but it was futile. He was too strong. The man with the yellow teeth came up behind you and pulled up your skirt, your underwear on full display to him.

“Fuck, such a pretty little thing aren’t you.” He said as he ran his hands over your ass.

You trembled in fear, praying he wouldn’t do what you thought he was going to. You continued trying to pull away, crying and screaming.

The man holding you down picked up the gun and held it to your temple. “Shut the fuck up! You little bitch!” He said. The gun biting into your skin as you whimpered, trying not to make a noise.

The man behind you pushed his clothed cock against you, bucking his hips.

“I’ve been thinking about this little pussy since we met little bird.” He said, he disgusted you. You could hear the smile in his words.

Suddenly you felt a vibration against your ass. Making you panic but you realised it was his phone as he pulled it out the answer it.

“I’m busy at the moment, what the fuck do you want?” He said to the person on the other end of the line.

A pause.

“You fucking what? Where?” He shouted. “That little rat should know exactly where Jung is, we’ll be there in five.”

He hung up the phone and smacked your ass hard, “FUCK!” He screamed, causing you to flinch, closing your eyes tightly from fear.

“People just keep interrupting us little bird.” He pulled you by the hair causing you to be face to face with his putrid breath. “You go back to that apartment of yours and stay there,” he said through gritted yellow teeth. “AM I FUCKING CLEAR?” He screamed in your face, his cigarette and alcoholic spit landing on your cheeks.

“Yes,” you sobbed uncontrollably.

He dropped you to the floor like a dead weight and the two men walked out without a glance back.

You got up on shaky legs and pulled your skirt down, then you ran to the toilet and threw up. The fear of being sexually violated runs under your skin, in your stomach and up your throat as you continue to vomit.

After you got it all out, you went to the sink and washed your face and mouth out with some water to get the smell of him off your face and the puke taste out of your mouth.

You focused on your breath and then you remembered.

The card, the invitation for more cash.

You ran to your bag and took the card out, the card-stock heavy in your fingers as you dialled the listed number into your phone.

It rang once.

“Hello.” A robotic voice answered. Then you replied simply.

“I want in, I want to play.”

Chapter 11 - Coming soon!

Proofread by the lovely - @hoes4minho (please check

out her writing!

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Dividers by - @sisterlucifergraphics

Taglist - @eridanuswave @astro-des @ot8girlfie @fairylix @estellan0vella @nightmarenyxx @missygore @mysterysold @chloe-elise-2000

@hhwangsmoon

@minhosglasses @akindaflora @minniesverse @riri53

[jibitzlesscrocs]

Sooo i have a request for you with matt, what about reader being friends with the triplets and she goes to uni and she mets this guy she is very much into, but matt is a little (or very much) jealous especially because reader thinks that she kinda of see herself in a relationship with this guy, hoping to finally have her first relationship since she also like this boy a lot. So maybe one night they all go to a party (you can choose if Nick and chris are included or not) and reader hangs out with this guy, but after a while matt notices that she has completely disappeared with this guy and is kinda of concerned because he doesn’t trust him at all and after a while he (or Nick maybe) find her a complete mess crying alone because the guy insulted her because he wanted to have sex but she refused, and to lead him on and calling her name and things, Matt gets very very mad that goes to him and punch him and it’s like a whole mess, but when idk who maybe Chris or Nick stop their brother they all go home and reader is like in shock and helps matt with his hand and start to question him like why did you do that ecc, and he shares that he has feelings for her and hates seeing her going for all this wrong guys that wants to use her, sorry if this is too long and sorry for my English!!! lots of love from europeeee!!🩷🩷 i love your writing🫶🏻😍

omg hiii !! i love europe and i hope you like this !!

warning : fighting, forcing sex,

blind love

in which, matt fights for love

You came home from university trying to feel normal again.

The Sturniolos were your constants—chaotic, hilarious, grounding. And Matt? He was… complicated. Always has been. But ever since you started talking to Noah, that complication got worse. He barely replied to your texts, got pissy over the smallest things. You chalked it up to him being protective, but part of you knew better.

Still, tonight wasn’t about Matt. Tonight was about seeing your boys, drinking shitty beer out of red cups, and maybe finally figuring out where things stood with Noah.

You spent half the party by Matt’s side. He was quiet. Cold. His jaw stayed tight every time you glanced at your phone. Then Noah walked in—and you drifted.

You didn’t notice the way Matt’s eyes darkened. Or the way Nick nudged Chris, murmuring, “He’s gonna snap.”

⸻

Noah’s hand is on your waist.

He’s laughing into your ear. Telling you how different you look from the girls at school—how “in a good way” still sounds like an insult.

“You always act like you’re not into it,” he says, voice low. “But then you keep coming back. You know that’s kinda manipulative, right?”

Your stomach twists.

“I’m not—Jesus, I’m not trying to manipulate you, Noah.”

“Then what? You just like attention?”

The words hit harder than you expect. Maybe because they’re not new. Maybe because you thought he was different.

You pull away from him. “I’m done. Don’t talk to me like that.”

He snorts. “You’re such a fucking tease. Seriously. Pretending like you want something and then backing out like a scared little girl.”

You blink—tears already stinging. You shove past him and disappear out the back door, the cold air burning your skin.

⸻

Matt sees you vanish. Alone. With him.

That’s it.

He slams his drink down so hard the cup crumples. “Where the fuck did she go?”

Chris raises a brow. “Matt—”

“She left with him. You didn’t see the way he’s been touching her all night? He’s a fucking creep.”

Nick stands up. “Chill. Just text her.”

“No,” Matt growls. “I don’t trust that asshole for a second.”

He’s already moving before either of them can stop him, shoving through drunk bodies and thrown-around limbs until he’s outside—until he sees you.

Sitting on the steps. Crying. Alone.

His chest caves in.

You look up. “Matt…”

“What did he do?” His voice is low. Too low.

You try to wipe your face. “It’s fine, just—”

“No. Fuck that. Tell me what he said.”

You swallow. “He called me a tease. Said I led him on. That I was wasting his time. Because I didn’t want to have sex.”

Matt goes silent. Still. His jaw clenches so tight you think he might shatter.

Then he turns. Walks back inside like a loaded gun.

⸻

Noah doesn’t even see it coming.

Matt grabs him by the collar, slamming him back into the kitchen wall hard enough to rattle the frames.

“You motherfucker.”

“What the hell, man—”

Matt punches him. Full force. Right in the mouth.

There’s a gasp from the crowd. Someone yells, “Yo! Chill!”

“Say that shit to her face again,” Matt growls. “Call her a tease one more fucking time.”

Noah’s spitting blood. “What is your problem?! I didn’t even touch her!”

“Because she said no, dickhead. That means fuck off. Not throw a tantrum and call her names because your fragile ego couldn’t handle rejection.”

Noah lunges forward, but Chris and Nick are already there, dragging Matt back as he tries to go in for another swing.

“She’s not yours, man!” Noah shouts. “You’re not her boyfriend!”

Matt stops.

Breathing heavy. Bloody knuckles. Eyes locked like he could burn the guy alive.

“No,” he spits. “I’m not. But I should’ve been.”

⸻

Silence on the drive home.

You’re curled in the backseat, eyes puffy, hands clenched around the sleeves of your sweater. Matt hasn’t said a word. His fist is swelling, his mouth is a line of fury and regret.

You follow him into the bathroom quietly.

Matt doesn’t look at you—just turns the faucet on and leans over the sink, letting the cold water rush over his busted knuckles. The silence in the room buzzes louder than any music from the party ever did.

He winces when the water hits, but doesn’t pull away.

You grab a clean towel from under the sink and step closer.

“Sit,” you whisper, gently nudging him to the closed toilet lid. “Let me see.”

He does, jaw tight, breathing still uneven from the adrenaline. He doesn’t speak as you kneel in front of him, the fabric of your sweater brushing his jeans as you position yourself between his legs.

You take his hand carefully, almost reverently. The skin is scraped, the knuckles swelling, knotted red and raw. You dab the towel gently against them, eyes locked on the damage.

“You didn’t have to hit him,” you murmur.

Matt snorts under his breath. “Yeah, I fucking did.”

You look up. “You could’ve walked away.”

He finally meets your eyes, and something in the air shifts—thickens.

“Couldn’t,” he says, voice low. “Not when it was about you.”

Your breath catches.

You swallow, looking down again as you gently pat his hand dry. “Why, Matt?”

He’s quiet for a second. Then:

“Because seeing him touch you made me feel like I was gonna fucking explode.”

You freeze.

“Watching him laugh with you, knowing he was full of shit—knowing you were looking at him like he might actually care about you the way you deserve—” He pauses. “It made me sick.”

You slowly rise to your feet, still holding his hand. Your chest is pounding. “Matt…”

“I fucking love you,” he says. “Okay? I have for a while. And yeah, maybe I was too much of a coward to tell you before. But I can’t stand watching guys treat you like you’re just something to chase, or fuck, or talk down to when they don’t get what they want.”

You take a shaky step closer, standing between his legs again. His free hand instinctively finds your waist, like muscle memory.

You look at him—really look—and suddenly, everything you’ve been trying to ignore crashes into you like a wave.

“I thought I needed Noah to feel… worthy,” you whisper. “Like I finally mattered to someone.”

“You already matter,” Matt says immediately. “You matter so much it fucking hurts.”

You suck in a breath. His fingers flex around your waist. His injured hand still cradled in yours.

“I was scared to believe someone could love me like that,” you admit. “But I think I’ve always kind of wanted it to be you.”

Matt’s eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes.

He’s breathing harder now. “Say that again.”

“I wanted it to be you,” you repeat, barely above a whisper.

There’s no hesitation when his hand moves to your cheek. No uncertainty when he leans in close enough that his forehead brushes yours.

He doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.

Instead, he whispers, “Then let it be.”

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @emeraldsturns , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @leahfaith , @theowensturniolo , @nickysturnss

MAI’S STORE

-

[bitchinbarzal]

yes Timo part 2 because I can’t have my heart breaking over sad angsty Timo fics

Timo kissed her to hurt you.

Simple as that.

He didn’t even like her. Barely knew her name. Just picked the prettiest distraction in the room and let instinct take over.

Because he saw you,

Saw your hand tighten around your glass.

Saw the way your eyes locked on his mouth when it touched someone else’s skin.

Saw the regret hit your spine like a sucker punch.

And he thought, Good.

You left him like he didn’t matter.

Walked out like it cost you nothing.

Like he wasn’t the one who stayed up at night learning how to love you soft and careful. Like he wasn’t the one who would’ve done anything, everything, to keep you.

So yeah, he kissed her.

And he smiled when you looked away.

And he walked her out like you never existed.

But once the car door shut and she was gone, he just sat there.

Behind the wheel of his truck.

Ten full minutes. Motionless. Breathless. Jaw clenched so tight it ached.

The high of revenge faded faster than the buzz.

He didn’t go home with her.

He didn’t go home with anyone.

Hasn’t since the night you left.

The texts came the next morning—friends checking in, teammates teasing him about the public kiss, your reaction, your walkout.

He didn’t reply.

Because no one knows the truth.

That he still checks your socials.

Still sleeps on your side of the bed.

Still waits for your name to show up at 2AM like it used to when you’d had one too many and missed him but couldn’t say it sober.

The kiss was just performance.

The pain? That’s real.

But the worst part?

He’s not the only one bleeding anymore.

Because tonight, it’s you at that bar again.

Same spot. Different stakes.

And this time you’re the one getting attention.

He sees it instantly.

You in that short black dress he never forgot.

Head thrown back laughing at something someone said.

And standing beside you grinning, relaxed, hand on your lower back is Jake.

Rookie.

Bright smile.

No clue who you are.

But Timo does.

And watching Jake lean in like you’re some girl he just met and not the person who broke Timo’s heart with a single slammed door?

It splits him wide open.

You don’t see him yet.

But he sees everything.

The way Jake buys your drink.

The way you let him touch you.

The way you smile even though your eyes keep flicking toward the door—toward him.

You knew he’d show up.

And now that he has, He’s going to remind you exactly who you belong to.

Timo finishes his drink in one pull and starts moving. He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t blink. Just walks straight through the crowd, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

You spot him before he reaches you.

Your smile drops.

“Timo,” you say, voice low and sharp like you’re trying to stop something you already know is too far gone.

Jake turns. “Yo, Meier! Didn’t know you were coming out. You met—?”

“She’s mine.”

The words land like a body check.

Jake freezes. “Wait—what?”

Timo’s eyes don’t leave yours. “She’s. Mine.”

You fold your arms. “You don’t get to say that. Not anymore.”

“I never stopped feeling it,” he says, stepping closer. “You wanna pretend? Fine. But don’t act like you don’t feel it too.”

Jake backs away slowly. “I—uh—sorry. I didn’t know.”

He vanishes into the crowd, but you barely notice.

Because now, it’s just Timo.

And you.

He’s closer now. Closer than he’s been in months.

“You kissed her in front of me,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Just to hurt me.”

“And it worked,” he says, eyes burning. “But it didn’t fix a goddamn thing.”

Your throat tightens. “So what do you want now, Timo? Another scene?”

“No,” he breathes. “I want you. All of you. The messy parts. The loud fights. The stupid inside jokes. I want the girl who used to fall asleep in my hoodie. The girl who hated me just enough to love me harder.”

You blink against the tears threatening to fall. “Then why didn’t you call?”

“Because I didn’t think I deserved you.”

He says it like a confession. Like it’s killing him to admit it.

“I waited,” you whisper. “I kept waiting for you.”

“I’ve been waiting every night for you to walk through my door and scream at me,” he says. “Anything. Just give me something to hold on to.”

You stare at him, every nerve ending burning. “I never stopped loving you.”

His voice breaks. “Then kiss me.”

So you do.

Hard. Hungry. Like you’re punishing him and healing yourself all at once.

And he kisses you like he never plans to stop again.

The same bar that saw your end now watches your beginning.

And when he pulls you against his chest, breath ragged and hands shaking, he murmurs

“You were always mine.”

[billiesbunni]

“Your the risk i’m gonna take it”

Billie Eilish x fem!Y/N

Genre: Soft angst → Emotional confession → Beginning of something new

Vibe: Best friends on the edge of more. That one night where it all unravels — or comes together.

Inspired by: “Risk” – Gracie Abrams

⸻

You shouldn’t be here.

Not on her doorstep. Not after everything. Not after the promises you made to yourself to just let it go.

But here you are — heart in your throat, fists in your jacket pockets, staring at the glowing porch light outside Billie’s house like it’s a sign. Like maybe the universe is finally ready to answer your questions.

You knock. Once. Twice. Light. Cowardly.

She opens the door like she knew it would be you.

Like she always does.

“Hey,” Billie says, eyes soft but guarded.

You manage a weak smile. “Hey.”

She steps aside, lets you in, doesn’t ask why you came. She never does.

It’s quiet in her living room, and it feels like every breath you take echoes.

You don’t sit next to her on the couch.

You sit closer.

Too close for “just friends,” but not enough for anything real. Not yet.

And she notices. You see it in the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, in the way her voice catches when she says your name.

“Y/N?”

You blink at her. She’s looking at you like she’s afraid of what you’re about to say. Or maybe hoping.

“I said I wouldn’t do this,” you whisper.

“Do what?”

“Hunt you down.”

Your voice is soft. Honest.

“I told myself I wouldn’t get in the way. Not after her. Not after the house. Not after all the things that weren’t me.”

Billie doesn’t say anything. Her fingers twist at the hem of her sleeve.

“I know it’s stupid,” you add. “You haven’t even said anything. You haven’t promised me anything. I haven’t even met him, if there is someone. And still—”

You exhale sharply, like your lungs are breaking.

“I wake up in the middle of the night, Billie. And you’re not there. And it fucking kills me.”

Silence.

“God,” you laugh, but it’s more of a sob. “I think I’m actually invested. In something that doesn’t even exist. Something I haven’t touched. I’m in love with a version of you that might not even want me back.”

Billie doesn’t look away.

“You don’t know that,” she says quietly.

You lift your head. “Don’t I?”

She shifts toward you, barely breathing.

“I think about you all the time,” she confesses. “I just thought it was safer not to say it. You’re the risk, Y/N.”

You freeze.

“I thought if I kissed you… I’d lose you,” she admits. “And I’d rather hurt quietly than not have you in my life at all.”

Tears pool in your eyes. “But I’m here.”

“And I want you here,” she says, eyes locked on yours.

It’s too soon to say I love you.

But not too soon to mean it.

So you lean in. And this time, she doesn’t pull back.

Her lips taste like every night you imagined this moment. Like the fear was worth it. Like maybe — just maybe — you’re both brave enough now.

⸻

“You’re the risk,” you whisper against her lips.

“And I’m gonna take it.”

—————————————

IM SORRY YALL IVE BEEN SO BUSY IM HAVING TO LOOK FOR A NEW JOB 😭🩷

[graveyardhorror]

HAVE WE MET BEFORE? | yandere!RHEA RIPLEY x actress!reader part 2

TERROR TWINS MASTERLIST ★ 2k word count

cont. of yandere rhea x actress reader request

After two long weeks your press tour was finally over. Despite the overwhelming success and your newfound popularity, it was nice to relax and not have to be running around doing interviews and other perky events all day and night.

Sleeping in, eating comforting foods, and not setting an alarm to wake up before the sun rises felt good. As you settled in for the newest live show for wwe raw, your first monday off couldn't get any better.

After the infamous live interview you couldn't get enough of all the edits, stories, and other posts from your fans. If you would have known that outing yourself as a die-hard Rhea fan would result in being shipped religiously with her, you'd done it much sooner.

It's all you've been doing lately, laying in bed kicking your feet excitedly as your longtime secret fan account was full of these kinds of posts. Your favorites fueling your passionate daydreams.

While waiting for the show to begin, your mind drifts back to the moment she acknowledged your existence for the first time.

༝ flashback

As the interview came to an end you reached for your phone, purely by habit you instantly opened up the Instagram app and checked your accounts. Thousands of new followers and likes filled your notification tab.

With a small smile you couldn't help but speak aloud, "That's a lot of new people..."

One particular notification stood out. A new follower that wore a verification mark, a celebrity. One whose username lived in your mind like the person behind it owned your heart, Rhea Ripley.

As suggested by your management you followed nobody on your official account, your secret one though you didn't have to worry about. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

You had been dreaming of the day she would dare acknowledge you, it seemed as if that day would never come but little did you know that your feelings were very much mutual.

She was bold you'd give her that, but you could be bolder and much more confident behind a screen. Interacting with beautiful women on over text message wasn't hard when you could react however you'd like and not suffer being embarrassed in front of them.

Following you during the live interview, posting a clip of your slightly embarrassing confession on her Instagram story for all her followers to see, captioning it with a black heart.

Oh, there was no doubt about it. "She wants me...," smugly you whispered to no one in particular. Feeding your own delusions? or maybe she was just going through her mentions tab and reposted it without much thought?

All you wanted to do at that moment was go home, relax. And by that you meant you were going to daydream about how you wouldn't waste this newfound opportunity.

If there's an opening, trust that you will be the first to take it.

༝ (flashback over)

Copy her moves but be more daring, the fans will eat it up. Having a little fun can't hurt, can it? Realistically it's not like she'll see it if you don't tag her, right?

Taking a quick but effortless selfie, you updated your socials with the same photo and caption.

Waiting for #mondaynightraw to start so I can see my future wifey :)

That should do it! Speaking your dreams into existence, wouldn't be the first time it worked!

༝

Over the past few weeks of itching to slide into a certain someone's dm's you couldn't help but wonder what would you even say in the first place?

Perhaps, "hey thanks for letting your five million followers know that i have a huge crush on you, i hope we can be friends <3." Such a big joke.

A sharp and loud ping from your phone breaks your train of thought, a new dm from your Instagram.

rhearipley_wwe future wifey huh? how about you take me out to dinner first ;)

Oh. My. Gosh.

You didn't think she'd see that. Now you have to figure out how to make sure she doesn't think you're a creep or total loser.

Focus diva, you've got this one in the bag. Safe and secure.

"Hey siri...give me clever pick up lines"

༝

After messaging for a short while, the show began and Rhea coolly ended the conversation telling you to keep your eye out during the show.

Meanwhile Rhea was trying her hardest not to freak out as there were others around. The love of her life who she thought didn't even know about her existence, knew and was just as obsessed with her as she was? Well, maybe not as obsessed.

Rhea had multiple of what people could refer to as shrines of you. All your lives work, from every movie you'd done to every piece of merchandise you had released (some that she had even made herself), etc.

It didn't stop there, despite her on screen persona who's aura radiated confidence and dominance, she would never had dared to make the first move unless there was a clear opening.

It's kind of funny really, how she came to know you in the first place.

༝ flashback

This day could not get any worse. First Rhea forgets to pack her raincoat before heading to the gym and as a result got completely soaked while getting into her car, and second she had forgotten about re-packing her gym bag the night before.

Now she was stuck with a dirty protein shake bottle, a sweaty gym set from yesterday, and now what seemed like a random woman taking her spot on the treadmill.

Despite placing obvious markers on the machine, her half empty water bottle and sweat soaked towel, the person did not seem to pay them any mind.

Rhea decided to pack her stuff and simply finish her workout regime at home, where there would be no crowd hogging all the machines and she could de-stress properly.

Annoyed and with a slightly sour look to her face, she marched towards the treadmill and went in to quickly snatch her belongings.

There was one thing made Rhea come to a complete and sudden halt, she was pretty cute and walking with her eyes closed? Maybe she shouldn't be angry because with a face like hers who could stand a chance?

Coming back to her senses, Rhea slowly grabs her things and walks out the building. Glancing back every few seconds just to get a glimpse of her, still oblivious to what just happened.

"Holy shit...I think I just met my soulmate" she mumbled as she entered her car.

When she returned home, she couldn't help but wonder who she was. No, she needed to know if she didn't find out asap she was sure she'd lose every last bit of sanity she had left.

And so it began, with a one sided encounter and a seemingly one sided delusional romance, Rhea swore that one day she would have her all to herself whether she liked it not.

༝ flashback over

Scrolling and typing for what seemed like hours, Rhea could barely keep her eyes open as she had her eyes glued to screen of her phone.

It had been only a couple of minutes since she had awoken, and it was safe to say that her mind was already occupied with the thoughts of a certain someone.

Her secret account was active and catching up on the latest news of her dream girl, from wholesome edits to updates on her favorite fictional stories of said girl, it was turning out to be a great morning.

This had been part of her morning ritual ever since that fated day, their first meeting even though they didn't even know it.

After last night's small adventure, Rhea had decided to let others join in on the beauty of her lady and fangirl over her a bit, not too much though.

Going to her trusty secret account, she updated her followers with new photos of her favorite actress. Tens of comments flooded her screen:

where did you find this pic of her?!

omfgg she looks so good with her new hair!!

Most comments talked about how good she was at finding rare photos of the actress and many didn't question anything as long as they received nice pictures to look at.

When she first made her account she'll admit her fear of being labeled a stalker but thankfully her content always made it to the crowd with the same objective in mind: know more about her.

Anyhow, Rhea decided it was time to spice things up a bit.

"I need to get her to interact directly with me, but how?"

While getting ready for a big day ahead of her, tonight's show, she thought of different ways to gain attention, mumbling to herself quietly in the empty training center,

"Maybe...I can go live and answer some questions...if she joins and comments then all I have to do is reel in the bait"

"If I make the cage comfortable enough, my little birdy won't even know she's trapped"

༝

After the show was over Rhea decided to go with plan A: have a "spontaneous" QnA livestream and hope for her bird to fly in.

Laying in bed in her hotel room she began the livestream. Rhea was wearing one of her usual casual outfits, a baggy tee and her favorite branded sweatpants. Everything she did was thought out when it came to impressing her special someone.

Rhea knew her inside out; following her around like her guardian angel, and not a stalker, she found out many things about her that no one else knew.

Public information about an up and coming actress is hard to come by, though everyone is watching their every move no one seems to pay attention to the little things, the more important ones.

Sure, finding your favorite celebrities high school photo is cute and all but what Rhea really wanted to know was what made her tick and who was she really?

Others say "more money, more problems," but to Rhea that was far from the truth. More money equals more connections and even more resources. What's the point of having so much money if she doesn't have a lover to spoil?

As her followers rushed into the stream, Rhea's eyes were searching for her username or even someone mentioning her.

She read quite a few comments before deciding it was time to talk and answer some questions,

Helloo everyone, welcome to my live

I wanted to have a chat before I went to bed, so ask away

"Are you prepared for next week's match?"

What kind of question? I'm Rhea bloody Ripley, I'm always ready for a fight

"YOU WATCHED THE INTERVIEW DID YOU WATCH THE MOVIE???"

Oooh, asking the important questions now (she lets out a quiet laugh)

Of course I watched the movie, it was amazing. That beauty sure knows how to act, let her know for me yeah?

Rhea's eyes squint the tiniest bit, she joined her live. Jackpot, even if she joined five minutes late she could make it work.

She decided to get more comfortable, running a hand through her short hair, she flexed her arm just enough to seem nonchalant.

"SHE JUST JOINED YOUR LIVE RHEA IK WHAT U AREEE"

Guys, I almost forgot to tell you about what I did today! (her voice now cheery, too cheery...)

This morning while I was working out to prepare for today's match, I hit a new pr!

Can you believe it? Mami's getting stronger! Not like anyone's surprised (she lets out a laugh)

After a entire half an hour of Rhea putting on her best livestream show to date, she decided it was time to end the live. For her birdie's sake that is, not because she couldn't help but imagine their reactions to her "subtle" online flirting.

Plus, Rhea had some bedtime routine to get to. As in watching her girl through her own security system and catching up on her favorite show.

༝

After the live was ended by Rhea herself she had an old idea pop into her mind, one that for sure would boost ratings at her workplace. Picking up her phone she made a quick call,

"Hey boss, I have an idea for next week's show"

dividers by cafekitsune

[loveinthevein]

”Sure Ain’t Sweet”

chapter four

A few hours later, John was skating around down by the docks on his skateboard. He needed something to distract him from the thoughts that plagued his mind like a locust swarm. Some of his acquaintances he made over there tried to wave him down and invite him to come hang, but he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t even know he was there. But he did notice Paul. He came to a rough halt, kicking up his skateboard into his hand. He narrowed his eyes at Paul, who was staring at him through the haze of cigarette smoke he blew out.

He then slowly walked over to John, who’s hand unconsciously clenched on the skateboard to try and ground himself. He took a deep breath, Paul stopping mere feet away from him. “John.”

“... Paul.”

The two nodded awkwardly at each other, both of them on bated breath. “How’s it goin’? Ain’t heard from you in a while.”

“Well, I-”

“Eh, come off it. I know why.” Paul shifted his position and cocked his head, letting out a scoff. “I really can’t believe you’re letting our friendship go all jarg over a girl. You barely speak to me now. You haven’t even reached out or tried to- tried to explain yourself after we fought last time. You just don’t care.”

“Piss off. Stop gegging in my business, Paul. Besides, you’re the only one feeling this way. The other lads in our band … they don’t give a rat’s ass!”

“Oh! Oh, sorry John! Sorry I miss my fuckin’ friend! Sorry that I’m upset you’re fuckin’ me over like a whopper and choosing Y/N over me! I- I mean- Am I not your best mate?”

“You are, it’s just-”

“Oh, belt up! Ever since you met Y/N, it just feels like you’ve been driftin’ away from your mates every single day. All you did was blabber about that … that damned judy and-”

“Watch your mouth!”

“Belt up! See? You’re all fuckin’ defensive over her! Even now, all you do is talk about her and half our songs you’re writing are about her– Don’t think I didn’t notice, John! I’m not a knobhead like you! You don’t do anything else but mope about her hating you, and she has good reason to! You’re abandoning me for a fuckin’ girl!

“You? You! I’m abandoning YOU ?! Paul, are you fuckin’ bat?! Why the hell are you actin’ like a jealous meff?! Can I not speak to her? Am I suddenly not allowed to want to be her friend?! You said yourself that you wanted us made up together, and here you are actin’ bloody scally! You’re acting like a fuckin’ meff, Paul!

“You know what, yeah? Fuck you.”

“Pardon?”

“Fuck you, John. You’re a bloody bastard so lovesick for a fuckin’ heffer that you forget you have mates that care about you more than she ever will.” 

John suddenly snapped and socked Paul right in the jaw, which was the starting point to a rough and bloody brawl. The other skaters gathered, some trying to break the two entangled men up as they elbowed and swung at each other and hit some of the other people in the process. Paul was the one who was ripped off of John by a bystander, cursing and shouting with blood seeping out his nose and mouth. John was on the ground, panting and beaten up in the face. His nose and lip were bleeding, his cheek starting to get swollen and his whole face was red. He had cuts on his brow, nose, and blood leaked from the corners of his mouth.

“You’re a fuckin’ meff, John! Fuck you! You bloody no-good fuckin’ bastard!” Paul kicked and shouted, the bystander trying to calm him down even though it was clear it’d be in vain. He broke free of the bystander’s grasp, but stormed off in a pissy fit.

John stumbled to his feet, wiping the blood off his nose as he watched Paul storm down the sidewalk. “Fuckin’ hell.” He picked up his skateboard that was discarded on the floor upside down, stumbling to the pub down the street. After all that, he needed a drink.

He walked inside, and Y/N was sat there at the window table with her friend Marge. Marge was boisterous, waving her hands and laughing as she spoke. Y/N contrasted her energy, silently nodding her head as she listened to Marge’s ramblings about … honestly whatever. Y/N’s eyes immediately snapped to John, and she let out a sharp gasp. “John!”

She bolted up from her seat, tripping on the legs and almost fell down. She hurried over to him, her eyes raking over his battered face and the blood on his shirt. “What the hell happened to you?! You- You look- Who-”

“Relax, Y/N. Come off it. It’s nothing.” John said dismissively, pushing Y/N back a bit. “I just got into a tussle. I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding from your mouth, John!”

“Yeah, that happens when you get bloody socked, Y/N.” John wiped the blood on his lips, and let out a heavy sigh. “... I’m sorry. I- … I just need a moment to myself.” 

Y/N’s breath hitched, a little frown on her face. “John …”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” He turned away and ran his fingers through his hair and went up to the bar, completely dismissing Y/N which, in all truth, kinda stung. Y/N let out a sullen sigh, her hands clenching as she fought back the urge to march up and demand he let her in … but she knew she shouldn’t. She turned away and went back to Marge who was watching with a shocked expression that was frozen on her face.

“What in the bloody hell is going on with you two? Who’s that?” 

“... John.”

“John?! That bastard who plays that racket above your apartment?”

“... Uh, yeah. Yeah, him.” Marge’s expression turned skeptical, raising a brow.

“Yeah … Him …” She repeated, her eyes flicking up and down at Y/N. “What’s changed about ‘im? Clearly he ain’t a nuisance to you no more.”

“What? Sure he is! He’s just as insufferable as he always has been-”

“Sure.” She let out a dry chuckle. “You ain’ barkin’ like a mad dog about him anymore like ya usually do. Usually you’d be bloody heated talkin’ bout that man. Clearly something���s went jarg with that.”

“Please! God forbid I care about a man when he waltzes in beaten to a bloody pulp.” Y/N waved her hand dismissively at the thought, but it was clear Marge was still suspicious about the obvious. The two continued their conversations, but Y/N’s eyes were glued on John who was slumped over the counter with a bezzy in his hand. 

How she wished she could go over there and comfort the poor man. Even though another part of her was burning with a rage at the thought of her doing such. 

John turned over his shoulder, his eyes blank but still had a spark in them that flickered as soon as he met Y/N’s gaze. The two held their gazes for a minute, before Johns lowly turned away. 

Overcome with a strange urge that ate at her like a rabid dog, she surged up from her seat mid-conversation and went over to John. 

“Hey,” she crooned softly, placing her hand on his back. “You okay? Well, obviously not, but I-”

“Yeah. Yeah …” He looked up at her, turning to face her fully. His eyes glanced around the room for a moment, and then he took Y/N’s hands in his. 

“Can you please come over one last time tonight?” He suddenly blurted out. “I … I need you. I need to talk to you. It’s not urgent or anything, I just- I just gotta-”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Of course. Um. When, exactly?”

“Whenever you want. I’ll wait for you as long as I have to.” 

“... O- Okay. That’s sound.”

“Great.” John’s lips curled into a little smile, his eyes flicked down to Y/N’s lips for a brief moment, and his eyes suddenly turned desperate. “Wait. No. As a matter o’ fact,” He suddenly surged to his feet, his eyes suddenly burning with a strange kind of desperation. “Come with me now.”

“But I-”

“Please, Y/N. I really, really want you- Need you.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean! I- i mean I want to talk- Fuckin’ hell, my mind is all fucked right now, I- I just really want to spend some time with you again. I- I want to talk to you. I have things I need to say, like …”

“Like?”

“... I’ll- I’ll only tell you if you come with me.”

“But John, I’m here with my friend.”

“Tell her you’ll see her later. Or would you like me to tell her myself?”

“No, I- I’ll tell her.”

“Sound.” John suddenly began to drag Y/N out of the pub after he tossed his pocket change on the bar, Y/N barely being able to tell her friend goodby as she was dragged out the door. John didn’t turn back, he walked with a raging determination and his grip remained strong as he thundered to the complex. Once they got there, John swung the door open and ushered Y/N in.

“John, what-”

John immediately cut her off, and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. “Y/N,” He rasped, “Please. Please, tell me you feel it too.”

“What are you talking about-”

“YOU … You know what I’m talking about. How clear do I have to make it to tell you that I need you? That I love you?” John’s eyes widened a bit, and he leaned a bit closer. “Please … Please just tell me. This is eatin’ at me like a fuckin’ dog, Y/N.”

John’s hands snaked up to cup Y/N’s face, forcing her to keep his gaze. “Please. Don’t push me away like you did last time.” 

Y/N took a shoddy breath, the two silent and just staring at each other. John’s breathing suddenly began to spike, and he abruptly ducked down and roughly pressed his lips against Y/N’s in a desperate, pent-up kiss. Y/N let out a soft squeak in the kiss, her hands coming up to grasp at his shoulders … but she didn’t push back. 

She found herself easing into the kiss that increasingly grew more and more passionate after each affarming second went by. John only broke the kiss briefly just to murmur. “So do you love me, Y/N?”

“… Mhm …” 

“Hm?” 

“Yes! …”

John chuckled and pressed his lips back against Y/N’s, his body starting to get too hot to wear the leather jacket he had on. He awkwardly jerked it off of him, letting it fall onto the floor without a single care. All he could focus on was Y/N right now.

God; how he prayed for this moment to come. 

But then a soft knock came at the door. John’s head snapped at the door with both annoyance and confusion. “… Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”

He backed up from Y/N doing a “stay” motion with his hands, then walked up to the door and looked through the peephole. 

…

“Paul?”

———————————————————————

[idk-what-to-put-here-123]

I've actually had a really good day today for a change

[werehounded]

You know I was thinking. Since I was a ten year old and boys would ask me out as a joke, cos I was the fat autistic ginger nerd who no one wanted to be friends with, and they found that hilarious, up to being rejected recently by hookups in the past few months cos I'm not far enough in my transition or I'm too fat or too ugly or too much for some people, I've dealt with rejection and people laughing at me instead of loving me my whole pre teen-adult life.

Just thinking of damage done by a cis and heteronormative world, and how queer love is so healing and joyful and wonderful, and how I feel, at nearly 33, ready to commit to someone and be in it for the long haul because they like me DESPITE all my flaws. They love me for me and I love them for them and they're wonderful to me. They've never said an unkind word to me (and i believe them wholly that they never will and never have to anyoen else either). They've never asked anything of me that is unreasonable or I can't do. They've not laughed or run a mile when I talk about access needs like my chair, their only request being that they can still hold my hand while I show them off to the world.

It's been six months of 'getting to know you' and having fun together indulging in shared fandoms and writing together. For me, it's been about four-three months of pining and wanting. A little less time wishing and not daring to hope because I'm definitely punching above my weight lmao.

Idk. Something something queer love is being seen at your worst and not being judged. Queer love is joy, and happiness. Queer love is healing past trauma and being in it *together*. Queer love is everything.

And you know what for the first time in a long long time I'm gonna do some linocut guidelines and get them printed and transfer them to blocks and make some heartfelt art. Because they inspire me. They're my Muse, my love.

Bonus ramble in the tags about former unrequited and toxic 'love'.

[ostwitchsheart]

Why did my brain randomly dump story lore on me. Do you really want me to make a sad one piece ripoff

[classyrbf]

IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...you and gojo get into a fight after realizing that he’s been hiding something about your relationship the entire time

INFO...gojo x fem!reader, angsty, arguing, breaking up(?), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You slam the door to the penthouse, your heels clicking against the mahogany floors with each step. You toss your purse on the couch, hearing Gojo opening the front door and shutting it quickly. “Baby, please just listen to me.” He pleads, following after you.

“I don’t wanna hear your bullshit excuse, Satoru.” You roll your eyes, plopping down on the edge of the bed to relieve your sore feet of the heels you’ve been wearing all night to your boyfriends opening event he’s been planning for months now.

“I’m not trying to make excuses. Please.” He walks over towards you and toss your heel at him. “Stop throwing shit and just talk to me!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You stand to your feet, glaring daggers at him. “Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? God, you’re a fucking asshole.” You seethe, narrowing your eyes. “I sat there all alone, while you let some woman feel up on you the entire night? Are you out your fucking mind?” You scoff.

“She’s just an old friend, y/n. I swear I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He shakes his head at you, grabbing onto your arms tightly.

“Oh, yeah? So I when I came up and introduced myself as your girlfriend none of your friends were looking at me like I was crazy? I know we’ve been only together for a year, Satoru, but that’s fucking low.” You pull away from him. “They didn’t even know who I was. Then you got miss prissy bitch clearly flirting with you in front of me and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it!” You brush past him, stomping over towards the bathroom.

“Slow down, y/n! Baby—”

“I’m not your fucking ‘baby’, Satoru.” You gather all of your products from the bathroom, from your makeup and skincare to your clothes and shampoo.

“Stop for just one second.” He spins you around so you’re facing him. “Don’t leave. I swear you’re the only girl for me. I know I fucked up, I know I did. I embarrassed you, made you look stupid and I am so fucking sorry. But please do not leave.” He cups your face gently and his touch feels so inviting, but you can’t forgive him that easily. “I only want you. I only need you.”

You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing thickly as you bite the inside of your cheek. “Should’ve thought about that when you let her kiss your cheek and you smiled at her. Right in front of me. Get the fuck off of me.” You push him, rushing to grab your bag from the closet.

Gojo lets out a tired sigh, following you. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not like this. “I shouldn’t have let her near me.”

“Why was she so comfortable with being that close to you, huh?” You question, furrowing your brows as you turn to look at him. “Now that I think about it. Let me guess, you two were more than just friends.” You stand to your feet, snatching your clothes off the hangers and shoving them into your bag. He looks at you, opening his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. And from the look in his eyes, you already knew the truth. A bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head in disappointment.

“It was before you! Before us! We never dated it was just a small thing between me and her!” He tried to explain. “Baby, I swear! Once I met you, everything changed. I cut her off and focused all my attention on you. You’re the only who has my heart.” He grabbed your wrist only for you to pull away.

“Clearly I ain’t the only who who’s got your dick, though.” You slam the closet door shut, turning your back towards him.

“Don’t say that, y/n. That’s the first time I’ve seen her in years!”

“Yeah? Well all your friends sure know about her. She must’ve been great in bed, Satoru. Me? Well, they looked at me like I was a fucking ghost!” You scoff. “Like I was some delusional bitch who came up to you and said I was your girlfriend!” You throw your hands up in disbelief. “You must take me for fucking joke. It must be written on my forehead or something!”

“I don’t take you for a joke! You’re my goddamn girlfriend. You live with me. You have my initial around your fucking neck! I love you and you know that!” He takes a step towards you.

“Do I know that?” You ask aloud, cocking your head to the side.

“What—of course I love you. What the fuck are you saying?” He looked at you with pure confusion.

“You’re a joke. One of your friends, Shoko, pulled me aside and told me the only reason you got with me is because your little fling ended up getting a boyfriend herself around the time we started dating. You’re a piece of shit.” You revealed the truth to him, watching him stare at you blankly, lost for words. “Think I wouldn’t find out?” You ripped off the necklace with his initial, tossing it at him.

“Yes, I was upset that she got a boyfriend but—”

“So you had feelings for her. And just to cover them up, you got with me as a distraction.” You step closer towards him. “Listen to me, Satoru, don’t ever try and contact me again, keep whatever fucking gifts you bought me and return them, sell them, do whatever because I am done,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, no, no, baby. You can’t leave me. Yea I liked her before, but so fucking what? I was never in love with her, not like I am with you. I was too fucking stupid. I still am! Just give me another chance to fix this. I don’t want us to end this way.” He grabs your packed bag from your hands and tosses it on the bed.

“Let me go, Satoru.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t. You’re everything to me. She’s nothing compared to you.” He sniffles, holding your hands in his. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. And I’m sorry for entertaining the idea that she could even come close to you. She can’t.” His hands cupped your face, his heart pounding in anticipation as he waited to hear any words from you.

You reached up, pulling his hands away from your face. “Bye, Satoru.” You walked past him, grabbing your bag off of the bed. As much as it hurt to leave, you knew you had to respect yourself. Time and space was what you needed to think. With each step out the door, you could hear Gojo’s sobs, something you’ve never heard before in the year you’ve been with him. For the strong, flashily and confident man he is, you never once thought you’d see or him break down. Especially not for you.

[ilikeevilblondes]

World’s Worst Chauffeur

18+ MDNI!

Summary: Joel Miller, your dad's best friend, ends up getting roped into picking you up from a party. Without the key to unlock your house or anybody to let you inside, Joel offers to let you sleep at his place for the night. Needless to say, the both of you don't do a lot of sleeping.

TL;DR: You convince old man Joel to dick you down.

W.C: ~6.2k

Warnings: dbf!Joel, unprotected p-in-v sex, praise AND degradation (whoops), big fat age gap (Joel is around 50, reader is 21), daddy kink for a sec soz, aftercare, slight size kink, cunnilingus through panties, cunnilingus, dry-humping, couch sex (no outbreak!)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62586064

Note: hey y'all, trying my hand at joel miller smut because i saw an edit of pedro pascal and literally licked the fucking screen protector, so i guess that's god's sign of telling me to write filthy shit. anyway, hope you enjoy! wrote this instead of a politics essay #yolo

“C’mon, Joel.” Your dad sighed, meeting his best friend’s eyes with a pleading gaze.

“Look, I—”

“Just this once. Please. I really can’t get out of this meeting, the board would kill me. Especially with the damn FTC breathing down our necks.”

You were visiting your hometown for Spring Break. Tomorrow night, there was going to be a party in a town fifteen minutes away from your own—one that you had been invited to. Your dad was supposed to give you a ride home, but as always, there was some last-minute work emergency. So, Joel was his solution.

The aforementioned solution frowned, crossing his large arms over his plaid torso.

“I got better things to do than chauffeur your little girl.” Joel shrugged.

That was, in fact, horribly untrue. His agenda for that night consisted of re-watching one of the Die Hard’s and drinking a nice, cold Coors.

“I’ll owe you one.” Your dad insisted.

“Desperate ain’t a good look on you, buddy.” Joel cracked a small smile.

Your dad ignored this jab.

“Joel, we’ve been friends for almost two decades. You’ve let me borrow your car, helped me paint my house more times than I can count, and even bailed me out of jail when I sped down the interstate.” He counted the feats off his fingers. “But picking my kid up is where you draw the line? Come on.”

Joel inhaled through his teeth.

The real reason he maintained his firm stance on not giving you a lift home was, really, a bundle of three smaller reasons.

One, ever since you turned eighteen you’ve made it painstakingly and increasingly clear you wanted to get in his pants.

Two, you were a huge flirt.

Three, he wasn’t so sure he could keep on resisting. But he had to. For god’s sake, what kind of a friend would bone his friend’s daughter?

Hopefully, not him.

“I–” Joel began but was shortly interrupted.

"I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You’re picking up my kid. She has no one else, and I don’t trust her friends to be sober enough to get her home without getting in some kind of drunk-driving accident."

He levelled Joel with a firm look.

"So, are you picking her up, or should I expect to see her name in tomorrow’s obituary because one of her little buddies got behind the wheel after doin’ a keg stand, or a gazillion games of beer pong or I don’t know—fuckin’ ‘Cheers to the Governor’?”

Your dad stared him down with an expectant look.

Joel took a second to process this.

He rubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut, and then met his friend’s stare with a sigh.

“Fine.” Came through gritted teeth.

Your dad patted him firmly on the shoulder. “Thank you.” He chirped happily.

———

And so, there Joel was.

Leaning against his old Chevrolet, idly spinning his keys around his finger, and staring at the front door of the party.

Several kids filtered out; stumbling into worn Honda Civics with disgruntled parents waiting in the driver’s seats, or with their arms interlocked and their sides almost melded together, giggling off to god-knows-where.

When you came out, you were part of the latter group.

Some blonde-haired boy—tall, but not too tall—was holding you close to him with a stupid smile on his reddened face. You mirrored it with a stupider smile of your own.

He whispered something into your ear that made you laugh and was promptly leading you in the opposite direction of Joel. But Joel was both keen and quick to intervene.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Joel called out, crossing his arms.

You froze and turned your head to lock eyes with none other than Joel Miller. Your neighbour, your dad’s best friend, and more importantly, your long-time crush.

“What are you doing here?” You arched a brow, slipping away from your friend and nearing him and his truck.

Your friend followed after you and settled by your side, resting an arm that hung a little too comfortably around your shoulder.

“Evenin’ to you, too, sweetheart. And to answer your question, I’m pickin’ you up.” Joel stated simply, then tossed a quick surveying look to the guy next to you. “Who’s blondie over here?”

“Daniel.” Blondie blinked and stuck out his free hand, glancing at you. Under his breath, he muttered, “you told me your dad couldn’t give you a ride.”

“He’s not my–” You started, but were immediately cut off by Joel.

“Get your hand off the girl, will you, Derek?” Joel narrowed his eyes at him, a dangerous look underlying his seemingly casual tone.

Daniel immediately did so, going so far as to step a pace back from you.

“It’s Daniel.” He coughed awkwardly. Then added, “sir.”

Joel ignored him—or, at least, didn’t show any sign that he had heard his correction—and turned around.

“Time to go home, young lady.” Joel said lowly. He opened the front passenger door, and upon finding you in the same spot as you were standing before he had turned his back, continued with, “that wasn’t a suggestion.”

You mumbled a quick ‘goodbye’ to Daniel and hopped inside the truck.

“Good girl.” Joel sighed, closed the door with a bit too much force and walked around the front of the car. He spared a few seconds to glare at your friend before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Suddenly, the engine thrummed to life and the two of you were headed down quiet suburban streets in the late hours of the night, leaving what's-his-name in the dust.

The air had been thick with a tension neither of you could describe and was further blanketed by a heavy silence broken only by the hum of the engine, the faint skid of tyres against asphalt, and your own rapid heartbeat pounding insistently in your ears.

Not five minutes had passed before Joel spoke up.

“Who was he?” Joel asked casually, his eyes still focused on the dimly-lit road ahead.

You sank further into the cracked leather of the front passenger seat.

“A friend.” You shrugged, not looking over at him.

Joel hummed a non-committal noise as he carefully took a turn into a side street, the truck slowly crunching over loose gravel. His grip on the wheel remained firm, but his eyes flickered over to you.

“Your daddy let you out of the house like that?”

You huffed out a short laugh and looked down at your choice of partywear; a low-cut top and some tight-fitting jeans. Not necessarily the most vulgar apparel, in your humble opinion.

“No, actually, he called the cops on me for indecent exposure, but I managed to escape.” You spat out sarcastically.

Joel didn’t find your comment funny. Or rather, there was no indication on his unwavering poker face that he had found it funny. Or was experiencing any emotion at all other than slightly tired.

The two of you sank into yet another silence.

“I’m not a kid, Joel.” You said after a minute or two.

“Like hell, you ain’t.” Joel scoffed.

“I’m in college, I can dress how I like.”

“Is ‘how you like’ a prostitute?”

You turned to face him fully, your arms crossed and your brows furrowed.

“That’s both slightly misogynistic and completely off-base, don’t you think?” You snorted, then smiled smugly to yourself. “Plus. Admit it, you like it.”

That threw him off-guard.

For the first time that evening, Joel showed a sliver of emotion. His eyes widened slightly as he opened his mouth, quickly closing it, and then opening it again to say, “what the fuck are you going on about, kid?”

“You were definitely staring at my tits.”

Joel was even more taken aback. First, by your absolute gall, and second, by your accuracy. He may have snuck a peek at your cleavage, but in his head, it was very discreet. But, fuck, did they sit perfectly.

“You’re drunk.” Joel shook his head.

“You didn’t deny it.” Your smile grew. “But yes, I am a little tipsy. Not drunk, though.”

“I noticed.”

“Just say the word, Miller, and I’ll flash you the twins anytime you like.” You leaned over the control arm, your eyes travelling along his tensing frame.

“Fucking Christ.” Joel breathed. He kept his eyes fixed on the road but released a hand from the steering wheel to rub the lower half of his face.

This. This was why he didn’t want to do this favour for your father. You were already a handful while sober. And you had been a handful ever since you started college—making throwaway yet entirely flirtatious comments, pressing your tits against his chest a bit too much while you lingered after a hug, and wearing the tightest clothes known to man.

And now drunk? You were literally throwing yourself at him.

The worst part was that he couldn’t control his body’s reaction to you. In fact, his jeans felt a little tighter the closer you got.

Fuck, he was more than twice your age and here he was getting a hard-on—

Joel was suddenly violently snatched from his internal monologue when he felt your hand ghost over his lap.

“That’s ‘cause of me, isn’t it…? I can help with that.” You whispered, your tone almost pleading as your fingers gently traced over the front zipper of his jeans.

“Honey, sit back down.” Joel said slowly. His eyes remained intently glued onto the road.

Jesus Christ, he was fucked.

“Joel,” You practically whined.

Jesus Christ, he was so fucked.

“You’re drunk,” Joel said, more to himself than you as some sort of ill-justified dismissal.

“Tipsy.” You corrected helpfully, yet not retreating back to your seat. “But not really.”

Before he knew it, Joel was pulling up in front of your driveway, his grip on the steering wheel deathly tight.

Joel sighed. “You’re home.”

You glanced out the window disappointedly.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You replied.

Joel muttered something to himself under his breath and got out of the car, quickly appearing by your side and opening the door for you.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He nodded toward your house.

You got to your feet indignantly and marched up to your porch. Joel followed after you, leaning against one of the support beams of your front awning as he watched you dig through your purse.

After a few moments of your struggle, Joel cleared his throat.

“What?”

“Can’t find my key.” You frowned.

“I’ll call your dad.”

“Not home. And won’t be, ‘till tomorrow morning. He’s in the city for some work emergency, remember?”

Joel ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, visibly mulling something over, judging by the crease in his forehead.

“And you don’t got a spare key lying around somewhere? Under a flower pot or a welcome mat or shit like that?”

You shook your head.

If Joel were a better man, he’d have caught the glimmer of an ulterior motive dancing in your mischievous eyes. He would’ve brought up the spare key given to him for emergencies—this would’ve constituted as such. And he certainly wouldn’t have said what he had next.

“You can stay the night at mine.”

You blinked up at him, your hand frozen in the opening of your purse.

Joel straightened up, taking his weight off the support beam.

“Or you can sleep outside. Up to you.”

“I’ll take option number one.”

A few minutes and a trip across the road later, Joel had wriggled his key through the entrance lock and opened the door, inviting you inside.

Joel’s two-story craftsman was cosy and lived-in. The leather couch facing a moderately-sized flat-inch was slightly worn, the coffee table was cluttered with magazines and empty cans, and standing by its lonesome in a forgotten far corner of the living room was an acoustic guitar. More importantly, his house smelled like him; like warmth and vetiver and wood.

You had been a guest at his house on several occasions, but such instances had always been with the company of your dad.

That evening you found yourself free of his presence and, coincidentally, free of a conscience.

However fortunate your moral freedom was, it was only partially incited by your father’s absence. The four lukewarm cans of Lone Star you had chugged at the party may have had more of an influence on your risqué behaviour, because you sure as hell weren’t pushing Joel down on his leather sofa and straddling his lap with complete sobriety.

Joel let you take control, placing his big hands on your waist like they were always meant to be there while you moulded yourself against him, and met your lips with equal fervour when you smashed your mouth against his.

He sighed into the kiss and gripped your waist tighter as you slipped your tongue past his lips, ignoring the slight scruff of his greying stubble rubbing against your jaw.

But it was when you began slowly rocking your hips against the tenting figure in his jeans did he suddenly remember himself and wrench his face away from yours.

“Shit.” He panted, his pupils dilated and his chest heaving as he zeroed in on your kiss-swollen lips and your half-lidded, desperate eyes.

Why the fuck did he just do that? ‘That’ being the act of letting you kiss him, but he was just as equally angered with himself for stopping.

“We shouldn’t.” He shook his head, but his eyes were focused on your pretty, slightly parted lips.

“Why not?” You sighed, leaning closer.

Joel took your chin in his hand and held you at a safe distance.

“You know fucking well why.” Joel’s voice rumbled deep with frustration.

“Give me a reason.”

“I’ll give you three: you’re drunk, you’re barely eighteen, and your father is my best friend.”

You huffed out a noise of annoyance.

“I’m a little tipsy at worst, I’m twenty-one, thank you, and my father doesn’t have to know.”

Joel’s lip twitched. You were very persistent. He didn’t even know why he was arguing with you, he just knew he had to resist whatever fucking temptation this was.

“I’m old enough to be your father, too.” Joel frowned.

“But you’re not.”

“You should want someone your own age.”

“But I don’t.”

Joel inhaled through his teeth, subconsciously nearing your face once more. “This is so wrong.”

“Just once, Joel.” You pleaded, your eyes flooded with need.

“Fuck,” Joel shook his head, his brows furrowed as he once again lost himself in how pretty your lips looked; all puffy and raw. All because of him. “Honey–”

“Just this once.” You whined prettily.

At the sound, Joel unconsciously rocked up into you. Your hands immediately went to grab his shoulders to steady yourself; feeling a little lightheaded from the mere singular action.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightened.

“Fuck.” He said again, breathing slowly.

Being as old as he was, Joel never expected to relive the days of his brazen youth when his only major problem in life was cumming in his pants after a pretty girl had barely touched him.

His dark eyes finally met yours.

You held your breath.

“Just this once?” He said.

“Just this once.” You confirmed.

“You won’t … you won’t try anything again?” Joel’s eyes dropped back down to your mouth and his thumb gently traced your bottom lip. His other hand slipped from your waist to the bare small of your back from underneath your blouse.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, but you shakily nodded your head.

Joel didn’t believe you.

But, fuck it, he captured your mouth in another hungry kiss anyway, closing his eyes and holdiing you against him.

He was definitely going to hell, but he would gladly do so just knowing he had felt heaven against his lips.

And, fuck, was that an unforgettable taste.

Joel gently trailed his chapped lips down your jaw, your neck, and lingered on your pulse point, all while one hand held you by your nape and the other against the skin of your lower back, idly caressing the base of your spine with his thumb.

Instead of the white-hot passion that had initially been the catalyst for this heated night, this moment was charged with an underlying tenderness. And all you could do was throw your head back and accept his tentative indulgence.

Though by the way Joel unintentionally bucked his growing bulge against your clothed mound as he peppered the crook of your neck with open-mouthed kisses, you could tell his delicacy was largely imbued by whatever ounce of restraint he inexplicably retained and was, by no means, a testament to his true nature.

He was holding back.

“Joel?” You whispered, carding your hand through his hair.

“Mmm?” He hummed into your skin, his eyes closed in bliss.

“I want…” You began, the words dying in your throat.

What did you want?

Well, his cock, definitely. More specifically, inside of you, but you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

“Words, baby.” He pressed a final kiss onto your neck and pulled away the slightest distance to meet your gaze. His eyes were wrecked with lust; half-lidded and almost entirely swallowed by his dilated pupils. He softly took your face in the hand that was formerly resting against your nape. And when he spoke, his voice was low and rich with that sweeter-than-molasses Southern drawl. “Try that again. What do you want, honey?”

“You.”

“And you have me, don't you?” Joel said distractedly, his thumb lightly tracing your lower lip. His soft, umber eyes momentarily dipped down to your mouth as if he was debating on kissing you again.

And he was. Fuck, those lips of yours.

“No, I…” You breathed, your hand coming down in between your two bodies and palming his rock-hard erection through his denim. Joel hissed. “Can I suck you off?”

Joel’s eyes widened. You certainly held no room for subtlety.

“Fuck, honey.” He huffed. “Really know how to get to the point, don’t you?”

“Can I?”

Joel hummed.

“Can I be perfectly candid, sweetheart?”

“You have my blessing.” You arched a brow.

“If you so much as breathed on my dick right now, I think this night would come to a quick and rather … anticlimactic finish.” Joel sighed, breaking into a small smile. In true dad fashion, he then added, “pun not intended.”

You granted him the reward of a snicker for his antics. Then, you leaned close to his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin.

“If I had known that all I’d get from you was a dry-humping makeout sesh, I’d have stuck with Daniel.” You sighed, as casually as you could.

Without even looking at him, you saw the jealousy morph onto his aged face.

“Get on your fucking back.” He said, his voice measured, yet somehow equally unhinged.

You stilled, not expecting that much of a reaction from him.

“I said,” Joel met your gaze, his eyes holding a dangerous promise. “Get on your fucking back, young lady.”

And that was how you found yourself lying against the arm of a sofa older than the Great Depression with your jeans discarded in a wrinkled pile somewhere and your legs spread around the owner of said ancient sofa.

Joel crouched down in front of you, with one of your legs perched on his shoulder. He pushed your shirt up past your belly button and kissed a path down to the waistband of your panties.

His hand slid up your knee, then your thigh, and then stopped right against a particularly damp spot in your underwear.

“This for me or Daniel?” Joel hummed against your lower stomach, his stare flickering up to your face.

You bit your lower lip.

“You.” You said softly.

And then Joel lowered his head and kissed the patch of arousal. And then he kissed it again and again, basically frenching your cunt through your underwear. You could feel the pressure of his tongue against your swollen clit, sliding, only by a small margin as restricted by your godforsaken panties, in between your folds—

“Say that again for me, honey? Didn’t quite hear you.”

“Fuck–” You gasped at the feeling. “You, Joel!”

“That’s what I thought.”

To your displeasure, Joel stopped whatever the fuck he was doing and his eyes found yours once more.

“Need me to eat your pussy now, sweetie?”

Yes, fucking please.

You might’ve said that out loud, judging from the pleased chuckle Joel let out.

Before you knew it, Joel slid your panties off your legs (pocketing them secretly—only to wash them on your behalf, of course, nothing dirty at all on his part) and then consequently salivated at the sight of your bare cunt.

Fucking gorgeous.

“Oh, honey.” Joel sighed, barely hiding his eagerness.

“It hurts…!” You breathed, your eyes flickering down to your pulsating core; dripping wet and throbbing in anticipation of him.

“Aw, it hurts, does it? I’ll kiss it better, hm? Is that what my pretty girl wants?” Joel cooed in a falsely-sweet tone.

He then held you still by the firm grip on your waist and leaned down right in front of your slick seam.

Joel tutted as he took in your desperate scent.

“So wet for me.” He mumbled, more to himself than you.

Without warning, much less another word, Joel dipped his head down to plant a kiss directly on your swollen clit, lapping at the swelling bud.

You gasped and a hand flung down to grasp his salt-and-pepper curls.

Joel smiled against your cunt and moved further down, his tongue lazily sliding through your folds and flicking inside your velvety walls.

In response, your grip on his hair tightened and you whispered something close to his name. Or God’s. Or anyone’s, really, you were teetering on the edge of unconsciousness from the sheer intensity of the situation, you could’ve been reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, for all you knew.

“Mmm... fuck, you taste good, baby.” He mumbled against your heat.

Suddenly, Joel pulled away with a wet ‘pop’ and his eyes met yours. Upon seeing your lust-blown face, he smiled through his scruff—a slight shine evident around his mouth from your slick.

“Good?” Joel mused, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your hips.

You nodded deliriously and pulled him back up by the collar of his shirt—why the fuck was he still fully dressed—to taste yourself on him.

His lips moved hungrily against yours as he licked into your mouth. You were so consumed in the kiss, you barely noticed the sound of his belt unbuckling or his zipper sliding down.

It wasn’t until you felt the tip of his cock nudge against your seam that you noticed you were, very possibly, actually going to fuck your dad’s best friend.

Or rather, he’d fuck you. As long as you were fucked, you were fucking happy.

Your eyes flickered down to his length.

“Shit.” You gasped.

You always knew Joel to be a big guy; from his broad shoulders to his massive hands—no doubt incredibly useful in his line of work as a contractor. But seeing his fucking cock? You were still somehow surprised.

“Joel, I…” You blinked. “You’re so…”

Big. He was so big.

“Oh, c’mon baby, I know you can take it,” Joel said against your lips, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll go slow at first. That sound good?”

You nodded.

In hindsight, he should’ve worked you with his fingers first. That would’ve been the first thing he’d done after tasting your delicious fucking pussy, but he got lost in how good you felt against his mouth, he was too excited to feel how you’d stretch around him.

“That’s my good girl.” Joel hummed, satisfied. “I’ve got condoms upstairs, if–”

“I have an IUD.”

The four little magic words which really meant, please Joel, fuck me raw.

Ever the gentleman, Joel planned on doing exactly that.

“Then eyes down, sweetheart. Want you to watch how I fuck you.”

Obediently, your eyes dragged down to the sinful sight of Joel taking his cock and slapping it a few times on your pussy, before just barely sliding inside. His weeping tip easily disappeared inside you, along with an inch or two, aided by the arousal coating your entrance.

He wasn’t even halfway in, but the thickness of his cock was unlike any other you’ve felt before. And, possibly, too much for you to take.

“Too big.” You whined.

Above you, a wicked smile grew on Joel’s face.

“Too big? D’you just say it’s too big? Well, tough luck, sweetheart, ‘cause I ain’t stoppin’.”

Joel continued to push forward, thrusting shallowly in, retreating, and then feeding you a little more of his length at a relaxed pace.

“My good girl can take it, can’t she?” He murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. He mumbled indifferently in between tasting your sweet skin, “after all, you were the one begging me so sweetly to fuck you a little while ago. Would be a damn shame if you couldn’t follow through with your own request…”

“I can.” You affirmed, squeezing your eyes shut from the overbearing sensation of being filled by him.

“Attagirl.”

And then, to test your claim, Joel finally buried himself all the way to the hilt, his balls slapping obscenely against your ass from the movement.

“Daddy–!” You gasped, your nails digging into his back.

Joel’s lip quirked upward in a small, amused smile.

“‘Daddy’, huh? Should’ve figured.” He tutted, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You want daddy to stop?”

“N-No!”

“Then take it—” Joel thrust into you, his tip deliciously kissing your cervix. “—like a good girl.”

And then he began a steady pace. Not too slow, but fuck, did he hit deep.

You could’ve sworn you were seeing little cartoon stars dancing around your vision from the plane of pleasure you found yourself on; otherwise known as being dicked down by Joel Miller, apparently.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Joel winced, his hips stuttering.

He really should’ve stretched you out with his fingers first, but there was no way in fucking hell he was going to pull out now. Not with how perfectly your cunt was wrapping and crying around him.

In fact, you felt so good, Joel was starting to feel a familiar sensation in his lower stomach that alerted him of how close he was to prematurely spilling inside you. Turns out, his unintentional celibacy (circa the fucking creation of MySpace) had a bigger impact on him than he would’ve liked.

“Yeah? Do I feel good, daddy?”

Fuck.

Joel’s dick twitched.

If this really was going to happen ‘just once’, Joel was damned set on, firstly, fucking your brains out without coming early, and secondly, making you reach your end before he reached his. Ladies and gentlemen, chivalry was alive and well in the twenty-first century.

Thinking intently about the starting lineup for the Cowboys game that Sunday, Joel began to pick up the pace, reaching places you’ve never been aware of until that precise moment.

Mesmerised by both the slight outline of his dick in your stomach and the sheer sensation of his heavy length, you took it upon yourself to encourage a quicker speed and moved your hips in time with him.

“Mmm,” Joel inhaled sharply, locking eyes with you. “Look at you, prettly little slut. Tryna fuck me back too, huh?”

Your walls clenched around him at his words. Mean as they were, his tone was still as sweet as honey.

“‘S okay. You take what you need, babygirl.” Joel dipped his head down to suck at your pulse point as he continued sawing into your drooling cunt.

“Need more. Please.” You all but whimpered.

“My baby needs more, hm?” Joel muttered against your neck, nipping at a freshly-made hickey. You yelped in response, but Joel only grinned as he muttered to himself, “she’ll get more. Filthy fucking whore.”

And then Joel sped up his thrusts, going in and out, in and out, at a brutal pace. Salacious, wet sounds filled his living room every time he shoved his fat cock inside you. That, combined with the unabashed moans spilling from your mouth, made the whole affair seem borderline pornographic.

Not that Joel was complaining, because you sounded pretty as a peach.

“Joel!”

“Fuck, that’s it, Joel!”

“Oh, Joel, you’re fucking me so well!”

Your moans came in tandem with every stab of his cock, blabbering desperate words of praise as your walls fluttered around him.

Joel sucked in a breath.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, scream for me. Let the neighbours hear who’s fucking you so well, hm?” Joel lazily kissed your jaw. “You close, pretty girl?”

Unable to sound anything other than nonsensical syllables or his name or ‘daddy’ upon nearing your climax, you simply shook your head in an eager nod.

So Joel kept on mentally listing the fifty states to keep from joining you, and maintained his rapid pace.

“Go on, sweet girl, come on my cock. Let go, honey, I’ll catch you. ‘M right here.” Joel murmured sweetly, caressing your flushed cheeks. A total juxtaposition to the ruthless pace his hips were setting.

In and out. In and out.

In. And. Out.

And then his hand trailed down your bare stomach, lightly spidering over the faint outline of his dick jutting in and out of you, and settling on your very sensitive swollen bundle of nerves. His hand then began generously swiping at your clit as whispered sweet words of praise into your ear.

You clutched his bicep with an iron grip as you felt your high approach.

“Joel, I’m…!”

“Yeah, come on daddy’s cock. You’re so close, baby, just let go.”

And so you did. With a scream that reached God in the high heavens above, your walls clenched around him and you were nearly knocked out from the overbearing sensation of your intense orgasm.

Joel fucked you through it, unrelenting in his devoted momentum, his tip finding your cervix with every other thrust. And he continued fucking you through it, even after the last waves of your high, letting out low groans of pleasure.

When he saw your eyes refocusing, he slowed down for a moment, as reciting the ABC’s backwards was hardly working to calm his hard length.

“Don’t stop…” You mumbled, a bit sadly.

“Baby, I got no plans of stopping anytime soon, don’t you worry.”

And to prove his point, Joel kissed your right ankle and hitched your other leg over his shoulder, practically splitting you in half as he reached deeper inside you.

If he was gonna come, so were you. If the last thing he’d get to do on this godforsaken planet was send the pretty girl bent in half underneath him into two soul-shattering orgasms, he’d die a satisfied man.

Did he also want to show off and possibly ruin you for all men? Maybe.

Fuck, yes, he did.

He wanted you to be fucking addicted to the way his cock stretched your velvety walls, because he sure as hell was.

Screw the ‘just this once’ bullshit. He was gonna fuck you every damn night from now on, if you’d let him.

“Feels so good, Joel…” You whined pathetically.

Joel hummed in a self-satisfied sort of way and began pushing up your shirt to reveal your bouncing tits and leaned down to take a pebbled nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking at the nub, and nipping at the surrounding sensitive skin.

“Oh!” You gasped, jerking your head back.

Joel took it as a sign to continue, showing the exact same attention to your other nipple and maintaining his deep and rapid thrusts, causing the springs of the couch to whine in protest with every jut of his hips.

You let out a strangled moan.

“Joel—! Joel, it’s so…!” You panted, tears collecting in your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Shh, it’s okay. Almost there. Almost there, baby.” Joel tutted, gently swiping away your tears with his thumb as he continued to fuck you like he was an interior designer from the way he strived to rearrange your guts. “You gonna be good and come around daddy’s cock a second time?”

Your walls tightened in response and you let out a breathy whimper.

“Good girl.” He smashed his mouth against yours and swallowed your moans, his lips moving in time with his hips. “Where do you want me to…?” He mumbled against your lips, his breath mingling with your own.

“Inside.”

“Fuck, babygirl, you sure?”

“Miller, I said, inside.” You made a point to fuck yourself onto him with deep movements of your hips, displaying your intent.

“Yes ma’am.” Joel smirked, absolutely fucking pussydrunk.

With that, Joel caught your lips in another searingly intense kiss, licking into your mouth as his thrusts continued to ram into your cervix while you held onto the couch for dear life.

And if that wasn’t enough sweet torture to your poor body, Joel moved one hand above you, gently laced his fingers with yours, and brought it back down to lay flat against your clit.

“Play with that pretty pussy, baby.” He whispered against your skin, his hand moving yours encouragingly. “Need you to give me another.”

With a shaky nod, you acquiesced, toying with your clit like you had a million nights before.

Except this time, instead of imagining it, you really had Joel fucking Miller in between your legs, sawing into your cunt like he wanted to break it.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel’s mouth twitched into a slightly proud smile against your skin.

It took Joel half a dozen more stabs into your slick mound before his hips began to stutter.

And then it took three more before he buried himself completely inside, and, with a gasp of your name accompanied by an appropriate expletive, painted your walls with hot ropes of his come.

“Fuck, daddy!” You moaned, your back arching off the sofa.

At the same time, for the second time that night, no less, you felt yourself reach another mind-blowing orgasm, your walls greedily sucking him in further and shaking around his thick length.

He continued to fuck his come into you with a few more slow, but deliciously deep rolls of his hips, before he stilled inside you and fell on top of your heaving chest, letting your legs fall back onto the beaten old couch, too.

It took a few moments for both of you to steady your breaths.

“Was that … okay?” Joel breathed, staring at you with furrowed brows, and gently tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I think I blacked out for a second there.” You smiled.

Joel laughed and kissed the corner of your mouth. Smug as ever, he muttered, “I take tips.”

“That’s funny, since I just took yours.”

You almost felt Joel roll his eyes.

Joel slowly sat up, gazing down upon the absolute fucking mess the two of you made; both your arousals leaking out of your mound and coating your thighs in a light sheen.

Tenderly, he began to pull out, wincing from both the feeling of leaving your warmth as well as the sight of your come and his collecting around his cock in a shiny ring.

“Sit tight, baby, I’ll get you something to clean you up.” Joel pressed a kiss to your collarbone, tucked himself haphazardly back in his jeans, and disappeared off into another room.

If he had stayed a second longer, you would’ve said something that testified to how hard he had fucked you, since you weren’t sure you could move anyway.

Joel returned a minute or two later with a damp towel and began to softly wipe away the remnants of your dalliance, delicately caressing your hip with his other hand.

“What a gentleman.” You purred, watching him with a stupid grin on your fucked-out face.

Joel threw the towel aside.

“You think so, sweetheart?” He hummed, leaning down to give you a quick, affectionate kiss.

“Never had this level of aftercare.” You admitted, laughing slightly.

Joel gently manoeuvered the two of you so you laid on your sides facing each other on his surprisingly roomy sofa.

“Still regret not goin’ with that Daniel boy?” He smirked, taking your chin in between his fingers and tilting your face toward his.

You swung your bare leg over his hip and pulled him closer. “Not at all.”

“‘S what I thought.” Joel hummed happily, bumping his nose against yours.

“And … y’know what I said about this being a one-time thing?”

“Mhm?”

“We’re definitely doing this more than once.”

“Thank fucking God.”

[calypsocolada]

how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!

cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread

wc: 5k

click here for my masterlist

Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head. 

“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause. 

“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare. 

“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.

“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions. 

“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word. 

“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.

-

You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face. 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.

“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.

“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”

“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers. 

“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.

“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.

“I know that.” 

“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…” “You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.

-

Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached. 

“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.

“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful. 

“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.

“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.” 

“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.

“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up. 

“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.

“Anything enlightening?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.

“I would.”

“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.

-

Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing. 

“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.

“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you. 

“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself. 

“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look. 

“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.

“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”

“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”

“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen. 

“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems. 

“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”

“Why though?”

“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.

-

Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile. 

The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment. 

“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.

“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips. 

“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you. 

“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”

“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”

-

Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space. 

You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust. 

He’d never chased after someone so hard. 

You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did. 

It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.

“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.

“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable? 

“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.

“I’m very busy, you know.”

“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.

“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.

“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.

“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.

“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”

“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again. 

“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”

“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing. 

“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.” 

“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.

“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good. 

“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.

“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.

-

Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.

“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth. 

“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.

“Mr. Haganezuka  would kill  me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.

“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.

“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.

“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”

“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though. 

“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced. 

“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.

“I- I came to relax of course!”

“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice. 

“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know. 

“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.

“Uhm… y-yes?” 

“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats. 

“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you. 

“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe. 

“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment. 

“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble. 

“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face. 

“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could. 

“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”

“Kill me?” You filled in.

“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye. 

His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face. 

“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”

“Yes.” He says sharply. 

“Like lips on my lips.” “I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.

“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused. 

“No. You are not dead.” “I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”

“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.

“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.

“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily. 

“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.

“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?