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pin-k-ink · 10 days ago

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NO ROOM FOR DOUBT ⋆✦⋆ miya osamu

synopsis ➸ marriage isn’t supposed to feel this empty, but osamu’s starting to think you’re slipping through his fingers. he doesn’t mean to accuse you of anything, but when your coworker’s name leaves your lips one too many times, he snaps. you barely get a word in before he’s on you—angry, desperate, and determined to remind you who you belong to.

tags ➸ jealousy, insecurities, hurt/comfort, mild angst, profanity, mild dom/sub dynamics, degràdation, nípple play, dírty talking, breéding kínk, creampíe, rough séx, hand job, oral séx, praise kìnk, facial, unprotécted sèx

wc ➸ 11k

The bedroom was thick with tension as Osamu closed the book he'd been pretending to read for the past hour. Across the room, you remained diligently hunched over your desk - brow furrowed, pen scratching furiously, completely absorbed in your never-ending work. Just like every other night lately.

"Ya plannin' on joinin' me over here anytime soon?" Osamu finally broke the silence, unable to stomach being ignored and alone a moment longer. "Gettin' kinda cold and lonely in this big bed all by myself."

He made sure to inject just the right amount of heated suggestion into his tone. The kind that used to have you instantly abandoning your tasks to satisfy the mutual craving you couldn't resist giving in to. But just like every other attempt at intimacy lately, you didn't even look up from your paperwork.

"I can't, Osamu. This proposal is really important and I've got to have it ready to present first thing in the morning," you replied distractedly, hiding behind that same worn-out excuse as always. "It's going to be another couple hours at least before I can call it a night."

A muscle ticked in Osamu's chiseled jaw as his patience began eroding. This was just a never-ending cycle - you constantly burying yourself in work until you were too drained for anything other than collapsing into an exhausted, dreamless sleep far away from his arms. Meanwhile, he lay awake most nights, body thrumming with unbearable arousal and need as his mind tormented him with memories of how ravenous you'd once been for each other.

Osamu could vividly recall the exact curve of your arched spine as you'd kneel over him, all nude feminine softness and aching desperation. How your tongue would trail hot, openmouthed kisses from his navel to the drooling tip of his iron length, never taking your lidded eyes off his as you hollowed those perfect lips around his girth. The way you'd moan shamelessly around his cock when he fisted those silky tresses, using that divine warmth and pressure as the first of many selfish indulgences for the night.

He could picture the exact flare of your hips as you rode him cowgirl, riding his cock until he thought he'd slip into unconsciousness from the sheer unbearable pleasure. Those lush breasts would sway and jiggle with each erotic roll of your body, nipples pebbled with rapture as your slick walls massaged and milked every maddening inch of his thickness. Osamu always had to fight with everything in him not to lose control and start jackhammering up into that molten, velvet glove squeezing him to oblivion.

And even in the afterglow of coating your convulsing insides with his thick seed, their passion never dimmed. There was always another round of foreplay to indulge - his calloused palms branding the plush silk of your ass cheeks as he rutted against you from behind. Or his lips dragging over the aching throbbing of your clit as you shrieked through full-body shudders of bliss, actively ruining his face with your cream.

Osamu didn't care what degrading, filthy acts you subjected him to when your inhibitions were lowered. All he craved was wringing pleasure from your trembling form until you were both mindless, depraved wrecks overdosing on endorphins and the scent of your mingled passion.

But lately, his hunger went completely unslaked. You were always shutting him out, too preoccupied with your work to even touch or be touched. That blazing passion you'd once indulged so spontaneously and shamelessly had dimmed to bitter embers of resentment and stifling, endless tension.

Which was what led to Osamu's newest, most insidious torment - the poisonous creep of envy and anxiety whenever you mentioned that coworker constantly singing your praises.

Osamu tried not to let the jealousy show, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to bury those insecure feelings. You talked about your coworker constantly - this brilliant, ambitious "guy" you collaborated so closely with on major projects. Osamu couldn't help wondering if the intense admiration in your voice when you praised this man's professionalism and impressive work ethic hid something more.

After all, everyone in your family had been vehemently against you marrying someone like Osamu when you first got together. They'd wanted you to find a wealthy businessman, someone who could properly provide the lavish lifestyle they felt you deserved. But you had fallen even more deeply in love with Osamu's steadfast determination to make your chosen partnership work, despite your relatives' objections.

You'd stood firm in your commitment to the humble yet passionate chef who stole your heart. But now, years into your marriage, Osamu could feel the insidious tendril of doubt and anxiety taking root. Were you regretting your decision? Did some part of you regret not listening to your family and choosing stability and status over being saddled with someone like him?

He tried smothering those poisonous thoughts underneath the soul-deep love and adoration he had for you, convincing himself it was just irrational possessiveness. But the more you spoke about this mysterious coworker, the more Osamu's sense of inadequacy flared. This man seemingly had everything he lacked - money, ambition, societal respect. No wonder you were burying yourself in work to spend more time around someone who exemplified the qualities your family had pushed you to seek in a partner.

Osamu missed the way your relationship used to be before this gulf opened between you - back when he could surprise you at your office for a spontaneous lunch or quickie in the bathroom. He grinned reminiscently at the memories of having you bent over the desk, documents and office supplies clattering to the floor as he hungrily explored your body. You'd beg for him not to stop, to take you harder and deeper even as your coworkers milled about just outside none the wiser.

But those impromptu encounters had all but stopped over the past couple of months. Now when Osamu tried to initiate anything intimate, even at home in the privacy of your bedroom, you gently but dismissively waved him off - too tired, too preoccupied with work, or simply "not in the mood" thanks to stress. Each repeated rejection was like another dagger to his heart and his increasingly fragile ego.

So Osamu did his best to bury the hurt and the aching need you weren't fulfilling. He told himself it was just a rut your marriage was going through, that the scorching passion would inevitably rekindle once this busy period passed. You loved him - you'd sacrificed so much to be with him against your family's wishes, after all.

And yet...Osamu couldn't fully silence the nagging doubts constantly echoing in the back of his mind every time you mentioned that mysterious coworker's name. He couldn't ignore the way his chest clenched painfully whenever you praised the other man's intelligence, ambition, and impressive accomplishments - all things Osamu knew he could never provide you no matter how successful his onigiri business became.

It made him wonder if some part of you did regret the life you'd chosen, no matter how deeply you still loved him. Osamu couldn't help feeling increasingly like he wasn't enough of a man to truly satisfy the brilliant woman he'd married and adored for so many years. Like a legitimate future with someone like your admired coworker was the path you deserved, even if you didn't realize it yet yourself.

So Osamu simply withdrew more into himself, burying his hurt and hunger for your intimacy and unconsciously giving you even more space to invest yourself in work - and perhaps in another man's company without even realizing it. All because some traitorous part of his heart couldn't help wondering if he'd forever be seen as the wrong choice as a husband, no matter how selflessly he loved you.

A couple more hours dragged by in tense silence, the only sound being the occasional scratch of your pen against paper as you continued working diligently at your desk. Osamu's eyes kept flicking over to you, noticing the way the lamplight accentuated the furrow in your brow and the purse of your lips as you remained fully immersed in the proposal.

He felt the knot of frustration and desire tightening in his gut with each passing minute you diligently ignored him and the intimacy he was silently begging for. This couldn't go on any longer - he needed to feel that physical connection with you again before the ache drove him mad.

"Enough, sweetheart," Osamu stated firmly, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his voice as impatience finally won out. "Put the work down and get your gorgeous ass over here already. I'm done waitin'."

You finally looked up at him, startled by his uncharacteristically stern tone. For a beat, Osamu thought you might protest and dig your heels in about finishing the proposal. But something in his expression must have conveyed the simmering need, as you hesitated before giving a small nod.

With palpable reluctance, you set your pen aside and began gathering up the strewn paperwork into some semblance of order. Osamu watched every agonizing movement hungrily, from the way you licked your lips to the distracting sway of your hips as you pushed away from the desk at last.

He drank in every inch of you as you padded slowly toward the bed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked disheveled yet impossibly beautiful in that oversized shirt - the one he loved seeing you lounge around in because of how easily it could slip off those soft curves with just a bit of impatient tugging.

Osamu's arousal spiked painfully as you finally settled onto the mattress beside him, close enough now that he could smell the lingering hint of your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off your body. He didn't even try to mask the pure, wanton hunger in his gaze as it raked over your form shamelessly.

Unable to resist a moment longer, he surged forward and captured your lips in a searing, needful kiss. You made a muffled sound of surprise against his mouth but didn't pull away as his tongue boldly sought entrance. Osamu growled at the first teasing taste of you, fingers already clutching at your waist as if to pull you fully against him.

But you went rigid in his embrace, keeping a deliberate slice of distance between your bodies. When you broke the heated kiss, you turned your face away with a soft, "Not tonight, Osamu...I'm way too tired from working."

He fought not to let the biting sting of rejection show on his face, swallowing hard against it. "I've missed ya, darlin'...missed this," Osamu murmured, letting the rough pad of his thumb trace the plump swell of your lower lip in a silent plea. "Isn't there any part of ya that's missed me too?"

You hesitated, gaze skittering guiltily across his features. Something flickered in the depths of your eyes - that same dimmed spark of desire he saw more and more rarely these days. Then it was gone again, shuttered behind bone-deep weariness and excuses.

"I'm sorry, I know it's been a while..." you began, genuine regret lacing your tone. "But this proposal is really important, and I've got to be rested enough to present it to the board in the morning. I promise, after this is all over, we can..."

The unfinished reassurance trailed off into tense silence as you averted your gaze, unable or unwilling to even voice a promise of making time for intimacy again. Osamu swallowed hard, pulse thundering with mingled frustration and humiliated rejection.

So this was what it had come to - empty platitudes and obligatory excuses to avoid being touched by the husband who had once been unable to keep his hands off you. Somehow your flourishing career and singular focus on work had managed to obliterate any space for him in your world.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard against the torrent of bitterness and sorrow he refused to let overwhelm him. Without another word, he rolled over to put his back to you, fighting against the urge to simply leave and go sleep on the couch. At least then he could sink into his misery in solitude without your unintended presence serving as a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.

The next morning, Osamu awoke to the soft sounds of you getting ready for work. He lay there for a few minutes, eyes still closed as he tried to savor these final moments before the day inevitably pulled you away from him again. God, he missed the times when you used to linger in bed together before reluctantly untangling and starting your day.

Eventually, he couldn't resist sneaking a look at you. Osamu rolled onto his side, sheets pooling around his waist as he allowed his hungry gaze to roam over the alluring display you made. You were bent over the dresser in just a crisp button-down and lacy underwear, applying your makeup with those little focused furrows in your brow that he found so endearing. The firm swell of your ass was positioned enticingly in the air, practically begging for his calloused palms to shamelessly grope and knead the supple flesh.

Arousal began smoldering low in Osamu's gut as he drank in every lush inch of you. Your hair was still sleep-mussed, silky strands spilling over one shoulder in a way that made him ache to brush them aside and trail openmouthed kisses along the naked column of your neck. He found himself licking his lips instinctively, imagining the way you'd taste - how you used to whimper and arch shamelessly into his questing mouth whenever he leisurely explored your body with his own first thing in the morning.

Unable to resist the siren call a moment longer, Osamu threw off the sheets and padded silently up behind you. You jumped a little when his arms wound around your waist, the hard planes of his chest pressing flush against your back. But you didn't immediately push him away as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking in a deep breath of your intoxicating scent.

"Mornin', gorgeous," Osamu rumbled, voice still gruff with sleep. He punctuated the gravelly endearment by walking his fingers tantalizingly up the soft panes of your stomach, reveling in the sharp hitch of your breath when they grazed the lace-trimmed underside of your breasts. "Ya got any time to spend with your husband before leavin' for work this mornin'?"

Something in you seemed to soften at his words, the perpetual tension temporarily ebbing from your frame. Osamu couldn't deny the molten rush of arousal that licked through his veins when you arched subtly back against him - a blatant, wanton invitation despite the strict professional attire.

"I might be able to spare a few minutes," you murmured, tilting your head to allow his lips better access to your throat.

Osamu hummed deep in his chest, the vibration thrumming against your skin as his fingertips continued their leisurely stroking and teasing. His teeth grazed the thundering pulse point at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, not quite biting but exerting enough pressure to make you stifle a whimper. He took his time working over that same maddening patch of sensitive flesh - laving with his tongue, sucking harsh little marks against your salty-sweet skin, utterly worshipping you in a way he hadn't been able to in far too long.

By the time his questing mouth finally slanted over yours, you were already pliant and shamelessly seeking more in his embrace. The kiss quickly turned molten, all clashing teeth and dueling tongues as weeks of pent-up hunger and need poured out between you both. Osamu's hands roamed greedily from your hips down to the lush curves of your ass, squeezing with shameless possession before yanking your lower body flush against the undeniable ridge of his arousal.

You mewled into his mouth, the wanton little sound shooting straight to his cock and making it judder eagerly. For an endless moment, it seemed as though you were on the precipice of giving in fully. Osamu could already envision bending you over the dresser and stuffing you absolutely full of his aching cock, uncaring of how late you'd be to work. He was drunk on the honeyed taste of your mouth, the sultry roll of your hips grinding back eagerly against him.

Then, all at once, you were breaking the heated kiss with a strangled gasp. There was a beat where you simply clung to one another, panting harshly as if struggling to rein in your spiraling lust. When you finally managed to speak, your voice was thick and throaty in a way that made Osamu's cock throb with need.

"Gods, I've missed this, missed you..." you confessed in a throaty murmur, sounding genuinely contrite. You turned in Osamu's embrace then, locking your heavy-lidded gaze with his in a way that made his heart stutter behind his ribs. The naked yearning and simmering desire he saw smoldering in your hooded eyes was like a searing brand against his already feverish skin.

"I'm so sorry for being so distant lately," you continued, chest still rising and falling with dampened little pants from the heated make-out session. One of your hands stroked a tender path down the ridged planes of Osamu's abdomen, nails lightly raking through the crisp trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his loose sleep pants. "I know the work can't be an excuse forever. I promise, tonight I'll leave the office early and we can have the whole evening together...just the two of us."

The husky timbre of your voice combined with that single, deliberate caress had Osamu's neglected cock stirring almost painfully against the flimsy fabric restraining it. He couldn't quite bite back the guttural rumble of need that reverberated up from his very core as your fingers continued their teasing exploration lower and lower. You offered the faintest of smirks as your palm finally cupped and squeezed the unmistakable shape of his rapidly stiffening length through the thin material.

"Fuck, darlin'...ya really know how to make a man suffer, don'tcha?" Osamu ground out through gritted teeth as he moved to sat down on the edge of the bed before his knees gave out entirely. He watched in rapt fascination as your tongue peeked out to wet your plump lips - a deliciously sinful invitation in its own right. But it was the imperious glint flickering to life in your eyes that truly made his cock twitch and strain against the confines of his pants, desperate to be freed and indulged.

You held his heated stare boldly as you continued shamelessly fondling and stroking him to full, throbbing hardness. There was something deliciously intoxicating about having your petite hand working his most intimate places so deliberately, as if he were powerless to resist giving you whatever depravity you desired. As if you knew precisely how badly he craved feeling that velvet grip moments before coating your knuckles in his shameless release.

"I'm not the one suffering here, babe," you purred, giving his aching shaft one final rough caress that nearly bucked his hips off the mattress. "You're the one walking around with this monster straining in your pants all damn day, just waiting for me to give it some attention."

The hairs along Osamu's nape and forearms instantly prickled at your crude observation - not from offense, but from the undeniable bolt of molten arousal zinging straight to his groin at being talked about so blatantly. He gnawed the inside of his cheek, glaring down at you with a heady mixture of reproach and smoldering desire flickering in the gunmetal depths of his stare.

You didn't back down from the challenge, letting your palm drag up and over his length in one torturously slow glide. Then deft fingers hooked into his waistband, tugging the loose material down just enough for his flushed cock to spring free with a harsh intake of breath punching from Osamu's chest. His hands fisted in the disheveled bedsheets as you wrapped your fingers around the thick, pulsing shaft in a firm grip.

"Maybe I should take care of this right now before I head into the office," you mused idly, giving him a few light pumps that had Osamu clenching his jaw to stifle a groan. "At least give me a few more hours before you start going stir-crazy thinking about me all over again..."

The words were barely out of your mouth before Osamu was surging forward, one calloused palm cupping the nape of your neck to yank you into a searing kiss. You let out a muffled yelp of surprise against his lips that was quickly swallowed by his questing tongue delving into the slick, honeyed heat of your mouth. Evidently you'd awoken the ravenous beast within by your blatant taunting and teasing - something dark and blazing now flickering to life behind Osamu's blown pupils.

"Be careful what ya tempt me with, baby girl," he rumbled in a low, gravelly warning as his hips lurched into the tight channel of your fist. "I might just take ya up on a hell of a lot more than that pretty little hand of yours..."

Your pupils blew wider at the explicit promise scorching every word, chest arching into his solid frame as your fingers instinctively tightened around his steely girth. Osamu hissed out a curse at the exquisite friction, thick droplets of precum already welling up and spilling over your pumping knuckles to ease the slick, heated glide.

You licked your lips unconsciously as your gaze dropped to drink in the vulgar sight of your fist working his flushed cock with more fervid urgency. There was an almost transfixed, rapturous look glazing over your features - as if you were utterly enthralled watching Osamu's thick length disappear between your fingers again and again in a messy rhythm. He could feel the rapidly mounting tension lancing through his spine, the telltale tingling heat sizzling out from his groin with each firm pull of your hand along his shaft.

But even as pleasure threatened to steal the last of his composure, Osamu still mustered the strength to reach down, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your dress shirt, intent on returning the favor. His pulse jackhammered against his sternum as he tugged the crisp white material away, revealing the lacy undergarment clinging to the supple swell of your breasts.

He felt the hot bloom of need flare in his gut, unable to resist the temptation to squeeze and knead the ample flesh. Your eyelids fluttered shut with a breathy moan as he toyed with your nipples, teasing them into stiff, rosy peaks that strained against the sheer lace. The air left Osamu's lungs in a harsh, strangled hiss as you tightened your grip around his swollen cock, a fresh wave of precum trickling down the flushed shaft.

It was all he could do not to simply rip the garment off you in a fit of desperate hunger. Instead, he pulled the cups down beneath the generous swell of your breasts, revealing the taut, pebbled buds and making a hungry growl reverberate deep in his chest.

"I've missed these so fuckin' much," Osamu rasped, voice hoarse with arousal. His thumbs dragged across the sensitive tips, reveling in the way they hardened further at his touch. "Been dreamin' of puttin' my mouth all over 'em again."

Without waiting for a response, Osamu leaned down and wrapped his lips around one eager nipple, letting his tongue swirl and flick over the bud. He was rewarded with a soft, breathy cry as your grip faltered, pleasure momentarily stealing away the ability to maintain the steady rhythm. But you quickly recovered, hand resuming its quick, urgent pace while the other tangled in the wild tresses at his nape, pressing his face closer into the inviting softness of your breasts.

A low, needful groan vibrated through the sensitive flesh in his mouth, making you whimper. Your nails bit into his scalp, holding him in place while his tongue worked and laved over the hardened tip, thoroughly lavishing the pebbled peak with his mouth and attention. Osamu's mind was spinning with the intoxicating blend of pleasure and need, the coil in his gut winding tighter and tighter.

He could already feel the tingling heat licking up his spine, signaling the impending explosion. There was nothing he could do to stop it, especially when your thumb swirled across the bulbous tip of his cock. Osamu tore his mouth away from your breast with a snarl, biting his lower lip until it almost bled as his hips shuddered and jerked, the first hot spurt of cum streaking across his abdomen.

He felt more than heard the satisfied hum reverberating through your chest as his cock pulsed and twitched against the slick warmth of your palm. Each new pump dragged a ragged grunt from his throat, milking the last of his release onto the flushed skin of his heaving stomach. It took a long, hazy moment for his vision to stop swimming, the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm still ricocheting through his frame.

In the delirious afterglow, Osamu couldn't resist the primal urge to roll you onto your back and splay himself over your pliant form. His body was still thrumming with the lingering tremors of ecstasy, every nerve ending humming like a livewire in the most exquisite way. But rather than feeling sated, that molten kernel of desire seemed to blaze even hotter at your flushed, thoroughly debauched appearance beneath him.

Your chest heaved with dampened little pants, spit-slick nipples straining against the thin fabric of your unbuttoned blouse. Osamu's gaze roamed shamelessly over the dusky flush staining your skin, down to where the scant lace of your underwear was already soaked through with arousal. He could still taste the honeyed tang of your essence on his tongue from devouring your mouth so ravenously.

With a rumbling groan of renewed hunger, Osamu dipped his head to trail a blazing path of open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips along the elegant column of your throat. You whimpered and arched into the delicious onslaught, clearly struggling to recover your senses enough to protest or push him away. Not that Osamu would have heeded any objections in that heated moment.

"'Samu..." you finally gasped out in a breathy whine as his questing mouth found the swell of your breasts. "I...I have to go or I'll be late..."

He merely grunted against the lush, silken mounds he'd bared so wantonly, tongue swirling over one pebbled peak before sucking the hardened nub between his lips. The broken, urgently tangled sound you made in response sent a scorching spiral of satisfaction lancing through Osamu's groin. For this solitary, lust-drenched instance, you were his again - the gorgeous, needy wife who used to tremble and beg for him to take his time devouring every lush inch.

"Don't think 'bout leavin' this bed until I've had my fill, darlin'," he rumbled, voice pitching even lower and rougher with naked longing.

Perhaps he should have been embarrassed by the wanton, possessive words spilling so unrestrainedly from his lips. But Osamu was too deliriously drunk on the taste and scent and feel of you, the opportunity to rekindle the blazing passion you'd both been so callously denying for far too long. He could already feel the thick insistence of his cock rapidly regenerating between your bodies, seeking that slick source of intoxicating velvet heat.

You seemed to read the explicit intent smoldering behind his hooded stare. With visible effort, you reached up to gently but firmly push against Osamu's shoulders, demurring even as your chest continued rising and falling with shallow pants of desire.

"I really do have to go," you murmured again, licking your plump lips in a completely unconscious gesture Osamu couldn't tear his eyes from. "But...I promise tonight will be just for us. No distractions or work, just you and me reacquainting ourselves properly."

Your sincerity and the dark, heated vow behind those words punched the breath from Osamu's lungs in a trembling exhalation. Part of him - the part that had been aching and insecure for so long now - longed to open his mouth and spill every pent-up insecurity and anxiety. To voice the ugly wonderings that had been festering over whether you harbored deeper regrets about the paths your lives had taken together.

"Do ya...have any regrets?" He found himself rasping out before he could reconsider voicing his private torment. "About us, I mean. Marryin' a guy like me instead of—"

The shrill trill of your phone sliced through the weighted air like a cold slash of sobriety, effectively derailing Osamu's spiraling train of thought. You both froze, heads whipping toward the maddening sound with identical expressions of startled disruption.

Then, as if through a physical force, Osamu felt his stomach plummet all over again when he saw the name that had lit up your screen, accompanying that godforsaken ringtone.

Him. That overly accomplished, smooth-talking coworker you were always praising and mentioning incessantly, whether you realized the implication or not. Osamu's jaw clenched hard enough to grind his molars audibly, hot lance of bitter jealousy flaring with staggering potency. He wanted to ignore the call completely, grab you by the shoulders and shake the truth out of you then and there. Demand honesty about the nature of your relationship with this asshole who always seemed to interrupt and insert himself into their lives, even inadvertently.

But just like that, the rapturous spell you'd both temporarily fallen under was obliterated. Perhaps sensing the drastic shift in Osamu's energy, you quickly sat up and smoothed your disheveled appearance before answering with a terse: "This is [Y/N]. Yes, I was just..."

Osamu barely registered your muffled conversation as white-hot lances of jealousy and resentment pierced through his heartbeat in crashing waves. He simply couldn't stomach listening to the familiar, upbeat tones you always used whenever discussing anything related to that insufferable coworker. The one whose very existence always sent Osamu spiraling into pits of doubt and masculine inadequacy no matter how much logic dictated otherwise.

With stiff, jerky movements, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stooped to hastily tug his pants back into place. His jaw was still clenched so tightly he could feel the tendons straining, every snapping motion charged with scarcely restrained frustration. Part of Osamu didn't even know where this combustible mixture of emotions was coming from - only that it had been abruptly stoked into an inferno within his chest at the sound of that man's name on your lips yet again.

He needed to get out, to escape the suddenly suffocating confines of your bedroom before he had a chance to let the uglier side of his temper detonate in your direction undeservedly. Osamu knew damn well you didn't owe him anything, let alone an explanation for simply taking a call about work in the middle of your morning routines. It was his own traitorous demons and self-doubts rearing their insidious heads yet again.

You'd just begun to make a sincere effort at bridging the distance that had calcified between you, after all. And then he'd managed to go and ruin the moment in spectacular fashion as always. Osamu cursed beneath his breath, shoving his feet into the nearest pair of sandals with jerky impatience as he prepared to storm out and spend the day holed up at the restaurant letting the ovens scour the resentment from his system.

Just as he was yanking on his t-shirt, your soft voice cut through the haze of turmoil ricocheting through his skull: "Osamu, wait..."

He froze in place, muscles coiled tensely as you stepped into his space and pressed your palms over the flushed, taut planes of his abdomen. Your eyes were large and imploring as you tipped your face up towards his, bottom lip caught between your teeth in an unconscious gesture that stirred his lingering lust despite the tangled knot of conflicting emotions.

"I know the timing was awful, but you have to know that call didn't change anything," you murmured, trailing the words against the stubbled line of his jaw in a soft caress. "Tonight is for us, 'Samu. Just you and me with no more interruptions, I swear it."

Those silky reassurances seemed to simultaneously drench Osamu's temper in a dampening balm while stoking the embers of longing and reaffirmation you'd awoken deep within him. He leaned unconsciously into your touch, letting his eyes drift shut as you pressed a lingering kiss to the thundering pulse at his throat. You knew just how to gentle the storm within him, how to properly tame the roiling storm of chaotic need and desire ever-present just beneath his surface restraint.

"You'd better keep that promise, my gorgeous girl," Osamu rasped out gruffly, suddenly lacking the energy to maintain any semblance of distance or aloofness. Abandoning his half-hearted escape attempt, he wound his arms around your waist and crushed you flush against his bare chest. God, how he'd missed the contoured perfection of your body molded to his, the soft delirious surrender of your mouth pillowing into his as the kiss deepened.

After several breathless, devouring moments, you were the one who finally broke away with obvious reluctance. There was an adorable, swollen temptation clinging to your features that made heat bloom anew in Osamu's groin.

"I should...I should really get going before I'm any later," you managed, despite the way your palms drifted aimlessly along his flanks in mute contradiction. "Just...try to have a good day, okay? And be ready to make good on that promise tonight."

The reminder of your imminent departure momentarily dampened the rekindled blaze licking through Osamu's veins, though he managed a faint nod through the disappointment. There would be no more delaying the outside world's demands this morning, he recognized begrudgingly.

"Yeah, darlin', you go on and take care of your business," he rumbled, forcing a tight smirk in place. "I'll be right here waitin' to take damn good care of you later."

With one final, searing look of naked longing and affection, you slipped from his embrace and bustled around to collect your things. Osamu leaned back against the wall and admired every efficient movement and enticing flash of bare skin exposed by your mussed attire. He knew better than to try stealing any further moments beyond what you'd already indulged. Tonight would come, and with it the chance to reconnect with you in all the ways he'd been starving for lately.

That glimmer of hope and rekindled anticipation was enough to infuse Osamu with much-needed patience as he finally watched you head out the door, throwing a coy glance over your shoulder. For the first time in months, the future felt more like an endless oasis to indulge in rather than an empty desert to be endured.

The muffled ticking of the bedside clock seemed to reverberate through Osamu's skull like a steadily amplifying drum of dread. Midnight had come and gone over an hour ago, each agonizing minute distorting into excruciating suspense as he waited impatiently for you to arrive home as promised.

He'd closed up the restaurant early for once, something he almost never allowed for fear of disappointing the loyal patrons who depended on the Miya name. But tonight was supposed to be different - a rare evening reserved solely for reconnecting with the wife he adored yet had been neglecting for far too long. So Osamu made the sacrifice without a second thought, eager to slip into your shared home and set the scene for a night of indulgent intimacies.

Which was why he currently sat perched on the edge of your rumpled bed, stripped down to just his loose sleep pants in anticipation. Flickering candlelight danced in a sensual halo across the dimly lit space, blending with the heated aromas of scented oils he'd taken care to prepare. An indulgent spread of chilled sake and decadent fruits had been arranged on the bedside table, standing ready for whenever you finally saw fit to arrive.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard as his eyes flicked once more to the glowing numbers of the clock, each one seeming to mock his vigil more cruelly than the last. Where the hell were you? What could possibly be keeping you so unconscionably late after making such emphatic promises about spending one uninterrupted evening reacquainting yourselves on every conceivable level?

He fought not to let his mind spiral down the darkest avenues, to those insidious tendrils of self-doubt and virulent envy that had taken root thanks to your increasing emotional distance lately. Osamu knew where those toxic paths led - to irrational accusations, defensive postulating, and the exact sort of explosive confrontation that could shatter the fragile new understanding you'd seemingly reforged earlier in the morning.

And yet the minutes continued their merciless tick...tick...tick down to oblivion, each one stoking Osamu's restless frustration into an inextinguishable furnace despite his best efforts. You'd sworn there would be no more distractions tonight, nothing to divert your attentions from properly reconnecting after so much strain and deprivation between you both. He'd believed you with every fiber of his soul, clinging to that hushed promise like a man dying of thirst finally being offered the sweetest oasis to drink from.

But here he sat, alone and slowly twisting within the flames of his own insecurities and irrational resentments as the night stretched on interminably. Surely you wouldn't be so cruel, so selfish as to actually disregard everything you'd—

The rattle of keys in the front door snapped Osamu from his spiraling torment like a rubberband violently released. He was on his feet in an instant, bare chest heaving from the rapid thundering of his pulse as hurried footsteps approached. There was only the barest glimmer of composure in his expression by the time you came into view, haloed in the soft lighting with your usual unruffled elegance noticeably brittle around the edges.

"Hey, I'm so sorry it took so—" You jolted at the utterly thunderous look twisting Osamu's normally unshakable features. It was as if you'd stepped directly into the crosshairs of a volatile storm system, the roiling tumult threatening to obliterate you where you stood.

"Don't," he bit out through gritted teeth, the words escaping on a scorched exhale. "Whatever excuse ya think ya got, I don't wanna hear it right now."

Your eyes widened fractionally at his harsh tone, so uncharacteristically biting and laced with venom he usually kept on a brutally leashed tether around you. Perhaps you sensed the dangerous inferno searing through Osamu's veins in that loaded moment, the rage and desolation rapidly overriding any attempts at patience or understanding.

"This was s'posed to be our night, just the two of us reconnectin' after so much bullshit strain and distance," Osamu seethed, taking an inadvertent step forward on legs that felt like they may give out from all the unreleased tension. "But ya blew that off, same as everythin' else lately. Can't even be bothered to show up and make an honest try at it—"

"Osamu, that's not fair at all!" You cut him off with a flash of your own bristling defensiveness. "You know this new project has been crazy for everyone in the office lately. Sasaki needed some files finished up for the big meeting tomorrow, so I—"

The mention of that name was like a razor slashing through the final taut threads of Osamu's restraint. His vision whited out momentarily, a primal roar of fury ripping from deep within his straining chest.

"Don't you dare say that snake's name in front of me right now, not after all his bullshit is what caused this whole fuckin' mess!" Osamu bellowed, unable to control the torrent of rage and accusation lashing out in every direction now.

You recoiled as if struck, eyes widening with genuine shock at the venom dripping from Osamu's words. "What the hell are you talking about, Osamu? Bringing Sasaki into this?"

He let out a harsh, derisive bark of laughter completely devoid of mirth. "Don't act so damn clueless! Ya really think I'm blind to everything that's been goin' on lately?"

Whirling away from you, Osamu raked his hands through his disheveled hair with a ragged groan. "Ya can't even be bothered to show up for one goddamn night after promisin' me - promisin' your own husband - that you'd actually make time for us. Instead ya let that wormy son of a bitch take priority over me, over this marriage, just like always!"

He punctuated his outburst by sweeping an arm across the bedside table, sending the sake bottle and plate of fruit clattering to the floor in a violent clatter. You flinched bodily at the outburst, more stunned than anything by the sudden shift into such ferocious rage.

"I don't understand... What does Sasaki have to do with any of this?" you demanded, hands curling into fists at your sides. "He's my colleague, Osamu - my coworker on this huge make-or-break project. You're acting completely insane right now!"

"Oh I'm insane?" he snarled, wheeling back to face you with eyes made incandescent by the inferno of betrayal raging within. "That's rich comin' from the wife who's been slowly driftin' away to give all her time and attention to another man!"

The vicious accusation seemed to hang there, reverberating through the tense silence as Osamu stared you down with heaving breaths. You opened and closed your mouth once, twice, before the hurt and outrage finally burst free in a trembling torrent.

"How dare you..." The whisper was barely audible over the thundering of blood in your ears. "How dare you even suggest that I would...that I could ever..."

You didn't bother finishing the thought, simply hurling it aside as you stalked towards him with fury lending each step a razor's edge. "You bastard! How could you accuse me of something so vile, so unfathomably disgusting?"

Osamu held his ground even as you drove into his space, eyes blazing and jaw so tightly clenched he wondered if molars might start fracturing under the strain. "Well why the hell else would ya keep brushin' me off like some irrelevant afterthought whenever that prick's name gets brought up?"

That earned him a hard shove to the chest that made him stumble back a step. "Because he's my project manager, you insensitive prick! We've been working around the clock to pull this massive deal together, not carrying on some tawdry affair behind your back!"

Osamu opened his mouth, a scathing retort undoubtedly primed to further stoke the raging inferno engulfing you both. But you barreled forward, far too swept up in your own torrent of indignation to give him the chance.

"I can't believe you'd think I was capable of that, of betraying you like that!" You were nearly shouting now, treading the terrifying line of pushing too far with your vehement denial. "Have I really fallen so low in your eyes, Osamu? Have you completely lost all respect for me as your wife just because I've been stressed with work?"

The words seemed to splinter something inside him, shattering the final vestiges of Osamu's tenuous restraint like a wrecking ball through glass. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go - not even remotely close. Yet here you both were, lashing out with scorching recriminations and accusations so poisonous they could permanently scald the bond you'd been fighting so hard to preserve.

The tension escalated rapidly as deep-seated insecurities and resentments came pouring out from Osamu in a torrent of anguished words.

"You think I'm blind?" he rasped, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides. "I see the way ya talk about him - all admirin' and impressed. Like he's exactly the kinda successful, ambitious man ya wish ya coulda ended up with instead of a guy whose biggest accomplishment is plowin' rice into little seaweed pockets."

Osamu's throat bobbed convulsively, the swell of emotion he'd fought so hard to keep tamped down suddenly rupturing free without restraint. "Don't try denyin' it, darlin'. We both know your family never wanted this for ya - never wanted some third-rate chef as a son-in-law when ya deserved someone who could actually give ya a real, prosperous future."

You opened your mouth to protest - whether to rail against his baseless accusations or to deny the awful truth ringing out from his words, it was impossible to say. But Osamu simply barreled forward, finally giving voice to every twisted vine of anxiety and inadequacy that had been slowly strangling him from the inside out.

"I ain't blind to how impressive that asshole Sasaki must seem in comparison," he forced out in a guttural rasp. "'Course ya had to go fallin' for his fake charms and prestigious career instead of stayin' happy with a foolish dreamer like me who hasn't accomplished a godddamn thing outside the kitchen..."

There was so much raw, visceral pain laced into the venom now, to the point where it seemed to sap the very fire thrumming through Osamu's veins. His shoulders slumped infinitesimally as the next words escaped in a broken exhalation that may as well have torn straight from the tattered remnants of his heart:

"Bet ya regret it nowadays, don't ya? Regret waitin' around for me to finally become a man who deserves someone as outta my league as you..."

The weighted silence that followed could have been sliced with a heated blade. Osamu's chest heaved raggedly with the exertion of finally purging that bottle of poisonous self-loathing and desperate jealousy he'd allowed to steep unchecked for far too long. He couldn't even meet your widened stare, afraid of what condemnation or twisted sense of validation he might find reflecting back in your eyes.

When you finally did speak, the words were laced with a mordant, simmering fury that very nearly made Osamu flinch.

"You absolute fool..." Your voice shook with the sheer effort of leashing your own outrage at such egregiously unfounded accusations. "We've built an entire life together - made innumerable sacrifices and shed blood, sweat and tears to stay by each other's sides against all resistance. And you have the audacity to stand there and suggest I've been regretting my choice the whole time?"

Osamu did flinch then at the naked hurt bleeding into your tone, even as you took a threatening step forward into his space. "You think I give a damn about some uppity corporate suit's status or paycheck? That shallow, meaningless bullshit like money and prestige means anything to me compared to finding a man with the strength of conviction to relentlessly pursue his own dreams and passions?"

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and something infinitely more searing - the look of utter betrayal that comes from having one's most profoundly held beliefs and principles insulted so grossly. "I chose you, Osamu. Not because I settled or had limited options, but because I saw a fiercely ambitious man who refused to let anything deter him from the path he'd chosen. Who am I to judge or look down on that resolve when it's the very thing that's taken you this far in life and made your wildest dreams into reality?"

You uttered a choked, incredulous bark of laughter then, thumbing away the treacherous moisture from your lashes. "And yet here you are, somehow twisting my admiration and commitment into some kind of damning regret? As if I'd ever be shallow enough to toss away everything we've fought for just because some stuffed shirt made more money than the husband I willingly chose to spend my life with?"

The words hung there, searing into Osamu's skin like a brand of recrimination and disgrace that he knew he'd never fully recover from. His throat worked uselessly as his mouth dried up completely, every fresh inhale feeling like shards of glass being slowly dragged down his esophageal lining.

"Darlin', I—" Osamu's words caught in his throat, the apology and desperate plea for understanding withering on his tongue.

Your expression hardened as you watched him struggle, lips pressed into a flat line. For a tense moment, it seemed like you might indeed turn and storm away, leaving Osamu to wallow in the shattered ruins of his unfounded accusations and misplaced jealousy.

But then your features softened almost imperceptibly. You seemed to truly take in the picture he made - shoulders slumped, eyes downcast with naked shame and regret, hollow ache etched into the lines of his face. Slowly, you bridged the distance between you until you could reach out and gently cup his bristled jaw, coaxing his gaze up to meet yours.

"Oh 'Samu..." you murmured, thumb tracing the sharp plane of his cheekbone. "How long have you been torturing yourself with all these insecurities?"

He worked his jaw but no sound emerged save a ragged exhalation. Osamu felt utterly flayed open and exposed under the weight of your searching stare. As if you could see straight through to the twisted tangle of self-doubt and desperate possessiveness that had steadily tightened its vice-like grip around his heart.

You simply shook your head, features etched with a complicated mixture of sadness, exasperation, and that bone-deep affection he'd watched himself slowly burying over the past weeks and months. "All this time, you've been utterly convinced I was unhappy, that I was regretting my choice to be with you. When the truth couldn't be more opposite..."

Leaning in, you pressed your brow to Osamu's and simply held there for a long, grounding moment. He could feel the featherlight sweeps of your exhales fanning across his skin, smell the warm, comforting fragrance of your hair enveloping his senses. It was like your mere presence acted as a balm against the rawest, most inflamed parts of him.

"I don't know exactly when or how we let ourselves drift so far apart," you eventually continued in a murmur meant only for him. "All I know is how unbearable the distance became, feeling you slipping further and further away from me with each passing day. Maybe I did get too wrapped up in work and missed the warning signs..."

Osamu shuddered out a shaky breath, feeling the knot of shame and guilt inside him swell larger. Your understanding, your infinite well of empathy and wisdom that he'd somehow deluded himself into believing you'd grown contemptuous of - it was all still here, still the most beautiful facet of the woman he'd fallen for all those years ago. How could he have been so blind? So deeply steeped in insecurity and baseless resentments to lash out at you in such a vile manner?

As if sensing his spiraling self-flagellation, you cradled the nape of his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss that he instantly melted into. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness and reaffirmation, a reminder of the profoundly deep love and unwavering devotion you'd sworn to one another through all the hardships thrown your way. When you finally parted, Osamu chased your mouth with a low, plaintive rumble of unvarnished need.

"I'm here, 'Samu," you reassured him with solemn conviction. "We're going to find our way back to each other, just like we always have. But you have to start learning to trust me again. To trust in the choice I made to have you as my partner through everything life throws our way, no matter what."

Osamu could only nod helplessly against the crown of your head, arms tightening their embrace as if you might simply evaporate into the ether without his anchor. He felt hollowed out, scraped raw from finally lancing the fetid well of poisonous emotions he'd allowed to fester for far too long.

But beneath the shame and regret still simmering dimly, a new spark of warmth kindled to life within his chest. You hadn't given up on him, on them, despite his unforgivable lapse of faith. If anything, your understanding and patience seemed to burn brighter in the aftermath of such an explosive confrontation.

"I never stopped trustin' you, darlin'," he rasped out in a voice made husky from the night's tumultuous purging. "Not really. Just got so twisted up in my own bullshit fears of not bein' enough for ya that I...I let it blind me to everythin' else."

Pulling back just enough to brush away the dampness clinging to your lashes, Osamu managed a wan smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ya deserve so much more than some deadbeat who lets his own demons make him lash out at the best thing he's ever had."

You shook your head mutely, fingers tracing the sharp curve of his cheek with infinite tenderness. "That's where you're wrong, 'Samu. I don't want or need anything 'more' than you - than this life and family and partnership we've created together through the years."

Ducking your head, you pressed a soft kiss Just above the thundering pulse at his throat, seeming to savor the solidity of him against your mouth. "Maybe that's where I failed you too. Got so wrapped up in my own career ambitions that I didn't reassure you enough of how precious you are to me."

Osamu shivered at the whisper-light caress of your lips slowly mapping across the column of his neck, your breath fanning in warm gusts against his sensitized skin. There was an achingly familiar heat rapidly rekindling low in his abdomen despite his emotional rawness - like an instinctive, Pavlovian response to your intimate proximity and worship after so much bitter starvation.

"Ya still chose me over everythin' y'know," he managed in a low, strained rasp as your mouth continued blazing an indulgent path towards his collarbone. "Despite all the bullshit expectations and pressures tryin' to push ya towards greener pastures, ya fought to be by my side. Never really understood how that didn't scare a gorgeous, brilliant woman like you away for good..."

A tremor shuddered through Osamu's frame at the deliberate graze of your teeth Just below his ear, the shock of blunted sensation bordering on pain yet stoking the slow smolder between his hips into an inferno. He could feel his cock rapidly stiffening within the loose confines of his sweats, aching arousal pulsing thickly as your mouth meandered lower.

"Maybe the real question..." you purred in a voice gone husky with a new and deliciously different kind of need. "...is whether you think I regret my choice now when you're standing here all hard and fuckable and completely irresistible to me?"

The shockingly filthy endearment combined with the questing path your fingers had begun to blaze down Osamu's abdomen, dipping just below the tempting waistband of his clothes, made his eyelids flutter closed with a harsh exhalation. You knew exactly which of his buttons to push, what incendiary combination of pleasure and praise could undo his restraint at the drop of a hat.

Something wild and ravenous flickered to life behind his lust-glazed eyes as Osamu hauled you flush against him, the evident ridge of his arousal grinding into the soft give of your belly between your bodies. There would be no more talking for the moment, he decided with a low rumble vibrating against your mouth. Just the two of you indulging in the most profoundly intimate form of communication after being starved of it for far too long.

The raw neediness quickly bled away any lingering awkwardness or heavy emotional weight between you. In its place thrummed that deliriously familiar charge - the revved tension of two lifelong partners who knew every intimate tell and trick to unraveling one another with ruthless precision.

"God, I've missed this..." Osamu growled against the swell of your throat, teeth scraping just firmly enough to make you shudder. "Missed havin' ya spread out and whinin' for more of this cock like the rapturous little slut ya are."

You whimpered at the dark timbre of his words, tilting your head back on instinct to bare more of your neck's vulnerable expanse. Despite the crude endearment, you could feel slick arousal already dampening your inner thighs at Osamu's molten promises. This was the raw, unrestrained husband you'd been starving for too - the one who wielded filth and adoration in equally devastating measures.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunted breathlessly, raking blunt nails down the ridges of his abdomen. "Fill me up already, make me your whore for wasting so much time..."

A punched-out groan rattled up from Osamu's chest as he hauled you impossibly closer, thick cock twitching insistently against your clothed belly. "Oh I'm gonna take my sweet time, baby girl. Gonna ruin that greedy lil' cunt 'til you're nothin' but a soppy, overstuffed mess beggin' for air..."

There was no more need for foreplay or delicate reintroductions as you both rapidly descended into your basest headspaces. You simply tore at his sweatpants with ravenous impatience until Osamu's thick, flushed length sprang free and into your eager fist. He snarled against the sting of your palm working his shaft in rough, decisive strokes meant to bring him to the very precipice before you'd even entertained the idea of lining him up to your entrance.

But that was the beautiful dance you'd perfected over years of pushing each other's limits - winding one another up into such blazing states of desperation that the eventual payoff was nothing short of psychedelic euphoria. Osamu's huge palms were already shoving up the thin fabric of your top, exposing your bare breasts to his calloused adulation as he rutted shamelessly against your pumping fist.

"Not gonna last if ya keep that up, my gorgeous little cumslut..." he gritted out in a strangled rasp, foregoing any further niceties. "Better start puttin' that cock-hungry mouth to good use already if ya want a chance at gettin' bred tonight..."

Dropping instantly to your knees, you simply quirked a taunting brow up at your husband's wrecked expression before guiding the blunt, drooling tip of his length between your already slicked lips. Osamu gathered your hair in his fist and simply held for a beat, watching the obscene way his swollen girth disappeared in and out of your welcoming warmth with a rapturous expression.

"There's my pretty lil' cockwarmer," he groaned, canting his hips to sink a fraction deeper. "Fuck, been dyin' to have that hot lil' tongue of yours back on my dick..."

The rest of his words melted into a low, animalistic snarl as you bobbed down and swallowed around him, coaxing a fat, pearly droplet of pre-cum from his tip. The rich, salty flavor flooded your senses and made you moan eagerly, the vibrations making Osamu's eyes flutter shut and his cock throb heavily in your grasp.

He looked like a veritable Adonis standing there framed in the moonlight, towering and muscled and utterly, deliciously ruined by the way your lips and tongue were working him over. But the best part was the way he watched you with rapt, devouring attention, utterly spellbound by the lewd, wet sounds emerging from the union of your mouth and his swollen shaft.

It was a heady rush of power to have such a formidable man at the mercy of your mouth - to know you'd driven him so delirious with arousal and affection that he could barely restrain the need to come undone. But you could already feel the telltale tension beginning to tighten in his thighs, the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as Osamu's breath turned ragged.

"Not gonna last," he finally grunted out in a gravelly rasp, the fingers fisted in your hair clenching involuntarily. "Want my cum all over that pretty lil' face instead of down your throat..."

You simply hummed an eager affirmative, working your fist faster as the wet, rhythmic sounds of suction and friction escalated. The lewd, filthy squelches of you worshipping his cock filled the space, along with the broken, needy groans and muttered obscenities that Osamu couldn't contain anymore.

His hips were snapping forward erratically now, driving his swollen length further and deeper until you were nearly choking. The sight of you kneeling there with his shaft buried down your throat and tears clinging to your lashes made something savage and possessive rear up inside Osamu, something that had been repressed and starved for far too long.

It didn't take more than a few seconds after you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue around his pulsing girth for him to finally come undone. You felt the instantaneous warning flex and throb of his cock against your tongue, heard the sharp curse ripped from his lips as Osamu spilled his thick, scalding release across your face and the slope of your breasts.

It was an obscene and utterly debauched picture, one that made you moan and rock your hips desperately against nothing as your own arousal flared to a fever pitch. But the look of awe and unhinged lust painted across Osamu's face was more than enough to send a fresh jolt of wetness slicking between your thighs.

He stood there panting for a long moment, staring down at you like the vision straight out of his most depraved dreams. His thumb slowly swept through the thick, pearly ropes painting your skin before tracing the swell of your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so he could feed you a few decadent, musky drops.

"God, look at that..." Osamu murmured in a gravel-rough voice, gaze glazed over with the kind of pure, primal desire that made you whimper helplessly as he slowly brought you back up to your feet. "Haven’t seen ya like this since our honeymoon, darlin'...Look so damn ravishing with all my cum paintin' that pretty lil' face..."

A breathless gasp punched out of your lungs at the first questing touch between your thighs, the shock of sensation nearly blinding as it ricocheted through you. You were so wound up from sucking his cock that Osamu could have probably slid home without any additional prep, the evidence of that fact seeping from your soaked entrance in a steady trickle.

"Already soaked through yer panties for me, huh?" he purred, thumb stroking your slit teasingly. "What's got ya so worked up, baby girl? Was suckin' my dick really that excitin' for ya?"

Osamu was already tugging aside the drenched scrap of fabric, exposing you completely to the cool night air and his ravenous gaze. He was hard again, already straining against the cradle of your hips as he dragged the fat, glistening head of his cock through your folds.

"Think I remember this bein' the most excitin' part for ya..." he mused, sinking just the tip in and groaning as you immediately clenched and fluttered around him. "When I'd fuck ya slow and sweet, lettin' ya feel every inch as I sank into yer cunt."

A helpless cry wrenched itself from your throat at the first slow, achingly decadent stretch, your spine arching instinctively and hips bucking for more. It was exactly as Osamu remembered, the perfect, sinful way you took him so eagerly - all hot, velvety grip and clenching pressure that drove him steadily closer to the brink.

But the pace was torturously, maddeningly slow - a sensual glide of friction and heat and breathless kisses until you felt like you were about to combust. You clung to him, clawing desperately at his back and shoulders as he pinned you to the wall with his weight, driving his cock into you again and again with a relentless rhythm.

"Oh god...yes..." you whined, voice pitching higher as Osamu's mouth latched onto your throat, teeth sinking in just sharply enough to make you sob. "Fuck, I missed this, 'Samu...filling me up so full of your cock...missed you fucking me like you own me..."

He swore viciously, hips snapping forward so sharply that you could have sworn his tip kissed the deepest reaches of you. Osamu's eyes were glassy and blown black with need, mouth swollen and red from the brutal kiss you'd pulled him into. He looked almost wild, a feral, untamed version of your husband who seemed ready to consume you whole.

"I do own you, baby girl..." he snarled, hand slipping between you to stroke your swollen clit. "This gorgeous little cunt was made for my cock, right? Can't get enough of the way I'm fillin' ya up, can ya?"

You cried out in agreement, legs locking tighter around his waist and nails raking across the planes of his back. Osamu's touch was unerringly precise, knowing just how and where to stimulate you to bring about the most devastating of orgasms. Your head fell back with a wordless wail, body going taut as the pleasure crested and shattered inside you.

Osamu kept driving into you, fucking you through the orgasm and straight towards the next one as he chased his own release. He was babbling filthy nonsense into the crook of your neck, praises and oaths and filth mixed together into a desperate, unintelligible litany. You could feel the slick glide of his cock and the renewed gush of your juices from the overstimulation, the obscene sounds of it all ratcheting your desire higher still.

It wasn't until his cock began to swell and twitch within the grasp of your cunt, spitting ropes of seed deep inside you, that Osamu finally slowed and went boneless against you. He slumped forward, trapping you between his sweat-slicked frame and the wall at your back, still buried to the hilt.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the harsh drags of your breaths and the distant sounds of the ocean lapping at the shore. There was no need for words, just the warm, comforting embrace of a bond and trust renewed.

"We're not done here," Osamu finally rumbled, voice low and raspy with lingering need. "M’ not gonna be satisfied 'til I've had ya in every single room of this place. On the porch. In the kitchen. Even the damn balcony."

A soft, incredulous laugh bubbled up from your chest, but it quickly morphed into a wanton moan when his hips rocked into you. You were already growing wetter, more sensitive, with each languid stroke of his cock.

"I don't think my body could handle a marathon sexcapade like our honeymoon, 'Samu," you managed to gasp out.

A wolfish smirk stretched across his face at the memory of how you'd spent most of your first week together as newlyweds - utterly debauched and insatiable and ravenous for one another.

"We'll see about that, darlin'."

#this was quite shitty and you can tell i barely put any effort into it #but i still wanted to write something after so long #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x reader smut #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #osamu x reader smut #osamu smut #osamu x reader

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senblades · 5 months ago

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The world is perfect; you seem to have missed the memo

#persona 5 #goro akechi #ren amamiya #shuake #akeshu #akira kurusu #HOO BOY THIS TOOK A WHILE #i had to redo the first four pages too lmao #i told myself “i'm gonna use the text tool” to write the actual dialogue #and then i didn't #so: behold! my shitty handwriting

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nemesyaaa · 6 months ago

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buffalo 66' au ! old!serial killer!rafe x young!sugardoll!reader (how they met, and their first night together.)

you were red and you liked me 'cause i was blue. but you touched me and suddenly i was a lilac sky.

warnings : lmfaooo this part always killing me but here it is....rafe being 90% of the warning part and the menace he already is, kidnapping, daddy issues, urge of sexualing your own self, slight of stockholm syndrome, dubcon, smut, dark!rafe, violence, mentions of threats, r being a missing girl, age gap, size difference, choking. rafe being mean to the reader. slight of daddy kink. sick attitude. dirty talk. attention whore. just minors DNI. (why it's bigger than my grocery list actually...). please carefully pay attention to the tags !!?

author's note : it's my first time writing a dark fic so don't expect too much 🙏🏿 you can read this without watching buffalo 66.

some girls were the trailer park princess, and others the queen of the gas station.

as the girl of the gas station, you were there all day on the road of these men much older than you, who had and drove pretty vintage cars who were literally bigger than you. those rich daddies surely had more money than your poor father who was always sitting behind the desk of his shop waiting for the night.

your father never gave you any attention, not even a look, he didn't care about what you did on your summer days as long as he never saw you. so you stayed all day at your playground queendom across from the pitiful, filthy motel where you lived. because here at least the men were looking at you.

of course they were looking at you, you always gave them something to look at with your tiny dresses that showed your naked thighs, your tits pressed together in that backless top. you always dressed in that soft and milky blue shades. as the sea and the sky, you were blue.

while their wives found you sick, you could feel their stares every time you leaned down to grab the keys that they forgot to give you each time. you could feel their eyes completely charmed by the way your summer dress rode up above your ass, and your panties stuck out.

fully bent over, you could hear the groans of these old men, the way they forced their hands themselves to not touch you when you wanted nothing more than to see them give in to the young temptation that you were.

you had a power in them and you loved to see them completely crazy.

you worked as a gas pump attendant. in reality, you did it behind your father's back because it allowed you to stay in the company of these men who only had eyes for you.

you always put on a show for them, and it always worked because you were irresistible.

but there was this guy every time, a regular customer, cold and short-spoken who never spoke to you.

he had a beautiful and luxurious car and you always wondered what job he did to drive such an incredible vehicle, and to spoil you so much with all this money.

he never said thank you for your service. after all, you were paid for it. his eyes were blue as you. he could park and glare at you for hours, sitting deep in his seat, a cigarette stuck between his opened lips.

he was so much older than you, so much to the point it was indecent. when you had first seen him, you had melted like sugar.

as you were coming back from the ice cream parlor, your lips sucking that delicious vanilla ice cream, you sat on the edge of the gas station, right in front of his car, your legs completely spread, white cream melting and dripping between your thighs. he rubbed his painful boner through his boxer.

you were sick, you let him look at you with this completely perverted stare while you let chunks of ice fall into your cleavage.

his eyes were all over you, but this time it was different, because this time it was him who was thinking about you while touching himself. this time it was him who was sick about you , him who had all these furious ideas about you. he pumped himself so hard, biting his lips harshly. and you continued your depraved show, while he jerked off, his big cock shaked and leaked in his own hand, his thick and already experimented fingers moved around his length faster and faster, the sweaty and dirty sound of his balls slapping, the squeaking noises of his chair, his arched back making the chair shaking. you thought of the veins of his dick engorged of blood pulsated against his hefty strength. that was enough to make you fully wet.

you wanted nothing more than to make this old man reach for you. but the problem was, you were too young and naive to know how mad he was, and what he really wanted to do with a pretty doll like you.

you stood up when you finished your ice cream, putting your dress back on neatly, and leaned down, leaning your porcelain princess arms over his car window.

you shuddered when he spread his cum on your face without any warning, smeared the remains of vanilla ice cream over your sloppy lips gloss with lick of drool.

he pushed his big thumb against your little mouth, pushed it into an o shape, and you closed her to start licking up the drops of his cum.

but like every time he came here, he never spoke to you. you had just seen the car leave, while you still had the taste of him on your lips. it was rude.

the next day, your father sent you out to do some groceries on a sweltering hot summer day, tired of seeing you around doing nothing. what he didn’t know was that this was probably the last time he saw you. and even shoupe that you had seen earlier in the morning, and who had told you to be careful, something with a killer around.

when you were done with the grocery, you started walking through the empty parking lot.

you thought you were alone, even though there were a few empty cars.

but it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that you were going to regret.

“didn't shoupe tell you to be careful this morning, sweetheart ? because i'm pretty sure, he did. ”

you screamed when the man grabbed you by the waist, pressing your little ragdoll body against his chest much stronger. the stranger quickly covered your mouth, and bruised your pretty lips with violence without any caring, shoved down his fingers between them to the point that you almost choked with your own breath and saliva.

“ you hurt..me…! ” you tried to say with a lot of difficulty, as his firm grip crushed against your breasts.

“ not yet actually, doll. but i promise, i will if you continue to fight. so beware, or i will fucking kill you. not a threat, sweetheart. it's a promise. “ and you knew that even god couldn't save you at this time.

you tried to bite him, but your teeth barely touched his skin. his lips hovered above your ear, you could hear his deep older voice warned you.

" bite me one more time, and i will break you. i love wrestle with you little girl, but i think you will really hate the way i fight. because when daddy fight sugardoll, he kills. and tiny things like you are so easy to wreck. and you dont want to die today, right ? you're too young for that. do you got it ? nod if you got it, yes. smart baby, understand easily that she needs to listen and not fucking run away. ”

his strength was heavy. you had stopped resisting a few minutes ago, even when he put you in his car.

he started driving, with a smirk, he looked in the rearview mirror before telling you.

“ what's the matter, sugardoll ? don't want to put a show for me, anymore ? ”

he had taken you to a shitty old motel down the road, where no one would be able to pick you up here. you knew he was intelligent, you knew it because you understood that every time he came to see you, he tried to learn more about you, but not to know you no, but to know when would be the right time to kidnap you. you knew it because he had stalked you carefully.

he had tried to tie you up while you tried to struggle one last time. but he had grabbed your jaw so violently that you felt your face shiver in his hands. “one more move, and i’ll show you how dolls are really treated, how i have no fucking bother to kill a tiny thing like you. ”

“i’m not going to run away.”

"i know.” he shushed you with a sick evil smirk. “ but it's not because you don't want to, sugardoll .but more because you can't.” he said, while releasing your jaw.

“ that's the small but important difference. i kidnapped you. do you even know what it means ? "

you started to cry, tears running down your cheeks.

“ you want a real reason to cry? fine. i can do that for you. i kidnapped you but you want to know the big part of all this? is that no one will come for you. your father doesn't love you , and that's why you work in this stupid gas station. you love the attention of these men so bad that you feel obliged to sexualize yourself to feel desired but me, i wanted you the first time i saw you. i let you do it, i let you play with them, but now it's all over. since i own you, this game is fucking over. ”

“shoupe will come after me ! ”

“but maybe you won’t be around to see it anymore.” he looked at you, and shushed your tears, while staring in your wet eyes. “ yes, i really like when you give me those tears, cry to me, little girl i'm the only men that really got you. ”

you glared at him as if he had fallen from the sky.

“ but now you have to be careful, don’t get on my nerves. i know it's hard for you, but don't do stupid things. ”

he placed your hand on his lower back, where you had felt the metallic coldness of the gun. and you shivered.

"yes, you got it. don't ever get on my nerves.”

“ how can i get on your nerves ? you don't really seems like a bad guy. more like a sweet guy ? ”

“ i'm not. and i'm not trying to be so watch your mouth. “

“ but i really think you are. can i hug you ? ”

“ try it, doll, literally try it. just try to touch me, i dare you. and i bet you will never tell me i'm the sweetest guy again. ”

“ can you at least bathe me ? ” you asked seriously.

“ jesus, do you think i'm your slave or whatever ? do you forget which position you are in ? in the captive one. so do not ask me those stupid things again. and don't try, no, never try to run away because, i can promise you that when i will find you, it will not be a pleasant time for you. and not even a little, but to the point, you will ask me to kill you. and i will be in a mood to accept your request ? yes, me. ”

you nodded as the kind and little girl you are who cannot argue against this tall man. he released your small face, and you were bathing alone. while you were taking your bath, alone in the tub, you heard rafe on the phone without being able to understand what he was saying but after that call, he left the room.

you had decided to buy some food with the little money you had at the food and drink vending machine.

with a happy smile, you went back up, hoping to please him. but you had found him on the chair in front of the TV.

“look, what…”

“i think you’re really nice. but not at your own good, sugar. ”

“ i just wan…”

“ get on the bed, now. ”

he couldn't help but relaxing when he saw how your blue dress was so tiny, already showing your soaked underwear.

" no whining. " he said as he shoved himself deeply in your tight abused cunt, your ragdoll body pressed down in the mattress, his thick stronger arms hugged your small waist, while thrusting harder and harder, your walls clenched around his fat cock. you can felt the size growing bigger in your wettering pussy, as he turned you into a real crybaby, tears flowing down your cheeks. you were caged by his beefy and muscular body on the bed, gasped on the edge. “ you wanted to act like a big girl ? then take it like a big girl. no fucking whining, i'm just giving you what you want. ”

he was literally buried inside you, snapping your hips, moving in and out. the atmosphere was hot, you felt the heat, there were trails of saliva around your mouth. “stop whining babydoll, daddy is not at his worse actually. and you don't want to see this happen.” you wanted to hate him but it was like you appreciated him being so mean to you, your pussy was dripping, your fluids drenching him, your sticky walls surrounded his girth. " yes, that's it. pull up some juices for daddy, make it easier for him to destroy you. "

everytime you runned away from him, he lifted your head with a grunt, and with a wild thrust inside of you, making you drip even more as his glistening tip reached your spot, the dirty and wetness sound of his moves echoed in the room, your body trapped against his taller one.

with a hand on your throat, you were arched to the point where he could see your wetted eyes rolled up. "try to run away again, and you will have the fucking pleasure to be a momma, as well as a missing girl. i'm not asking you to take my cock better.” he said with a threat. “ no, i'm telling you to do it as your fucking job. ”

all teary, you could bet that rafe didn't know how big he was for telling you this. you were trying your best actually. he was rutting in you, holding your tiny size with one big hand, getting so feral everytime he saw your small body twitching when he pushed himself further. your moans were loud, as your squirted more than one time on him, your dripping walls clamped his hard cock. even when your third orgasm flowed against your bulging pussy, creating a mess at the surface, he continued.

" you know sugardoll, you better work faster for my cum, because i will only stop when i will see how creampie your pussy is for my dick.”

he stuffed your puffy messy cunt, while your pumped his fingers who slidded deep down in your throat, your warm and bullied tongue fighting to not dropped them.

you slobbed more with the overstimulation. you felt like this man was insatiable. rafe loved to see you, his sugardoll in pain, taking so much for him.

when he finally stopped teasing you, and fighting himself to not cum, and clearly toying you, he exploded, making you cried out. all your body was filled with spasms.

you expected something from rafe when he pulled out, a little soft spot, or at least, just one look but he just went to the bathroom. alone.

you expected him to be sweet for you, like the sugar you were for him. and you knew, that you will work for this later.

when he came back, you looked at him, always attracted by his charisma, the way he made you felt so tiny by his big size, the way he was old enough to make you feel like a little girl, just the way his raised voice made you feel so small.

“ can i sleep with you ? ”

“ whatever. just don't touch me. ”

“ you're not gonna be my big spoon ? “

“ what the fuck is this ? i'm not gonna be your spoon. jesus, can you just sleep and not ask for any stupid things that you think i will do because you're already so obsessed with me ? and give me your hands. ”

he tied them up on the bed with your little blue ribbon.

“ just in case you think you can escape me. ”

“ i can't sleep like that ! ”

“ i fear it's not my fucking problem, sugardoll.”

“ fine. i will talk and talk all night. ”

“ i can fuck you all the night too. but one of us will not survive this. so stop being so damn annoying. ”

“ what if i want to pee in the middle of the night ? ”

“ you're strong enough to hold it. and you fucking better be strong enough to hold it. ”

“ why are you so mean to me ? why you kidnapped me ? ”

“ sugardoll, listen to me. look at me, yes. eyes on daddy right now. i swear, and you need to listen carefully because i will tell you once, just once, so your dumby brain need to pay attention, if you're talking another time, even if i see your lips moving, just a twitch, i will put my dick right in your mouth, making you suck it for without a break until the sun rises again. and i can promise you that after, you will never talk to me because you will never be able to open that mouth again. do you got it ? nod your head if you got it, doll.”

and you nodded.

as a doll, you were conditionned to listen to your owner, even if he was so mean to you. but you were as soft as sugar, always melted around, already thinking he was the best guy around.

“ sweet dreams, sugardoll. ”

i promise one day i will write something very good, just give me a chance. i think the only sweet thing in this work, it's rafe calling r " sugardoll ", he's so mean please 😭😭 i think i make him a little too dark to the point, i'm questionning about how he can be sweet to the reader now ????? but i guess, it's part of the game. tysm @bunnyrafe and @fae-of-prey me a lot !

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curlytsunamiart · 4 months ago

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reached the part about miquella's charm in the dlc. got to thinking about miquella and malenia. i'd like to think, charm or no charm, he still loves her

#elden ring #malenia #miquella #art #draws #comic #it takes an immense amount of love n loyalty to call urself the blade of another person. maybe even an unnatural amount #also sorry for the shitty writing im not gonna write it in the fromsoft style thats for sure #n please no spoilers. i havent gone thru shadow keep yet

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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imagining TOJI as the type of man who swears that he doesn’t like those corny dramas you watch. . .

you’re laying back on the couch whilst watching your favourite drama. it’s getting to the good part where the husband gets confronted for cheating on his wife. a satisfying revenge you’ve waited so long for.

and apparently one that toji has waited on too.

you didn’t even notice toji shuffling closer to the television, standing a few steps away from the screen. his strong arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are glued to the scene unfolding in front of him.

you recall him telling you earlier that your show was ‘stupid’. he refused to watch it with you, telling you that he had other things to do. you shrugged it off. you’re used to toji not being much of a romantic guy anyway.

a satisfying slap echoes throughout the living room as the wife in the drama backhands her husband. toji chuckles lowly and shakes his head, “heh, bastard deserves more than that.”

you couldn’t focus on the television anymore and instead turn to watch toji’s entertaining reactions. it’s adorable to see how he’s enjoying the show more than you are. you don’t think he even knows you’re looking at him. he’s too absorbed by the show playing.

another slap. and another. seems like the female lead is going all out. her yelling is loud too. toji nods his head in content—the scarred corner of his lips curling up into a grin, “tha’s more like it. uh-huh.”

you giggle quietly and comment on the scene as well, “that was quite satisfying, right?”

“yeah, she should’ve kicked him in the balls thou—”toji subconsciously answers before he stops mid-sentence. he slowly turns his head and sees you staring at him with a big ass smile. that’s when he finally realises;

“oh.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #toji x you #just a shitty thought LOL

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aziraphales-human-twin · 6 months ago

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One of the worst things about s4 is how Five saw his wife Dolores, the love of his life, and had no reaction. She was clearly on screen. He didn’t even acknowledge her existence. A Five that doesn’t adore Dolores isn’t a Five I want to know

#tua s4 spoilers #tua s4 #tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #wtf did i just watch #shitty writing

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myrrusstuff · 5 days ago

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Musician!Vi who soft-launched your relationship by including your voicemails in her newest song. She wanted everyone to know she’s off-limits, even if your relationship isn’t at the stage where you’re ready for publicity. So, she worked a specific voicemail into her new hit single. Generally, she doesn’t have many voicemails from you because she picks up the phone most of the time. She’s attentive, she drops everything for you when needed. However, there’s a voicemail from a particularly busy night a while ago. You can very clearly be heard calling her 'baby' and 'my love'. What would be a better way to let people know she’s taken than showing you off like that? It elicited a lot of shocked reactions and fan theories, obviously, but now people knew she was off the market. They knew she was yours, and that’s all that mattered.

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diorchids · 15 days ago

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C'MON, IT'S JUST THE TIP! w/ luke castellan .

it's your first time and your dear boyfriend promised to only put the tip in. (told ya.)

“just the tip, baby, i promise,” he coos, holding your chin, “i promise.” he carefully slips the tip into your cunt, sucking air in through his teeth.

“‘s keep it there, lukey. don’t move,” your voice soft and breathy. you hold onto the base, softly stroking him as he slowly rocks back and forth. this is enough for you. you can barely take his fingers, so you know you won’t be able to take him fully. this is fine.

but why would it be enough for him? sure, it feels good, but he’s hungry.

can you blame him?

you’re so focused trying to please you and your dear boyfriend that you don’t notice him spitting on your already wet folds. his arm flexes as he leans down to grab onto your waist, getting a good grip before slamming his cock into your tight cunt. he releases a bestial groan, throwing his head back as he bottoms out.

you cry out loud, feeling your pure, tight, soft pussy being broken in, just like that. “l-luke! you—it hurts!”

“shhh, baby, you can take it, yeah? thought you were a big girl?” he whispers, pulling back slowly. you whimper as he withdraws, your tiny body trying to suck him back in. he spits again, using it to lube his length. he spreads your legs wider, lifting your hips higher. you whimper and pout, looking for an ounce of sympathy from him. but… nothing. “b-baby, you said just the tip!”

you see his cock stiffen more as he prepares to push back into you. “i lied,” he mutters, slamming back into you. you howl, trying to push him out. “damn, you're tight,” he growls. he pulls back, then slaps, thrusting deeper. he grips your thighs, spreading your legs wider apart. “been keepin’ this from me for this long? tsk, tsk.” he smiles, clearly enjoying the pain you’re in.

he watches you throw your head back, tears spilling over. you’re barely taking an inch. can’t you calm down? he pulls back slightly, then slams again. “damn it,” he mutters. “spread your legs more,” he orders.

as he thrusts, your breasts bounce beautifully, but you’re so cock-drunk you can barely speak. you babble, he destroys your walls. you babble, he fucks harder into you. it hurts. too badly. he knows this, but he doesn’t care. why would he? he’s finally getting what you’ve held off for years.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” luke chanted, pounding into you like a jackhammer. your fingers curl, your toes curl, your whole body is curled in on itself as he fucks you into the mattress. he reaches between your legs, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucks you. this only worsens your already vegetative state, causing your thighs to tremble. he takes a hand off your thigh to hold on to your neck, softly gripping it as he fucks into you.

how pretty you are, how delicate and beautiful you are.

“god, you sound so good,” he chuckles darkly, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs as he holds them apart. he hits something inside you, and you both feel it. he hits it repeatedly, each time making you whine louder.

but slowly, you come back to yourself. finally beginning to enjoy it. look at you. coming to your senses.

"shit..." he notices the shift in your screams, from pain to pleasure. his pace slows slightly, but the intensity remains. he leans down, nipping at your ear. “ finally taking that dick like you’re s’posed to," he whispers, hitting that spot inside you with purpose now.

"that's right, baby. take it. fuck, you feel so good," he smiles, licking his lips perversely, gripping your hips tightly. "touch your tits for me," he orders, his voice rough with pleasure. "play with them while i fuck you."

you look up at him through teary eyes, unintentionally batting your eyelashes so beautifully. “fuck, okay,” blood pricks on your bottom lip as you bite down, smiling at your beautiful boy.

your fingers catch your shared juices at the base of his cock, you take it and rub it into your chest, squeezing and pulling your breasts. “so good, m’gonna…”

PLAP, PLAP, PLAP.

"gonna what, baby?" he smirks, knowing exactly what you're trying to say. "cum for me? cum all over my big dick?" he reaches down and pinches your clit hard, sending you over the edge. "cum, baby."

PLAP, PLAP, PLAP.

that’s it, there you go, hm? you spasm and thrash when you cum harshly, cunt restricting around his length, more than it already is. it chokes him like it’s pulling the cum out of him.

he feels your pussy clamp down on him like a vice as you cum, the sensation pushing him over the edge. "fuck, babe! just fuckin’ take it!" he groans, slamming into you as he unleashes a warm load deep inside your cum-drunk pussy.

PLAP.

he fucks his cum into you, knowing neither of you cares for a baby. “take it.”

…aaand after that, you never wanna take “just the tip” again.

even when you’re both all tired, you still cockwarm. fully.

here u go! @giaaaarosaaaa ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

#have fun #shitty writing #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan masterlist #luke x you #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #pjo luke #luke x reader #x reader #smut #fanfic #he’s MEAN and has a BREEDING KINK.#diorchids

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benevolenterrancy · 4 months ago

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Scholarly peak is catching up on recent literature

#bingqiu #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #svsss #sqq #lbh #my art #which is honestly just to say that i've finished the other two print books i was reading #and am now prepared to leap feet first into svsss bk4 #i succeeded in holding off for an entire two weeks. i have the conviction of a wet paper towel.#lets see bk4 was described as - what? - an ''angst and smut pile''??#i am very much looking forward to this #i was promised a story with my snake boy #because i am very much not over zhuzhi-lang's fate so this had better be A REALLY NICE HAPPY ONE FOLKS #anyway have sqq and lbh cuddling and reading as i project on them #i like to assume that as time goes on sqq is able to relax his persona a bit more around lbh #i think he should get to cuddle and bitch about shitty novels #but man sqh is really the ONLY source of any books that have an even slightly modern cadence/style i have a feeling sqq would be very keen #though if i'm being honest i really wonder if sqh could ever bring himself to write fiction again #if you're A Writer it tends to be hard to RESIST you just get an itch to tell a story #but also like... the fear that all of this could happen again... or that the characters you're creating might be REAL and SUFFERING...#yeah... i honestly suspect he can't write anymore and that it honestly probably sucks a lot... but for the sake of this joke he is :P

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sunsburns · 1 month ago

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30 for 30 (ii.) — vi (league of legends) !

⟢ synopsis. you swear you would be in peace if it wasn’t for her. but this kept you on your toes, you guessed. just the way you liked it. besides, everyone knew that falling in love with your best friend’s older sister only led to trouble.

⟢ contains. afab!reader, arcane!vi, feminine characteristics, angst, lesbians, lots and lots of longing, the reader is lowkey insane i cannot lie, vi is kinda toxic but we love her anyway, modern!au, nsfw, fingering, oral, really bad ending sorry, SMUT 18+.

⟢ word count. 11k+

⟢ part one: 30 for 30 (i.)

⟢ authors note. i have been working on this for the last 6 weeks and i have lived so many lives through this fic. christmas passed, then new years, and then my abuelo died a few days ago. no one talk to me for a while, please.

You’d grown so used to ignoring that festering ache in your chest that when your phone rang late one night, her name on the screen, it caught you off guard. Her voice was slurred, rough and frayed around the edges. Drunk. She asked if you could pick her up from some bar you didn’t know, mumbling something about not wanting her family to see her like this.

The drive to the bar had felt surreal, a heavy quiet filling the car as you tried not to overthink why she’d called you . And now, as she sat slumped in the passenger seat of your dad’s old car, it felt no less strange. The dim glow of the streetlights flickered across her face, catching on her freckles and the faint blush on her cheeks. Her head lolled against the window, her hair sticking out in places, the faint scent of alcohol clinging to her like an unwelcome shadow.

Vander and Silco used to tell you that you were family, but as you stole glances at her from the corner of your eye, it struck you how distant she felt. There was a chasm between you—one you weren’t sure either of you could cross. The thought lingered in your chest like a weight, growing heavier as the silence stretched on.

When you pulled into the driveway, she was half-asleep, a faint flush stained her freckled cheeks. Her arm was heavy as you draped it over your shoulder, her weight pressing into you as she stumbled out of the car. She muttered something incoherent, her breath warm against your neck.

“Just a little farther,” you murmured, your voice steady, though your pulse was anything but.

Inside your room, the mess was almost comforting—a reminder of who you were before moments like these blurred the lines. You eased her down onto the bed, her arm slipping from your shoulders as she collapsed with a muffled groan, burying her face in the pillow.

“Vi,” you said softly, crouching to tug off her boots. “You’ll feel better if—”

“Stop fussing,” she muttered, her voice slurred but tinged with familiar defiance. “Mmm.... Not a kid.”

You couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Her lips curved into a crooked smirk, one eye cracking open just long enough to meet yours. But it wasn’t her usual sharp, teasing look. It was softer, tired. Vulnerable in a way that made you hold your breath.

You finished pulling off her boots, setting them aside, and you draped a blanket over her. For a moment, you lingered, your eyes tracing the curve of her jaw, the way her features softened in sleep. Your fingers twitched at your sides. You wanted to reach out, to brush your fingers against hers, to ease the weight she carried even for a second—but you didn’t.

The door felt heavier than it should have as you turned to leave.

“Hey.”

Her voice stopped you mid-step, quiet but insistent. You turned to find her half-awake, her gaze unfocused yet pinned on you.

“Yeah?” you asked, your throat dry.

“Thanks,” she murmured, your name slipping from her lips like an afterthought, though it struck you like a blow.

You nodded, swallowing hard, and left before your resolve could falter.

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You wanted to touch her—just her hand, her shoulder, anything to ground yourself in this moment—but you knew better. So, you turned to leave, the sound of her voice stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey.”

You turned, your pulse quickening. She was still half-asleep, her gaze unfocused as she stared in your direction.

“Yeah?” you asked softly.

“Thanks,” she muttered, your name slipping from her lips in a way that made your chest ache.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and reached for the door.

But later, when you came back to check on her, you found her sitting on the floor by the bed. Her back pressed against the frame, her knees drawn up, and her hands clutched a photo from your desk. Her knuckles were pale where they gripped the frame. Her thumb traced over Claggor’s face, back when he was just a chubby kid with a grin too big for his face.

“Vi?” you called gently, stepping closer.

She didn’t look up. Her voice was low. “I’m such a fuck-up.”

The words hit harder than you expected, knocking the air from your lungs. You sank to the floor beside her, your shoulder brushing against hers.

“You’re not a fuck-up,” you said quietly.

She scoffed, her gaze fixed on the photo.

You hesitated, then offered a small, almost shy smile. “I think you’re cool.”

That earned a laugh—quiet, shaky, but real. She glanced at you, unshed tears clinging to her lashes, catching the faint light and making her eyes shimmer. Her lips twitched into a sad grin. “You think I’m cool?” She asked, wiping hastily at her face with the back of her hand, a hollow snort slipping out. “Jesus, what are we, ten?”

You shrugged, the heat crawling up your neck almost unbearable. “I’ll always think you’re cool.”

Her smile faltered, her expression shifting into something quieter, something raw. Her gaze softened, lingering on you, and it felt like she was searching for something.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the air between you felt impossibly heavy, thick with words left unspoken. Then she let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping against the bed frame. “I just... I wanna be a good person. For my family.”

The vulnerability in her voice hit you like a punch to the gut. “You are a good person, Vi,” you said, your tone steady, though your chest ached with the effort to keep it that way. “I think you are. And they think you are, too.”

She blinked at you, her eyes softening further. The lines of her face—usually so sharp, so guarded—melted into something tender, something that made it impossible to look away. The freckles across her nose stood out against her flushed skin, and the faint scar cutting through her brow caught your eye, an anchor in another sea of thoughts that threatened to drown you. The tattoo along her cheekbone seemed softer now, framed by the dim glow from the bedside lamp, its edge catching the shadow of her jawline.

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking with yours, and her lips curved into a wider smile. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she muttered. “I’m happy Powder has you in her life.”

The words sent a flutter through your chest, the kind that made it hard to breathe. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too widely, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“You should rest,” you said instead.

For a second, she didn’t move, her eyes flickering down—to your lips. Was it? Was she? You tried not to jump for joy or scream or cheer, swallowing back the girlish, excited squeal that nearly left you. It was so brief you almost convinced yourself it hadn’t happened.

Still, you stayed beside her. The room was quiet save for the soft rhythm of her breathing, which eventually evened out. Her hand still gripped the photo tightly, her thumb brushing faintly across its surface even in sleep.

You tried to focus on that—on the photo, on anything else—but the thrum of your own heartbeat drowned everything out. You were too aware of her, of her presence, of the way her face looked unguarded, almost peaceful now.

And for fuck’s sake, you wished you could’ve kept ignoring her.

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses echoed from the kitchen. The warm smell of roasted meats, herbed vegetables, and freshly baked bread filled the house, weaving a comforting cocoon of home and familiarity. The occasional pop of sizzling oil and the scrape of utensils against cookware punctuated the muted hum of conversation. It should’ve been perfect.

Almost.

You’d spent most of the day in the kitchen with Vander and Claggor, sleeves rolled up and hands coated in flour or spices as the three of you moved in easy, practiced rhythm, and maybe getting a little tipsy with wine while you worked.

Cooking was grounding. There was something about the simplicity of it—peeling potatoes, kneading dough, and tasting sauces—that gave your restless mind a moment’s reprieve. It lets you focus on the here and now, your hands busy and your thoughts, for the most part, quiet.

Mostly quiet.

Because no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to her.

Vi.

You hadn’t seen much of her today, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it gave you the space to breathe, to settle the frayed edges of your nerves without the weight of her presence pressing against your every thought. A curse because even the absence of her was its own kind of presence.

She was everywhere. In the distant echo of her voice from the other room. In the low, rumbling sound of her laugh that you caught when you passed by the dining table. In the fleeting glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye, a blur of red hair and sharp edges that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to look at directly.

When the food was prepped and tucked neatly away in the oven, you excused yourself to get ready. Powder had followed you upstairs, chattering away about the table setup, how the napkins needed to be folded a specific way, and whether the wine glasses were clean enough. You smiled despite the knot still coiled in your stomach.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you focused on getting ready. Powder sat perched on the counter beside you, swinging her legs as she twisted her hair into short messy blue pigtails. The soft buzz of the house seemed far away and you worked in companionable silence.

The moment you picked up your eyeliner, though, a shadow passed in the hallway.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. You felt it.

Powder’s casual chatter stilled mid-sentence, her hands freezing mid-braid as her gaze darted to the door.

You glanced up, turning your head just enough to see her through the mirror.

Vi had stopped, one hand brushing the edge of the doorframe as if she’d paused without meaning to. She wasn’t saying anything—just looking. Her hair was tied back and finally pulled out of her face.

Your eyes met in the reflection. For a second, everything else blurred—even the ache that had been sitting low in your chest all day.

She didn’t move. Neither did you.

Her lips parted slightly as if to say something, but she stopped herself. Her hand dropped from the frame, and her eyes softened. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t enough. But it was everything to you.

“Hey,” Powder piped up suddenly, startling both of you. Vi blinked, glancing away quickly as though she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You dropped your gaze back to the counter, feigning interest in the clutter of makeup brushes and compacts.

“Hi,” Vi muttered.

Powder hopped off the counter, her movements casual, but when she reached the door, she nudged it closed with a quiet click, shutting Vi out.

The space felt even smaller now, the tension curling tighter in your chest as you forced your hands steady and reached for the eyeliner again.

It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

And if you told yourself that enough times, maybe you’d start to believe it.

Powder didn’t press, instead humming a tune as she returned to her hair, but the weight of Vi’s gaze lingered like a phantom. Even as you finished your makeup and brushed off imaginary specks from your clothes, you couldn’t shake the way her eyes had softened in that fleeting moment.

Maybe you had too many glasses of wine.

The evening swept forward as though nothing was amiss. Dinner was ready, the dishes were carried out to the table, and the family gathered in the dining room—a warm, crowded space made cozy by the soft glow of holiday lights and the flicker of candles. Plates clinked, the air hummed with laughter and conversation, and the smell of roasted meat and spices filled the room.

You ended up seated between Powder and Isha, grateful for the buffer between you and Vi, who sat across the table. Vander took his usual spot at the head, towering over the rest of the group like a benevolent giant, while Silco lounged at the other end, his sharp eyes keen and observant even as he sipped his wine.

The conversation rippled through the table, shifting effortlessly between childhood pranks and escalating into an all-out debate between Ekko and Powder about their taste in music. Despite everything, you found yourself smiling, the warmth of the moment settling in your chest like a soft hum.

Ekko leaned toward you, reaching over Powder to tap your arm. “Back me up here! She swears her old mixtapes were legendary, but seriously, half of them were just static and random snippets of songs she couldn’t finish recording.”

Powder whipped around, her arms crossing over her chest in defiance. “They had character , thank you very much. Unlike your boring-ass beats that all sound the same. Admit it, Ekko—you wouldn’t know originality if it smacked you in the face.”

You laughed, holding your hands up as if to ward off a fight. “Don’t drag me into this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Powder shot back smugly, flipping one of her pigtails over her shoulder. “You’d pick mine anyway. Right?”

“Doubt it,” Mylo muttered from across the table, not even bothering to look up from his plate. “Your mixtapes were shit.”

The room practically exploded as Powder’s outrage hit full volume, her chair scraping back slightly as she leaned forward to defend her honour. Ekko egged her on with exaggerated imitations of her tape-recording process, while Claggor sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as though this wasn’t the first time he’d been subjected to this argument.

Vi’s laugh broke through the chaos, low and raspy, cutting through the din like a blade. It froze you in place for a moment, the sound pulling at something deep and tender inside you. Your gaze flicked up almost instinctively, and there she was—her lips quirking in that lazy half-smile.

For just a second, her eyes caught yours across the table, and the rest of the noise faded away. Something lingered there. You really wanted to know what it was.

She glanced away first, turning her attention back to Vander, but your pulse thrummed in your ears, loud and insistent.

“Aye, enough with all the ruckus,” Vander called out, his booming voice easily cutting through the squabbling. “You’re supposed to be adults now, eh? How come Isha’s better behaved than the lot of you? You’re all grown and graduated, even if we never thought we’d see the day.” He added the last part with a sly, teasing grin.

The table burst into uproar again, the teasing and banter ricocheting back at Vander.

Silco hummed from across the table, “I’m still not sure how we managed to clean that mess up.”

You tried to stay present, to laugh along with the others, but his words knocked the air from your lungs.

Graduation.

The word hit you like a stone, unearthing memories you’d buried deep. You could almost feel it again—the laughter that hung in the warm night air, the shimmer of stars above the city, and the way Vi had pulled you aside. The press of her hand on yours, the sharp, dizzying heat of her lips as they claimed yours like a secret only the two of you could keep.

Your throat tightened as you forced yourself to swallow the ache threatening to rise. You focused on the present, the clatter of plates and the chatter around you, but it didn’t help.

And then, you felt her eyes on you again.

You glanced up, and sure enough, Vi was looking.

There it was—that same knowing look, tangled in everything you couldn’t say out loud. Her brows furrowed just slightly, her jaw tightening as though she was holding something back.

What the fuck was she up to?

The Last Drop buzzed with life, music thumping through the speakers and spilling into the streets. It wasn’t just another party. This was a celebration—a proper Zaunite send-off for you, Powder, Ekko, and a few others who had somehow survived to see your graduation day. Families mingled, laughter and loud voices filling the air, while mismatched chairs and tables were dragged together to make room for everyone.

Powder’s arm was slung lazily around your shoulders, her cheek pressed against yours as she swayed side to side, microphone in hand. Her voice cracked mid-line, breaking into laughter that made you smile despite yourself.

Powder had never been much of a singer, but she made it impossible to resist. You joined in, your voice blending with hers, uneven and off-key.

It was one of those rare nights where nothing else seemed to matter—until you saw her.

Vi stood on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall like she didn’t belong to the chaos. A bottle of beer dangled casually from her fingers as her eyes locked on yours. She wasn’t smiling, wasn’t moving . Just watching.

More than anything, you wanted to press your lips against hers. To stop the world around from spinning. To satisfy that little desire of yours.

Yet you couldn’t.

Because that’s not what friends do.

Because you were supposed to hate Violet right now.

It had been over a week since the fight—long enough for the sting of it to fade but not the weight of it.

This fight wasn’t like the bickering you had with Powder or the arguments with Ekko. No, this had been something raw, biting, and far too personal.

And it still sat heavy in your chest, a tangled knot of anger, guilt, and something you couldn’t quite name.

Because who was Vi to get upset about your bad decisions? You never judged her for hers.

It wasn’t fair.

It bothered you more than it should have. Because you liked Vi—you really did. It wasn’t just a fleeting crush; it was the kind of feeling that had rooted itself deep, stretching back to childhood, growing stronger with time. No matter how hard you tried, it never seemed to go away.

But she always kept you at arm’s length, always pushed you away just enough to make you doubt yourself. And now, she was the mad one? How was that fair?

God forbid you wanted to try something new before graduation.

Maddie was a mutual friend between you and Ekko, and she’d invited you to hang out by the creek with her crowd. It wasn’t your usual group of people, but with Powder and Ekko off on their date night, it wasn’t like you had anything better to do.

The rocky quarry was cold, even with the fire Maddie’s friends had started. Its orange glow reflected off the still water below, casting flickering shadows across the uneven ground. The air smelled of smoke and charred wood, sharp and biting against the crisp night air.

Music thumped faintly from a portable speaker, its low bass barely cutting through the sound of laughter and clinking bottles. You sat on a flat rock near the edge, a beer bottle dangling from one hand as you tried not to cough from the joint Maddie had passed you.

It wasn’t your crowd, not really. Maddie was nice enough—but her friends? They were louder, wilder, the kind of kids who laughed a little too loudly and always seemed on the edge of doing something stupid. Powder probably would’ve fit in better than you did.

You forced yourself to laugh when they laughed, nodding along to their stories even when you didn’t get the jokes. But the joint burned harshly in your throat, and the alcohol made your head swim.

“Hey, you good?” Maddie asked, plopping down beside you.

“Yeah,” you lied. “This is fun.”

She grinned, nudging your arm, and offered you another hit. You hesitated but took it anyway, determined not to look out of place.

The night stretched on, blurring into a haze of smoke, music, and the spinning lights from someone’s flashlight. You weren’t sure when it started feeling too heavy—when the laughter began to grate or when the voices became too loud.

So what? You weren’t having fun. Who cared?

Not every trip was going to be a good one.

But things went from bad to worse when a car pulled up, its headlights cutting through the dark like searchlights. The beams blinded you before they clicked off, leaving the silhouettes of the car and its driver behind.

The glare of the headlights cut through the haze, piercing and unwelcome. You squinted against the brightness, trying to make out the shadowy figure stepping out of the car. The moment you recognized her, your stomach twisted into a tight knot.

Vi.

You ducked instinctively, shifting lower into the rocks and bushes, hoping the flickering firelight wouldn’t betray your hiding spot. But it was Vi—she always found you. One second, you were staring blearily at the water, trying to dissolve into the night, and the next, she was right there, pulling you to your feet.

If you’d been even a little more sober, you might have swooned. Her hands were warm, steadying you against the dizziness swaying your vision. For a split second, your hazy mind latched onto the way she held you, like an anchor. But then you saw the scowl pulling at her lips.

Her eyes burned with frustration, her jaw tight as she looked you over. Even through the muddled fog, you could tell she was annoyed. No, more than that. She was pissed. And yet... when her gaze softened, just barely, you felt your stomach flip in that infuriating way it always did around her.

Before you could protest, she started dragging you toward her car.

“What the hell?” you slurred, trying to plant your feet, though the ground seemed to shift beneath you. “What’re you doin’?”

“I’m taking you home,” she said flatly.

“What?”

“Come on.”

“Vi. No, I’m not going anywhere,” you snapped, voice cracking as you shook her grip. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

“I am fine. I have it under control.”

Vi stopped, her grip tightening as she turned to face you fully. Her voice dropped lower, sharp but quiet. “You don’t have it under control.”

“Yes, I do,” you mumbled.

“You’re drunk.”

“So what?”

“So you don’t even know what you’re saying,” she snapped, her tone cutting through the haze.

“Oh, you know? You think you know me so well?” The words spilled out before you could catch them. “You think you know what’s good for me?”

She sighed heavily, muttering your name in a warning tone. “Just calm down—”

“No!” You cut her off, your voice rising. “You don’t get to decide what I do, Vi! You don’t get to swoop in and play saviour just because you feel like it.”

Maddie and her friends had turned to watch now, their curious gazes pinning you in place, making your face burn. And despite everything—despite the words bubbling on your tongue—you let Vi pull you away, her hand firm around your arm.

Your teeth ground together as you stalked to her car, every step sparking with indignation. Things between you had been unbearable lately, each interaction leaving you more wound up than the last. There was a time when you would’ve had endless patience for her, but now? Now it felt like she was one more weight pressing on your chest, one more thing you couldn’t figure out.

When she shut the car door behind you, the cold glass felt soothing against your temple as you leaned against the window.

“How’d you even find me?” you muttered, your voice low and bitter.

“Ekko told me,” she replied without looking at you, her tone clipped.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing. “Of course.”

“A thanks would be nice,” she said, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.

“For what? Embarrassing me?”

“You embarrassed yourself.”

“Right,” you scoffed.

“Well, sorry for trying to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Fuck, you’re impossible sometimes,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You should’ve just stayed home. These aren’t the kind of people—”

“Are you seriously going to turn this into a lecture?” you interrupted, your words a little slurred but sharp enough to sting. “Do you really feel like you’re in the position to be giving me shit about my bad decisions? You?”

Her head snapped toward you, her brow furrowing. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You hesitated, the fight draining out of you for just a moment. The words sat heavy on your tongue, the weight of her presence drowning out your resolve. She’d been pushing and pulling at you for months now , teasing something more but never following through.

And yet, no matter how mad she made you—no matter how deep she cut—you couldn’t stop feeling the way you did. You couldn’t stop wanting her.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, turning away to rest your head against the cool glass. The words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, a bitter ache joining the spinning in your head.

“Is everything okay?” Powder’s voice broke through the haze, grounding you back in the moment. Her worried gaze locked onto yours, soft but insistent.

For a second, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The words sat heavy in your chest, unwilling to come out. Instead, you gave her a small, tired smile—a silent reassurance you weren’t sure even you believed.

“Do you want a beer?” she asked, holding out her own cup. Her attention flicked between you and the lively crowd behind her as Isha grabbed the mic, joining Mylo and Vander in a loud, drunken chorus.

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. I’m just going to grab some water… maybe step outside for a bit.”

Before you could turn, her hand caught yours. Concern flashed in her eyes, clearer this time, and it made your stomach twist.

“I’m fine, Pow,” you said, pulling your hand free gently. “Just need some air.”

Without waiting for her reply, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd and out the door before anyone else could stop you.

The chill of the night hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the heat and noise inside. The streets of Zaun buzzed softly, a symphony of distant voices and the occasional whistle of wind. You leaned against the railing outside the bar, letting the cool air sting your cheeks and settle the unease in your chest.

It had been a long day. Too long, really.

You tilted your head back, staring up at the sky—hazy and grey like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to rain or stay dry. The faint glow of the streetlights was enough to keep the dark at bay but not enough to chase away the shadows clinging to your thoughts.

“Thought you might’ve made a run for it.”

The voice startled you, low and familiar, cutting through the quiet.

Your head snapped to the side, and there she was—Vi. She leaned against the wall a few feet away, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, her posture casual, but her eyes… her eyes were locked on you.

“No running,” you said, trying to muster a smile. “Just needed a breather.”

She nodded and stepped closer, the scuffed soles of her boots scraping against the concrete. “Can’t blame you. It’s a lot in there.”

You hummed in agreement, turning back to the horizon. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched her lean on the railing beside you, her profile outlined in the dim glow spilling from the bar windows.

The silence stretched between you, but for once, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

After a moment, Vi cleared her throat, her fingers fidgeting with something in her pocket. “I, uh… got you something.”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden statement. “You did?”

Without a word, she pulled out a small box and held it out to you. Her knuckles brushed against yours briefly, sending a jolt through your system when you took it.

“Go on,” she said.

Curiosity warred with apprehension as you took the box. It was simple—nothing fancy, just a plain black case. Your hands trembled slightly as you opened it, the hinges creaking faintly.

Inside was a ring, nestled in a cushion of fabric. The gemstone caught the light just right, glinting in shades of blue and green. It was unmistakable—the ring you’d admired months ago, the one you’d only ever mentioned to Powder.

“Vi…”

She shifted, rubbing the back of her neck, her usual confidence replaced by something softer, almost shy. “Figured you deserved something nice. You’ve been through enough.” A pause. “I’ve put you through enough.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her.

Did she know?

Could she see how much space she occupied in your head, how her presence both thrilled and tormented you?

She must know.

You slid the ring onto your finger, watching it catch the faint glow of the streetlights. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Vi huffed a small laugh, her gaze dropping to the ground. “You look good,” she said suddenly, the words almost rushed. “Like, really good.”

You snorted, the tension breaking slightly. “Thanks, bonehead. I tried not to disappoint. Don’t want to ruin your reputation with all those girls you bring around.”

The jab was meant to be playful—a callback to the jokes you and Ekko often threw her way. But her reaction wasn’t what you expected. She stiffened, her jaw tightening.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she said, her tone unusually earnest.

You frowned, the lightness of the moment slipping through your fingers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She hesitated, her gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for the right words. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “For the same reason I haven’t had a drink in months.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw.

Your chest tightened, a mix of confusion and hope clawing at you. “What do you… Vi?”

She looked up at you then, her eyes unguarded for once. “I want to be better. For my family. For you.”

The vulnerability in her voice took your breath away.

“I’m sorry for last week,” she continued, her voice soft as she moved closer. “I’ve been… an asshole.”

“You’re always an asshole,” you taunted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You weren’t sure how else to approach this.

Vi chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “More of one than usual. Better?”

“A little.”

“How do I get you to forgive me?”

You smiled, warmth unfurling in your chest like a slow-burning ember. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Her hand grazed your shoulder, the touch featherlight, as if testing whether you’d melt under her fingers. You leaned into her instinctively, like a plant drawn to sunlight. It was new, this tenderness from her, but somehow it felt like home. A strange, beautiful comfort that was exactly what you were aching for.

“Is it terrible that I really want to kiss you right now?” Her thumb traced the line of your collarbone, slow and deliberate, before cupping your cheek. Her palm was warm against your skin, grounding you in the moment while the world around you blurred into hazy irrelevance.

Her hand trailed up your collarbone and rested on your cheek. You were so close you could feel her breath on your face. You turned the rest of your body, finally fully facing her. Your chests were almost touching from the proximity, and so were your lips. You could feel your heart beating so loud in your ribcage you thought she could hear it.

“Definitely not,” you whispered, barely able to trust your own voice.

You turned to fully face her , closing the small distance between you . Your chest brushed against hers, the soft hitch of her breath almost louder than the pounding in your ears. You wondered if she could hear your heart, wild and untamed beneath your ribs, or if it was just you unravelling in her presence.

For a second, she hesitated, her lips ghosting over yours, not quite touching. The tension was electric, a charge that made the air feel thick and heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath. You closed your eyes, letting yourself fall into the anticipation, surrendering to the pull that had always been there.

When her lips finally pressed to yours, it was slow—achingly so. Her movements were unhurried, like she was memorizing the feel of you, the way your breath hitched, the softness of your lips against hers. Your hands found their way to her arms, fingers curling over the muscle there, marvelling at the juxtaposition of strength and gentleness. She brought you closer, her free hand slipping to the small of your back, holding you as if she were afraid you might slip away.

She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The warm summer breeze kissed your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy drinking her in—the way the string lights overhead reflected in her eyes, turning them into pools of gold, the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips parted as if she had something more to say but couldn’t find the words.

You didn’t care. Words didn’t matter anymore.

Her name slipped from your lips in a whisper you barely recognized, a plea you hadn’t meant to voice.

And then her lips were on yours again, fiercer this time. You responded without thinking, arms wrapping around her neck as though pulling her closer might make you whole. She matched your urgency, her hands firm as they pressed you flush against her, anchoring you in the moment. She kissed like she fought—with passion, with intent, with a determination that left you breathless.

When she broke away, it wasn’t to retreat but to trace a path down your jaw, her lips exploring the sensitive skin of your neck. Each kiss, each gentle scrape of her teeth, sent shivers down your spine. You gasped her name, your fingers tangling in her hair to pull her back to you.

Her eyes were dark when they met yours again, desire simmering just beneath the surface. Her lips were swollen, her breaths uneven, and she looked at you like you were something she couldn’t quite believe was real.

“Fuck,” she breathed, “I want you. Really bad.”

“You’ve always had me.”

She kissed you again, this time with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. Her hands roamed, each touch setting your skin ablaze until you were sure you’d never be the same. It was dizzying, intoxicating—a dream you never wanted to wake from.

Across the table, Vi was still looking at you.

You weren’t sure how long it had been—seconds, minutes?—but the weight of her gaze pressed down on you like it could peel back the layers you’d so carefully wrapped around yourself.

Your fingers tightened around the fork in your hand, the metal cool against your palm. Look away, you told yourself. Just look away. But you couldn’t.

Her expression was unreadable, her jaw set, and her brows drawn just slightly enough to make her look... almost regretful. Almost. It made your heart plunge. Even if you already had that sinking feeling she did regret it, when she left you that summer, but it still hurt all the same.

You tore your eyes away, focusing hard on the plate in front of you. The food looked perfect—bright, warm, comforting. But you had no appetite.

“...You alright?” Powder’s voice cut through the haze, and you blinked, realizing she’d been watching you. Her head tilted, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, fine,” you said quickly, forcing a smile that felt all wrong on your face when you felt Isha place her hand over yours. “Just tired.”

You could feel Vi’s eyes on you still.

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Vander was saying, his deep voice rolling over the table. “Feels like it, though. Never thought we’d make it through that night in one piece.”

“Speak for yourself,” Powder chimed in, grinning. “I think I came out of it looking pretty great.”

Mylo snorted. “You came out of it covered in glitter and confetti.”

“Exactly,” Powder shot back, shoving him lightly, and the table erupted into laughter.

Vi shifted in her chair, leaning back slightly. “Some people had more exciting nights than others,” she remarked, her tone light but razor-sharp. “If I remember right, someone disappeared for a while.”

The room went quiet.

You looked up sharply, meeting her gaze again, and there it was—something burning in her eyes, daring you to say something.

“What are you talking about?” Claggor asked, looking between you and Vi.

Vi shrugged casually, but her grip on her glass betrayed her. What the fuck was she playing at? “Nothing. Just saying, some people had... priorities.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, curling into the silence.

Your chest tightened under the weight of everyone’s stares. You forced your voice to stay even.“If you’ve got something to say, Vi, just say it.”

Her lips curled into a smirk that didn’t meet her eyes. “No. I’m good.”

You leaned forward, tension crackling in the air. “No, seriously. You clearly have a lot to say about that night. Why don’t you go ahead and spell it out for everyone?”

Vi’s chair creaked as she leaned forward, her voice low and steady. “Fine. You went missing. Nobody knew where you were. Figured you’d be with your friends, but no. You were off… handling your own business, weren’t you?”

“Vi—” Vander started.

Your jaw tightened. “Maybe you should look in a mirror before pointing fingers,” you shot back, the words escaping before you could think. “Because last I checked, you were drunk and sulking in the bottom of some mug—”

Vi’s scoff cut through the air like a slap. “Oh my god. Not this again.” She laughed, sharp and hollow. “Some of us actually enjoyed the night.”

“Enjoyed it?” you spat. “Is that what you call it?”

“At least I wasn’t sneaking around like I had something to hide!”

Your eyes narrowed, the fire in them flaring. “That’s fucking rich, coming from you. Considering the fact that you can’t ever grow up and actually take responsibility for your shit.”

Her chair scraped loudly as she leaned forward, “Grow up? Weren’t you the one giving me the silent treatment all weekend?”

“Because I didn’t have anything to say to you!”

“Oh, really? Sure sounds like you’ve got plenty to say now!” Vi’s voice cracked like a whip, the sarcasm cutting deeper than you expected.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird since I got here!” The words were out before you could stop them, a raw truth that had been burning inside you all day. It wasn’t just the awkwardness—it was her presence, everything about it, that had been eating at you.

“Weird how?”

“You keep acting like we’re friends—”

“Are we not friends?”

“Not the last time I fucking checked!” The words escaped in a snap, too loud for the quiet that had overtaken the table. “Friends don’t... they don’t—”

“They don’t what?” Her eyes were hard, daring you to finish it, daring you to bring it all back up. She knew exactly what you were going to say.

“They don’t leave , Violet.” You felt the air grow thick around you. Your voice dropped lower, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “They don’t fucking leave and act like nothing’s wrong. They sure as hell don’t spring out bullshit like this and pretend it’s nothing.”

“I—”

“They don’t pretend to care when they don’t,” you interrupted, your voice rising now, a sense of finality creeping in. You were done dancing around it. Done avoiding it. “And don’t act like this is some fucking coincidence, Vi. You left. And you know it. And for what? Because you’re a coward? We can fight about this forever and still end up right here again and again.”

Her jaw tightened at that, but her lips barely parted. She tried to steady herself, but you saw the crack—the tiny flicker of something that couldn’t hide in the cold light of the argument. “But I do care,” she said, softer than she meant to.

“No, you don’t. Because if you did you would’ve taken me seriously a long time ago.”

Around you, the table remained frozen, the once-familiar chatter now swallowed by the storm of your words.

Your chest tightened, breaths coming too quickly as heat rose to your face. Your hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, but they trembled, betraying you. You clenched them into fists, trying to steady yourself. The cold weight of embarrassment crashed over you, thick and suffocating, pulling at the pit of your stomach. The sting of tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back, refusing to show weakness. Not here. Not now.

“I need the bathroom,” you muttered.

The words were barely a whisper, but they felt loud in the stillness, a fragile escape from the chaos you were drowning in. You didn’t wait for a response. You pushed back from the table so violently that your chair scraped loudly against the floor, a harsh sound that seemed to echo in the tense silence. You stood up, your legs shaky, and your vision blurred for a second as you tried to steady yourself.

But just as you were about to leave, a small, insistent tug at your dress made you freeze. You paused, tension coiling in your chest, and glanced down. Isha’s wide, innocent eyes met yours, filled with concern and confusion, but she didn’t speak. She just held on for a heartbeat, her tiny hand clutching at the fabric.

You couldn’t bear to see her face, the concern too pure, too innocent for the mess you’d just created. You could already feel the shame settling in, the weight of everything crashing over you. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, silently asking if you were okay, but all you could do was nod quickly, avoiding the pleading in her gaze.

Without another word, you turned away, the sound of your shoes hitting the floor sharp and heavy as you walked toward the hallway. Your heart pounded in your chest, a rhythm that matched your quickening breaths, and you didn’t look back.

You'd spent your entire summer tied between bedsheets and lies. The knots in your chest were growing, the bitterness between your teeth spreading like a cavity. The sun was your only witness to the way you were falling apart at the hands of Violet. She was unravelling you, pulling you to pieces, limb by limb, with her teeth as they gnawed at your skin—biting and biting and pulling and pulling, taking everything out from you.

But you were so in love. You were sure that’s what it was. You were so in love with her and with this strange feeling residing within you that you couldn't help but think that if this was the way things were going to be from now on, so be it.

Her touch was electric, sparking something deep inside you that refused to be extinguished. When she pulled you into stolen moments—pressed against walls, her lips brushing yours with an urgency that made your head spin—you forgot about the world outside. You forgot about Powder. About Ekko. About the lies you were spinning just to be with her.

It was never planned. She’d come into your room late at night, your parents always let her in, her footsteps soft and deliberate, her voice a low murmur of your name that sent shivers down your spine. And then she was there, so close you could feel her warmth, her breath fanning your cheek as she whispered, “Can I stay?”

You never said no.

It was all tenderness. Her fingers would trace lazy patterns on your skin as the two of you lay tangled together, the world melting away outside your window. She kissed you with a care that made you believe, for just a moment, that this wasn’t wrong. That you weren’t betraying anyone.

Her laugh, soft and rare, became the soundtrack to your summer. You’d tease her about her scars, and she’d roll her eyes, calling you insufferable before tugging you closer with a smirk. “You’re lucky I like you,” she’d say, her voice light but her gaze heavy with something deeper.

But even then, cracks were forming beneath the surface.

You ignored the way her jaw tensed whenever Powder’s name came up when you told her what you did in the day. You pretended not to notice how her touch lingered a little too long as if she was trying to commit you to memory. And when she’d pull away in the mornings, murmuring some half-hearted excuse about needing air or checking on something, you let her go without question, even though her absence left a hollow ache in your chest.

You spent your days with Powder when the afternoon sun was merciless and drenched everything in a sticky warmth that clung to your skin. You followed her into the tiny ice cream shop on the corner, grateful for the blast of cold air as the door swung shut behind you. She immediately made a beeline for the counter, peering at the flavours.

“You know you’re just gonna get strawberry,” you said, leaning your arms on the glass display.

Powder rolled her eyes at you. “Maybe I’m feeling adventurous today.” But, true to form, she ordered strawberry, with a generous drizzle of chocolate syrup on top.

The two of you wandered back outside, ice creams in hand, the salty breeze from the beach brushing against your skin. Powder was chatting about something—maybe the latest gossip from your old neighbourhood or some ridiculous scheme Ekko was planning—but you weren’t really listening. Your thoughts were far away.

“Okay, spill,” Powder said suddenly, cutting through your haze.

You blinked, looking over at her. “What?”

She stopped walking and turned to face you fully, her blue eyes narrowing in a way that made you squirm. “You’ve been weird lately. Like, really weird. And I know you’re seeing someone.”

Your heart dropped. “What are you talking about? I’m not—”

“Oh, please.” Powder rolled her eyes, licking a stray drop of chocolate syrup from her thumb. “You think I haven’t noticed the hickeys? Or the fact that you’re always sneaking off? Or how you’re suddenly a terrible liar?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t even try,” she interrupted, grinning now. “You’re so obvious, it’s embarrassing.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. Powder knew you too well, and she wasn’t wrong.

“I’m not gonna push,” she continued, taking another bite of her ice cream. “You don’t have to tell me who it is or anything. Just… I don’t know. Be careful, okay? If they hurt you, I’ll deal with them myself.”

You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded casual. “I think I can handle myself, Pow.”

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice softening. “You’re my best friend. I just want you to be happy.”

It wasn’t like you wanted to keep it all to yourself, but you had to admit, you enjoyed the rush. The thrill of sneaking around, of stolen touches and whispered words in the dark . Of secluded meetings where the world melted away, leaving only the two of you. You even started to understand why Powder and Ekko had kept their relationship a secret for so long before telling anyone. There was something intoxicating about the secrecy, about having something—someone—all to yourself.

Still, the guilt lurked in the back of your mind, a constant shadow in the brightness of those moments.

You could feel its weight one night as you lay beside Vi, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside your window. The moonlight poured in through the swaying blinds, catching the sheen of sweat on your skin. You could still feel her hands on you, the warmth of her lips lingering in places you’d never forget.

But something shifted in the air as you spoke.

“Powder knows,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.

Vi stiffened beside you, her arms tightening for just a moment before going rigid. You felt the change immediately, like the comfort of her embrace had turned into a cage.

“What?” she muttered, her voice panicked, strained. She pulled away from you, her sudden movement leaving you cold despite the warmth of the summer night.

You propped yourself up on one elbow, watching as she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. The way she avoided your gaze made your chest ache. “I mean, she knows I’m seeing someone. She doesn’t know it’s you,” you clarified, trying to ease the tension. “But she’s smart, Vi. I’m sure she’ll figure it out.”

“Oh,” was all she said, her tone flat.

You frowned, sitting up to face her fully. “Is that so terrible?”

She finally turned to you, her expression unreadable, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Well… yeah.”

“What? Why?” you asked, your voice rising slightly, a mix of confusion and hurt.

“It’s just…” She trailed off, her hands falling into her lap. You watched as she fidgeted with the hem of the sheet, her knuckles brushing against her thighs, her usual confidence faltering. “This isn’t… I mean, it’s not supposed to be…”

“Not supposed to be what?” you pressed, your heart sinking as the silence stretched between you.

“Never mind,” she muttered, her voice clipped, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Your chest tightened as you watched her get dressed again, searching for her clothes in the mess of your room. “Where are you going?”

“I just remembered—I promised Jayce I’d meet him for drinks,” she said, her tone casual, but the way she avoided your gaze betrayed her unease.

“Drinks?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?”

“No, I just… uh, will I see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I dunno.”

Her answer hit you like a slap, the indifference in her tone cutting deeper than you expected. You opened your mouth to say something, to ask her to stay, but the words tangled in your throat. She was already halfway to the door.

And then she left, shutting it behind her without so much as a glance back.

You sat there in stunned silence, the warmth of her presence already fading. The sheets felt colder, and the air seemed heavier. You stared at the door, replaying the conversation in your mind , wondering where you’d gone wrong.

You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

You didn’t see her for a few days. Each hour of her absence stretched unbearably long, her silence gnawing at you like a wound that wouldn’t heal. It wasn’t until you were at Powder’s house for a sleepover that you saw her again, and the encounter was nothing short of jarring.

You were in the bathroom, brushing your teeth when the door swung open abruptly.

“Shit, sorry,” Vi said, freezing in the doorway, her eyes wide. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Figures.” you muttered as you met her startled gaze in the mirror.

Her presence made your chest tighten, anger and longing colliding in a mess of emotions. She lingered for a moment , her hand gripping the doorknob so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her eyes darted to the floor before she stepped back and shut the door behind her.

You stood there, toothbrush suspended midair, the brief encounter leaving you shaken. Your grip tightened on the sink as you stared at your reflection, trying to steady yourself, but all you could think about was her.

Ten minutes later, her bedroom door was locked.

You didn’t know how you ended up there, pressed against her bed, but none of it mattered in the heat of the moment. Her movements were frantic, her hands rough and unrelenting as they held you in place. One hand cupped your mouth, muffling your gasps and cries, while the other gripped your hips, anchoring you to the mattress.

Her breath was hot against your skin as she licked a line up your centre, her tongue moving with a precision that made you shudder. Vi’s eyes stayed locked on you, watching the way your chest heaved and your fingers fumbled for something to hold onto. The sheets bunched beneath your grip as her nose brushed against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

You felt your breath stagger. Her mouth moved against you with a desperation you hadn’t felt before, like she was trying to drown out her own thoughts by consuming you entirely.

Her tongue worked relentlessly, warm and wet as it flicked against you in ways that stole the air from your lungs. She was vicious, her teeth scraping lightly, her lips sealing over you with desperation that bordered on need. You tried to stay quiet—the walls were thin, and you weren’t an idiot—but it was impossible to stifle every sound.

It was a miracle that the woman you fucked wasn’t a talker half of the time.

Your head pressed back against the comforter, and your body arched into her touch, unable to resist the pull of her movements. A broken gasp escaped you, muffled only by the fingers pressed against your lips. The lewd, wet sounds of her mouth against you filled the room, driving you closer to the edge.

Vi’s eyes never left you, and when she moved her hand from your mouth to tug at your shirt, you realized she wanted more. Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, her grip firm but not rough.

Your hand covered hers, “Vi—” you managed to whisper, but the way her fingers flexed back against yours stole whatever protest you had.

“ Oh, ” you keened, the sound spilling from your lips before you could stop it. Your chest heaved, and your free hand clutched at the sheets as heat spread through your body.

She shifted lower, pulling her hand away from yours, spreading you open further with her fingers before her tongue dipped deeper. She sucked on your clit, her lips closing over it with a force that had you gasping her name. Your hand found her hair, tangling in her locks as your hips bucked against her face.

“F-fuck,” you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper. The room felt too hot, the air too thick, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

What Vi gave you wasn’t just desire—it was something raw, frantic like she was trying to pour everything she couldn’t say into every stroke of her tongue and press of her lips. Her nails dug into your thighs, holding you steady as she pulled you apart, piece by trembling piece.

When you finally came undone, she didn’t let go immediately. She lingered, her tongue moving slower now , as if reluctant to stop.

Your gut twisted with unease and she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against your thigh, her breath warm and uneven against your skin.

She stayed there for a moment, her shoulders trembling slightly.

“Vi?” you whispered, your voice hoarse and uncertain.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she climbed up beside you, pulling you into her arms with a gentleness that went against all the ferocity from moments ago. It made your chest ache.

Her hands traced idle patterns on your back, and her lips brushed against your temple, but even in her embrace, you could feel the tension radiating from her.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a momentary lapse.

It felt like a goodbye.

Three days later, you found the note.

Sorry, can’t keep doing this. Take care.

The sound of your feet hitting the floor was sharp, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You couldn’t stand being in the same room with her for another second. Without thinking, you turned on your heel and made a beeline for the door.

Powder was already on you. “Hey—wait! What the fuck was that all about?” She followed closely, her voice softening with concern.

“I just need a minute,” you muttered, the words coming out more broken than you intended, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her.

“Please, talk to me,” she called out, grabbing your arm before you could open the bathroom door. You flinched, the touch grounding you against the whirlwind of your emotions. Powder gently turned you around, her gaze locking onto yours. The concern in her eyes was sharp, but it softened when she noticed the tears staining your cheeks. The ones you’d been fighting back all night.

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush, but it felt like they weren’t enough.

Powder’s eyes softened at the apology, but she was still searching for answers. “For what?”

“I’m sorry, Pow,” you repeated, your voice trembling.

She blinked, shaking her head slightly, “Why would you—”

“It was Vi,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. Your chest felt tight like something was gripping around your heart, squeezing the air from your lungs. “The person I was seeing over the summer... it was her. I... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Powder’s face, usually so open and easy to read, flickered with something unreadable for a moment. But then, without skipping a beat, she spoke, her voice calm. “I know.”

“What?”

“I knew.”

Of course, she knew. Why wouldn’t she know? You scoffed involuntarily. A bitter, hollow laugh bubbled up in your chest, but it died before it reached your lips. Of course, she’d figured it out. You’d never been good at hiding things from Powder. She’d known you better than anyone for as long as you could remember.

Seeing the way your face shifted, Powder seemed to understand the storm of thoughts going through your head. She continued, quieter now, but her words landed with surprising ease. “You’ve always had a thing for her... I just thought you’d tell me when you were ready. I wasn’t going to push.”

The floodgates started to crack open, the guilt and the ache in your chest spilling out in fragmented pieces. “I wanted to tell you,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath. “I really did... but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what I was doing—what I was feeling. And I didn’t want to hurt you.” The last part came out in a broken whisper, the pain of it digging into you like a knife.

Powder’s gaze softened, but she didn’t say anything right away. You could feel her presence steadying you, like she was holding onto you in the way she always did when things felt like they were falling apart.

“Come on, stop apologizing. You sound like a loser.”

But you couldn’t stop. You were choking on it. On the guilt. The regret. The frustration. You’d kept this secret for so long, and now everything had cracked wide open, splintering everything around you. “I should’ve told you first thing,” you choked out, your chest heavy with regret, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I fucked everything up. I ruined Christmas dinner, I ruined everything.”

You didn’t mean to raise your voice at the table. It just... happened. The tears were close again, stinging the back of your eyes, and your hands shook violently as you tried to make sense of it all. You shouldn’t have come back here.

“I’ll leave. I’ll go.”

The words didn’t even feel real as they left your mouth. You didn’t even know where you’d go.

But before you could turn away, Powder’s hand shot out, stopping you cold. She wasn’t angry. No, this wasn’t about anger. It was something else—something steadier. Her voice was quiet but firm, unwavering. “And go where?” she asked, a little smile pulling at the corner of her lips, almost like she was trying to soften the weight of your spiralling thoughts. “You’re staying right here. You’re not leaving.”

She exhaled a laugh that sounded real for the first time all night, and it cut through the tension in the air. The smile that formed on your lips was small, but it was there. “Besides,” she added, “if anyone ruined Christmas, it was Mylo’s shitty cookies anyway.”

That did it. It was the most normal thing you’d heard all night, and it gave you just enough space to breathe.

“We’re gonna watch a movie soon,” she said, her voice softer now. “Once everyone’s done eating. If you need a minute... you’ve got plenty of time.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. Your throat felt like it was tightening again, but you didn’t have it in you to argue. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice tight, raw. “I just need a few minutes... to think.”

Powder’s gaze softened even more as she stepped back, her expression unreadable for a moment. “I’ll deal with my sister and then we’ll talk about this later. There’s a lot to unpack here.”

The words lingered in the air between you, but there was no anger there. No blame. Only understanding—like she knew this wasn’t something you could just fix in a minute. It made your heart ache even more, that she wasn’t pushing. That she wasn’t leaving you to drown in this alone.

With that, she left you standing in the hallway, the door creaking softly behind her. You didn’t look back, the weight of her words lingering on your shoulders like a heavy cloak. It felt like everyone in the house was still watching, their eyes pressing down on you. The silence in the house seemed louder than the argument had been.

Without thinking, you pushed open the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind you with a force that left your ears ringing. You locked the door, the click of the lock filling the space with a strange finality. It was just you now, and you couldn’t escape what was happening inside your own head. The sound of your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else.

You leaned heavily against the sink, your hands gripping the porcelain so tightly that your knuckles ached.

“Fuck,” you whispered, barely able to hear yourself over the frantic beating of your heart.

You stared at your reflection for what felt like hours, trying to calm the storm in your mind. Your face was flushed, your emotions a mess of anger, confusion, and exhaustion. You hated the way things had spiralled tonight. Hated that you’d let it get this far. Hated that you’d lashed out, that you did it in front of Isha and the rest of the family.

But as much as you wanted to bury it, as much as you wanted to push everything down and move on, you couldn’t. You couldn’t lie to yourself. What you really felt was hurt.

A soft knock at the door broke through your thoughts, sharp against the silence. You froze and swore under your breath.

“Hey, are you okay?” Claggor’s voice was gentle, hesitant like he wasn’t sure whether to intrude. “Just... just wanna make sure you're alright.”

You ran a hand over your hair, “Yeah, I just need to... just need a minute. I’ll be fine. Sorry.”

The pause that followed felt like it lasted forever. You heard him sigh before his footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving you alone again. But you didn’t move.

Suddenly, there was another knock at the door. This one was different, more insistent. You thought it was Powder again—

You opened the door quickly, but the second it swung open, you were met with a wall of heat, and before you could think, lips were on yours.

Vi.

The shock of it made your breath catch in your throat, a jolt of heat flooding through you. She pushed into you with a force that made your head spin, her body pressing against yours as if she couldn’t get close enough. Her lips were hungry, desperate as if trying to drown out something—something that had been brewing between you two for far too long.

Everything you’d been holding in—the anger, the frustration, the confusion—came rushing out in a rush of heat and tension. You responded instinctively, your hands finding her arms and pulling her closer. She felt so real, so tangible at that moment, like she was a part of you you’d been missing without knowing it. Her grip on you was tight, almost painful as if she was trying to force her way back into your world.

She muttered something against your lips—quiet, persistent, over and over. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The words burned against your mouth, each one feeling like it was meant for you to swallow, to take in and process like some kind of penance. You didn’t stop, though. You couldn’t. You kissed her harder, deeper, your own emotions spilling out as you pulled her into you, letting the anger twist into something darker, something reckless.

The door slammed shut behind you with a force that made the walls rattle, and you imagined her kicking it closed, her body language sharp, desperate, like she couldn’t get away from what she was doing.

But just as suddenly as it had started, Vi pulled away, gasping for air, her breath ragged against your lips. Her eyes were wild, dark, but there was something else there too—something you couldn’t place. She wasn’t looking at you; she was looking through you as if she was trying to piece something together in her head.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You hissed, your voice low and rough, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your chest heaved with, heart pounding in your throat. “You don’t get to come in here and—”

“I’m sorry, I know,” she muttered, cutting you off. Her voice was strained, full of frustration and something else—guilt, maybe. “I’ve been... fuck. I’m sorry.”

Your mind spun, trying to make sense of it all, but the words felt hollow. It didn’t change the fact that she’d barged in, that this... whatever it was, was happening now. “You should be,” you snapped, the words sharp, your chest still tight with the weight of everything—of the anger and the hurt, and the confusion that had never really gone away.

“I don’t wanna let anyone down anymore. I don’t wanna let you down. I just... I didn’t think I was ready for this, for you," she breathed, her voice trembling just slightly. “I didn’t know how to deal with how I felt. I’ve always fucked things up, and this... this feels like another thing I’m about to ruin. Because I know you like me. And I like you too. A lot.”

“You shouldn’t have come at me like that tonight... Not like... that,” you said, voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

Vi nodded, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know. I messed up. But I just... I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth betraying a small grin. You couldn’t help it—you were a goner. Too far gone, far too smitten, tangled in your feelings for her. She could probably destroy you a dozen times over, and you’d still find yourself wanting more.

You moved closer, placing your hands over her chest before gently cupping her face. You willed her to believe you, forcing yourself to be brave even as the words felt foreign in your mouth. "One more. I’ll give you one more chance, Vi."

“That’s all I need,” she whispered, her voice low, full of intensity.

In an instant, the distance between you collapsed. One second, she was all taut, coiled tension, and the next, she was on top of you, her lips hot against your neck, leaving a trail of fire down your skin. One hand tangled in your hair, the other already lifting your skirt as her fingers brushed dangerously close, matching the rhythm of her tongue's movements against your pulse.

Her weight on top of you, even with clothes still between you, felt familiar. It was all the little things—the way she moved, the way her hand slipped down your leg, teasing, pulling back just as you thought you’d finally get what you wanted. Her kiss was fierce, her body pressing into yours in a way that made you feel both vulnerable and alive.

You realized just how much you’d missed this—the feel of her, the way she made your heart race and your breath hitch. The nights you had spent alone, replaying moments like these in your mind, when she would slip into your dreams like a ghost.

There had been nights—like that summer at Jayce’s and Mel’s engagement party—when she had drawn you to the edge again and again, leaving you gasping and frustrated, only to make you ache for more. You weren’t proud of it, but you'd replayed that night in your mind over and over when loneliness crept in—on bad days, or when you drank too much, and the restless feeling lingered even after you’d gotten yourself off. Nothing had ever compared to the way she made you feel.

It made you wonder—did she ever feel the same? Did she ever ache for you the way you had ached for her?

The bathroom was a reckless choice for this. But then again, life was too short for second-guessing. Clothes were discarded hastily, hands colliding with fabric, a belt buckle clanging against the floor. Every movement felt frantic, raw, desperate. She didn’t let you go, her body against yours as her fingers found their way to your skin, her breath hot and heavy on your neck.

“I miss you,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I miss you too.”

“Sorry I’m a dick.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You swear you would be in peace if it wasn’t for her. But this kept you on your toes, you guessed. The way you liked it.

part one

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