#i know you’re both going to read this and i need you to know: i hate you

[breannasfluff]

The doorbell rings, marking a customer, and Danny is jerked from his thoughts as he half-dozes on the counter.

“Hi, welcome.” Straightening up he brushes off his apron and gestures at the table. “Can I get you some water?”

The flat look he gets in return isn’t promising. “No. I need to talk to the boss in the back. Watch my daughter for a minute, would you? Brat keeps running off when I ain’t looking.”

“Ah…” Danny shifts, awkward, and glances around the empty room. 

Customer rolls his eyes and slouches out the door. Then he’s back, bell dinging cheerfully, with a girl’s arm in his hand. “Sit,” he tells the girl, shoving her into a chair. “Stay.”

She’s not a dog. Danny grits his teeth and thinks about the taser, behind the counter he was sitting at. She doesn’t look scared, just huffs and shakes chunky bangs out of one eye. 

Customer looks them both over again. “Talkin to the boss. Watch her.” With that, he vanishes back into the kitchen.

Danny looks at the girl. 

She stares back. “You know what this place is, right?”

“A Chinese restaurant?” he tries. 

The girl blows her bangs out of her face again. “MSG, sure. The good shit.”

“Language,” Danny snaps because she can’t be older than twelve. 

He gets a considering look. “You’re new to town, aren't cha? I’m DeeDee.”

“I’m Dan.” He’s not going to give out his full name, not here. “And what gave it away?”

DeeDee cackles, throwing her shoes up on the table. Danny grimaces at the motion. “You got this…shininess to you. Gotham hasn’t got its dirt in your cracks yet.”

Danny glances at the kitchen where her father went. “Are you…safe?”

“It’s Gotham, dipstick. Nothing’s safe here.” DeeDee reminds him of Ember. A younger, ruder version, maybe. “But Pops ain’t the worst. He’s not my real dad, but street kids don’t get a lot of choices, ya know? I help, he gives me a place to sleep.”

“You help…”

“With the MSG.” Her grin is all teeth. “Gotta keep it on the DL though, you hear? Not supposed to have kids involved.” It’s the first time her cocky manner fades. “Don’t wanna be out on the street again. It’s hard to find a gig. Too young for shit.”

Danny’s frown is going to be permanent if he keeps this up. DeeDee is just a kid, even if she’s had to grow up fast. She's only a few years younger than him when he started ghost-fighting. 

He tears off a scrap of paper and jots down a number before handing it over. “That’s for Tony’s Pizza. If you lose this gig, you call the number and say you want to talk to Dan, got it?”

DeeDee takes it with a sneer that looks forced. “I don’t need no charity.”

Danny just shrugs. “You don’t. But sometimes it’s nice to have the option.”

Read the rest here

[tbaluver]

Can you do the boys with a mentally unwell reader? Like she has depression, ocd, or anxiety that she takes medication for?

S/O Who Faces Mental Illness- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader tags: ( for all ) mentioning of depression/ depressive episodes, ocd rituals, anxiety/ social anxiety a/n: hi anonnie ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ sorry this took awhile, this was sitting in my drafts and i would keep coming back to it. i just wanted to make sure this topic is handled with care. i know that everyone has different types of depression, anxiety, and ocd so i wrote the ones that i'm familar with and gone through. i hope this was okay lmk ! ̤̮

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier has always been such an attentive lover to you and he’s grown increasingly worried as he observed your unhealthy habits. He notices how you spend more time in bed than usual, longer than he would stay in bed. How you seem disinterested in eating, even if it were foods you typically enjoyed. Noticing how these impacts have affected you, he has made the effort to educate himself better on what you’re going through to understand and support you better.

If you were taking any medications, he'll read the entire packet that came with it or look up as much information he can online. He'll try to remember all the side effects that comes with it and makes sure to check up on you whenever you take them.

He notices when your energy plummets so it’s his duty to take care of you. He tries to make everything easy for you. He’ll make sure to tuck both of you in bed, turning off the lights when you both get ready, making sure to have food delivered when you wake up. Xavier encourages you to take a walk outside with him, helping you get some fresh air and encouraging you to step out of bed. He’ll hold your hand the entire time.

Distractions were one of the ways he could get your mind off any anxious thoughts or from any of your OCD rituals. He'll have a list of your favorite things to do and see if it helps. He'll stay with you in bed all day if that's what you need and wouldn't let you isolate yourself. Will also build a fort to cuddle you up in and have you tucked in his arms.

Anytime you two were out and you started to feel drained, then he'll take you back home. You two can stay in and cuddle.

He never pushes you beyond your comfort levels. If there was any situation where you started to feel uncomfortable, then he'll lead the situation and you somewhere else that sets you more at ease.

Zayne:

Zayne is no stranger to the topics of mental illness. He’s gone through extensive studies and many clinical experiences with patients. But with you, it's different. Your struggles aren’t just a clinical case to him, they’re personal. He’s acutely attuned to subtle changes of your mood and actions. He notices the quiet shifts in your expressions, or the way your eyes dull and lose their sparkle. Even though it’s hard to read through his expressions, it truly does hurt him to see you suffer. Your internal pain that you battle inside hurts him more than words can convey.

If you were to go through a depressive episode and you feel like you can’t do everything you need, then Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He would reassure you to not feel guilty even though he’s busy with his work or any paperwork's. You have done so much as a loving partner to him and he will always return the favor for you.

He’ll help you shower and dress you up. He'll make sure to brush your hair gently and that you brush your teeth. He’ll even make sure you eat enough and he’ll praise you for taking every bites.

He’s always there for you. Even if he was in the middle of work, he would remind you to never hesitate to reach out whenever you feel isolated or just needed to vent, anything. Spam him, leave voice messages- he’ll read every word and listen to each message and reply with care. No matter how busy he might be, he’ll find a way to call you as soon as he can. He wants to make sure you’re okay and to remind you that you’re never alone, even when he’s away. Your well-being matters so deeply to him that he’s committed to be there for you in every possible way.

He'll keep note of all the side effects you've experienced with your medications, so he's aware of the potential issues that might arise when you take them. Will send you texts reminding you to take your meds at the right time and to make sure you eat before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.

He’s a very attentive and caring partner, he pays close attention to the triggers of your OCD and observes the coping mechanisms you have. He notices your struggle with hand washing compulsions and understands how these rituals can take a toll on you. He’ll try to help you by pointing out that excessive hand washing can actually be harmful, as it washes away the beneficial ones that your body needs.

He'll be very reassuring when you feel the need to constantly check up on things. He won't judge you for it but instead he'll offer to check on it himself and reassure you that everything is okay.

It wouldn’t be new to him to avoid places that were crowded or super noisy. He would know where all the less crowded and quiet places are. At this point, he already had taken the time to understand your triggers and sources of anxiety. He just wanted to be well-informed so he can help you avoid these situations and provide the support and care you need.

If you were to experience an anxiety attack, he remains calm and patient and helps you try to breathe. Whenever you need to vent, he’s always there for you. He’ll let you curl up on his lap while you talk, gently stroking your hair. Although he’s quiet while you talk, you know he listens to every detail and he doesn’t want to interrupt you. After you finish sharing, he’ll offer advice or discuss the situation to help you work through it together.

Rafayel:

He knows that you were going through significant struggles because it often kept you doing certain things with him. There are times when the weight of your depression and anxiety feels so heavy that it drains your motivation, making your favorite hobbies or simply just doing anything seem out of reach. Sometimes the intensity of your OCD leads you to stay up, unable to rest because you repeatedly check things like the light switches, doors, windows, and everything else in the house.

OCD is a topic that Rafayel wouldn’t tease or be playful on with you. He notices the small things when you repeat patterns or prefer certain number sets. He’s very patient and understanding about this topic but anytime you feel as if your ocd ritual was messed up, he is quick to run to your side and reassure you that everything will be okay.

Rafayel has been in a dark place himself so he knows the signs when you’re struggling. Whether you’ve been through this over and over again, he’ll help you through this every single time. If you don't have the energy to take a shower or a bath, then he’ll simply carry you and wash you himself. He’ll join you and use your favorite bath bomb scents and make it a little fun by blowing bubbles at you. A smile would curl up on his lips when he sees you smiling again.

He wouldn’t force you to talk. He’ll do most of the talking and hopefully it takes your mind off anything you were anxious about. When you are ready to talk, he’ll praise you. It’s a big step forward in healing and he would be listening attentively to everything you say.

Rafayel would text you throughout the day and ask how you were feeling. He's always there at your beck and call. If you need anything, he already has it and he's on his way to you.

If you were out in public and you started to feel uneasy, he would lead you somewhere else. Rafayel would always be holding your hand for security and to make sure you were always right by his side. He doesn't mind wherever you both go, as long as he's with you. He makes sure that you two can go to places that aren't crowded or noisy but still enjoyable and fun for the both of you.

He’s very worried whenever you take medications. He knows that they can have some mean and nasty side effects and that’s the last thing he would want you to go through. He’ll always make sure to check up on you a couple hours later to see how you’re holding up.

Sylus:

It does not take him long to notice you were acting off. Nothing can get past this man and he doesn’t want you to feel like you have anything to hide from him. No matter what the issue is, he isn’t leaving your side and you’ll both work on the issue together. He doesn’t want you to go through anything alone.

When you feel empty and you simply want to sink into your bed and lay there motionless because everything in the world was just too much, Sylus will not hesitate to take action. He’ll make sure you're eating nutritious meals by calling his private chefs or he’ll make them himself. He’ll sit right beside you and watch you take enough bites or he’ll spoon feed it to you himself. Sylus would make sure to tell you that you were doing so well even if the bites were big or small. After you are done eating, he’ll make sure that you take all your meds and check up on you if any of the side effects arise.

He’ll be right by your side at any doctor's appointments. He’ll carry you to the bathroom himself or he’ll use his evol to help wash, dry, and dress you up. Sylus would encourage you as well to go on walks with him so your body is still moving and so you can get some fresh air. He does all of this because he loves you and he doesn’t want you to lose any of the progress you made. He knows your capabilities and he knows you will get through this. He’ll be right by your side the entire time.

When he notices that your OCD rituals are becoming overwhelming, he doesn't hesitate to step in to help. He finds engaging activities for the both of you to do so it steers your focus away from the obsessive thoughts. Understanding how OCD can distort your perceptions, he uses distractions as a way to gently pull you out of that obsessive cycle.

Sylus would let you know that he’s accessible. Whenever you need him, feel free to call him any time and he’ll drop anything and come by to help you.

Don't even bother brushing off any of your issues. Anything that bothers you, he's always there to listen and help you. He’s a great listener and he never judges you for any problems you had and the reason behind your behavior. His shoulder is for you to lean on, cry on, laugh on, and hold on, etc. He’s understanding and wants you to be happy again.

When he’s away, he will have food delivered to you. He’ll make sure you eat and that you take your meds right after by calling or texting to remind you. Or he’ll just send Mephisto to you. He’ll caw/squawk repeatedly until you finish your meals.

[toadtoru]

HOW TO INTERACT WITH WRITERS AND ARTISTS: A GUIDE

Hello! We all know that there is a steady decline in interactions and reblogs in fandom and I think a lot of new readers are very nervous to interact with artists on here. So as a somewhat seasoned Tumblr user, I figured I’d make a little guide for those who might feel they need it. :D

Disclaimer: This is by no means a rulebook or a demand. I am not forcing you to do any of these things. This is simply meant to be helpful towards those who might be new to the app or are nervous about interacting with people. Also: Since I write fanfiction, most of these examples are gonna be rooted in fanfiction. However, this can be applied to any other form of art on here as well!

FIRST OF ALL:

Customize your blog. A lot of people think blank blogs are bots. It doesn’t have to be a big thing but go on Pinterest, and find a cute profile pic. Choose a cool colour. Give your blog some personality.

It is completely fine and normal to want to remain anonymous on here. If you want you can choose a cool pseudonym (Alba is not my real name and I know for a fact that most of my mutuals’ “names” are pseudonyms.) but your blog can also just remain nameless.

If you are going to interact with NSFW fics and art I highly recommend putting your age in your bio. A lot of NSFW artists are not comfortable interacting with minors and ageless blogs and will block you if you don’t have your age somewhere.

It’s important to remember that writers and artists love interactions! We are here because we love a certain media and want to talk about it.

Secondly, Tumblr is not Instagram or TikTok. There are no “tumblr influencers”. Most of us are just normal people who do this as a hobby.

While it’s completely okay and normal to look up to someone or admire someone’s work, try not to put people on pedestals.

Lastly, fan fiction and art do not have a time limit. It doesn’t matter if it was posted yesterday, a year ago or ten years ago. It cannot expire. The love you feel for it now is just as valid as the love someone felt for it ten years ago. So please do not hesitate to interact with art just because it was posted a while ago.

THE BIG NO-NO’S:

“Part two?” It’s fair that you’re excited about a fic and want to read more, but simply just asking for part two without saying anything else can make a writer feel bad. We are not robots or content machines.

“X is stupid” “Your characterization is bad” “X wouldn’t do this” It’s okay to not like someone’s fic or art but commenting that it is bad or that you don’t agree is not okay. If you don’t like a fic you click off. If you don’t like someone’s takes or posts, you block them. You are responsible for curating your own online experience. Block what annoys you and move on.

Hate anons. I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this, but people still do it so I’m gonna say it anyway. Don’t send hate anon to people’s inboxes.

Don’t demand things. “When is the next part coming out?” “You promised you’d post” etc. Life happens. Most of us have school or jobs or both.

Use Character AI, Chatbot, etc. Do not use AI. Do not put other people’s art into AI machines without their permission or knowledge. AI steals people’s writing and art. Do not use it to finish unfinished fics for you, do not use it to get a part two, do not use it.

Do not repost* art without permission. Do not repost art on other platforms. Do not post people’s fics on Wattpad or other platforms without permission. Do not post artists’ art on Pinterest or TikTok without permission. Do not translate writers’ fics without permission.

*Note: reposts and reblogs are not the same. A reblog is when you press the 🔁 button at the bottom of a post. This is encouraged. Reposts are when you make your own post with the stolen art.

SO WHAT CAN YOU DO?

Reblogs. Reblogs, reblogs, reblogs. Reblogs. I cannot stress this enough. Tumblr’ algorithm sucks and sometimes posts don’t show up in tags. When you reblog someone's art you help more people see it!

Also, reblogs do not only help the artist but it also helps you! You can create a tag system on your account so you easily can find works you liked again. It’s much easier to find reblogged works than it is to go through your 300 liked posts. (Also if an artist deactivates you will still have the post instead of it disappearing.)

Comment on people’s art! Tell them what you liked! I promise you it will make their day!

Ask questions! Did you notice a specific choice the artist made that you found interesting? Is there something that intrigued you or you want to know more about?

BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO SAY?

It’s important to remember that your support does not have to be some profound intellectual conversation. This is Tumblr, we’re all just having fun.

“I loved this!” “Your writing is amazing!” “This art is so pretty!” “The way you draw/characterize X character is cool!”

What did the art make you feel? “This made me happy” “This made me sad” Your emotions about the piece do not have to be positive. If someone wrote a 6k fic about the SatoSugu breakup then their goal probably wasn’t to make you feel joyous. Tell them how you feel! It will make them happy to know that their art evoked emotions in you.

Predictions! Did you catch some foreshadowing? What do you think happens in the next chapter? It's super fun as a writer to read what people think is going to happen!

Okay, folks. I think that’s all I have for you. Remember that we’re all just here to have fun. We want to interact with you. Reblog and comment on the fics you like! Send your thoughts to people’s inboxes! Once you get over that initial fear, I promise you, it becomes so much more fun. Fandom is supposed to be fun.

[wonhes]

WARNINGS: ….. angst 😺👍 + cursing

☁︎ — JUNE 24TH, 2024 10:58 PM

blinking to try and comprehend what they heard, they all blankly look at each other as anton’s words continue ringing in their heads. trying their best to put into words what they were all thinking, they continue staring at each other in complete disbelief. shotaro is the first to break the silence by loudly scoffing at his younger friend.

shaking his head at him, he takes a step forward towards anton. bringing the back of his hand up, he smacks anton’s chest causing anton to let out a small “ow.”

“and what the actual fuck posessed you to say that?” shotaro asks, disapproval written all over his tone.

“it was a joke!” anton quickly yells back as he rubs his chest.

“look around,” eunseok states as he moves to point at the rest of the boys. “is anybody laughing?”

“i panicked, i’m sorry!” anton sighs, bringing a hand up to nervously chew on one of his fingernails. “i was just trying to lighten the mood,” he mumbles to himself.

“you said sohee was going to get a restraining order against her!” wonbin quickly yells back. “in what world is that funny?”

“okay, i did not say it like that!” anton immediately argues back, shaking his head at wonbin’s words. he doesn’t understand why everyone is making such a big fuss. anton swears he has jokingly told sohee that before and it didn’t result in him crying. he genuinely does not understand why him making that joke towards you led to you crying and locking yourself up in your room.

“if anyone should get a restraining order is yn but on this guy over here,” eunseok sighs shaking his head as he uses his index finger to point towards seunghan’s direction.

rolling his eyes at eunseok’s comment, seunghan brings a hand up to flip eunseok off; this instantly causing eunseok to flip seunghan back with both of his hands.

“she literally texts him everyday! i was just trying to be funny,” anton continued on defending himself, ignoring the two boys bickering.

“god,” shotaro sighs once more. “anton, do you not know how to read a room?”

“your sister is in love with sohee,” shotaro states. with wide eyes, anton quickly looks at your friends for confirmation. when getting the confirmation he needed, he awkwardly shifts in his spot.

“she texts him every day probably hoping he’s going to magically unblock her one of these days– she wants to work things out with him but he refuses to hear her out,” shotaro sighs, shaking his head at sohee’s way of handling the situation. “you told her he was out of town so that most likely caused her to believe you’re still in contact with him–” shotaro continues explaining. “you made a tasteless joke about sohee getting a restraining order against her so she most definitely believes that came out of his mouth.” shotaro finally concludes.

“do you now understand why your sister is crying or do i have to dumb it down some more?” shotaro speaks up once more causing eunseok to let out a small snicker at his choice of words.

“wait—” eunseok’s eyes immediately go wide. “yn,” he says, turning to his friends as they all instantly gasp and make their way up the stairs to go to your room and comfort you.

from up the stairs, eunseok turns back for a brief second and points down at seunghan. “and don’t you dare step foot upstairs,” he states before turning back to continue walking up the stairs.

rolling his eyes at eunseok’s comment, seunghan lightly pats both shotaro and anton’s chest to signal them to follow the rest up the stairs.

JUNE 24TH, 2024 11:13 PM

“baby, open the door,” wonbin sighs as he continues to knock at your door. turning back to look at sungchan and eunseok, he shakes his head at them.

“pretty girl?” sungchan tries now, jiggling your doorknob.

“sugar plum, please!” eunseok desperately yells out, wanting nothing more than to be there for you.

“baby? sugar plum? pretty girl? what the fuck?” seunghan mumbles to himself, confused on the sudden pet names you were receiving.

shaking his head at seunghan, wonbin couldn’t help but roll his eyes at him. “platonically, asshole.”

“you’re just mad yn didn’t like it when you called her pretty girl,” eunseok quickly shot back, turning to smirk at the shorter boy.

gasping at his words, shotaro and anton bring a hand up to smack their friend. “you called her ‘pretty girl’?” shotaro asks in full on disbelief.

“you fucking called my sister ‘pretty girl’?” anton angrily asks.

“ow–” seunghan states as he begins rubbing his head and arm. “sungchan just called her that and nobody fucking cared!”

“she’s my best friend!” sungchan quickly reasons back. “besides, it’s platonically. yours on the other hand was not.”

“eunseok, what else has he done.” anton asks as he continues to angrily eye his friend.

“oh, i’ll gladly tell you–” eunseok begins as he turns to look at seunghan’s panic figure shaking his head at him, pleading him to stop.

“yn,” shotaro randomly speaks up. at the sound of his voice, everyone shifts their attention towards him and watch as he brings a hand up to knock at your door.

“what the fuck are you doing?” anton whispers out towards his older friend.

“trust me,” shotaro quickly answers back before softly knocking once more. “i know you don’t know me like that but it’s shotaro,” shotaro quietly says.

“i’m really close to sohee,” he adds as he continues speaking to you against your door. “you-” at the sound of the door unlocking and swinging open he closes his mouth.

“i didn’t kiss seunghan,” you quickly state, looking up at shotaro with tears spilling from your eyes.

softly smiling down at you, he nods his head at your words. “i know,” he reassures you.

“please tell him that,” you desperately plea with him.

as you watch him shake his head at you, you feel your bottom lip start to quiver. looking up at him once more you try to plea once again.

“i’m not going to tell him because you are,” shotaro says, sending you a warm smile as he takes out his phone to text sohee.

“i’m going to text sohee and tell him i’m coming over so he’ll know to expect someone over,” shotaro tells you as he finishes typing on his phone. “but instead of it being me, it’ll be you.”

shaking your head at his words, you couldn’t help but let tears spill. desperately running to whichever one of your friends was closest to you for emotional support.

“oof,” wonbin softly says, taken back at the sudden contact. quickly snapping out of it, he brings his hands to your frame to hug you back.

“he’s going to get a restraining order,” you sob, hiding your head on his chest.

hearing your words, eunseok annoyingly turns to anton as he brings a hand to slap the back of his head. “you fucking see what you did?”

“baby, he’s not going to get a restraining order,” wonbin lightly laughs to try and reassure you. “do you know how silly that sounds?”

“sohee told anton,” you mumble, hugging wonbin tighter to try and calm yourself down.

angrily turning to look at your younger brother, it’s sungchan’s turn to slap the back of anton’s head. “you fucking see?”

“ow— it was a fucking joke!” anton whispers back.

“he’s not going to get a restraining order, i promise,” shotaro states, side eyeing anton in complete annoyance. “sohee never said that, i swear.”

“i can even show you our texts–” shotaro continues trying as he takes his phone out of his pocket. “he wouldn’t do that.”

“he wants to talk things out, trust me. he’s just hard headed.” the older boy tells you.

“very hard headed,” seunghan mumbles to himself, agreeing with shotaro.

discreetly nodding his head at their words, eunseok slowly makes his way to where you and wonbin were standing.

“move. my turn!” eunseok pushes wonbin off of you and quickly takes over, hugging you gently as he places a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“what the actual fuck is your problem, eunseok!?” wonbin groans, shaking his head at his friend as he dusts himself off.

“what? i’m just trying to be here for my best friend,” eunseok reasons, causing you to let out a small chuckle at their banter.

“okay! now, it’s my turn,” sungchan says, making his way towards you.

smiling at the sight of you no longer crying, anton begins walking towards you as well. “i’m sorry you have a stupid little brother,” he sighs as he sends you a sad smile.

“i got nervous and made a dumb joke,” anton admits to you as he nervously scratches the back of his neck. “i’m also so fucking sorry for the way i spoke to you the other day, you didn’t deserve that all.”

“i don’t know what i was thinking. i was just so angry and instead of taking it out on seunghan– like i should’ve– i took it out on you,” anton sadly states, completely ignoring seunghan reaction at his sudden words. “i-” anton continues once more but stops at the feeling of your arms wrapped around his torso.

“it’s okay toni,” you softly smile up at him.

“not trying to interrupt anything,” shotaro speaks up, taking a step forward as he looks down at his phone “sohee texted back.”

at the sound of sohee’s name, you instantly turn to look back at shotaro. sending you a small smile your way, he nods at you. “go.”

“go get your sohee.”

☁︎ — JUNE 25TH, 2024 12:26 AM

with a shaky breath, you close your eyes to try and calm yourself down before bringing a hand up to ring his doorbell. at the sound of his doorbell ringing you feel your heart hammer against your chest even faster— if that was even possible. now or never, you keep quietly mumbling to yourself as an attempt to calm down.

“taro-” sohee tiredly says as he opens his door. at the sight of you in front of him, sohee does a complete double take and stares at you with wide eyes.

“h-hi,’ you quietly mumble, nervously playing with your hands.

staring back at you, sohee couldn’t help but take notice on how red your eyes were. have you been crying? sohee sadly asks himself. he feels himself wanting to reach out for you to reassure you everything was okay. but instead, he quickly shakes his head at his thoughts, forcing yourself to snap out of it. you’re with seunghan, he reminds himself.

“go home yn,” sohee sighs as he tightly grips on the door handle.

“baby, can we please talk?” you desperately ask, taking a step closer to him.

“don’t-” he closes his eyes to try and calm himself down. “don’t call me that.”

“pretty boy-”

“is this funny to you?” sohee groans out as he steps outside while looking at you with tears in his eyes. “stop teasing me and go home.”

“i’m not-” you try but get interrupted by sohee’s scoff. “sohee, please.”

“yn, what do you want to talk about?” sohee asks, shaking his head at you. “if you wanted seunghan, you could’ve told me, you know?” he sadly states. “i would’ve backed off.”

“i don’t-”

“i heard you and anton talking that day,’ sohee cuts you off, not wanting to hear any of your lies. “god, i’m so fucking stupid.”

“baby, you’re not,” you quickly move towards him to comfort him causing him to take a step back, away from you. sadly looking down at the space between y’all, you try and swallow your tears despite your heart breaking by the second.

“please, go home.” sohee tries again, gesturing you to walk away

“i’m not going anywhere until you listen to me,” you firmly state, shaking your head at him. “bab-”

“don’t call me that!” sohee brokenly stops you. “you lost the privilege to call me that the second you decided you wanted my best friend,” he angrily brings a hand to wipe away his tears.

“i don’t-” you try talking once again but are once again stopped by sohee talking over you.

“i’ve been so fucking in love with and i thought-” sohee gulps. “i thought you were starting to feel the same way too. i thought it was finally mutual.”

“sohee,” you sadly say as you take a step forward to grab his hand. not having it in him to move once again, sohee lets you grab him. letting out a small sniffle, he brings his attention back towards you. at the sight of his tear stained cheeks you feel your heart break all over again.

“d-do you like seunghan?” sohee hesitantly asks as more tears begin to cloud his vision.

“baby, no,” you gently say, as you bring a hand to cup his cheek and wipe away his tears. “i like you.”

“then why did you kiss him?” he sniffles.

“i didn’t kiss him,” you begin, causing sohee to shake his head at your words and take a step back away from your touch.

“baby,” you desperately try to reach out for him. placing both of your hands on his cheeks, you try and get him to look at you. “look at me, please.”

listening to you, sohee hesitantly removes his focus from the ground and makes eye contact with you.

“the thought of you and seunghan together hurts me so fucking much,” sohee admittedly whispers out. shaking your head at his words, you bring a hand down and place it against his, intertwining his fingers with yours. “it hurts— it hurts so much,” he repeatedly mumbles.

“i didn’t kiss seunghan.” you reassure him.

“but, anton said-”

“i didn’t kiss seunghan but anton did walk in on seunghan trying to kiss me,” you hesitantly told him. processing your words, sohee finds himself letting go of your hand and creating distance between you two.

“baby, wait. please listen to me,” you say, catching his hand before it fully slipped away.

“were you gonna kiss him back?” sohee asks, looking down at you with watery eyes.

“no.” you immediately reassure him. “i only ever want to kiss you.”

“have you ever had feelings for seunghan?” sohee sadly asks, still trying to piece together the whole situation. “please don’t lie to me.”

☁︎ — JUNE 25TH, 2024 1:48 AM

sitting down on his bed, you nervously chew on your bottom lip as you wait for sohee to speak up. you were finally able to explain everything and he’s been quietly processing the situation ever since.

“why didn’t you tell me he was pursuing you?” sohee breaks the silence, looking at you with hurt written all over his eyes.

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” you try reasoning with him. “i thought i was protecting you—”

“bab- yn” sohee sighs. “that’s not protecting me, that’s leaving me in the dark.”

“my best friend was going after my girlfriend, don’t you think i would want to know that?” sohee bitterly laughs. “i would’ve loved to know that my girlfriend once had feelings for him too.”

“baby, it was just a tiny crush.” you quickly jump to your defense. “i was in denial—”

“you still should’ve told me,” sohee lets out one last sigh as he brings his hands up to rub his eyes.

“i should’ve,” you nod your head at him and shift your focus down to your hands.

“it’s getting late you should go-”

“that’s it?” you sadly ask, looking at him with wide eyes.

“are we still-”

“we can be friends,” sohee cuts you off, offering you a small smile. “i don’t think we should date.”

“ever?” you quietly ask. “never again?”

“c-can i fix this?” you hesitantly ask. scooting closer to him, you take his hand in yours. “i can fix this, i promise.”

“yn,” sohee mumbles, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“this was all just a big misunderstanding,” you desperately plea with him.

“pretty girl, you still kept secrets from me,” sohee softly states. “i’m not mad at you,” he reassures you. “we can still talk but as friends— at least just for now.”

“friends,” you defeatedly state, scared that if you continue pushing he might completely pull away from you again.

not being able to help himself, sohee leans forward and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. there’s no denying that he still holds— and will always hold— strong feelings for you but truth be told, he’s terrified to try again. so, he’ll settle for a friendship instead, at least just for now. “friends.”

☁︎ — CLOUD 9

CHAPTER 44 — friends

summary !! after years of constant pining after his best friend’s sister, yn finally takes notice of sohee and sohee swears he’s on cloud 9. or in other words, loser sohee finally gets the girl.

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CLOUD 9 MASTERLIST

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[papaya-twinks]

just an assistant - l.n - part.idk

Warnings: Smut, 18+, fingering, handjob (kinda), swearing, degradation

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

🎀

A/N - coz y’all seemed to like this, I’ve decided to continue it. 

Lando seemed to have a remarkable way of putting himself down, even if he had achieved the best result humanly possible. Such as when he secured pole position yesterday and he still looked downcast. 

Somehow, neither of you had said anything about the little…sexual escapade the pair of you had gotten up to recently, and you instead continued to work not all and freely. “Lando, I’ve got the paperwork for the team meeting after the race,” you said, handing him a stack of paper. 

“Cheers,” he muttered, taking them and dumping them on the side. It frustrated you how careless Lando could be, but after all, you weren’t here to control him. Just to manage his stuff. And yet, as you watched the race unfold, with the mass of team orders and the fuck off the pit strategy, you were almost horrified. 

The way the tea, guilt-tripped Lando and how pissed he looked as he stepped out the car, congratulating Lando with a half-hearted smile. You half-expected Lando to…take his anger out on something. Rather, someone. 

You. But…he didn’t. Instead, he just walked past you, going to read the papers you’d given him earlier. But it didn’t take a whole ass genius to figure out what he wanted. He’d initiated almost all of the occurrences between the pair of you. 

Maybe….maybe he wanted you to initiate it. You stood outside his door for a solid five minutes, rebating with yourself whether this was a good idea or not. Fuck it, who cared? “Lando,” you said, walking into the room as he made a noise, but said nothing. 

You huffed, a little annoyed he didn’t even look up, as you took the paper from his hands, making him finally look up. “You’re angry,” you said, seeing how pissed off he looked, both at you taking the paper, but mainly the race. 

“Media is in an hour,” you said. God, how the fuck were you supposed to initiate it? “You’re so shit at everything you do,” Lando said, rolling his eyes as your cheeks turned a light pink hue, “can’t even initiate sex, can you?”. Just hearing him say the word ‘sex’ sent a shiver through your spine. 

“Need help for everything, don’t you?” he said, pulling your wrist to pull you onto his lap. “Pathetic,” Lando rolled his eyes, pulling his belt down, grinding your hips down onto his growing bulge. 

“Lando,” you gasped as he ignored you, bunching your hair into his hand as he lifted your skirt, pulling his suit down, his cock springing between your thighs. Fuck he was huge. “D’you think I should’ve won, Y/N?” he asked, eyes fixed deeply on yours. 

Fuck, he was putting you on the spot. “I…you should’ve won,” you said, as he cupped your hand in his bigger one, bringing to round his throbbing member. “How long hybrid you wanted this?” Lando asked, bringing his lips to suck on your neck. 

“Since….since I met you,” you said quietly as he smirked, his hand round yours. “Go on,” Lando encouraged you, holding your hand as he pumped himself, eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck,” he hissed, “good girl,”. The nickname itself was enough  to send shivers down your spine, as he moved you to lay on your back. 

“Always wear such small clothes,” he hissed into your ear, pulling your skirt over your ass, pulling your legs over his shoulders. “Lando,” you started, not even knowing what you were gonna say as he shushed you with a small smack on your thigh. 

He kept your hand wrapped round his throbbing member, his fingers trailing up and down your sensitive, moist folds. Your hand moved in rhythmic twists up and down his member. “God, look at you,” Lando said, more to himself than you as he stared between your legs. 

“Keep going, yeah?” Lando ebbed you on, moving both of your hands onto his cock, your thumb teasing at his tip as he held you on his lap, inching his finger into your core. With the other hand, he moved his fingers to slide of your clit, gliding through your heat. 

“Fuck, Lando,” you gasped as he pumped his finger slowly inside of you, bringing his other hand to spread the juices he’d collected across his own dick, as a sort of lube. “Couldn’t even manage to initiate this yourself, could you?” he scoffed.

“All you had to do was ask,” Lando sighed, his voice full of mocking as he curled his finger against your g-spot. “Oh, fuck Lando,” you gasped, hand instinctively squeezing tighter round his member. 

You could practically feel how Lando breath hitched as he pulled his hand away from between your legs, pushing you on your back on the massage bed. “An hour before media, you said?” Lando raised a brow, “how many times can you cum in an hour?”. 

Lando clamped his hand down on your mouth to stop any moans leaving you, as he ran the head of his cock over your entrance, before sliding in gently. “So fucking tight, aren’t you?” Lando gasped, one hand sliding into your hair, the other holding your stomach flat down. 

“Lando,” you gasped, voice muffled by his hand as he slowly pulled all the way out, running his throbbing head over your clit once more, collection yout warm juices across his length, before sliding back in. 

You’d barely even had him inside of you, and the room almost smelled like sex, your small white shirt clinging to your chest and arms as Lando worked on removing it, pushing his cock back into you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips slowly going from rocking into full

-on snapping against yours, the sound of skin-on-skin echoing as he fucked you. He still had one hand on your mouth, the other throwing your shirt off, moving to cup yout tit through your bra. 

You could tell Lando liked more fonts that just his dick slamming into you, one hand on your breast and the other coming to press gently on your neck. The restriction on your airways wasn’t enough to truly hurt, but add to the pleasure. 

It was like some sort of way Lando could show you who was in  control,mas if you couldn’t even already tell with the way he was drilling into you. The feeling of his cock punching in and out of you was heavenly, you felt like you’d pass out from just the feeling of his member deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, look at you,” he said one hand running your hair, tugging gently to bring your head down enough for his lips to crash against his. “Lookin’ so good f’me,” Lando groaned, his voice deep as he closed his eyes, head tilting back slightly. 

Lando!s hands trailed down your body, one resting tangled between your hair, the other threading round to lay on your neck. “Come on, Y/N,” Lando said, his voice deep and gravelly, “you can do one thing good f’me, and that’s that you can cum,” Lando groaned. 

“You showed me just how well you could not long ago, baby,” he said, giving your jaw a quick kiss, before he dropped his lips to your neck, taking the supple skin between bis teeth, nipping at your sensitive skin as a small purple bruise appeared.

“Should just hire you for sex, shouldn’t I?” he asked. There was so,eating about the bitter degradation that did somehow build up pleasure in you, but you were half-hoping maybe he could be a little easier on you. 

After all, you weren’t as incompetent as he made out, in fact, nowhere near as much. “Lando,” you gasped, eyes going a little red from the tears of how hard his cock was slamming into you, his hips angled so the head of his member hit your g-spot perfectly. 

In your mind, be looked like a damn angel, his abs glinting with a thin layer of sweat, but in his mind? All he could see was you. He didn’t know why he insisted on being such a dick to you, but it was almost…attractive, seeing you upset. In some odd way. 

You could feel your body shoot into tiny spasms as your orgasm flooded through, your pussy clenching round Lando as he groaned, holding you down a little as he kissed and nipped at your neck gently.

“One more f’me,” he said, not leaving any room for question as he rolled his hips a few times, pumping in and out of you before he resumed his rapid movements. “Lando,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back slightly as his hips snapped into yours. 

You were sure Lando would be leaving bruises on your hips and thighs, your hair a mess beneath you. “I said…i did say h-how many times I can make you cum in an hour,” Lando said, looking to the clock on the wall. 

“One more, yeah?” Lando said, his words almost encouraging as he slowed down the pace of his snapping hips, now gently rocking in and out of you. “You’re such a pretty girl, Y/N,” his voice was no longer rough and commanding. 

Now…soft? This was unlike Lando. But you didn’t hate it. It was nice, having someone treat you well. You opened your mouth to say something, no words coming out as Lando rubbed soothing circles along your hips. 

“That’s it,” he said softly, “cum f’me, and we’ll go do media and I’ll clean you up after, okay?”. Your second orgasm flooded through as Lando pushed into you, once, twice, before he slid himself out, cum shooting in thick hot ropes on your abdomen. 

“Just a bit of media left,” he said, a warm smile on his face as he gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead. Whether Lando wanted to be mean to you right now or not, he didn’t, 

Because he could see how hard that had been, how much he had overstimulated and pushed you, whilst he had his thumb rubbing on your sensitive clit, and he knew you needed some aftercare. 

[little-diable]

Pleasure - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Just a small Drabble about our fave fucked up, dark professor. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Professor Riddle threatens to fail the reader, something she won’t accept. Just pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, degrading, orgasm denial, Tom being Tom, power imbalance

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (1.2k words)

“You threaten to fail me? Are you out of your mind?” Her voice boomed through the class room, eyes set on the professor whose assistant she had been for the past months now. His piercing eyes didn’t meet hers, he kept his gaze set on the papers, correcting the homework she had collected minutes ago. All before he had dropped this bomb on her, telling (y/n) that she was about to fail his class. “Look at me!”

“Careful, (y/n).” His eyes snapped up to meet hers, voice sharper than a knife. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed in front of his chest while staring at her like a snake about to snap at its prey. He had always been a dangerous man, a man whose aura was a warning itself, set on pulling her into his dark trap. But today he had something else to him, something even more ruthless.

“Tell me why!” She was fuming, set on letting go of a piercing scream. This must be a joke, a prank he was pulling on her - her grades were better than most, she was always on time, and when she was working for him, she did everything he asked of her.

“I don’t owe you any explanations. And your behaviour proves to me that you’re not mature enough to work on it. Leave.” (Y/n) didn’t move, she kept staring at Professor Riddle who slowly rose to his feet. A part of her screamed at her to leave, to run before it was too late, but the more stubborn part forced her to stand still and watch his every move. “Is this how you want to play? This is my last warning, (y/n).”

Her body was trembling in anger and need, all while her mind brought back flashes of a similar moment that had happened weeks ago. Back then she had left this room with trembling thighs and his handprint burned into her behind. The following hours had been spent hidden away in her room while pushing herself over the edge numerous times with his name burning on the tip of her tongue.

“I am not scared of you.” She cocked her head, chin pointed in his direction while she looked up at him. It was a foolish game she was playing - a game she was about to lose, but she didn’t care, couldn’t worry about any wins or losses, knowing that whatever would happen between them would count as a win in her book.

“You should be.” His ringed hand found her throat, tugging (y/n) in for a teeth clashing kiss. She moaned into the touch, unable to stop her hands from wandering, from finding the back of his neck to keep him close. (Y/n) felt her surroundings spin, throwing her into another dimension while the professor moved her backwards to heave his TA onto his table. With her legs wrapped around his waist, (y/n) kept him close, not daring to think of parting just yet. “You try to distract me with those pretty little things you wear, you try to make a fool out of me, but you’ll never have this much power over me. You’re mine, (y/n), I’m the one guiding you.”

She could only moan in delight, feeling his hand disappear beneath her skirt to press his fingertips against her clothed heat. Slowly, he began to circle her bundle through the fabric of her panties, feeling them grow damp beneath his touch. A soft chuckle let him, buzzing through both their bodies while his lips moved down her throat, sucking on the spots that drew moans from her.

“You’ve been asking for it for months, so now you’ll take my cock like the desperate slut you are. But I won’t let you cum, not this afternoon.” His words drew a protesting moan from (y/n), eyes wide while she stared at him. No words managed to pass her parted lips, unsure how to speak up as the sounds reaching her distracted (y/n).

Within seconds he had freed his cock, pushing a condom down his length before her panties were tugged aside. Her fingernails left crescent marks on the spot where his shoulder met his neck as he pushed into her, forcing her tight walls to adjust to him. A part of her wanted to beg him to slow down, to give her some moments to relax before taking all of him, but that part didn’t get a chance to speak up, silenced by her loud moans.

Professor Riddle fucked her ruthlessly, he was using her body, set on chasing his own high while sticking to his promise. Tonight he wouldn’t let her cum, at least not for a few hours before finding his way to her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto the back of his hand which was still holding her throat. She was torn between focusing on the way he perfectly stretched her, about to push her over the edge, and the way he held onto her all too possessively, leaving her heart jumping in excitement.

“This is why I need to keep you around, love.” The nickname had a condescending touch to it, leaving her gasping while she tried to focus on his words. “You’re all for me to use, all for my own pleasure.”

(Y/n) nodded her head while another gasp left her, head wanting to roll back - though without any luck as he kept holding onto her. She felt his cock tearing her apart with every thrust, drunk on the feeling of him fucking her this posessively. With moans ripping their way through her, she clawed at his skin, giving into the subconscious need to mark him up to have the same claim on him.

“What would you ever do without me, huh? You’re so needy, such a pathetic little girl.” She was close to letting go, high on the low tones of his raspy voice, on the way he spoke to her with spite and adoration dripping from his tongue. With one hand still clinging to him, she let the other find her pulsing bundle, circling it a few times to give herself the needed push. Something he instantly stopped her from doing after a second or two.

“I told you I won’t let you cum for now. I don’t make empty threats, love.” More tears fell from her eyes as she stared up at Professor Riddle. Her walls clenched his cock, hoping to pull him into her trap - something he didn’t seem to care for as he pulled out of her to cum on her thighs.

“You’ll wait for me tonight, and perhaps if you’re good, I’ll let you cum.”

[peanutpinet]

BABE!!!! We absolutely need a second part to Little Things, we need to know how their relationship develops and see Sylus fall in lover with reader's soul. PLEASE BABE PLEASE!!!

Welcome to My World - Sylus x Fem Reader (Sequel to Little Things)

Request: Craving for a sequel to this w/ reader actually going back to her world and sylus just defying all odds shshshshs these kinds of fics are so interesting love em <3

A/N: Just a lil something for those who wanted to see what would Sylus be like if he were to actually come out of the screen and into our world (still having his evol but is not addressed). Also if anyone is a Kpop fan, I just want to say, do have a listen to Aespa’s Welcome to My World. It embodies this fic so much and am putting some of the lyrics into the story! I hope you guys enjoy!!

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

Also, if you haven't read Little Things, the "first part" of the story, do have a read. Will be link here. But you don't have to read it and can just read each of these fics seperately

Warnings: Fluff but mainly ANGST, Isekai Theme, Will be Going back and Forth between LADS universe and our universe, slow burn because Sylus is tryna find you :))

Funfact: I remembered the TV Show: Westworld and how the characters of the game gain conciousness when writing this fic

Songs to listen to: NCT Dream - Broken Melodies, Aespa - Welcome to My World, NCT Dream - Like We Just Met

N109 Zone - 01:48 AM

It was in the middle of the night. When all are asleep, people in the N109 zone, those in the shadows have only started to wake up and get on about their day, including Sylus. Slowly awakening from his slumber, Sylus saw the girl that was beside him, fast asleep. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady motion; indicating that she was in a deep sleep.

Smiling to himself, Sylus decided to scootch a bit closer and caressed the girl’s cheek. But as he did, the girl immediately grabbed his wrist tightly and jerked awake. “Who the fuck…w-where am I?!”

Hearing the girl’s words, Sylus knew. “You’re not her…”

Real World - 09:28 AM

You woke up with a pounding headache but slowly regained your consciousness, you noticed how the bed wasn’t as big nor was it as warm as when you were used to. Jerking up, you took in the room you were in. The bright white ceiling was the first thing you see, the smell of alcohol and blood was faint but you could smell it, and then you heard a beeping noise which made you turn and saw that your hand was hooked onto a monitor and an IV drip.

Whipping your head around, you search for your phone until you find it and immediately look at the date when you suddenly get a notification from both Instagram and Twitter mentioning the new update for Love and Deepspace.

“I’m back…” you sobbed yet your fingers glided across the screen of your phone, pressing the game that you swore you were in

As the game loads, you see the cutscenes of all of the characters and can’t help but feel emotionally overwhelmed whenever you see Sylus’ cutscenes.

Once the game loaded and you could hear that cafe jingle along with those familiar red eyes, you tried to see whether or not anything had changed in the game other than the new updates but when you clicked on his tall figure, the lines he said were nothing out of the ordinary. Even in the text message icon, you couldn’t text him like you did when you were in the game.

“Was it all just a dream?”

“Y-you’re awake!!” you heard someone talk and as your eyes looked at the doorframe, it was the nurse

You soon found out that you had been in a coma for a little over 2 weeks yet it felt like you were in the game for 2 months, maybe even more. Your best friends came to visit you every day and now that you’re awake, they were bombarding you with food, life updates, and all.

For once, you actually didn’t feel as lonely as you were when you appeared in the game.

Maybe it truly was all just a dream…

From a distance, a black crow was watching your interaction with your friends from a tree that was just outside of your window. After some time, the crow eventually fled and flew away from the tree.

N109 Zone - 04:18 AM

Sylus was beyond pissed. He took MC to where he took you in the beginning to get your evol and aether core checked but additionally, he wanted to know if you were truly not in the MC’s body. Sylus’ worker questioned as to why he brought MC again to check her evol and aether core, confusing the Onychinus’ leader.

Even when the two came home, the twins didn’t notice any difference from MC. What’s wrong with everyone? You’re not MC and it goes the other way as well. Why were the twins pestering MC who to Sylus, was not you.

“But boss, Miss Hunter and you have known each other for over 2 months now. What do you mean she’s not her?” Luke questioned, genuinely confused at his boss’ attitude

“She’s not. Have you forgotten who taught you both how to cook the simplest meal? The one that bought you those bulletproof vests?” Sylus demanded, something, anything about your sudden disappearance or at the very least, anyone other than him remembering your existence

“It’s Miss Hunter, though?” Kieran replied, making Sylus groan. “Just, leave me alone for the next few days” Sylus left the room and walked past MC who grabbed his wrist, making his brow arch in confusion.

Sighing, Sylus turned to see MC. “What is it that you want?”

“Where are you going? I went through all the trouble to get the N109 zone and I want answers regarding the aether core” MC demanded but Sylus just chuckled and used his evol to remove MC’s hand from his wrist

“You already have the aether core you’re looking for. Why don’t you go back and ask your doctor about that? I have other matters to attend to. Like why are you here instead of her” Sylus mentioned, walking away until MC talked to him

“You’re always mentioning her but you never mentioned her name. Who are you exactly talking about and what does it have to do with me?” MC questioned and this time, Sylus grabbed her by her neck and pinned her to the nearest wall

“Don’t tempt my patience. I only have so much left ever since your attitude shows up instead of something else I want. From here on out, I could care less about your little quest. You can even have that brooch you’re wearing to get in and out of the N109 zone without getting harmed. But I want you to leave. Go back to your doctor, that fish man of an artist, or fake hunter for all I care. When I come back to this place, I hope that you’re not here anymore. Or you’ll hurt even more” Sylus warned, releasing MC as he went who knows where.

Sylus went into his car, the car that you love to drive in. Though you were just a soul in MC’s body, he could immediately tell the two of you apart. What scent do you like, the small trinkets that you would buy to keep his things more organized, some small keychain plushies that he would put on his keys which is in contrast to his scary look.

You might just be a soul that just so happens to be in MC’s body, the body of a person he should’ve been interacting with, the one he should’ve been bound to. But why does his heart feel incomplete? Why does his soul long for your own.

Gripping onto the steering wheel, Sylus looked at the plushie you put in this car. It was a koala, one of your favourite plushies, because you told him that you looked like a koala when Sylus carried you around. “I swore to you that if this were to happen, I would find you. Regardless what happens, I will find a way to get back to you. Our stories’ unfinished, sweetie. Wait for me. I’ll do anything to get back to you”

Real World

It’s been several months since you woke up. You still played the game but not as often anymore. You got a job at your friend’s office as a secretary. It pays well, you and your friend are roommates, life has been going fairly well that you barely played the game that provided you comfort.

One day, however, there was a bouquet of red Carnations mixed with pink Camillas on your desk with a note attached to it. “I hope this gets to you. If this ever reaches you, it means that I’m another step closer to seeing you again. There’s this uneasy feeling I’ve been feeling since you were gone. I promise I won’t stop finding you”

Confused, you asked everyone, including the delivery man who delivered the flowers to you but no one knew where it came from. It didn’t even mention your name and only a description of you.

Brushing it off, you thought it must’ve been some kind of prank until several more flowers reached you. One after another, there were notes along with the flowers which all made your heart clench because whoever this person was, it seemed that either you left a very deep impression on them or this was some sort of stalker.

“Did the first one reach you? I’m getting closer”

“I hope that you’re eating well. Wait for me”

“It seems that you’ve forgotten about me once more. No matter, I’ll be sure to jog your memory once we meet again”

Another year has finally passed and the bouquet and notes kept on coming until you saw the flowers and notes that came in. Instead of the usual red Carnation or pink Camillas or even sometimes Forget me nots, this time it was a bouquet of black and red roses with a note of a familiar handwriting and scent.

“I’ve finally found you. You said that you were worried about me finding the real you but to me, you’re just as perfect as your soul. Your face, your body, it matches your soul perfectly. And even though you might’ve forgotten about me, I assure you that my love for you is still the same like we just met. Perhaps in the game, I would allow you to go live your life without me because it’s safer for you. But here, looking at you, I can feel myself coming alive once more. Whether you try to move on, I know that there’s a lingering feeling behind your pretty head thinking of the possibility. And you would be correct, sweetie. I’m fulfilling my promise to you. For there is no love greater than mine.

P.S: we should thank Mephisto for always managing to find you when I couldn’t

-Sylus”

You were in shock. Sure, there was a small voice, hidden behind all your to-dos, your schedules, your wants, likes, needs. A faint voice telling you of the possibility that perhaps Sylus was the one to send you all those flowers and notes but you were in your world, the real world. You would lock that faint voice and never think about it again. You were realistic. There was no way that a fictional 3D man would send you all of that.

And Mephisto? He’s a bird. A mechanical bird that is tied with Sylus. Everything seemed ridiculous. You couldn’t think straight for the rest of the day until your boss called you for a sudden meeting outside of the office and at a restaurant.

The restaurant was filled with high-class people, some were doing business with another while others were simply finding ways to spend their money. Suddenly, it reminded you of the time when you were in MC’s body and Sylus would take the two of you out to dinner.

Remembering Sylus, the flowers, and the note, you decided to excuse yourself to the restroom but in reality, you decided to log into the very game you downloaded to seek comfort. The nostalgia was coming back. They made a new update and introduced a new male character. Once your game loads, Sylus is still in the game and when you poke him, thinking that he’ll respond like how he would when a player hasn’t logged in for so long, he surprises you.

“You’re probably wondering why am I not responding to you in a way that you expect. Well, why don’t you check my messages on the message feature, sweetie?” Sylus mentioned and immediately, you went to open the message feature in the game and once again, you were shocked with what you read on the screen that you had to cover your mouth.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, kitten? I’m sad that you’ve forgotten about me but I’m genuinely happy with how you’re living your life so far”

“But if I were to tell you that I want to be apart of your life here, would you accept me?”

You were given the chance to answer him, to reply to this sudden message but your boss had already called you back and unfortunately, you had to go back to the table and sit beside your boss.

As you were about to sit down, you heard that familiar soothing voice that always calms your nerves; especially when you’re in the N109 zone. “Is this your secretary that we’ve been waiting for?”

Immediately, you looked up and met with those soft bright red eyes behind small glasses. The white hair you’ve gone through with your fingers was styled like how you first met him. The figure sitting in front of you was wearing a soft grey sweater and black jeans.

And that smile, that smile that you’re so used to seeing everyday is now showing in front of you again. “Pleased to meet you, sweetheart. Shall we begin the meeting?”

Throughout the meeting, you tried your best to pay attention and jot down all the notes you needed. You struggled for a moment and even towards the end, you stutter your thank you and goodbyes until the white-hair man called you.

“Waiting for someone, sweetie?” you heard that damn voice as you could feel all hairs on your skin stand up

Turning around, you finally got a good look at him. All of his 190cm height was towering over your figure. Your actual real-life self and not the MC you created in the game.

On one side, you wanted to talk, to question him if all of this was just another one of those visions you used to have. On the other, you wanted to jump at the man in front of you. To cry in his arms as he holds you close. But nothing. You were frozen in your spot as this Sylus look-alike smirked at you and held his index out which suddenly a black crow rest on.

“Is, is that…” you managed to utter, making the man in front of you chuckle

“Mephisto. An actual crow this time” he said, extending his hand out so the black crow was within your reach

Extending your own index out, the black crow, Mephisto went onto your index and you instinctively stroke its head. “We never stop looking for you, you know”

You look up to see those eyes that once were filled with rage now filled with sadness. Sighing, you tried to remind yourself that this is the real world, not your game.

“I'm sorry, sir. You must've gotten the wrong person. I don't think we’ve met before this meeting today. Your bird must be very friendly to have gone on another person’s hand” you mentioned, intending to return the black crow, still not believing that the man and bird in front of you are who you think they are

But instead, the man in front of you turned and took something from his pocket. “Is that so? Well then either you don’t want to remember what we’ve been through or Mephisto might’ve gotten the wrong person. Then how about we reintroduce ourselves to one another?”

“I’m Sylus, this is Mephisto. We were from a faraway land called the N109 zone. For the past year, I've been building my multimillion security tech company” Sylus mentioned, extending his hand out, revealing the brooch that you once wore as a promise to Sylus to stay by him

Shocked to see the brooch, you stutter at your words but Sylus noticed this and gently took one of your hands which you didn’t deny. “I meant what I said and I’m keeping my promise. My only regret is I couldn’t come find you sooner”

“H-how? This has got to be a joke. You’re not real. You’re not actually here. I must be dreaming again. I’m going mad” you started to lose your mind but Sylus pulled you into a hug

“Tell me this isn’t real then. Tell me that you don’t see me. Tell me that you don’t feel this warmth we both have wanted for a long time. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll gladly walk away from you so that you can continue to live your life as is but don’t expect me not to want to be a part of your life. Don’t think that even if I walk away today, I won’t try my best to still keep an eye on you” Sylus stated, whispering into your ear, kissing right below your ear

Taking in his calming leather scent, you slowly sob in Sylus’ chest as he strokes your head, calming you. “You’re such a stubborn crow” you finally hug Sylus, indirectly accepting him back into your life

“I know. But it’s worth it. I finally get back to you. Though I can’t offer you as much as I would when we were in the N109 zone, I do promise you that I will be here this time. I’m not letting you go that easily. So, you’re willing to let me back?” Sylus asked, making you chuckle

“Welcome to the real world, my world, Sylus” you said, getting on your tiptoe to give his cheek a kiss but instead, Sylus turned his head, held your neck and leaned for an actual kiss

A/N: Ngl, I was simping over my own writing of this. Where can we find an irl Sylus T^T

[krirebr]

Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown. 

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with. 

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard. 

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.” 

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?” 

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey. 

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.” 

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is. 

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks. 

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills. 

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly. 

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.” 

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice. 

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you. 

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts. 

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says. 

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?” 

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. 

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking. 

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood. 

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything. 

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything. 

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous. 

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.” 

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?” 

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.” 

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this. 

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work. 

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in. 

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.” 

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.” 

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly. 

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath. 

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.” 

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table. 

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't. 

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either. 

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous. 

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again. 

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis. 

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist. 

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why. 

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

 You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.  

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored. 

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money. 

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” 

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.” 

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore. 

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little. 

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.” 

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt. 

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout. 

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him. 

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you. 

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him. 

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps. 

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

Tag list

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[goldenlikedayl1ght]

logan howlett x asexual!reader

notes: fluff, mentions of sex, kissing, nuanced take on asexuality.

It took you a long time to say yes to going out with Logan.

And it wasn’t simply a case of you ‘playing hard to get’. You have no desire to be a fling. Sure, you recognize that objectively, he is hot! And you think to yourself, maybe you’d give him a shot if he didn’t just want to sleep with you.

So, for months, he pines. And it’s a rather new experience, he’s used to people just throwing themselves at him after a few flirty conversations, but it takes almost four months for you to even agree to go out with him.

When you do, he makes sure to put in his best effort—You two go out to a really nice dinner, and then you go on this long drive to a cliff side, and you lean against his motorcycle, holding hands as you look to the stars.

His heart thumps as your thumb gently rubs against his knuckles.

So the two of you date—

You kiss, you eat lunch together, you spend long nights with your hands running through his hair, reading to him.

But you don’t sleep with him.

He thinks maybe it’s a religious thing or maybe some weird fetish, like you think waiting will make it even better. But he doesn’t ask you about it, because he remembers how long it took you to go out with him, so he keeps it to himself.

Until one day, about seven months into your relationship.

The snow whirls outside the X-Mansion, the wind rattling your windows, as you curl up in bed, wrapped in his flannel, a couple of blankets and his arms.

“Can I ask you a question, Spitfire?” He wonders.

“Anything.” You answer, meaning it whole heartedly.

The Wolverine feels himself get nervous before he asks,

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” He asks, and you take a minute. You knew the conversation would happen eventually. Logan isn’t your first boyfriend, so you know that the people you’re with are owed an explanation. And you brace yourself—If he isn’t willing to listen to you on this, you’re ready to walk away.

You sit up so you can be looking at him—It’s rather intimate.

“I’m Asexual.” You answer.

A beat.

“A sexual what?”

You laugh a little, mostly because you think it’s silly, especially considering Logan isn’t straight (you see how he’s looked at Scott).

“No, Asexual—It means I experience little to no sexual attraction,” You answer, and he tilts his head.

He’s committed a lot of time to you already. The explanation sort of scares him, and he’s ready to run away but he stays put, not wanting you to think he can’t handle whatever it is you’ve just thrown at him—But he was born in the early 1800’s. Have a bit of grace for the man.

“Okay, What does that mean, though?” He asks, and you’re grateful he hasn’t broken up with you yet.

“So, I.. I really like you. I mean—I love you, Logan.” You confess, “But sex just.. isn’t something I need, especially not often. I get horny, It’s just.. Sex is different for me. I like making out with you, kissing you, touching you—and there might be times where I do want to have sex with you, probably to show my affection and grow closer to you—Sex isn’t procreation or pure pleasure to me, it’s something that I only like to do every once in a while and I do it as a way to get closer to whoever I love. Does that make sense?”

Logan nods. It does make sense—Sex isn’t your thing. And he knows historically, he’s been passed around by the other x-men like a blunt, but in dating you for a while, since you two haven’t slept together, he’s much more okay with that being more rare.

Sure, you’re both attracted to each other, and like you said, making out is really nice, but..

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Well, I just..” he takes your hands in his, trying to convey what it is he wants to communicate. “We’re more than just dating. At least to me. No one’s ever been in my corner like you, and.. I don’t just look at you in a physical manner, I.. I look over my shoulder for you when I see something stupid or fun, because I want to share everything with you. I know it’s been rocky at times, but..” He clears his throat. You see tears well in his eyes and you just smile, your hand detaching from his to wipe a tear that runs down his face.

“I know.” You say softly, and he smiles.

“I don’t need sex to love you.” He tells you. He kisses you gently and asks, “Don’t feel like that’s ever something I need, okay, spitfire?”

“Okay, Claws.”

//i don't know what else to say about this other than i know i write smut often and graphically but i am in fact asexual, so i wanted to throw my hat in the ring for writing not only a queer reader but a reader who is asexual. you deserve a place in fanfiction too. also, readers description of asexuality is based off my own, so please remember that asexuality isn't a one size fits all thing.

[m3l0nfl0at]

pack it up - t. kuroo

kuroo tetsurou x gn! reader ; FLUFF SO MUCH FLUFF, reader has doubts (who doesn’t honestly), domestic kuroo x reader, kenma teases you and kuroo for being simps, nerdy and simp kuroo (yummy, my fav), oh and timeskip!kuroo, 3.3k words

summary ; this is a mini fic based off of my fic here, just say yes but this can be read as a stand alone! You and Kuroo decide to take your relationship to the next level, are you ready for that change though? (aka moving in with kuroo)

melon’s recommended melody: moving out - kacey musgraves

Packing was always dreadful, it didn’t feel like long ago you were taking all this stuff out of the box and now you’re here putting it all back in a box. Even though Kenma told Kuroo to not steal his roommate, here you are moving into Kuroo’s apartment. Kenma keeps passing by your room watching you pack because each time he passes by, you’re focusing on something different. “You know Kuroo’s expecting you to be ready in three days, right? If you keep going at this rate, you’ll be done in, say, three years.” Kenma slowly walks away before you could even respond to him. Oh, how you were going to miss his sweet remarks. Truth be told, you loved living with Kenma, he was always neat, kept to himself, and you got used to hearing the video games he played during the night, even going so far as to call it “white noise”. Nevertheless, when Kuroo asked you last month if you wanted to move in, you felt ready to take your relationship to the next step. Kuroo would spend the night at your place occasionally. Nevertheless, you were more likely to spend the night at his due to not wanting to be affectionate in front of your roommate. If old habits die hard, then why were you here getting anxious at the thought of living with your boyfriend?

Living with Kenma, you got used to your daily routine in this apartment, you knew this apartment like the back of your hand, and you got used to seeing Kenma everyday but now that’s all going to change? You suppose that’s why it’s taking you forever to pack, you slightly fear everything changing too quickly. On one hand you’re excited to move in with your boyfriend, seeing Kuroo everyday? Yes please! On the other hand, you’re going to be seeing Kuroo everyday. What if he gets tired of you, what if he gets mad at your habits, or what if you guys realize living with each other that you guys aren’t meant for a relationship? Hearing Kenma walk by again, only to see you zoned out looking at a box labeled mementos. Kenma sensed something was wrong but thought if he kept walking by, maybe you would realize what little time you had and get to packing. However, by his fifth time walking by, he knew you were overthinking. Due to you being too quiet for your own good, that was his thing after all. “Tell me.”, you look up to see Kenma leaning on the door frame. “There’s nothing to tell, Ken. Just overwhelmed with how much crap I have to pack up.”, Kenma’s face relaxes as he glares at you. “Don’t make me call your boyfriend, so he can come give you a sappy talk.” You look back slowly at the mention of Kuroo not wanting him to see you in this state. “You know what? Maybe you do need your boyfriend to come snap you out of whatever daze you’re in. Who knows, maybe he’ll help you pack faster.”

You chuckle, knowing that Kenma secretly pokes fun at you guys for the way you both act so sweetly towards each other. “Would you make fun of me if I said to call Kuroo right now?” Kenma rolls his eyes, walking away. “I’ll call him.”, Kenma would never admit this out loud but he secretly loves seeing the way Kuroo folds for you. If Kenma wasn’t above publicly teasing he would so make fun of him for being absolutely whipped for you. Kenma left you alone with your sad empty mementos box, lifting up a picture frame that contained a picture with you and Kenma from when you first moved in. A part of your heart breaks, you reassure yourself that Kenma will always be here in this apartment. You hope he knows that a part of you will always be here too. If it weren’t for him, you and Kuroo would’ve never been together. You owe a lot to Kenma, from kickstarting your career to introducing you to your future boyfriend. Plus, you work under Bouncing Ball corp so you’ll still see him every other day. Kenma comes back and sees you look at the picture of you two, “You work for me you know? Plus you’re dating my best friend, I'm not dead or anything.”. Laughing you look up at him, “Can’t you let me be sentimental! I got used to your quirks, your 3 A.M. gaming, and your obnoxious best friend. I’m just going to miss seeing you as much as we are used to, that’s all.”

“We both know you just hate change but if it helps I’m going to miss you too. The apartment does look a little glum as you’re packing away all your stuff. I guess I actually have to decorate now.”, he groans thinking about how he’s going to decorate the apartment to fill your space. “Maybe now you can use my room to make that theater you always wanted?” Kenma nods, glad that you weren’t completely gone yet. Placing the picture frame in the box, you hear the door open. Quickly getting up to be met with Kuroo at the front door holding takeout, “There’s my beautiful partner, hi baby.”, you take the bags from his hands before he pulls you in for a hug placing a quick kiss on your cheek. Kenma comes behind you stealing the bags from you, gagging at the shared exchange. Kuroo laughs, “Well hello to you too, Kenma.”. You and Kuroo start heading to the table as Kuroo pulls out a chair for you to sit in.

The night goes on, as you all end up talking about your day and how the following days were going to look for the three of you amidst the chaos that was moving out. “Sweetheart, have you almost finished packing? I wanna know how much stuff you have so I can book the moving truck.”, you freeze. “About that…”, Kenma cuts you off, “All she has packed is a picture frame.”. You look over at Kenma, bewildered that he ratted you out. Kuroo laughs at how cute you look but is also shocked that you’ve packed so little in a week. “Let’s go baby, I’ll help you pack your things.” Kuroo gets up finished with his plate and grabs yours to place them both in the sink. Following him to your room you start to feel anxiety creep in, shaking your head to get rid of the thoughts. Kuroo walks in to see boxes all labeled and set up, yet lacking all the items inside. “Well, you would win the contest for boxing baby but not so much for packing.”. You place your head in your hands, “I know, this is so embarrassing. In my defense, every time I start to pack I get distracted and start doing something else.”. Kuroo grabs your hands off your face, placing them back on your lap, “Well now I’m here to help you, no need to be embarrassed sweetheart.”.

Kuroo grabs your box labeled clothes heading to the closet to start neatly folding the items in your closet. “Baby, do you want me to put this away in a specific way? Or should I just try to stuff everything in the box? Bunny?” Kuroo peeks his head out of the closet. Seeing you entranced on another picture frame, “Sweetheart, at this point I’ll pack the mementos.”. Kuroo went to grab the frame before he saw a picture of you as a toddler, now yanking it out of your hand. “Baby! Are you joking? You are so adorable! Oh my god this has to be hung up in the living room so I can see your cute little face before I leave for work!” You roll your eyes at Kuroo’s behavior, “Kenma should just pack the mementos because you would definitely not be faster than I am.” You get up to hug him from behind, “Tetsu, can I be honest with you?” Kuroo is still looking at the picture of you as he hums in approval. “I’m nervous.”, Kuroo finally places the picture in the box before turning to fully face you. Kuroo pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head. “Breathe baby, your brain needs oxygen.” laughing along with him for being such a dork. “You know it’s okay to be nervous right? You’re going through a big change, be more lenient with yourself, yeah?”

Kuroo pulls back from you, “All I know is right now, my heart is pumping like crazy thinking about you living with me.” You laugh as he places your hand on his heart feeling the said thumping. Kuroo brought the positives into your life that you needed, made you feel safe, and most importantly stood by you even if you surrounded yourself in negative thoughts. “I’ll wake up to your breathtaking face every morning, come home to your heartstopping smile, and go to sleep with you in my arms. What more could I ask for? We’ll get through this together. I mean it’s not like I’ve ever lived with anyone before, especially with someone as gorgeous as you.”, you punch Kuroo’s shoulder rolling your eyes . Kenma coughs interrupting Kuroo’s speech before it went off the rails, “So I take it you're still not packed? You are both hopeless, move over.” Kenma starts placing all your mementos away in seconds, you look over at Kuroo mouthing I told you so. “I brought Kuroo to help you pack and now I’m here to hold Kuroo accountable. You both are going to get nothing done at your apartment, if all you do is give each other heart eyes all day.”, you and Kuroo blush profusely knowing that you’ve both been caught.

With Kenma helping you pack everything went smoothly, Kuroo left for the night leaving you and Kenma alone for the next two days. “Well, we got mostly everything. I just need to take down the last of my posters. I don't want them to bend out of shape in the boxes. Then we can start loading everything into the truck.”, you stopped when you suddenly heard a shuffle behind you. Turning around to be met with Kenma looking around and touching the empty walls glumly, “It’s going to be hard to find something to replace your space. That something is going to fall short in everything compared to you.”, you get closer to Kenma before nudging his shoulder softly. “I’ll miss you too Ken. Thank you for everything, I could never repay you for the amount of kindness you showed me.”, breaking away it felt bittersweet. The walls were suddenly white with no more picture frames or traces of you anywhere, you’re actually moving out. “You ready to start packing up the truck?” Kuroo's bedhead fills the doorway as Kenma gives you one last smile pushing you towards Kuroo. You take up his offer, getting to work by lifting your boxes that is until Kuroo stops you. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ll take that one. Don’t want to bump into each other again, do we? Can’t have you falling for me a second time.”. You brush off his comment but you're strangling him as soon as you get to your new apartment.

All the coming and going back and forth had you exhausted, wanting nothing more than to start unpacking everything. You go to Kuroo’s room making a mental list of everything you need to buy from furniture to home products. Kuroo says goodbye to Kenma, a few seconds later you hear his footsteps approach you from down the hallway. He walks up from behind, embracing you, “You ready to start unpacking baby? Ken said he gave you the next couple of days off so you can settle in.”. You nod, wanting nothing more than to make this apartment your new home, “Yeah, I was thinking we could go to a furniture shop and also to the groceries! You know just so I can get some of my favorite products-”. “No need to worry bunny, I restocked your products you left here. I also got you a dresser for your side of the closet, even separated my side from yours. However, if you still want we can go to the groceries and Ikea just in case I missed something.” You turn around amazed he did all of that for you, “Are you serious Kuroo? You thought that far ahead?”. He nods excitedly, dragging you to the closet as you see his side of the closet filled with clothes. In addition, you see the newly setup dresser for you on your side. Then he drags you to the bathroom looking at the shower rack filled with all your regular products and a space in the toothbrush holder for you. Spinning around to crush him in a hug. He knows that change wasn’t always easy for you but if he could do anything extra to make it easier, he would do it again a thousand times. “I love you so much Tetsu.”, Kuroo grins into the crook of your neck feeling his palms getting sweaty due to being so close to you.

“Well, this is our home now. I want you to feel the same way I do when I’m with you, safe and welcomed.”, you pull back pecking him on the lips. “You’re getting too good at reading me, it's starting to freak me out Tetsu. Don’t tell me you even bought me my own loofah?” Kuroo bashfully opens the shower curtain to show you the new loofah standing next to his. You laugh suddenly feeling at ease, having to ask Kenma later if he had any part in this. Kuroo was right, this is your home, you didn’t want to be anywhere but with him. “Well casanova, help me unpack will ya?” Kuroo scrunches his nose at the new nickname you call him. “Nope, try again baby.”, you think hard trying to think of a nickname that’ll smoothly roll off the tongue. “Ok what about handsome, my love, darling, superstar, my loverboy, captain-”, Kuroo places a hand over your mouth quickly. His face is so red, it almost replicates a tomato, “Yes to all but I fear that if you kept going I was going to have a heart attack. Plus, we still have to unpack and I don’t think I can hold myself back for much longer if you keep calling me sweet names.”

After an eventful day of unpacking, you and Kuroo spent the rest of the day cuddling at ease which is something you usually do every night. Yet both of you felt so giddy laying down tonight, you don’t have to wake up in the morning and immediately leave for your train. Instead you’ll wake up, look over to the love of your life and start your new daily routine with him doing the most domestic things together. You fell asleep knowing this was a new chapter in your life and as scary as that was, you know wouldn’t want to share this experience with anyone else. Kuroo wraps his hand around your waist, sighing, feeling at peace with everything around him. He had nothing to worry about, no worries like if you made it home safely or if some creep on the train bothered you, you were right here safe in his arms. You both wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here, encapsulated in each other's warmth.

Feeling the sun slowly creeping up you turn around to face Kuroo, “No, don’t move, I need five more minutes.”. Giggling as you still move, wanting to see his face like you did the day you realized you liked him. “Isn’t this a sight to see? You know what, I don't need five more minutes, your face is my energizer. I can’t believe I get to wake up to you everyday, I must’ve solved some huge problem in my past life to be blessed with you.”, you hide your face in his chest from all the compliments he paid you this early in the morning. Kuroo kisses the top of your head before you feel the rumble of his laugh traveling through his chest. “Want to go make breakfast with me bunny? I bought some groceries to make pancakes. Yeah?”, you nod your head as you head to the bathroom to do your routine. Kuroo walks behind you, by reflex you hand him a spa headband so he can wash his face. He takes the black cat ear headband looking at it confused, your eyes widen standing straight up. “Sorry! I would always wash my face with Kenma so it’s by reflex.” Kuroo kisses your cheek following you while putting on the headband, “Okay, show me what you do baby. Maybe if I do everything correctly I’ll look as flawless as you do everyday.”

You take your time explaining to Kuroo your skincare and how to apply everything in which he obediently follows, taking note of what products you like for later. Then you both brush your teeth, making sure to go through everything diligently. However, when you looked at Kuroo you noticed his hair was sort of deflated. Due to him not being able to sleep between two pillows like he usually does. You start combing through his soft locks, seeing how he deflates under your touch. “You ready to go make some breakfast, my love?” Kuroo flushed under your touch and the use of his new nickname, nodding not wanting to wait a second. You grab his hand leading him to the kitchen, Kuroo smiles. Glad that you’re familiar enough with his apartment layout to lead him through it. “Ok handsome, let’s go make some pancakes.”

Kuroo guides you through his kitchen showing you where the spices were, how he dedicated a whole shelf in his pantry for you, and where he puts his utensils. Feeling confident enough you head to the pantry finding the pancake mix and hand it to him, while he grabs it but not forgetting to place a kiss on your hand. Wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the muscles on his back move as he softly whisks the pancake batter, finding solace in this moment. “You still tired bunny? You can go lay down I’ll wake you when everything’s done.”, you shake your head. “No I’m not tired, just really comfortable right now with you. Being here, I feel welcomed by everything that you are. Waking up I see you, the living room has traces of your style, like it just feels like you everywhere I go.” Kuroo softly chuckles, “That’s good though right?” he feels you nod your hair ticking his back.

Letting go of Kuroo, you leave him to cook the pancakes while you prepare fruit and set the table. Kuroo pulls out your chair letting you sit down as he serves you a plate of pancakes shaped like a heart. You smile as he sits down grabbing your hand, caressing it, lifting his mug. “Here’s to our first full day of living together, I know there will be many more to go, I love you bunny.”, you smile clinking your mugs together. You send a picture to Kenma of Kuroo eating his pancakes surrounded by the array of fruit you cut up for the both of you. Making sure to get the heart shaped pancakes Kuroo made for you in the shot as well. Only to immediately get a reply back, “You both make me sick. Enjoy the new apartment lovebirds! (¬⤙¬ )”.

divider credit to @/vase-of-lilies, @/bunnysrph, and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia: writing this had me giggling so bad also just say yes now has a time line so please look forward to the masterlist! p.p.s i am accepting request for just say yes! kuroo short stories so hit up my inbox and i’ll try to get those done! i’m doing everything in a timeline order so pls be patient just know i see them! <3

@m3l0nfl0at on tumblr. All Rights Reserved. Do not steal, copy, or translate any of my works.

[wooziorgans]

moon song || ljh

warnings: post breakup au. ex idol!reader. reader has an implied suicide attempt(s) in the past. reader is implied to do something akin to relapsing at the end of the fic. ed talk. lots of pressure that comes w being an idol. clubs. drinking. seungcheol hates y/n for leaving. leaving the idol industry behind. seeing your ex after four years. hurt w very little comfort. right person, wrong time.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: vent piece mostly. abt my frustration of still being sick, abt my frustration of not seeming to get better, abt how it never seems to stop. abt all of my wasted potential as a person. all of it, none of it, everything and nothing at all. i am so tired.

please read with caution. this is just a lot of emotions all in one place.

The loud bass that hits your head as soon as you enter the club makes your head pound immediately. It’s been four long years since you’ve even been in this part of Seoul, let alone been in a club with this group of ex-colleagues.

Ex-colleagues is certainly one way to put it. They were all so much more, and you know that this is just an excuse for all of them to get drunk. You wonder briefly if Jihoon’s here. He never used to drink, but then again, he didn’t do a lot of things until you were in the picture. You wonder how much has changed now that you’re not.

The memory of him burns like a hot iron branding your back, and you head to the nearest table of refreshments to grab a drink. If he’s here, you’ll need all the alcohol you can get your hands on. Maybe that makes you no better than anyone else; no better than the scene you so desperately needed to leave four years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re no longer apart of it. What you do now won’t cost you your career. If the night ends with you passed out in an alley way simply because you saw your ex at an album release party for an album he produced, so be it. He never comes to these things anyways.

At least, he didn’t when you knew him. You haven’t known Jihoon for a long time. It’s been four years after all; a lot can change in a week, let alone four years.

Like your decision to leave the K-pop industry. You had mulled over it for weeks, before you brought it up to anyone, and you didn’t go to Jihoon first. He was the last person you told. At least, officially, that you were leaving.

All those years of work as a trainee, just for it to be nothing. All of the tears, the angry screams into your pillow, the poverty your company forced you into in the first few years of your career because it was boarding on bankruptcy. All of this wasted potential. Maybe you could’ve been someone great.

You were, for a few years. Your group took off, and the first few years of success made all of the hard work feel like it was worth something. But as the saying goes, too much of a good thing won’t be good for long.

The pressure started to build, and it built until it boiled over and you were found on the verge of doing something terrible in your bathroom by your boyfriend and your manager after a week of unusual silence. Jihoon never was a crier, but god did he sob as he held you in the back of the ambulance. He had never begged for anything the way he begged for you to talk to him.

Please, god, please talk to me Y/N. Please, baby. I can’t— I can’t lose you.

It’s funny, really, how things work out. You dug yourself so deep into this hole of despair from the pressure of being an idol, that the only way out of it was to completely separate yourself from that life and start over.

After terminating your contract, you broke up with Jihoon. Or, you didn’t break up with him, only told him that you needed to take a break while you sorted yourself out. After being on a break for four years, is it still just a break? Or are you broken up at that point?

Both you and Jihoon know the answer to that.

Three years of no social media, no articles about you, none of your old friends reaching out to check in on you because they held a contractual obligation to be nice to you in the hallways. Three and a half years out of the spotlight. Three and a half years of peace, of healing, of sorting your life out and learning how to breathe again.

It’s been four years without Jihoon, and you didn’t really think much about the consequences that potentially sharing a space with him would have. But now they’re suffocating. All you can think about is the potential possibility of him being here, which, he wouldn’t be, right? He hates these kinds of gatherings. He used to skip his own release parties to watch shitty romance movies with you on the couch in his studio.

Does he have someone new to watch romance movies with? Or has he given up romance altogether? You know from the first few months, updates provided by Soonyoung, that he didn’t take the distance very well. You know that he missed you, and he worried about you constantly. You know you’re spiralling, and you know all those years of therapy will be for nothing if you don’t pull yourself out of it.

You don’t have to do that, because Seungkwan does it for you. “Y/N? You came!” He seems elated that you’re here, off his rocker, probably drunk.

“Of course I came! It’s your first album as BSS, Seungkwan.” You smile, and it’s not forced at all. You have completely forgotten how easy it is to fall into banter with Seungkwan. It’s almost like you never left in the first place.

Except something in his eyes seems off. That’s your first red flag to turn around and get the fuck out of this club, but you don’t. “My god. It’s been so long. How are you doing?” With anyone else, the small talk would’ve taken you out back and killed you. It’s different with Seungkwan.

Different how? He was one of the only people who consistently checked in on you when you first left. As you settled into your new life, the texts became less frequent; now, four years later they’re hardly anything to notice, but he’ll still send you a text on every holiday, and he’s wished you happy birthday every year since you met him.

“I’m doing a lot better. I’m… I’m good.” You laugh softly. Seungkwan smiles at you.

“That’s good. I’ve missed having you around— of course I don’t expect you to come back into this scene, but it would be nice to see you sometime.” Seungkwan squeezes your shoulder softly and smiles wider.

“Yeah, of course. I know I’ve been gone, but I’ll make it less hard to get a hold of me. I’ve missed all of you, truth be told.” You smile back. “I’ve just… been doing a lot of healing and I think it’s about time I finally start reconnecting with people. Is everyone here?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah. We’re all here! I kind of spilled that I invited you so everyone decided to come just in case you showed up.” The depth of all doesn’t really seem to cross Seungkwan’s mind; he’s certainly not thinking about Jihoon right now, or Seungcheol for that matter. You’re pretty sure Seungcheol would punch you if he caught sight of you. Maybe Jihoon would too. You have no idea how Jihoon even feels about you.

“Even, uh, Jihoon?” The smile falls from Seungkwan’s face.

“Oh. Yeah. He’s here too.” Seungkwan swallows when he sees your face shift. “You… he-he wants to talk to you. It’s not my place to really say, but he’s not mad. I think he just wants closure.”

So maybe Jihoon wouldn’t punch you. That’s a bit of a relief.

“Oh my god! Y/N! You came!” It’s Seokmin, very clearly drunk. You didn’t keep in contact with him, though he did send you a few paragraphs over text as he wished you all the best, telling you to reach out if you ever needed anything. You didn’t take him up on the offer.

“I did!” You smile, tilting your head as you look up at Seokmin.

“Can I have a hug?” He’s already opening his arms and you slide right into them. His hug is firm and warm. You’ve missed Seokmin a lot more than you cared to admit. Seungkwan grumbles about how he should’ve asked for a hug and you laugh, pulling him into one.

You catch up with Seokmin briefly before he’s being pulled away by someone you don’t know. You stick with Seungkwan, talking about your life, the album, avoiding the subject of Jihoon.

And then you turn your head at the bright sound of laughter, and you see him. You see him, and he’s not the same mess he was when you left him with no promise of when you’d see each other next. He’s not the scared man in his early twenties who had no idea if you were going to die on him. He’s not the man who stayed with you in the hospital for days on end.

He’s not the producer you knew who’d slide his headphones over your ears as he pulled you into his lap. He’s not the warm hand that held yours because you forgot your gloves again. He’s not the hushed giggles at four in the morning, or the hurried kisses, or the soft whimpers and praises as you tangled yourselves in his bedsheets.

Jihoon isn’t yours anymore.

You had hoped he wouldn’t be such a sore subject for you anymore, but seeing him in all of his glory four years later… god does it fucking hurt. You’ve done a lot of healing in the last four years, but in that time you never really had the time to process the loss of Jihoon.

Soonyoung spots you, and that’s when you know you’re doomed, because if Soonyoung is distracted, Jihoon always notices the thing that catches him off guard. You try to pull your eyes away from Jihoon, but you can’t. You swear he’s gotten more beautiful in the last four years.

He’s gotten bigger, physically— far more muscular. You can see the curve of his pecks through his shirt, one that isn’t even tight against his body. Jihoon’s always been a big fitness buff, but it appears he’s put more effort into himself. His biceps strain against the fitted sleeves of his long sleeve black shirt.

Jihoon’s face looks different too. He still has the same round cheeks you used to always pinch and prod at. His jawline is still soft, but it’s more defined. His eyes are bright, and the bags under them are still there. You wonder briefly if he’s ever gotten rid of them; if the skin under his eyes has ever matched the rest of his milky complexion.

His hair is longer than you’ve ever seen it. Dark and flowy, it’s reflective and healthy, half tied up with what would be his undercut hanging freely. A few pieces frame his face. It looks soft and healthy. Jihoon looks soft and healthy.

He’s smiling as he scans the crowd to find what Soonyoung is distracted by, and then he spots you. The smile is wiped off of Jihoon’s face faster than your brain can even register it. Seungkwan stiffens beside you, hand finding your shoulder to steady you as you stumble briefly, but the pull between you and Jihoon is too much.

Both of you start moving towards each other, pushing your way through the crowd. “Y/N.” His voice comes out in a breath, chest heaving and then he’s there, right in front of you, after four years.

You don’t know what to say, can’t process the fact that he’s in front of you, as beautiful as ever. “Jihoon,” you echo, “hi.” You can’t help the small smile that threatens to pull at your lips. The tension on Jihoon’s face eases, but he doesn’t smile back.

“Hi. How are you doing?” Jihoon asks, and if it was anyone else, it would’ve been a sad attempt at small talk. It’s Jihoon, so you know he’s asking how you’re doing now, if you’re better. A part of him is asking if you still feel like killing yourself. The answer to the last part is no.

“I’m… better. A lot better.” You laugh awkwardly. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t doing okay.” Now, Jihoon actually does smile at you, and though it’s small, it’s still there.

“You look a lot better. Healthier. I’m glad.” Jihoon takes a sip of his drink as he looks down at you. He’s right; you’re much healthier now. There’s solid meat on your bones, your thighs touch and your ribs don’t show anymore. Your face has filled out, cheeks full and round. Your eyes don’t look as though they’re sunken into your skull, they’re brighter now; they seem to shine with life in a way they never have before.

Jihoon takes you in properly, and god, you’ve gotten so much more beautiful since the last time he saw you. It hurts. It hurts a lot to see how good you look now, without him. He knows it’s a lot more complicated than that, but it still hurts nonetheless.

You look healthy, like an actual person and not a skeleton, and you were never that way when you were an idol. You were never like that when you were with Jihoon.

“Oh, um, thank you. Should we… should we sit? We have a lot to talk about.” You laugh again to hide your nerves. Jihoon can still read you, and he knows you’re brimming with nerves. He knows you’re a little scared, probably more than a little, and he is too.

You’ve never breached the subject, hardly even talked about your breakup. Jihoon doesn’t like to think about it. He just doesn’t. He doesn’t like to think about how much worse you were doing, even if it destroyed him. The breakup was harder on you, tenfold, and you went through it alone.

“I- uh. Yeah, yeah, we can go sit. It’s probably about time we talk.” Jihoon laughs nervously, closing his eyes for a second. He wordlessly starts walking towards the vacant booths of the club. You follow close behind.

Jihoon sits down, and you take a seat across from him. It’s silent for a few moments. Both of you are staring at your cups, not drinking, just swirling your liquids of choice.

Jihoon speaks first, but he can’t look at you. “Why’d you have to leave me?” He asks, and his voice breaks softly as he says it. You certainly weren’t expecting that as the first question he asked, but you don’t really know what else he would’ve asked.

“I… I had to leave everything that had to do with being an idol behind. You… you included.” It’s a shitty answer, but you can’t think in Jihoon’s presence.

“I understand that, but I would’ve been there for you. I would’ve helped you get help. You didn’t have to do it by yourself, Y/N. I loved you; I would’ve done anything to make sure you were safe.” Jihoon’s bites at his lip, eyes sparkling in the low lights of the club. He looks like he’s about to cry, and god does it break your heart.

He loved you, past tense. It’s jarring. It stings, but what else did you expect? For him to still want you? That’s unrealistic and completely unfair to expect from him.

It hits you then that you might still be in love with him. That makes this next part so much harder.

“I know. I know, but it made sense to me at the time. I can’t- I can’t rationalize anything that I did at that time in my life. None of it makes sense, but I made a lot of choices that I regret and I can’t go back on them now. It’s too late for that and I’m- I’m so sorry for everything I put you through, Jihoon. All of it; everything, god, I’m so sorry.” You spill, and the soft burn in the back of your throat makes it hard to speak as you try not to cry. “You didn’t deserve to deal with any of it.” You whisper softly.

“Y/N,” Jihoon whispers back, “I forgave you a long time ago. I just want closure.” Closure. Jihoon wants closure, meaning he wants to move on. The tears in his eyes shine brightly, though they don’t fall, but he’s crying nonetheless, and that makes you feel worse.

“I don’t deserve that though. I don’t deserve to be forgiven for just leaving you. Seungcheol still hasn’t forgiven me; why the hell would you?” You swallow hard, and that seems to break the dam as the first few tears slip down your cheeks.

“Seungcheol has his own issues. We never told him the full story, and maybe that’s why he’s still… iffy about the whole thing. But I forgive you. I just, I want to stop hiding from you. I don’t want to be worried about running into you somewhere and not knowing what to say. I still care about you, so much, and, god does it fucking kill me to still worry about you when you’ve never made an effort to reach out to me.” Jihoon’s always been blunt, so you should’ve expected this, but it makes you feel worse; guilty. “I would’ve answered your calls, in a heartbeat. You know I would’ve.” Jihoon blinks, and the first few tears fall down his face.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to call you after so long. I spent six months in and out of the hospital, and after that I had to get back on my feet. By the time I even had time to think about calling you, it’d been a year, and to me that was too late.” You close your eyes and exhale deeply, fingers twitching.

Jihoon used to hold your hands when you were upset to stop them from twitching so much. He used to pull your head close to his chest and wipe your tears with the pads of his thumbs. He makes no effort to do so now. Jihoon can’t even look at you properly.

He’s focused on picking at the calluses on his palms. Some things never change.

“You- six months? Y/N, fuck, I had no idea. I knew it was bad but, shit, really?” Jihoon’s voice breaks fully, and all you can do is nod. “How many more times? How many times did you—?” He can’t finish his sentence. His throat closes up.

“Four.” Jihoon has nothing to say in reply. He can’t, not with the deep hurt that settles in his chest, so you elaborate. “I really just wanted to die. The media was on my ass for the first year and it was just bad. I spent the next year after that in a rehabilitation program to fix my relationship with food and it helped a lot. I found a good therapist and I’m still seeing her. It’s helped a lot. I’m- I’m clean.” You pick up your cup, hand shaking, and take a large drink to calm your nerves.

“I’m really glad that you’re healthy now. Really, god, that’s such a relief.” Jihoon’s tears are steady now. He wipes at them with his sleeve. You mutter a soft thank you.

Outside of the booth, the noise has been blocked out by your conversation, but you hear something peculiar. It’s Seungcheol, his voice is loud and booming. He’s angry.

“What the fuck are they doing here?! Seriously, why did you even invite them?” Both you and Jihoon look up at the same time to see Joshua and Mingyu trying to deescalate the situation. Seungkwan is yelling back, face red as he tries to block Seungcheol’s view of the booth you and Jihoon are sat in.

“No, I’ve fucking had it with all of you. Defending them for just fucking leaving Jihoon without a word. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you bring them here?” Seungcheol is drunk and looking for a confrontation with you, and that’s enough of a threat to have you and Jihoon standing as he tries to usher you out of the club without Seungcheol seeing.

“Fuck, you should probably go.” Jihoon pulls you close to him, shielding you from Seungcheol’s view. You nod, walking fast beside him as you push your way through the crowd.

“Yah! You, get the fuck back here!” Neither of you listen as you push your way out of the door. You make the mistake of looking behind you to see Joshua and Mingyu physically holding Seungcheol back. Wonwoo is there now too, standing in front of him to prevent him from walking.

The outside air is cold and bitter. You shiver as you pull out your phone to order a ride. You and Jihoon are completely silent. He’s standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat radiating off onto you.

“I’ll wait with you. How long?” He asks, voice shaky.

“Two minutes.” You only have two minutes left with Jihoon. It’s so finite, the time you’re spending with him. If only you had more time.

You’re not afforded that luxury as you shiver beside him. “Can I- is it okay if I—?” You nod, unsure of what he’s asking. It’s a yes either way. Jihoon pulls you into his arms in a tight, warm hug. His hands don’t find their way into your hair, or rub your back. He just holds you. It’s all he can do.

Both of you ignore the mutual swell of warmth in your chests. You’re still in love with him, you know that, and that’s why the car seems to show up in no time. Your phone chimes as the car pulls up in front of the club as you reluctantly start to separate yourselves.

There’s so much you didn’t get to talk about. You tell him so. “We, fuck, I had so much more to say. I had so much more to explain. You, god, you were the right person, Jihoon. Everything else was just so wrong.” You thought the weight would’ve been lifted off your chest, but it only hurts more. You close your eyes as you turn away.

“Y/N, fuck, don’t do this to me right now.” Jihoon whispers, eyes filling with tears once again.

“I’m sorry Jihoon. I love you. I’ll see you around.” You open the door to the car.

“I, yeah. Take care of yourself.” Jihoon can’t look at you, no way in hell can he look at you as you close the door and drive off. He stands still in the cold, watching as the car disappears from his sight. He leans against the wall, head falling back as the tears start pouring freely.

As he pushes the door to the club open, it hits him hard, fills his whole body as a bone deep love for you settles. And it hurts, god does it hurt. Seungcheol’s calmed down, but the snide remark that slips past his lip doesn’t even register in Jihoon’s brain. All Jihoon recognizes is his tone, and that’s enough.

“I’ll punch you right in your fucking mouth, Seungcheol, I swear to god. Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon hardly ever makes threats, but when he does it has everyone going quiet. Seungcheol, Joshua and Mingyu stop in their tracks. There’s been enough drama for one night.

Jihoon grabs a new drink and chugs it, before he goes to grab his coat. He needs to get out of here before the sob building in his throat bursts.

You manage to keep your tears at bay until you enter your apartment. You find yourself in the bathroom, against the cold tile and the porcelain of the bathtub. You don’t do anything, just sit there and breathe as the tears flow freely.

It wasn’t supposed to end like that. You were supposed to have more time to reconcile with Jihoon. You and bathrooms have seen a lot of hurt. Most of your bad decisions are made in bathrooms. You don’t do anything, you just sit there for a few minutes as you cry.

Nothing happens the next night. Or the night after. A week after the release party, Jihoon still plagues your mind and that’s when you crack. Your old manager turned friend answers the phone.

“Hi. You okay?” Yena asks softly, voice ridden with sleep.

“Drive me to the hospital? I think I need stitches.” You laugh nervously. The adrenaline has worn off and all you feel is regret.

“Y/N.” She sighs, but it’s not disappointment. She’s seen a lot of things with you, and supported you through all of them. You’re the reason she quit being a manager and went back to university. You made her realize the idol life isn’t as glamorous as it seems, and you’ve formed a very solid friendship over the past five years. “You know they’re gonna keep you for a few days, right?”

“Yeah. I know. It was impulsive. Like, I’m fine now. I just couldn’t stop thinking.” You sigh.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be on the way. Cold water and pressure until I get there, yeah?” You laugh softly.

“Already on it.” The call disconnects soon after, and you look up at the mirror. Briefly, you imagine Jihoon standing behind you in a much different situation than the one you’re in now.

His thick arms are wrapped around your waist, head leaning against yours. He’s smiling in your vision. You smile softly in your reflection, though it’s strained. The blood on your hands pulls you out of it.

a/n: i wrote this when i was going through it. i’m fine now but i seriously can’t do angst like i used to so i might write a part two or something where they end up back together.

[satorusugurugurl]

Til’ the Day that I Die (Chapter Four)

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, grief, language, anxiety, stalking, some slight fluff

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: fun fact—this was supposed to be five parts, its gonna be a bit long because this has taken a life of its own 😅💚

Part One Part Two Part Three

“Oh—” You whispered, stepping forward closer to the shrine. Incense was burning in front of a picture of a beautiful woman with black hair. A small mochi and vase with wildflowers sat beside her photo. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

”Thank you—”

Toji exhaled through his nose, ruffling the top of Megumi’s head as you approached the shrine, kneeling before it, closing your eyes as you bowed your head. Seeing you move so fast, dropping before his late wife's shrine, left Toji feeling both appreciative and sick to his stomach at the same time. Maybe part of It was because he still missed his sweet wife, or perhaps it was because he’s been so wrong about you.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Mrs. Fushiguro.”

The sincerity behind your words felt like a knife in his stomach. Yeah, he had definitely misjudged you. He wished he could take back what he had told you earlier this night. But time didn't work like that. Toji assumed you were a spoiled rotten brat and blatantly said that to your face. There was no taking back those shitty assumptions.

But what he could do was make up for what he had said.

“She would have loved to have you. Wouldn't she squirt?” He asked, ruffling Megumi’s hair.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching Megumi grip his father's pants, nodding his head. A slight flush dusted his cheeks as you smiled sympathetically at him. It must have been hard losing his mother at such a young age; you couldn't even imagine what that must have been like. But Toji, you were in actual awe of him.

Not only did he work for a well-renowned security company, but he was also a single father. Balancing work, raising a child, and caring for a house must be hard as hell. A sudden respect for the mountain of the man blossomed in your chest as he stared at his son, lovingly stroking his hair back.

”I should probably get him to bed, then we can get you settled in, okay?”

You nodded in agreement, watching as he placed his hand on Megumi’s head, turning him to head down a hall. “Goodnight, Miss.” The little tyke said, waving at you, which had your heart squeezing in your chest as you waved back.

When they disappeared into a room, you pushed yourself off the ground, looking around the living; despite being a bit dusty, it was surprisingly well organized. You admired the different photos on bookcases, from Toji and Megumi to pictures of his late wife. As you looked at each photo, you grounded yourself, swallowing at a sadness lumping in your throat. In each photo of his wife, Megumi was a baby. There were no photos of her with him as a toddler or a child, meaning she probably passed before she could watch him grow. That sadness tugged at your heart, making breathing almost hard as you felt nothing but empathy for the family who’d so selflessly taken you in.

“She’s staying for a while?” Megumi asked softly as Toji lifted the sheets for him.

“Yep, you good with that kiddo? If you're not, I could call Shiu.”

“I don't mind—” Toji cocked a dark brow watching Megumi grab his white wolf plushie hugging it. “She’s pretty.”

Those words nearly sent Toji reeling back as he gawked at his son. “Pretty?” Megumi nodded, pursing his lips together as he shot his father a quick, curious glance. Thanks to Toji’s profession, he was a professional at reading people, and that talent extended to his son. “Yeah, she is. But Megumi, this is strictly professional, you know that, right?” When his son just stared at him, he signed. “There’s nothing between us, and I assure you there won't be.” The dismissive tone of Toji’s words left Megumi blinking.

“Why?”

“Because it’s unprofessional. It's my job to protect her.”

He pulled the sheets up to Megumi’s chin, tucking him in. “You know you don't have to worry about me.” Megumi rubbed his face into the plushie fur. “I wouldn't mind you seeing her.” Toji rolled his eyes, pushing Megumi’s bangs off his forehead and pressing a kiss there.

“She’s a client, kid.”

“So?”

How was it possible for a kid to be this intrusive? “Okay, that’s enough questions, go to sleep.” The floorboards creaked under Toji’s weight as he headed for the hall. “Night Megumi.”

“Night, Dad.”

Shutting the door to his son’s room, Toji was left alone in the hall's silence with his thoughts. He knew there would be a day when Megumi would ask him about his dating life. He was sure how he would react, whether he didn't like the idea or was indifferent. But this was a reaction he hadn't been expecting. For Megumi to basically give Toji his blessing to date you was literally unfathomable. And he had said it with such a straight face!

Megumi didn't know you; he'd barely met you, hardly said less than twenty words to you, and was giving His father permission. Your presence had that much of an impact on him? The same woman he had deemed a spoiled brat had won his son over merely by smiling and being kind.

He'd have to make sure Megumi knew you weren't staying forever. This arrangement was a temporary deal. One designed to keep you safe and out of harm's way.

As he headed into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck, thinking of how he could word it, he saw you standing in front of the bookcases, staring at the photos that lined the shelves. He'd been expecting to see an unreadable, almost bored face as you waited for him. What he was met with had him frozen in his spot.

Tears, literal tears welled in your eyes. You were crying while looking at pictures of his wife. The woman who’s impacted him in so many ways. Who had blessed him with a son who was so much like her? The same woman he had mourned for the last five years. Seeing you like that only made Toji regret his earlier words even more. With a sigh, Toji cleared his throat as he entered the living room, stomping his feet a little too loud to give you time to wipe the stray tears off your face.

“Sorry about the wait.”

“Oh, you’re fine; I’m the one imposing on your family.”

Toji wanted to argue and tell you to shut up, but he let it go. You weren’t a burden. He was happy to help you because it was the right thing to do.

So, instead of yelling or starting another argument, Toji stepped forward, ruffling the top of your head. “Come on, I’ll give ya’ a tour.” The apartment was lovely, with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a balcony overlooking the city. It was a pleasant, quiet home perfect for the two of them. It was also the place that you would call home for an indefinite future. “It’s a little cramped, but it’s still home.”

You both made your way back out to the living room. Where you were fiddling with your thumbs and anxiously looking around. Toji was watching you closely as he had been doing the entire night. You have been through so much in the last few hours he didn’t wanna push you further than you had been so far. Right now, the best thing he could do was get in bed and sleep this terrible night off.

He cleared his throat around the living room before moving the cushions off the couch. Upon seeing him moving, you jumped to help him take the cushions from him and place them off to the side—something his previous clients wouldn’t be caught dead. Then again, you weren’t like his other clients. The more time he spent with you, the more evident that became.

“You realize you don’t have to help me do this right.”

“What kind of house would I be if I didn’t help?”

Toji shook his head as he moved the coffee table to the side. “Ya’ know, I think you’re the only houseguest that has ever done this with me.” you shook your head this time, giving him an almost smug smile.

“Well, I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

You laughed, and God, it was sweet and light as air. A sound that ceased all of Toji’s movements as he looked up at you. After everything you had gone through tonight, you were still able to laugh and smile. And it wasn’t that fake laugh for the smile he watched you put on when you were at the stadium. You'd been through hell and back this evening, but you were grinning despite everything that you had gone through. Knowing that someone had gotten into your home, you were staying in a stranger's house, yet you were laughing a carefree giggle. For you to still be able to smile like everything was fine when he knew it took resilience and guts.

You hummed, rubbing at the back of your neck. Unaware of the watchful gaze that Toji was shooting in your direction. “I bet you have a lot of interesting stories to tell.” Your words pull him out of the stupor he found himself in while staring at your delicate features and pretty face.

“Uhm, yeah, yeah, I do have a lot of stories I could tell. But let’s put a pin in that; you had a long day. You need to get some rest.” Toji stretched his arms above his head before stretching the arms across his chest. “If you give me a few minutes, I can change the sheets on my bed, and you can shower.”

“Your bed?”

Toji blinked, looking away before looking back and meeting your confused gaze. “Yeah, I’m taking the couch; you can stay in my bed.” From the way you crossed your arms and fed your brows, Toji knew you didn’t approve of this idea.

“I’m not the type to kick you out of your bed because I’m staying with you. I am perfectly capable of sleeping on a pull-out bed.”

“No one said you weren’t, Doll Face.” The mere annoyance etched into his voice didn't faze you in the slightest. “Anyways, I'm sleeping here. So I'm going to go change my sheets, get you a towel, and then you can rest.”

“Just grab me a towel; I really don't mind sleeping out here.”

A vein in Toji’s forehead throbbed as he slowly turned to glare down at you, putting on the fakest smile he could muster. “You’re a brat, you know that? I'm trying to be nice and offer you my bed so you can get a good night’s sleep.” Navy eyes watched as you shrugged, fucking shrugged at his words.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I would prefer you to be on your A-Game tomorrow. You are my bodyguard, after all. If anyone should get a good night's sleep, it should be you.”

With pure satisfaction, you watched Toji open his mouth to argue before slowly closing it. A cocky smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as your tall; muscular bodyguard couldn't bring himself to argue or disagree with you. Seeing that expression on your face, Toji’s eyes were twitching; maybe you were a brat.

“Ooh, you sure Miss Pop-Princess won’t mind sleeping on the couch? I wouldn't want it ruining your back~”

Instead of snapping or giving him attitude, Toji watched as you slowly tilted your head to the side. “You do realize I have slept on my fair share of couches before I was famous and after the fact.” Toji blinked, watching you run your hands over the mattress. “When I was staying with my friends, I slept on their sofa, and they didn't even have a pull-out mattress, so this is a step up.” Damn, you were just—normal.

“Fuck, you aren't like other clients I've had in the past.”

“Is that a good thing?”

You watched as Toji’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Eh, I don't know yet.” You glared at him, but your glare was cut short as he threw a pillow at your face. “Relax, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. You're just different. But sometimes different is good.”

Sometimes different was good?

Toji’s words had you tossing and turning on the pull-out bed. You sighed, staring at the ceiling as you tossed and turned, and his words echoed in your mind. After everything that had happened to you in the last few hours, you weren't sure if you agreed with him.

In fact, ever since you had gone viral, things have been incredibly different for you. And you weren't sure if it was a good thing. Your fame had its perks, of course. You made good money, more than enough to give back to the community and help those who couldn't help themselves. But, the downsides were turning out to be—worse than you ever imagined.

Your anxiety was at an all-time high; you had a stalker who had been watching you for god knows how long, and you were staying with your bodyguard, whom you knew practically nothing about. Well, that last part wasn't as bad as the other two drastic changes you were experiencing. Did that fact make it any less nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing? No, it didn't.

Those thoughts plagued your mind all night; from the time Toji left you to shower until then, the blue velvet sky outside began turning a light shade of orange with the promise of morning. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep. You had come to terms with that fact before you even stepped foot into Toji's apartment building. The anxiety had dug its claws into you. Its talons seep into your skin like a poison meant to keep you up for all night hours.

Hopefully, this won't be a permanent change in your life.

The orange hue shifted to a lilac shade with pink clouds. At that point, you had given up on sleeping altogether, opting to sit on the fold-out bed and stare at the different shapes forming in the clouds. Just as you watched a rabbit shift into an elephant, a soft creaking sound pulled your attention away from the window.

Megumi wandered out of his room, rubbing his eyes as he looked around. Navy blue eyes met yours, and he stared at you for a second before continuing his way into the living room. He was silent as he plopped down on the end of the mattress, looking at the black screen of the television.

“You wanna watch television?” You questioned in a soft, almost motherly tone.

“No, I’m okay.” His timid voice melted your heart, but you could tell from how he stole glances at you that he had something to say.

“You sure about that.”

Another silence spread before he turned to look over his shoulder at you. “Yeah.” Little fingers picked at the thick blanket Toji had given you. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you for asking. How about you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling a piece of lint to the blanket. “I slept okay.” Nodding your head, you sighed, looking out at the sky.

“Well, from the sounds of it, we both didn't sleep very well, and there's only one cure for a rough night.”

Your words had Megumi’s head snapping in your direction, curiosity gleaming in his big doe-eyed. “There’s a cure?” With a wide bobcat grin, you picked the blankets off yourself.

“Yes, and thankfully, I know the only cure out there. Wanna help me?” Megumi took your hand without hesitation, giving it a squeeze as you both headed beaded into the kitchen. “I can assure you that this cure will be the tastiest cure of them all.”

The smell of bacon pulled Toji out of dreamland. He groaned, running his hands down his face, and sat up, glancing at the clock. It was seven thirty, and Megumi was already up and about, staring at his day, much like his mother used to do. This would come in handy in the future, but for a six-year-old to be up cooking seemed unlikely, so it had to be you. At least Toji hoped it was you.

As tempting as it was to stay in bed and fall back asleep, the soft clattering from the kitchen urged Toji to investigate. Slipping on his grey sweats with a sigh, Toji headed out to the kitchen, where he found his son eating breakfast on one of the barstools. He was seconds away from scolding his son to wake him up the next time he was hungry when he heard the soft singing resonating from the stove.

There he saw you. You were swaying your hips to music softly playing on your phone. You were completely oblivious to him watching you as you flipped a pancake over in the frying pan you used. Normally, he'd be slightly irritated if someone he didn't know was using his kitchen and groceries without asking.

But you looked so pretty, mindlessly singing as you cooked breakfast. Not only his son, but for him too from the second plate sitting off to the side, and the third you were plating must be for you. It had been so long since Toji’s kitchen was filled with warmth, singing, and life. It was so strange, different.

But then again, different was sometimes good.

It was so good that Toji crept over to stand behind you, watching you flip the pancake to cook it perfectly. You still were unaware of his presence, which was slightly concerning, seeing that you were being stalked by a crazed maniac right now. That was something you both would have to work on in the future. For now, Toji was going to have a bit of fun.

He leaned as close as he could to your ear before chuckling. “I didn't know the Pop-Princess could cook.” When it came to startling you, Toji had expected a few things to happen. You’d likely react with a fight-or-flight. He imagined you trying to take a swing at him, which he could easily avoid. It made sense; you'd be on high alert, ready to fight for your life if needed.

Instead, a warm pancake smacked him in the face. He just stood there as the pancake slowly slid down his face, revealing your startled face and staring up at him in fear. Out of everything you could have used to your advantage, you threw a pancake at him. A flat, soft, warm breakfast treat had been the only line of defense you'd choose to use—when you were holding a frying pan. As the pancake fell to the floor with a soft thump, you and Toju stared into each other's eyes.

Toji had his work cut out for him.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

Til’ the Day Tag List: (AGE MUST BE IN BIO MDNI)

@justagirl-with-aphone @flowerpot113 @elitesanjisimp @fandomtrash5092 @jinxiewritings @ryomku @amybarnes22 @cutesytwt @starmapz @getoisinnocent @bearchermer

[highinmiamiii]

you can be the boss 🦢

Club owner!Joe Kessler x Stripper Reader x DBF!Billy Butcher

18+ smut mdni

(a/n): new installment to club kess! i love this au soooo much kess is such a dirtbag, he’s kinda hard for me to write so i apologize if things are not as smooth sailing as you might expect. i hope you all enjoy this more sugar daddyish oriented smut chapter i was feeling smutty…perhaps we will get more sugar daddy shenanigans in the future before butcher decides he needs kessler gone asap. i love them being jealous of eachother its so hot, anyways

(CW: in general just stay away if you’re uncomfortable by anything sexual bc this is pretty filthy. fingering, squirting, slight daddyish dynamic, arguement w butcher, idk what else)

The dim glow of Kessler’s modern penthouse was a sharp contrast to the harsh reality she faced daily. The space was a testament to excess—a grand apartment bathed in dark marble, glass and metals, where every piece of furniture looked more out of some sort of sterile futuristic hospital than the last. Black velvet drapes, rich and heavy, framed the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cigars and fine leather.

Tonight, she was a vision in a black silk dress that clung to her every curve, the material shimmering under the soft, ambient lighting. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, each step resonating with the weight of her uncertainty. The dress’s plunging neckline and thigh-high slit revealed just enough to captivate yet leave much to the imagination. Her makeup was impeccable—smoky eyes and red lips that promised allure. Her hair cascaded in glossy waves, framing her face in a way that only enhanced her beauty further.

Kessler lounged on an overstuffed leather sofa, his presence larger than life. He had a predatory grace about him, his eyes glinting with unspoken promises. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice smooth as silk. “You look fuckin’ gorgeous tonight. I must say, the way that dress hugs you—” He let the compliment trail off, his gaze lingering in a manner both admiring and possessive.

She shifted uncomfortably, aware of the subtle pressure his gaze exerted. “Thank you, Mr. Kessler,” she replied, attempting to mask her discomfort with a polite smile.

Kessler’s smile widened, revealing a glint of white teeth. “Call me Joe, darling. ‘Mr. Kessler’ makes me sound like a schoolteacher. Now, let’s talk business.” He gestured toward a bottle of vintage champagne resting in an ice bucket nearby, his hand lingering just a fraction too long on her arm as he led her to sit beside him.

As she settled on the sofa, he poured the champagne with practiced elegance, his eyes never straying far from her. “You know, baby, I’ve been thinking about our last conversation. You’ve got something special, and I’d hate to see that talent go to waste.”

Her heart raced at his words. She thought back to the other day when he spoke to her in his office. The promises of stardom hanging heavy between them since them “H-how so?”

Kessler leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m talking about making you a star. Not just any star, but one of those dazzling lights that everyone will want to see. I could maybe even get ya in a film one day”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to read his intentions. “And what’s in it for you?”

A smirk played on his lips as he handed her a thick envelope stuffed with cash. “Absolutely nothing sweetheart, just a little something to show my appreciation. Get yourself something nice to wear. Don’t worry about the details just yet. We’re going to get you out of this town, baby. It’s only a matter of time.”

The envelope felt heavy in her hands, its weight a reminder of her growing dependence on Kessler’s promises. As she hesitated, he reached out and gently stroked her cheek. “Relax, darling. You’re in good hands.”

His thick strong hands roamed their way down her waist, gently turning her over so her back is facing him. He starts to dig his fingers deep into the blades of her back, kneading the skin and helping her release every last knot “Mmm, so tense baby” He huffs and kneads rougher, causing a pleasured gasp to escape her throat “fuck..” She whispers, cracking her neck

Kessler’s hands continued their slow, deliberate work on her back, each stroke more possessive than the last. His breath was hot against her neck, close enough to send shivers down her spine. He was playing a dangerous game—one that blurred the lines between manipulation and seduction.

“Can’t have my girls all tense like this,” Kessler whispered, his lips grazing her ear, voice low and full of promise. “You’ve been carrying too much weight on those pretty shoulders.”

He pushed her hair aside and trailed soft kisses down the back of her neck, his lips lingering just enough to make her pulse quicken. She tensed, unsure how to respond. Part of her mind screamed to pull away, but her body betrayed her, leaning back into his touch, craving the attention despite the warning signs flashing in her head.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers now tracing circles along her hips, drawing her closer into him. “I’ll take care of everything. You just let me handle it.”

His hands roamed lower, teasingly brushing against her waist as he spun her around to face him. Kessler’s dark eyes were filled with desire and power, a dangerous mix that made her heart race. He pulled her closer, into his lap so that she’s straddling his waist.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Kessler growled softly, his hand now caressing her cheek, thumb tracing her lips. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you, baby? The way you move, the way you look at me… it drives me wild.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips crashing against hers with an intensity that made her knees weak. The kiss was hard and demanding, filled with the same possessiveness that had been building between them since the start. His hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as his tongue slid against hers, coaxing her deeper into the moment.

Her mind swirled with conflicting emotions. She knew this was wrong—knew that he was manipulating her, bending her to his will. But in that moment, with his hands on her and his words washing over her, it was hard to remember the reasons why she had to resist.

He pressed her against the wall, his lips finding their way to her jaw, her throat, marking her with each kiss. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispered against her skin, the promise dripping with desire and control. “You won’t need anyone else. Just me.”

Her breath quickened, and she felt his hand slide down to her thigh, lifting her leg slightly so that he could press himself harder against her. It was overwhelming, the way he commanded the situation, the way he took control without giving her time to think. Kessler pulled back just enough to speak, his voice husky with lust. “You feel that, sweetheart? That’s what you do to this ol’ man, eh? you proud of that?” He says teasingly as he breathes heavily into your ear

As his lips found hers again, she kissed him back with a desperation that surprised even her. It wasn’t just the money, or the promises—it was the way he made her feel in moments like this. Powerful, desired, and yet, completely under his thumb. A stark contrast to how Billy made her feel.

The only time she would feel any sort of reciprocation from Butcher when he was off his rockers or blackout drunk. You’d looked up to him since you were a literal little girl. Of course you had a dumb schoolgirl crush on him, but that didn’t matter right now. Not with Kessler holding you like this, making you feel so sexy, so wanted, spoiling you every last chance he got. Fuck Billy. If he didn’t want her sober then she was going to find someone world’s better for her.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, she knew the truth: the more she gave in, the more she’d lose of herself. But then again, it was a much better feeling to have someone want you without having to consume enough alcohol to kill a small animal for once.

Kessler’s hands slid up her waist again, his grip firm. “You won’t ever need to work for those tips again,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “You’re too good for that. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

She pulled back, her breath ragged as she searched his eyes. “And what do you get out of this, Joe?…” She asked, honestly not wanting to deal with her suspicions right now and see him as the perfect man…but she had to, it seemed like a very unfair trade here.

He smirked, that devilish grin lighting up his face. “I get you, sweetheart. That’s more than enough.”

Her mind was screaming at her to step away, to leave, but instead, she stayed there, pinned between Kessler and the wall, completely unsure of where to go from here.

Kessler's gaze held hers captive, his eyes darkening with intensity. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek before tangling in her hair. "Why do you always have to be so unsure about everything, huh babygirl?" he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Kessler's hands tightened around her waist, his fingers splayed possessively over her hips. "You know, when you're being difficult, it makes me want to put you over my knee and spank some sense into you." He growled, his voice low and menacing.

Her eyes widened, her face flushing a deep shade of red. "W-What?... Over your knee?... Like a- a fucking a child?" She stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re sicker than I thought you were Kess” She mutters with a soft nervous chuckle. Kessler grinned wickedly, enjoying her flustered reaction. "Well, sweetheart, you're acting like a damn brat right now, ain't you? Maybe a good spanking is just what you need to learn some respect." His hands squeezed her backside, his intent clear.

She nervously stutters out “Y-you know what- it’s getting late kess—“

Kessler silenced her protests with a searing kiss, his hands gripping her thighs and hoisting her up. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms looping around his neck. "Then perhaps," he said against her lips, "you should show me some obedience instead, young lady."

Her mind was racing, but her body betrayed her, clinging to him as he carried her to the bedroom. She buried her face in his neck, murmuring “y-yes Mr. Kessler”

He hikes her dress up past her ass, his palm smacking loudly against the plump fat, her skin rippling as she yelps in shock “Told ya not to fuckin’ call me that, didn’t I babygirl?”

She gasped as his palm connected with her bottom, the sharp smack echoing in the room. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she buried her face deeper into his neck, letting out a choked sob "Y-yes- m’sorry” she whines helplessly

Kessler's hand caressed her reddened flesh soothingly, his touch gentle despite the earlier roughness. "Good girl." He praised, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's see if you can ride my hand like one"

Kessler felt a surge of protectiveness well up within him. He could feel her body quivering against his, her breath coming in ragged, tear-choked gasps. Her vulnerability stirred something primal within him, a need to cherish and control her in equal measure. She let out a soft, shuddering breath as his hand caressed her stinging backside, her body still tensed from the sudden, humiliating punishment. The heat from his palm seeped into her skin, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. His touch gentled, his fingers trailing along the crease of her bottom, pausing to squeeze the tender flesh possessively before slipping lower. She could feel his knuckles brushing against her thighs, parting them ever so slightly.

Kessler wrapped an arm around her waist and tossed her facedown on the mattress, her breath hitching as she bounced slightly. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her thighs and pinning her hips down with one beefy, tattooed arm wrapped around her waist. His other hand snaked beneath her, groping along her inner thighs until it reached the hem of her lace underwear. He paused, his thick fingers toying with the delicate fabric before he slowly began to drag it aside, revealing the tender flesh beneath.

As he exposed her soaked pussy, he let out a low, appreciative growl. "Fuck, look at you," he muttered, his breath hot against her ear. "Fucking soaked, just for me. dripping all over my sheets, aren't you, sweetness?" Her cheeks flamed with embarrassed heat as she buried her face in the mattress, muffling her moans. His thick fingers parted her folds, slowly sliding up and down her slick crease. “Answer me," he demanded gruffly, punctuating his words with firm pressure against her hole.

“Y-yes” she gasps out softly, wondering how the hell she got here. she had promised butcher that she wasn’t sleeping with kessler, especially not for his money…so what the hell was she doing letting him touch her like this. Her mind raced as Kessler's touch grew bolder, his fingers pumping in and out of her as his thumb swirled around her sensitive little pulsing nub, soaking up her guilty secret. "Squeezin’ me and i’ve barely got two fingers in, got the tightest pretty little pussy i’ve ever laid eyes on, baby" he growled, his breath hot against her ear.

Kessler's fingers curled inward, pressing against her g-spot as he continued to talk dirty to her. "that’s a good fuckin’ girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "let's see just how messy we can get’er, eh?”

She bit down on her lip to silence her cries as he slowly added a third finger, stretching her wide. His touch grew more insistent, his thumb rubbing firm circles over her swollen nub while his fingers pumped in and out of her, slowly gaining speed.

“oh yeah baby, doin’ so well..” he rasped, his tone filled with approval. “This little cunts gripping my fingers so tight, all soaked and sloppy... that old fuck that comes around the club- what’s his name sweetheart?— “

“W-wha—“ She mumbles, rolling her neck in pleasure as she arches her back slightly. “jeeesus- i- i don’t know who you’re talking about-“

“The motherfucker that picks ya up babygirl, think I don’t ask around? Butcher, was it? He bury his fingers this deep in ya like I am now?"

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled moan as he hit that spot inside her again and again. Her eyes rolled back, and she squeezed her legs together, trying to keep his fingers inside her, but he just pushed them in even deeper. Her back bowed, pushing her rear higher into the air as unbridled pleasure coursed through her veins like liquid fire. Each thrust of his fingers against that magical spot sent shockwaves through her core, her inner walls clutching at him greedily, desperate to keep him inside.

"Mmm, does he make you feel like this?" Kessler growled, his breath hot against her ear. "does he make you shake and whimper like my touch does? does he make you beg for his touch, sweetheart?"

"No, Billy means nothing," she stammered, her back arching off the bed as Kessler's fingers hit that magic spot inside her. "We've never— really done anything. He's always drunk, and I've never… never even gotten close to finishing with him…I-I swear…”

Kessler's eyes widened in disbelief as she spoke, his fingers pausing inside her for a moment before he started moving again, faster and harder. "What the fuck, sweetheart? He's never even gotten you off?" "He's not my boyfriend," she gasped, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets. "He's just... around. And when he is, he's drunk or asleep. Oh god, Kess, please..." Kessler groaned softly, his mind racing with the realization that he was likely the only one who'd ever touched her like this, who'd ever brought her to the brink of release. His fingers curled inside her, his thumb rubbing her swollen nub with quick, firm circles. "You're so close, babygirl. I can feel you pulsating around my fingers. You're gonna come for me like this, ain't ya? Y’don’t need him..” She nodded frantically, her body trembling as his words washed over her. "Yes, Kess, yes, d-don’t need him! I've never... I've never even touched myself like this. Only you, only your fingers—and oh god, I'm so close!"

Her back bowed, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as the most intense pleasure she'd ever known exploded within her. It was like a dam breaking, her insides convulsing as waves of pure ecstasy crashed over her. Kessler's mouth dropped open as she cried out, her body convulsing as a torrent of her release gushed out, drenching his hand. "Holy fuck...made my girl fuckin’ squirt" he breathed, watching in awe as her body trembled and quaked.

He quickly moved to clean her up, his tongue delving between her folds to lap up every last drop. She whimpered and shuddered, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as he ate her out like a starving man.

Kessler's face buried between her thighs, his tongue ravaging her soaked flesh as he licked up every last trace of her release. She quivered uncontrollably, her hips bucking against his mouth, overly sensitized from the mind-shattering climax. "K-Kess... it's too much...,"

He gentled his touch, lapping at her slowly, thoroughly cleaning her up before placing soft kisses on her inner thighs and belly. He crawled up beside her, pulling her against his chest as they both caught their breath.

That next morning, sun seeping in through the floor-to-ceiling windows as his his housemaid sweeps the floor. Soft jazz played in the background, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and ease. She, in a delicate white lacy dress that contrasted starkly with the darkness of her previous attire, felt like she was stepping into a world far removed from her own struggles. This dress, with its intricate lace detailing and short little poofy skirt, was both elegant and suggestive—a perfect blend of innocence and allure.

Kessler greeted her with an almost theatrical flourish. “There she is, my starlet,” he crooned, his eyes dark with something akin to possessiveness.

Weeks later, her role at Club Kessler had evolved significantly. She had been promoted to a bottle service girl, a coveted position that allowed her to cater to the club’s high-profile clientele. The VIP area, with its plush seating and private booths, was a stark contrast to the main stage where she once performed. The exclusivity of her new role seemed like a step toward the future Kessler had promised her.

Kessler’s possessiveness, however, became more apparent with each passing night. She, now clad in a glittering silver mini-dress that showcased her toned legs and accentuated her every move, was serving a particularly influential client. As she danced for him, her movements fluid and practiced, she noticed Kessler watching from the shadows, his gaze intense and scrutinizing.

After the dance, Kessler approached her with a dangerous smile. “Baby, I need to talk to you.”

Her heart sank. She followed him to a quieter corner of the club, where the sound of the music seemed distant and hollow. “What’s wrong?”

He placed a hand on her arm, his touch possessive. “I saw what you were doing out there. It’s not what I want for you. You’re not just another girl in this club; you’re special. I don’t want you giving private dances anymore.”

She blinked, stunned. “But… how am I supposed to make money? I work off tips.”

Kessler’s smile faltered for a brief moment before returning with a more sinister edge. “Don’t worry about it. From now on, I’ll take care of everything. You’re not here to earn a living, sweetheart; you’re here to shine.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders. Her independence was slipping away, replaced by a sense of obligation and dependency. The last shred of her dignity—the money she had earned herself—was now a distant memory.

Kessler’s manipulation became more pronounced. The cash he handed her grew in volume, and his control over her life tightened with each passing day. She felt the weight of her dependence on him—a growing burden that overshadowed the promises of fame and freedom.

The bell above the door chimed as Butcher stepped into the shop, his presence a familiar weight that made the cramped space feel even smaller. She stood behind the counter, hands smoothing over a pile of folded shirts, trying not to let her fingers tremble. The shop smelled like old leather and wood polish, mixed with the faint tang of motor oil from the garage out back. It was the kind of place that felt worn-in, like a pair of boots broken just right.

Butcher, in his usual dark coat, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, looked out of place here—too rough, too loud for the quiet, slow-moving world of the shop. His heavy boots echoed off the wooden floors as he strode past the racks, eyes landing on her in that way that always made her feel exposed. He had that same look tonight—like he knew something wasn’t right but wasn’t sure how to ask.

She wore a pale pink dress today, soft and frilled at the edges, the kind of thing that made her feel delicate, though she’d long forgotten how to be. It hugged her figure just enough to feel pretty without trying, but now, under Butcher’s stare, it felt like too much. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the dress, fidgeting in that way she did when she was nervous.

“Bit late, don’t ya think?” she asked, her voice light but brittle as she glanced up at him. He looked tired. The kind of tired that sunk deep into the bones, making everything heavy. He didn’t answer right away, just made his way over to the counter, resting his elbows on it as he leaned toward her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to read something there.

“You closing up soon?” His voice was low, rough, but there was something softer beneath it, hidden beneath the layers of his gruff exterior.

“Yeah, just waiting on one last customer,” she said, nodding to the back where an old man was browsing the shelves with deliberate slowness. He didn’t seem in a rush to leave, and neither did Butcher, it seemed.

He grunted in response, shifting his weight. “Didn’t think you’d be workin’ this late.”

She shrugged, eyes dropping to the counter, fingers running over the grain of the wood, tracing the tiny nicks and scratches that had accumulated over the years. “Needed the hours,” she muttered. Butcher knew why, even if she didn’t say it outright. The debt. Kessler. Everything she’d tangled herself in.

A silence fell between them, thick and heavy like the dusk settling outside. She could feel him watching her, that familiar gaze that made her skin itch, like he could see all the things she was trying to hide. It was always like this with Butcher—he didn’t have to say much to make her feel like she was under a microscope.

“You alright?” His question was simple, but there was weight to it, like it held more than just casual concern.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, too quickly, her voice wavering just enough to betray her. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the cracks.

Butcher tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if to study her closer. “Ya sure ‘bout that, Doll?”

She hated how easily that nickname slipped out of him, how it softened her resolve even when she didn’t want it to. She glanced up, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking away. He always had a way of getting under her skin, seeing through her defenses without even trying.

The old man at the back of the shop coughed, a reminder that they weren’t alone. Butcher straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest, looking like he was about to say something when the customer shuffled to the front, a stack of books in hand.

She stepped away from Butcher, her heart pounding in her chest, and rang up the sale with hands that were a little too shaky. The man didn’t seem to notice as he gathered his things and nodded politely, heading for the door. The bell chimed again as it swung shut behind him, leaving her alone with Butcher.

The air felt thicker now, the shop quieter. Butcher took a step toward her, his fingers drumming on the countertop. “Doll,” he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

She looked at him finally, really looked at him. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of a world that wasn’t entirely his. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His coat was rumpled, like he’d been wearing it for too long, and his shirt was half untucked, one side pulled loose where his belt cut into his waist. But there was something else too—something softer, buried deep in the lines of his face. Concern, maybe. Or guilt. She couldn’t tell anymore.

“I’m fine, Butcher,” she repeated, but this time her voice was quieter, more tired than defiant. She wiped her hands on her dress, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “You don’t need to keep checking in on me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah? And who’s gonna check in on ya if I don’t?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for too long. She didn’t answer, didn’t know how to. Her eyes drifted to the door, then back to him, and suddenly the space between them felt too small, too intimate.

“I can take care of myself,” she muttered, more to convince herself than him. She didn’t even believe it anymore.

Butcher’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice dropping low, rough around the edges. “I ain’t sayin’ you can’t handle yourself, Doll. I know you’re tough. But tough ain’t always enough.”

Her chest tightened, the words sinking deep. She could feel the weight of them pressing down on her, the way Butcher always seemed to pull her in, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She wanted to push him away, tell him to leave, but instead, she found herself leaning into it, letting the silence stretch between them.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to fix everything.”

Butcher’s eyes softened, just a fraction, and he let out a breath he’d been holding. “I ain’t tryin’ to fix ya, Doll. Just don’t want ya drownin’, is all.”

There it was again—that concern, that twisted, broken care that made her chest ache. He didn’t know how to show it, not the way people were supposed to, but she felt it anyway, like a pulse between them.

“I’m not drowning.” she whispered, though the words felt like a lie. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself anymore. “Leave it, Butcher.”

Butcher didn’t move, didn’t push, just stood there watching her with that quiet intensity that always made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something. Something dangerous. Something she couldn’t escape from.

The bell above the door chimed again as he turned to leave, but before stepping out into the night, he glanced back at her, eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Make sure ya lock up, Doll,” he muttered, his voice softer now, like a command but gentler. Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving her standing in the dim light of the shop, the weight of his presence still hanging in the air.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 8 - Last Night | ‘Act II’

word count - 10.9k

Jude leaned casually against the kitchen island, a drink in hand, as he made small talk with the girl who had been eyeing him all night. She was attractive, with hair that fell in waves around her shoulders and a confident smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was saying something about her job, but Jude’s mind kept drifting, his thoughts unwillingly turning back to you. As the girl laughed at something he’d said—a joke that felt hollow even as he told it—Jude’s heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest. Everything about this felt wrong. The way she looked at him, the way she leaned in a little too close, the way her laughter felt forced. She wasn’t you. She didn’t make his pulse quicken, didn’t challenge him in ways that both frustrated and fascinated him. She didn’t make him feel like he was teetering on the edge of something incredible and terrifying all at once. The girl’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he forced a smile, trying to engage in the conversation. But as she spoke, he found himself comparing her to you in every way. The way her laugh wasn’t as genuine, the way her eyes didn’t light up with that same spark of mischief. She was perfectly fine, but she wasn’t you. Jude’s grip tightened around his glass, his knuckles turning a shade lighter. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be talking to this girl, this close to her,  trying to convince himself that he could be the person he used to be—the one who didn’t care, who didn’t get caught up in feelings he couldn’t control. But with every passing second, it became more and more clear that he couldn’t do this anymore. He didn’t want to. Before he could extricate himself from the conversation, he felt a familiar presence at his side. He turned to see Trent standing there, a look of confusion and concern etched across his face. Trent glanced at the girl Jude was talking to, then back at Jude, his brow furrowed.

“Jude,” Trent said, his voice polite but laced with underlying tension. “C’mere for a minute, mate.” Jude hesitated, caught between the girl’s expectant gaze and Trent’s pointed look. Finally, he nodded, excusing himself from the conversation with a forced smile. As he and Trent stepped away, Jude could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mix of guilt and frustration churning in his stomach.

“What the hell are you doing? You need to drop this shit. You know what you're doing, mate. ” Trent asked quietly once they were out of earshot, his tone more confused than angry.

“It’s nothing, bro. Just talking.” Jude ran a hand over his hair, exhaling sharply.

“That didn’t look like nothing. I thought you were with Y/N. What’s going on? You have a fight? I thought things were good.” Trent’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it. 

“Nah, we’re good. I am into Y/N,” he admitted, his voice low, “but we’re not… She’s not my girlfriend, okay? It’s not like what you have with Whit. It’s so different.” Jude felt a pang of shame at Trent’s words, but he tried to shrug it off, to play it cool. 

“Why not? You like her, she likes you… She’s flown to Spain twice to fucking see you. Why are you holding back?” Trent crossed his arms, his expression growing more serious.  Jude opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. How could he explain the fear that gnawed at him—the fear of losing himself in someone else, of being vulnerable in a way he’d never been before? The truth was, he did want what Trent had with Whitney. They we’re engaged, they had a baby, they had lived together for years, but the most enviable aspect of it, they were unequivocally in love. He envied it more than he cared to admit. But the idea of giving himself over to something so uncertain, so unpredictable, terrified him.

“I’m not ready for that,” Jude said finally, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m not like you, Trent. I can’t just… dive into something and hope it works out.” Jude took a deep breath. 

“I’m not hoping bro… I put work in. We put in effort for it to work out. You should too. Stop dragging her around if you aren’t ready. It’s fucked up. Jude, I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve never seen you like this. Y/N means something to you—more than any of the other girls you’ve been with. Don’t throw that away because you’re scared.” Trent’s expression softened, his concern for his friend clear. Jude looked away, his jaw clenched. He didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to confront the truth that Trent was so easily pointing out. “If you don’t want her, don’t fucking do this, tell her.” But he couldn’t deny it, either. You had gotten under his skin in a way that no one else ever had. You were all he could think about, even when he tried to distract himself with someone else.

“I do want her. I just don’t know what to do,” Jude admitted, his voice strained. “It’s like… she’s all I can think about, even when she’s not around. And that scares the hell out of me, bro.” He sighed.

“Then stop fighting it,” he said simply. “You’ve got something good with Y/N. Don’t mess it up because you’re afraid. Trust me, it’d be worth the risk.”  Trent placed a reassuring hand on Jude’s shoulder. Jude swallowed hard, the weight of Trent’s words sinking in. He knew his friend was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. Still, as he glanced back at the party, at the girl he’d been talking to just moments ago, he knew that nothing here could compare to what he had with you.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I need to stop fucking about.” Jude nodded, the decision finally settling in his chest. He hated that he was conceded. He hated that Trent was right. 

“Good. Stop being a fucking donut and go upstairs.  Go upstairs and find her please. She’s the one you should be with tonight.” Trent smiled, relieved.  Jude nodded, feeling a sense of resolve he hadn’t had before. As he made his way back through the party, the noise and the people faded into the background, his focus solely on you. He didn’t know what the future held, he was praying that when push came to shove he’d be ready to take the plunge. For you, it was worth it.

Jude climbed the stairs with a heavy heart, a type of guilt he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy who had done something wrong but didn’t quite know how to fix it. As he approached the door to his room, the weight in his chest only grew… why did he just do that? When he finally opened the door, the sight before him made his heart break. There you were—curled up in his bed, looking so peaceful, so angelic, that it nearly undid him. The soft light from the hallway illuminated your face, casting a gentle glow over your features. Your hair was splayed out on his pillow, and your chest rose and fell with the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. You were perfect, and all he could think about was how much he wanted this—wanted you—to be his every night. Carefully, Jude crossed the room and slipped into bed beside you. As he pulled you into his arms, he felt the warmth of your body seep into his, grounding him in a way he desperately needed. You stirred, your eyes fluttering open as you felt his presence, and you instinctively cuddled closer, pressing soft, sleepy kisses to his bare chest. Jude stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing. The guilt gnawed at him, sharper now that he was lying next to you. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have even entertained the thought that there could be anything better than this—than you? After all the turmoil from him entertaining a girl the other week, was he delusional? The very idea was absurd, and the embarrassment of his earlier actions weighed heavily on him.

“Baby…What took you so long?” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin. Still half-asleep, you nuzzled into him, your voice soft and drowsy. Jude’s heart clenched at the question. He grappled with what to say, not wanting to lie to you, not wanting to keep any more secrets. But the truth was complicated, and he didn’t want to hurt you with it. 

“I was… just talking,” he said, his voice quiet and uncertain. Finally, he settled on the simplest answer, though it felt inadequate. You hummed in response, your eyes closed as you clung to him, but there was a hint of something in your voice—a slight tension that hadn’t been there before. Even in your tired state, you could sense that something was off, something was troubling him. And as much as you wanted to ignore the uneasy feeling in your stomach, you couldn’t quite shake it.

“Jude… is everything okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with a mix of concern and weariness. You tightened your grip on him, your kisses trailing up to his neck as if to reassure both of you. You hated that now you were scared of him being with other women. 

“Yeah, angel.” he whispered back, his voice strained. “Everything’s fine. Just… just tired, I guess.” Jude’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, wishing he could just erase the last few hours.  But even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t enough. You deserved more than this, more than half-truths and evasions. You deserved all of him—the real him—and he wasn’t sure he was ready to give that, but he knew he had to try. As you drifted back to sleep in his arms, Jude made a silent promise to himself: he wouldn’t let this—let you—slip through his fingers. Not now, not ever.

Whitney caught you in the hallway the next morning, her expression a mix of concern and determination. You two had always been close, but Whitney’s protective side was out in full force today, especially after what she’d heard from Trent last night when they had gone to bed. 

“Y/N, can we talk?” Whitney’s voice was soft, but there was an underlying tension that made your stomach tighten. You nodded, trying to suppress the unease rising within you. You’d seen the way Jude had been acting the night before, and though you tried to push your fears aside, they lingered like a dark cloud over your thoughts. Whitney led you into the small sitting room at the back of the house, away from the noise and commotion of the morning. Once you were seated, Whitney wasted no time getting to the point.

“Trent told me what happened last night,” Whitney began, her eyes searching your face for a reaction. “He said Jude was talking to another girl at the party right after you went up and not in a platonic way… and that Trent had to step in. Even if it was harmless… it’s really not nice.” Your heart sank. You’d suspected something was off, but hearing it confirmed made you feel like the ground was slipping from beneath your feet. Still, you forced a smile, trying to brush it off.

“It’s fine, Whit. Really,” You said, your voice steady even though your heart wasn’t. “Jude and I… we’re not anything serious. We’re into each other, that’s it. It’s meant to be just fun.” You lied. And the lie fucking hurt. 

 “YN, I know you. And I know you care about him—probably more than you’re willing to admit. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt.”  Whitney frowned, clearly not convinced. You looked away, your gaze fixed on a distant point outside the window. You wanted to believe that everything was fine, that you could keep your heart protected behind the walls you’d built. But the truth was, those walls were starting to crack, and it scared you more than anything.

“It’s just… complicated,” You finally admitted, your voice quieter now. “Jude’s not the kind of guy who wants to settle down right now I don’t think and I’m not the girl who wants to get her heart broken.” You sheepishly told her. Whitney reached out and took yorur hand, squeezing it gently. 

“I get that. But maybe you’re not giving yourself—or him—enough credit. Jude cares about you, Y/N. Trent said he was acting weird last night, and I think it’s because he doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling.” Whitney sympathetically smiled at you. You bit your lip, your emotions swirling in a confusing mix of hope and fear. You’d seen glimpses of something deeper in Jude, moments where he’d let his guard down just enough to show you that there was more to him than the carefree playboy he pretended to be. But you’d also seen the hesitation, the way he pulled back whenever things got too real.

“It’s just… he’s used to keeping things casual and so am I. You know I always have.” You said, your voice faltering slightly. “And I don’t know if I can let myself get close to someone who might not be there when it really matters.” Whitney’s gaze softened, her worry for her friend evident. 

“You’re right to protect yourself, but don’t shut him out completely. Maybe you need to give him a chance to show you who he really is. Maybe he just needs a little time to figure things out.” You nodded, though your heart still felt heavy.  “Y/N… you always have but you haven’t always had to.” She cooed gently. You wanted to believe Whitney, wanted to believe that Jude could be different, that he could be the person you needed him to be.But the fear of getting hurt, of letting yourself fall only to be left alone, was almost too much to bear.

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, squeezing Whitney’s hand in return. “But for now… I’m just going to take things one day at a time. No expectations, no promises.” You couldn’t even pretend to smile as you said it because that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted promises and you wanted to expect things of him. 

“That’s fair. Just… don’t forget that you deserve someone who’s all in, Y/N. Someone who sees how amazing you are and doesn’t want to let you go.” Whitney smiled, though there was still a trace of worry in her eyes. You nodded, your heart aching with the truth of Whitney’s words. As you stood up and made your way back to the rest of the house, You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something—something that could either lift you higher than you’d ever been or break you completely. And the scariest part was, you weren’t sure which way it would go.

You were curled up on the couch later in the day, head resting against Jude’s chest, completely knocked out from a mix of exhaustion and the drinks you’d had yesterday night. The soft rise and fall of your breathing was the only sound in the quiet room. Jude, very much awake, ran his fingers lazily through your hair, his gaze soft and protective. He was hungover too, but he didn’t mind, not with you draped over him like this. Trent came over to the couch, having just said his goodbyes to Denise, Whitney who was still saying hers. Without warning, he flicked Jude’s ear, pulling him out of his reverie. Jude winced, then grinned up at Trent, lifting one arm for a half-hearted dap without disturbing you.

"You alright, mate?" Trent teased, eyeing the two of you with an amused smirk. "Looks like you’ve got your hands full."

"Yeah, I don’t wanna move. Might wake her up." Jude chuckled, keeping his voice low so as not to wake you. Trent raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer.

"Nah, that’s not it," he teased, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "It’s not about waking her up, it’s ‘cause you like it. You like her laying on you, you like taking care of her." Jude couldn’t help but laugh softly, though he knew Trent was right. He enjoyed having you this close, the feeling of being needed, and maybe even more than that, the feeling of taking care of you, of you trusting him enough to fall asleep against him. He was in deep, and he knew it.

"Yeah, yeah," Jude grumbled, shaking his head with a smile. "Alright, maybe. But keep that to yourself, yeah?"

"Too late for that, bro. You’re already in trouble so don’t fuck it up." Trent gave him a light punch on the shoulder, still grinning. Jude let out a quiet laugh, glancing down at you again, your peaceful face nestled against him. He didn’t mind being in trouble. Not if it meant moments like this with you.

When Jude picked up the injury, you knew it was going to be a long road for him. It wasn’t just the physical pain or the rehabilitation that weighed on him—it was the feeling of purposelessness, the uncertainty of what he was without football. You curled up next to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as he vented his frustration. He wasn’t the kind of guy to let anyone see his vulnerability, but with you, he felt safe enough to spill his thoughts.

"It's not the rehab, you know?" he started, his voice low and filled with frustration. "It's the fact that I'm just sitting there, useless. I hate watching from the stands... makes me feel like I’m not contributing to anything, like I’m just taking up space." You ran your hand across his chest, feeling the tension building in him as he spoke. 

"I can’t imagine how tough that must be," you said softly, "but Jude... you’re so much more than just football. I know that’s hard to believe right now, but you are. Football’s what you do, not who you are." He sighed, staring at the ceiling as if it held some answers, but you knew he was listening, even if he didn’t say it right away. The weight of sitting out a game at the Bernabéu, watching his team battle on without him, was too much for him to bear. 

"I'm supposed to be out there. That’s where I belong, on the pitch. Not stuck in a suit, sitting on the sidelines," he muttered. Then, his voice softened as he turned toward you, his gaze searching yours. "Will you come with me to the match? I don’t want to sit up there alone." You blinked, surprised by the question but also deeply touched. You knew this was more than just wanting company. This was him letting you into his world—really letting you in. This wasn’t about a night out, or a private moment shared between just the two of you. This was about being seen with him, in front of the world, at his place of work where every move he made was watched, scrutinized. And he wanted you there, right beside him. It was a gesture of trust, of significance. Jude had built walls around his life, carefully separating his public and private selves, but now he was pulling you through those barriers. Your heart swelled with the realization that this wasn’t just about sitting in a box seat at the Bernabéu. This was Jude telling you that your support, your presence, had become something he relied on, something he couldn’t imagine going without.

"Of course," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "I’ll be right there with you." He pulled you closer, resting his head against yours, his breath a little steadier now. There was still so much for him to work through, but in that moment, you felt like the invisible walls between you had crumbled a little more. You were part of his world in a way you hadn’t been before, and the weight of that made your chest tighten with emotion. As you lay there, you couldn’t help but feel the enormity of what it meant. The world would see you two together, no more hiding, no more secrecy. Jude needed you in a way he hadn’t before, and that thought filled you with both warmth and a sense of responsibility. You wanted to be there for him, to lift him up when he felt purposeless, to show him that his worth went beyond the pitch. In that quiet, intimate moment, you realized that you’d become part of his foundation, and in some ways, he had become part of yours.

You were engrossed in a video, scribbling notes in your notebook while sitting cross-legged on Jude’s bed. The topic was one you couldn’t afford to miss—an upcoming art exhibit back in New York, one you really needed to be home for. Your focus was razor-sharp until you felt Jude’s presence beside you. He flopped down dramatically, his larger frame pressing into yours as he leaned his head into your lap.

"What’re you doing, angel?" he asked, his voice low and curious looking up at you.

"I need to pay attention," you muttered, trying to focus on the details of the exhibit, but Jude wasn’t so easily deterred.

"Can I listen with you?" he asked, a little more earnestly this time. 

“You don’t have to.” You smiled. At first, you were ready to brush him off, but something in his tone made you pause. 

“Can I listen with you?” he repeated again persistently. He just wanted to be with you. You sighed softly, running your fingers over his hair in a distracted motion, scratching at his scalp while the video continued. Jude grabbed the pen from your notebook, and even though it was unclicked, he began tracing it over your skin in idle strokes. His touch was light, almost absentminded, but it sent small shivers across your arms. You could tell he was about to ask something—his lips parted—but before he could get the words out, you shushed him gently.

"I just wanna know your middle initial," he whispered, smiling against your thigh. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft smile tugging at your lips.

 "You're were right. It's ‘y/m/i,’" you finally admitted before leaning down to kiss his temple. He had been drawing your initials on your skin, you felt the letters over and over again. Satisfied, Jude clicked the pen and, with careful precision, began to write his own initials now—'JVWB'—on your arm. The ink left a subtle trail on your skin, a quiet mark of him. When he finished, he gently turned your hand and placed the pen in it, watching you with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. Wordlessly, you took the pen and did the same, tracing your initials onto the inside of his wrist. You both glanced at the marks, your initials resting against each other’s skin, a quiet connection. You didn’t say anything more, but neither of you wiped the ink away. It felt right, leaving it there.

The morning of the match, the energy between you and Jude felt different. As you both got dressed in the warm glow of your shared space, there was a quiet, almost unspoken intimacy that flowed between you. Jude was focused on pulling together his outfit, looking for a middle ground between subtly but professional, while you carefully picked out your own clothes—stylish, sophisticated, a Miu Miu denim jacket, a leopard mini skirt, tall black boots, along with the Chanel bag Jude had gotten for you. You knew you could have worn something simple, maybe a Madrid jersey, but something about today felt like it needed a more personal touch. This wasn’t about being just another person in the crowd. When Jude looked over at you, his eyes flickered with admiration. A slow grin spread across his face as he took in your appearance. 

"You look gorgeous," he said, his voice soft, but there was an edge of pride in it. "The club might have to put you in the trophy cabinet after this." His playful smirk made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the warmth that flooded your chest. You both left for the stadium, and though Jude wasn’t on the pitch today, the moment you arrived, you could feel the weight of being by his side. The cameras were everywhere, capturing the scene, projecting it onto the big screens for the entire stadium and anyone watching from home to see.  Jude sat beside you, his presence calm but solid, like a shield against the swirling energy of the match day. When the camera panned to him, he raised his left hand, giving the crowd a wave, but what made your heart skip a beat was the way he kept his right hand intertwined with yours. His fingers laced through yours, resting gently on his thigh, a subtle gesture that wasn’t overt but spoke volumes.  It was bold, and in a world where he could easily keep things between the two of you private, he chose to let people see this small but meaningful connection. You weren’t hidden in the background anymore; you were sitting there beside him, as much a part of his world as he was in yours. That quiet gesture had your heart racing in a way you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just the thrill of being seen with Jude; it was more than that. It was the sense that, for the first time in your life, someone truly saw you for who you were, beyond the surface, beyond the glamor or the assumptions people had about you. Jude’s hand in yours wasn’t about possession or display—it was about acknowledgment, appreciation. He saw you, the real you, and it made you feel like you were falling for him all over again, but deeper this time. You glanced over at him, watching as he focused on the game below, but there was a softness in his expression, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart swell. You leaned into him slightly, letting your shoulder brush against his. He squeezed your hand in response, a silent confirmation that he felt it too—this connection, this bond that was growing stronger by the day. Sitting there with him, surrounded by the energy of the match and the roar of the crowd, you realized just how much he appreciated you. Not as an accessory or a fleeting romance, but as someone who mattered, someone who was part of his life in a way that was real and meaningful. And in that moment, you felt something shift. You weren’t just falling for Jude—you were falling into something deeper, something that felt like it had the potential to last.

Jude had popped inside momentarily so you sat in the stands next to Denise as the game unfolded before you. The roar of the crowd, the energy in the stadium—it was exhilarating. But what truly caught you off guard was how at ease you felt with Denise by your side. Denise had been warm, welcoming, and most importantly, had said things you hadn’t realized you needed to hear.

“You know,” Denise said, her eyes fixed on the field, “Jude’s been so much happier lately. I can’t help but think it’s because of you.” She turned to you, her expression soft. “He talks about you all the time, hun. It’s been nice having you around.” Your heart fluttered, the tension you’d been carrying easing slightly. Whitney’s words from the other day had lingered in your mind, leaving you with doubts and questions. But hearing this from Denise, someone who knew Jude better than anyone, was a relief. It made everything feel more real—more possible. When the final whistle blew, Denise gave you a reassuring smile as you made your way to the box to find Jude. As soon as you saw Jude, his eyes found yours, and a grin spread across his face. He moved towards you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his lips brushing your temple. The connection between you was undeniable, the affection natural and easy. For a moment, you felt like everything was falling into place. But then, someone else appeared.

“Hey, Jude!” the guy called out, striding over with a casual confidence. He glanced at you, curiosity in his eyes. The man in the suite—one of the VIPs, someone who clearly knew Jude and had been chatting with him casually throughout the game—turned to Jude with a curious smile and asked, "So, who’s the lovely lady?" It felt like the whole room paused, even the noise from the crowd below dimming in your ears. Your heart raced, anticipation bubbling in your chest. It wasn’t that you expected Jude to call you his girlfriend. You weren’t naive. You knew where you stood—or at least, you thought you did. Jude hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He hadn’t thought about this—hadn’t prepared for it. And in that moment of uncertainty, he saw the flash of hurt in your eyes. But what you didn’t expect was Jude’s hesitation to continue. His pause. The way his mouth opened, but no words came out. He didn’t say your name. He didn’t offer any explanation of who you were. He was stumped, as if he didn’t know how to define you or the place you held in his life. The silence hung heavy between you, a sharp contrast to the warmth and connection you’d felt moments before. You felt your stomach drop, like someone had pulled the floor out from under you. How could you be so wrong? Just minutes ago, you thought he saw you—truly saw you. You thought he wanted you, that he appreciated you for more than just a passing moment. But now, all of that belief, all of that trust came crashing down. What you felt like doing amidst the sting of his hesitation was telling this man that you were simply the idiot who Jude uses for sex and to unload all his feelings on but apparently, not good enough for a label. Jude eventually muttered something about you being a friend. The man nodded politely and moved on, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. The moment was ruined. You sat there, stunned, the weight of disappointment pressing down on your chest like a heavy stone.

This was a test, wasn’t it? All of it had been. You’d been waiting to see if he could really step up, if he could finally give you the validation you needed after everything—the months of uncertainty, the limbo, the back and forth. The audacity he had to be jealous enough of you to sleep with someone else but the indifference to not even say your name was shocking. And while Jude had passed the first part of the test, holding your hand, letting the world see you together, he had just failed miserably at the most crucial moment. Your chest tightened, and you blinked away the stinging sensation in your eyes. You couldn’t let him see how much it hurt, but inside, you were crumbling. You knew in that instant that you were done. This was it. You couldn’t handle the limbo anymore, couldn’t live in this space where you were important one second and invisible the next. You weren’t going to be someone he couldn’t even acknowledge in public, someone he wasn’t sure how to define. The decision hit you with finality: you needed to go home. Tomorrow. You couldn’t stay another minute longer in this in-between state, where you were constantly left guessing about where you stood in his life. You deserved more than that. You needed more than that. Jude couldn’t sway you this time. You felt distant, like you were a million miles away from everything and everyone—including Jude. And as much as it hurt, you knew it was time to let go. You had been drinking and you started drinking more after that. This night was a wash anyway. It was clear that no matter how many people told you that you were good for Jude and he liked you, he didn’t want it enough. You’d traveled to Madrid to make things work and he couldn’t even get the balls to introduce you. The rest of the night was awkward and tense and for you a bit blurred. You retreated to his house, but the usual comfort between you was absent. You kept your distance, and Jude was too afraid to bridge the gap, terrified of making things worse. But in your drunken haze you wanted one last hurrah with jude. A final send off.

It's late and the air was heavy with tension between you and Jude. The pressure from earlier had been intense, leaving you with hurt feelings and unresolved emotions. But as the moonlight streamed through the windows of Jude’s room, and despite your anger and deep sadness inside you, he still looked delicious. You couldn't help but be drawn to his irresistible presence. With a deliberate move, you rolled over and face him, your eyes adjusting to the dim light. Jude, with his tall, athletic frame and tanned skin, looks like a Greek god lying there. His brown eyes flickered, meeting yours, you could see a mix of emotions playing across his handsome face. You reached out letting your fingers trace the outline of his muscular chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.  A mischievous smile played on his lips, and you knew then he was considering your temptation but he also knew he was in the dog house so there was hesitation. 

“Y/N, you’re drunk and you’re upset. Please.” His voice is deep and husky. Jude paused as he tried to hold you off from climbing over into his lap in bed. The thing was… you really weren’t that drunk anymore, not at all actually, you knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Mmm it’s fine, baby. I’m really not and I want you. You’re turning me on.” You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear before you sat back on your heels and ran your hands up his thighs. Jude groaned but then shook his head despite feeling his resolve crumble.

“I’m not doing anything.” Jude smiled at you hating that the way you were leaned over him had you tits spilling out of your tank top. You were running on the adrenaline of ending this and you wanted Jude to fuck you. 

“Mmm but you… you’re so sexy.” You continued moving your hands up over his hips onto his abs. You caught his eyes dropping to your tits. “Are my nipples hard already, Jude?” You smirked, glancing down. “Look.” You brushed your fingers over your hardened nipple before pulling your shirt completely over your head. You sat there playing innocent on full display for him.

“We really shouldn’t, yeah?” Jude hesitated again despite his hands moving to grab your hips pulling you onto his lap. He was saying one thing and doing the other. Ironic considering he’d been doing that out of the bedroom as well.  He gripped your hips, and he pulled you closer. You leaned forward and began kissing his neck.

“Pleaseee, I want your cock inside me.” You moaned rolling your bottom lip dramatically before sitting down onto him entirely. Jude could feel your warm pussy on his hardening cock now. You could feel his desire growing as your bodies pressed together. His fingers explored the curves of your body, tracing the line of your waist, then sliding up to cup your full breasts. A soft moan escapes your lips as his thumbs graze your sensitive nipples, before pinching them.

“Y/N, come on this is so unfair.” He complained. "Too fucking gorgeous to resist," he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. 

“Just give me a kiss, Jude. Please. I promise I’ll be such a good girl for you.” You moaned, picking up his hand, dragging his fingers up your body before taking two of them in your mouth. You sucked on his fingers the way you would his cock, swirling your tongue around them. 

“Fine, just one.” He smiled but he knew he was tempting fate as he leaned in to kiss you.. apparently just once but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Jesus baby.” He growled. His words ignited a fire within you, and you felt a surge of power, knowing you had this effect on him. You wanted to show him just how perfect you were, to make him remember everything, especially the pleasure you give him. You were straddling his waist, your legs on either side of his powerful thighs. The heat between your bodies palpable as you grinded against him, your wetness already leaving a slick trail on his hard length. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you closer. "You're driving me crazy." He whispered. You wanted to roll your eyes. He was in fact driving you crazy lately. You leaned down, your hair cascading around his face as you kissed him hungrily. Your tongues dancing, tasting each other, as your hands explored, caressing and teasing. You reached down, guiding his thick cock towards your entrance, teasing yourself with the tip.

"Please, Jude," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need you inside me. Make me forget everything but you." With one swift motion, he thrusted into you, filling you up completely. You gasped at the sensation, your body welcoming him as if you were made for each other. The stretch of his massive cock both intensely pleasurable but painful from the lack of foreplay. After you adjusted his cock hit all the right spots, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Jude started to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you matched his pace, riding him with abandon. His hands grip your tits, squeezing and kneading them, as he fucked you with purpose, making you feel every inch of his hardness.

"You like that, baby?" His voice raw with desire. "You like my cock pounding into your sweet pussy?" He sat up and whispered nibbling on your ear. He tucked his face in the nape of your neck. He sucked on your sensitive skin. His hair tickling you. Hoarse grunts escaping him as you soaked him. He collected enough spit in his mouth before he made you open yours. He spit his saliva into your mouth. You swallowed diligently with a moan. 

“Oh fuck, that feels so good!” You whined, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Harder, Jude. Make me feel you everywhere." He obliged, picking up the pace, his hips slamming into yours. The bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, and your moans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure. You felt your orgasm building, a coiling tension deep within your core. You shut your eyes tight with your mouth agape as your tits bounced. The sight was enough to make him cum. You flashed your eyes up to look at him. The look in your eyes made Jude tense.

“Oh angel, don’t give me that face. I’m not gonna last.” He grunted out. He slapped your ass and you smirked. You moaned at the second. You squeezed your pussy tighter around him feeling him twitch inside you. “Fuck baby, squeezing me so tight. You want to cum for me? Let me feel you cum on my cock, baby, please.” He begged. He knew exactly what to do, what to say to get you there. "That's it, angel," he encouraged, his breath hot against your ear. "Cum for me, baby. Let me feel your pussy clench around my cock."  His dirty words pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name as your body convulsed around him, your juices flowing freely, coating his shaft. He groaned, his own release building, as he continued to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure. As the waves of ecstasy subsided, you collapsed onto his chest, your heart racing. Jude's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his breathing ragged against your hair. You could feel his cock still throbbing inside you, awaiting to continue fucking you when you were ready to go but the reality was… you wouldn’t ever be again. You were ready for something Jude was about to hate.

"That was so good, baby.” You kissed his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat, whispering against his skin. His lips were back all over your neck. He smacked your ass cheek ready to go again but you ignored it. “I’m tired, Jude.” His whole body stiffened at your words, his body going completely still. 

"Y/N..." he began, but you cut him off by placing a finger on his lips.

"Shh... no more talking. Tired. Just sit with this," you said softly, as you gently rolled away from him, breaking the connection between your bodies. You curled up on your side of the bed, your back to him, knowing that Jude was being left unfulfilled, his cock still throbbing and needy, desperate for relief. You felt a pang of satisfaction knowing you've left him wanting more, but also a hint of guilt for the lingering tension between you. As you laid in bed after, the silence between you felt heavy, almost suffocating. Jude wanted to reach out, to pull you close and tell you that you were more than just a fleeting moment, more than just someone to pass the time with and maybe you could continue having sex because this was probably the worst case of blue balls he’d ever had. But the words were stuck in his throat, weighed down by the fear that maybe it was already too late. You, for your part, stared at the wall, your mind racing. You’d always been afraid of getting too close, of letting someone in. But with Jude, it had felt different—until now. Now, all you could think about was how vulnerable you’d let yourself become, and how much it would hurt if this all fell apart. Taking back some semblance of power through sex was satisfying but that feeling vanished quickly. In the quiet darkness, you laid side by side, both too scared to do anything, both too afraid of what might happen if you didn’t. As the night rolled into morning, that fear only grew, threatening to tear you apart even as you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way through this together. You began to drift off to sleep, your mind swirled with emotions, unfortunately you were dreading what was to come in the morning. Everything had been perfect, or at least it felt that way. You were sitting there, hand in hand with Jude, feeling like you’d finally found something real. The world seemed right for once—like you were falling into place with him, and for a fleeting moment, you believed it. You believed you mattered to him in the same way he had come to mean so much to you. But then it all came crashing down. 

The suitcase hit the floor with a heavy thud as you stood in the middle of the room, chest rising and falling with anger. The sun was far too bright for how dark the mood felt inside the room. You could hardly look at Jude without feeling the wave of betrayal twist inside you. You were livid, yes, but underneath all the fury was a deep, wrenching hurt that had been growing since they day he’d told you he slept with someone else. 

"You’re really leaving?" His voice cracked at the end, soft, unsure—a sound so foreign for him, but it didn’t sway you. Jude stood across from you, his face losing its color, brows furrowed in confusion and guilt, hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. 

"Yeah," you bit out, your voice edged with bitterness. "I am." For a moment, the air was filled with nothing but the echo of your words, the room stilling as the finality of it all weighed down between you. Jude’s heart pounded in his chest, a cold dread wrapping around him. He knew you were upset after last night, after his inability to introduce you, but this… this felt like too much. His thoughts were spiraling, the panic bubbling up, clawing at his throat.

"I know last night wasn’t great," he started, walking closer to you, his voice low, trying to keep it steady. "But leaving? Just like that? It feels… harsh." He could barely believe the words coming out of his own mouth, grasping at anything to keep you from walking out that door. And that’s when you snapped.

"Harsh?" you repeated, your voice shaking, eyes brimming with unshed tears. You spun around to face him, anger flashing across your face like lightning. "Harsh is being reduced to nothing in front of everyone. Harsh is you pretending like I don’t exist when it matters most." You could feel your throat tightening as the words spilled out. "Harsh is thinking I’m finally something to you, only for you to not even say my name, Jude. Not even my name." Your words were like a slap across his face. Jude froze, the shock of it hitting him like a punch to the gut. His mouth opened, but nothing came out, the weight of your anger and hurt choking him.

"That’s not—" he croaked out.

"You didn’t even look at me!" you yelled, cutting him off, your voice shaking now, the pain seeping through the cracks. "It didn’t matter if it was me, or the girl you slept with, or the one you were flirting with at the party. It’s all the same, isn’t it? We’re all interchangeable to you. Nothing special. I’m nothing special." Jude’s stomach twisted violently, his face going white as your words hit him like a freight train. His hands trembled as he raked them over his face. 

"How do… you—" His voice cracked again, barely a whisper. "How do you know about anyone at the party?" The disbelief in his voice almost made you laugh, but it was a bitter, broken sound. You wiped at the tears angrily, shaking your head. 

"Do you think I’m blind, Jude? Do you think I didn’t hear about you with her? The way you smiled at her like it meant nothing? The same way you smiled at me before we got involved. Do you even realize how much you’ve hurt me? Or are you too wrapped up in your perfect little world to notice?" Jude took a step toward you, but you recoiled, holding your hand up to stop him. 

 "I wasn’t thinking… I didn’t—" His heart was pounding in his chest, a deep pit forming in his stomach.

"Exactly, you weren’t thinking," you spat, the frustration bubbling up inside you. "You’ve never thought about me, Jude. About how I feel. I’ve given up so much to be here with you in Madrid, to support you, to be by your side, and you can’t even give me the decency of acknowledging me in public." Jude swallowed hard, his throat tight, guilt crashing down on him like a wave. He could see how hurt you were, how much pain you were carrying. His mind was racing, trying to find the words, but everything felt hollow compared to the anger and heartbreak written all over your face.

"I do care about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but you just shook your head, a sharp laugh escaping your lips.

"Do you?" you asked, your voice quieter now, the anger beginning to give way to the deep sadness that had been simmering underneath. "Because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m just here, waiting, always waiting for you to make me feel like I actually matter to you. But last night? You couldn’t even say my name, Jude. You couldn’t even call me yours." He felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. His chest was tight, and he could barely breathe. He didn’t know what to say—because you were right. He had failed you in the worst way possible, and now he was standing in front of you, watching everything fall apart.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, the words so small, they felt like they’d vanish in the air. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t mean to hurt you like this. I—"

"You didn’t realize," you repeated, shaking your head, the hurt etched deep into your face. "Of course, you didn’t. You never have." Jude felt a sharp, deep pain in his chest as the realization of how much he had messed up hit him. His hands fell limply at his sides, helpless. 

"Please, don’t leave. Don’t go. I know I’ve hurt you, but I—" You cut him off again, shaking your head as more tears slipped down your cheeks.

"I’m tired, Jude. I’m tired of being the one who waits. I’m tired of always being on the outside looking in." Jude felt his heart break as you spoke, his entire body aching with the guilt, with the fear of losing you. He didn’t know what to do. He had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

“I’m begging you, please," he choked out, his voice cracking. "I need you. I don’t know how to fix this, but I’ll do anything. Just… don’t go." You stared at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying, and for a moment, you felt like you might give in. Like you might run into his arms and let him hold you the way you wanted him to, but then the anger bubbled up again, and you couldn’t.

"I can’t do this anymore, Jude," you said, your voice shaky but firm. "I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with being nothing to you when all I’ve done is give up everything for you." You turned, grabbing the handle of your suitcase, and Jude’s heart clenched painfully as you went to turn towards the door. He wanted to reach out, to stop you, but his feet felt rooted to the floor. You stood there, suitcase in hand, your heart pounding as Jude's words echoed in the room, cutting through the tension like a jagged knife.

"I called her your name," he said softly, his voice strained with guilt, like he was offering it as some kind of consolation, a way to make things better, to prove you weren’t nothing to him. But instead of calming the storm inside you, it ignited something far worse—a deeper, more painful rage. Your grip tightened around the handle of the suitcase, your knuckles turning white as you stared at him, disbelief flooding through you.

 "You think that makes it better?" you asked, your voice cold, the anger simmering under the surface ready to explode. "You think that fixes anything?" A whirlwind of rage and heartbreak tearing through your chest. You couldn’t believe how the night had unraveled, and now, after everything you’d been through together, this was how it was ending.

“Wait!” Jude’s voice cracked behind you, desperate and pleading. You paused, barely turning your head, your body rigid with fury, your breath coming in sharp, jagged bursts. “When I—when I slept with her…” he began, stumbling over his words, “I called her your name.” His voice trembled, the confession hanging heavy in the air between you. He said it like it was supposed to mean something, like it should somehow ease the ache in your heart. But instead, it was gasoline on a fire.

“What?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You think that’s supposed to make me feel better?” You whipped around, eyes blazing, barely able to contain the explosion brewing inside you. 

“I—no, I just—” Jude stumbled over his words, trying to catch up with the damage he didn’t realize he’d already done. “I just wanted you to know, even when I was with her, I was thinking about you.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.” He stepped forward, hands raised as if he could somehow reach you, somehow fix the irreparable.

 “I didn’t mean it like that. I was so messed up, I thought you were with someone else. I wasn’t thinking straight—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, your voice cold. “Don’t be sorry. You can sleep with whoever you want, right?” You threw the words at him, each one a bullet, sharp and cutting. “It must be so fucking hard being the Jude Bellingham and not hooking up with people when you’re this insecure.” The venom in your tone was thick, and Jude flinched, his face twisting in pain. He tried to protest, stepping forward, pleading. 

“Angel… I thought you were with him. I didn’t know what else to—” he puffed out some air defeated. 

“No, I’m not your angel anymore.” You interrupted , your voice dangerously low, as you turned fully to face him. The look on your face made him stop dead in his tracks. Something in your eyes shifted, darkening, and he knew instantly he was about to lose more than he’d ever realized. “Did she make you feel as good as I do?” Your voice trembled, but the power in your words was enough to knock the breath out of him. The question was simple, but the impact was profound. Jude froze, the weight of your question crashing into him. His eyes widened in shock and fear as he realized the gravity of what he’d done.

“God, no,” he breathed, his voice soft, like the truth was tearing him apart.

“Of course not,” you said, your voice dripping with scorn. You shook your head, a cruel, bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You threw everything away—for shitty sex—because you were too insecure to believe we had anything real.” The truth of it hit him like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The room seemed to spin around him as he watched you, standing there with a strength he suddenly realized he had never truly appreciated. You stepped closer to him, eyes burning into his, your voice steady but cold. “I hope it was worth it, Jude. I hope that fleeting moment of doubt and weakness was worth losing the one person who would’ve given you everything. Because I tried to give you everything.” You started crying, unable to stop. You had made a mistake but only because of Jude. His heart dropped to his stomach as he realized what you were saying and how much it hurt you. It wasn’t just about the mistake he made—it was about how he’d completely shattered something that could’ve been so much more. He hadn’t just messed up; he’d destroyed the only connection that had ever felt real to him. You took one last look at him, disgust and heartbreak mingling on your face. “You can keep apologizing, but it won’t change the fact that you let your insecurity ruin everything we had.” Jude had never been called insecure before and it had never been more true. And with that, you turned on your heel, leaving him standing there, drowning in the suffocating weight of his own regret. For the first time, it was glaringly obvious—emotionally and physically, no one would ever measure up to you. Jude’s face crumpled as he realized how wrong his words had been, how desperately he had miscalculated. He had thought that maybe, just maybe, telling you he’d been thinking of you would ease the pain, but all he had done was drive the knife deeper.

"I didn’t mean it like that," he stammered, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I wasn’t trying to—"

"You weren’t trying to what, Jude?" you cut him off, your voice rising, the hurt pouring out of you now like a dam had broken. "You weren’t trying to tell me that I’m just some idea to you? That I’m nothing more than a name you throw around in your head, in your bed? I mean so little to you that it doesn’t even matter who I am as long as you can imagine me there?" Jude took a step toward you again, desperation in his eyes, his hands reaching out as if he could physically stop you from leaving, from pulling further away. 

"That’s not what I meant, I swear—" He shut his eyes. 

"But that’s exactly what it is," you spat, shaking your head, tears blurring your vision. "You don’t care enough to see me. Not really. You only care about the idea of me, the version of me that you can fit into your life, your world. But you’ve never actually cared enough to sort out who I really am, to protect me, to give me something real." Your chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of all the hurt you had been holding back for so long crashing down on you. You had given him everything, opened up your life, your heart, and now it felt like all of it had been taken advantage of. Used and discarded. Jude’s face fell, his expression shifting from confusion to something much darker—guilt, pain, the realization that he had truly lost you.

"I care about you, I care about you so much," he whispered, his voice breaking, but you shook your head, stepping back as the walls started to go up. This wasn’t something you could just patch over with words anymore.

"No, Jude," you said, your voice firm, though the cracks of emotion were still there, seeping through. "You don’t. You don’t care about me, because if you did, you wouldn’t treat me like this. You wouldn’t let me be labelless, nameless. You’d fight for me. You’d see me." Jude’s breath hitched, his eyes wide as he stared at you, helpless. He could feel you slipping away, and he didn’t know how to stop it. He had never been good with feelings, with sorting through the mess of his own emotions, and now, standing here in front of you, he realized that it was too late to learn.

"You’re right," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn’t let the people around me know that I saw you the way I did but I promise I did see it. I didn’t treat you how I knew I felt. But I will now. Please… don’t go." But the damage was done. The cold, suffocating weight of betrayal had settled deep inside your chest, and no matter how hard he tried, no matter what words he said, you knew there was no coming back from this.

"I can’t," you said, your voice hollow, the finality of it hanging heavy in the air. "I can’t keep letting you do this to me. This time… this time, I’m building a wall. A steel wall. I can’t keep protecting myself with the glass you begged me to take down because you keep shattering it." You turned toward the door, your heart breaking with each step you took, but you knew you couldn’t stay. Not anymore. Not after everything. And behind you, Jude stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as the realization hit him—he had lost you. Jude stood there, heart hammering in his chest as he watched you walk out the door, the words stuck in his throat, choking him. He wanted to call out, to say something, anything to stop you. He knew exactly what he needed to say—I love you. But how could he say that now? It would’ve been selfish, unfair. You didn’t deserve his love if it was tangled up in this mess, in the pain he had caused.

So, he let you go.

As the door clicked shut behind you, the silence swallowed him whole. His fists clenched at his sides, his body vibrating with a tension that had nowhere to go. He took a step forward, and then another, until he reached the wall. His breath was shallow, ragged, his head spinning. The pressure inside him built, rising like a tidal wave, until it was too much, until he couldn’t hold it back anymore. With a guttural scream, Jude lashed out, his fist connecting with the wall, the sharp pain shooting up his arm like fire. He didn’t care. He hit it again, harder this time, the plaster cracking beneath his knuckles. The pain was grounding, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough to numb the agony in his chest, the guilt that was eating him alive. He stumbled back, his body trembling, and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold floor, his head dropping into his hands. The tears came then, hot and unrelenting, streaming down his face as he sobbed into his palms. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried, but now he couldn’t stop. He was furious—at himself, at the situation, at everything he had done to you. Jude had spent so long trying to be the person everyone expected him to be, the confident, untouchable star, the guy who always had it together. He thought he needed to prove something to Toby the other night, prove that he was still Jude. The one who didn’t get tied down, who could have anyone and never cared too much. But right now, sitting there on the floor, broken and alone, he wanted to be anything but that person.  He had lost you, and it was all his fault. He had never felt more himself than when he was with you. He had never felt more safe and authentic and he was too juvenile to grow up and do something about it. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. He had taken you for granted, dismissed your feelings, brushed off your pain. And now, you were gone. Maybe for good. He couldn’t fix it with an apology this time. Words were meaningless now, and no amount of charm or sweet talk could undo the damage he had caused.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible as it cracked with emotion, the tears still falling. He wasn’t sure if he was talking to you, to himself, or to the empty room that felt like it was closing in on him. Jude’s chest heaved with the weight of his own remorse, the crushing understanding that he had pushed away the one person who made him feel real, made him feel seen. And now, all he could do was sit there in the wreckage of what he’d destroyed, the emptiness echoing around him. All he had wanted was to be enough for you, but now he wasn’t sure he ever could be.

You furiously scrubbed over your arm where Jude’s initials once were every time you showered even though the ink of of him was long gone. It felt like Jude was burned onto your body, no solvent was strong enough. You couldn’t get him off. The tension between you and Jude had lingered long after that fateful night at the game. What had once felt so natural, so easy, had become heavy with unspoken words and unmet expectations. The awkwardness hung over you like a storm cloud, and neither of you knew how to clear the air. The silence between you was deafening. Jude wished he asked you to stay, beg you not to leave—but he knew your answer, his fear once again kept him quiet. When you walked out the door, neither of you called it a break. You weren’t officially together, so how could it be? But it felt like one. The space between you grew, not just in distance, but in the emotional chasm that had opened up. Back in your Manhattan apartment, you found yourself crying more than you’d care to admit. You were embarrassed, frustrated that you’d let yourself get so wrapped up in someone like Jude. Someone you thought might actually care about you beyond the physical. But now, all you had were memories that felt more distant with each passing day. Jude wasn’t faring much better. He would stare at his phone, your contact name glowing on the screen as his thumb hovered over it, unsure of what to say, what to do. Every time he thought about calling, he would sigh and put the phone down, the weight of his own insecurities and fears keeping him from making that leap. Even Denise noticed the change in her son. He was quieter, more withdrawn. She didn’t press him, knowing better than to force Jude to talk before he was ready. But she could see the hurt in his eyes, the way he carried himself with a heaviness that hadn’t been there before. Weeks passed in this limbo, neither of you reaching out, both of you desperate to but too afraid to be the first. Once you had left Madrid for home, everything seemed to unravel at once. You felt like this was the end for you and Jude, the silence between you made it feel like it should be. You hadn’t responded to his texts or calls. The sting of that moment in the suite still lingered, and as much as you cared for him, you couldn’t ignore the way he hesitated, like you didn’t matter. Back in Madrid, Jude was losing it. Your absence hit him harder than he expected. He tried to keep himself busy, but no amount of training or distractions could drown out the fact that you were gone, and the silence on your end was eating him alive. The uncertainty of whether you two were over gnawed at him, twisting in his gut.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 9 xx

[prettygirl-gabi]

Partners-In-Crime

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Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst (like very substantial amount), fluff, happy ending

Category:F/M

Fandom: Seventeen (SVT), boyband

Relationships: !idol Mingyu x !idol f reader

Summary: In a whirlwind of fake dating to avoid breached contract lawsuit, Mingyu and Y/n navigate growing feelings, blurring lines between pretend and real.

Trope: Fake dating

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Hiiiii everyone who is reading! Welcome to the ninth installment of my new mini series called "Oi! Not this again!" They do not have to be read together or in order! I hope you all enjoy!

I never really thought I’d find myself in this situation: fake dating one of the hottest idols in South Korea. Yet, here I am, sipping an iced caramel macchiato in a corner cafe, pretending that being next to Mingyu from SEVENTEEN is the most natural thing in the world. In reality, my heart is racing, and not in the good way.

“Y/N, could you, like, pretend to be happy?” Mingyu whispers through a tight smile, his voice barely audible over the ambient music and chatty customers. His dark eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and desperation.

“I am happy,” I snap quietly, struggling to adjust the fake smile plastered on my face. “Well, as happy as I can be, considering I’m fake dating you.”

A little louder than intended, I notice a few heads turn our way. I can feel the pressure mounting. We’re supposed to be the doting couple everyone envies, yet the tension between us is thicker than the whipped cream on my drink.

His fingers drum impatiently on the table, the dull thud echoing my pounding heart. “This was your idea, remember? To throw off the media frenzy surrounding both of us.”

Sure, using the classic “fake dating” trope to divert media attention seemed brilliant in theory. We both had enough scandals and rumors hovering around us to last a lifetime. Pairing up would squash at least half of them.

Mingyu suddenly leans in, looking intently at the menu stuck between the salt and pepper shakers, but I know he isn’t paying attention to the array of overpriced sandwiches. “Y/N, if we don’t pull this off, Dispatch is going to have a field day. Again.”

I sigh, slumping back in my chair. “I know, I get it. But couldn’t we have found another way?”

He opens his mouth to argue but instead, a genuine laugh escapes his lips. “Like what? Publicly announce we’re focusing on our careers and ask for privacy?” The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me.

“Okay, fair point.” I roll my eyes but can’t help a small smile. “So what’s the plan now, Mr. Perfect?”

His grip tightens on the table edge before he looks up with a smirk. “We’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow morning for a ‘couple’ branding campaign. We just need to act like we’re head-over-heels for each other, got it?”

I groan inwardly. Nothing like forced intimacy to kickstart a beautiful, fake relationship. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“Only if you make it one,” he teases, his smirk widening. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms smugly. “Or maybe you’re just afraid you’ll actually fall for my irresistible charm?”

I snort. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

==

The next morning arrives faster than I’d like. The cosmetics studio is buzzing with activity. Staff members rush around, juggling makeup palettes and camera equipment, their energy palpable.

“Y/N! Mingyu! Over here!” the director waves us over to a pristine white set, where we’re expected to coo and swoon

“Showtime,” Mingyu whispers in my ear. His peppermint breath sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. This fake boyfriend thing is harder than it looks.

I force a smile, slipping my fingers through his as we pose for the cameras. Each flash feels like a dagger, reminding me this isn’t real. But for the sake of our careers, we plaster on the affection.

“Y/N, could you look at Mingyu like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you?” the photographer instructs, eyes focused behind the lens.

Like he’s the best thing that ever happened to me? Easy. I turn, my gaze softening as if on cue. As much as Mingyu frustrates me, he’s also been my confidant and partner-in-crime through this chaotic idol life. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.

Mingyu meets my eyes, his expression unexpectedly tender. The lines of his face soften, making the acting feel less like an act.

We’re mid-pose when Mingyu decides to speak. “You know, you’re not as bad at this as I thought you’d be,” he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

I raise an eyebrow, still maintaining my “loving” gaze for the photographer. "What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that maybe we should fake date more often. You’re adorable when you’re pretending.”

I falter, the smile slipping slightly. “Watch it, Mingyu.”

==

The hours pass and the shoot finally wraps. We receive a round of applause for our “chemistry,” and Mingyu pulls me into a side hug, his hand resting on my shoulder. Pretending becomes so much easier with each click of the camera.

“Good job today,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with genuine warmth.

For a moment, I almost forget we’re pretending. Almost.

“We pulled it off, didn’t we?” I muse, pressing my temple against his arm briefly before pulling away.

“Yeah,” he admits, his eyes locking onto mine. “We make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

Something in his gaze makes my heart stutter. It feels like he’s trying to say more, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. This is still a temporary arrangement.” I remind myself more than him, with a fleeting half-smile.

==

Weeks roll by, and the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. Mingyu and I are inseparable, seen at award shows, interviews, seen leaving our "shared" house, and even the occasional late-night ramen shop. The media loves us. Fans dub us “the power couple of the decade.”

One evening, as we rehearse a choreographed routine for an upcoming awards show performance, the tension boils over. Mingyu’s patience breaks first.

“Y/N, you’re a step behind!” he snaps, frustration evident as he stops mid-spin. “We’ve done this a thousand times, what’s going on with you?”

Anger flares in my chest. “I’m sorry if I'm not perfect like you, okay?”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not about being perfect, it’s about working together!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” I shout back, breathless. “This whole thing...it's draining, Mingyu. Maybe fake dating wasn't the best idea after all. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?” he challenges, stepping closer. “Maybe we should just end it? Announce it was all a prank?”

The space between us crackles with unspoken words, and I take a small step back, my chest heaving. “Maybe.”

His eyes search mine, the anger simmering into something else entirely—something raw and real. “And what if I don’t want it to end?”

Time stands still as his words hang in the air. The intensity in his gaze makes my heart race for an entirely different reason.

“What exactly are you saying?” I finally ask, needing clarity even if it feels terrifying.

He takes a deep breath, before lifting my head with his thumb on my chin and two under. “I’m saying...I don’t think this was ever just fake for me. And I don’t want it to be.”

My breath catches. Neither of us moves. The air feels charged and heavy with possibility.

“Me neither,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper, finally understanding the depth of my feelings.

A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his face, and he reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together much like the first time we “acted” in love. Only now, it feels unforced, genuine.

The journey to real from fake has been messy, fraught with disagreements and tension, but standing here, looking into his eyes, I realize it was worth every moment.

“Looks like we’ve got a new script to follow,” Mingyu murmurs, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

I smile, leaning into the comforting warmth of his presence. “Yeah, and this time, we don’t have to pretend.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

‐Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-Gabi✨️🎀

[daceydeath]

I Want to Watch (part 7)

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader x Yeosang Word Count: 2.2K Genre: Pure Filth 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Explicit Activities

a/n: not as spicy as the last one but they cant all be that spicy x

Since sharing you with a few of the members Wooyoung discovers yet another thing that he likes with the help of another guest

“I’m sorry, did you want to repeat that?” Yeosang coughed violently as you wandered out of the bedroom into the kitchen, his phone discarded on the seat beside him.

“Hey Sangie, are you ok? Did you need some water?” you asked concerned as you watched him cough and turn tomato red, his eyes wide.

“I’m ok” he reassured you, dropping his voice to whisper sharply at your boyfriend. Shrugging you just continued into the kitchen turning on the kettle and getting out a cup for the hot chocolate you were going to make.

“I said are you interested in fucking my girlfriend? I mean if you don’t want to that is totally fine neither of us will be offended”. Wooyoung cackled as you rolled your eyes and kept your back to them both hoping to give Yeosang the impression that he had at least a little privacy while they had this conversation.

“She is right there you idiot” he hissed trying to keep his voice down “Why would you even ask me something like that?”.

“Oh well, it’s sort of a thing we are trying out. Like a kink we're exploring” Wooyoung started to explain, obviously unsure of how to get Yeosang to understand. You continued making your hot chocolate stirring the mixture noisily as possible to cover their voices.

“Eww, I didn’t need to know that!” Yeosang interrupted hastily.

“Shut up. Anyway she has already fucked San, Yunho and Jongho so it’s not like you are the first one I’ve asked also I’m not going to fuck you she is so don’t get all stroppy” Wooyoung continued.

“It is entirely up to you Sangie, I would never be offended if you aren’t interested or too weirded out by the whole thing” you smiled softly leaving the room to go back to Wooyoung’s room sipping the chocolate concoction happily.

“You’re both serious? Like this isn’t a weird friendship test or anything?” Yeosang cautiously asked his voice closer to normal at this point which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you were going to have to tell Wooyoung that he couldn't just ask his friends by dropping the old do you want to fuck my girl on them.

Returning to your book you continued to sip and read for another two chapters before there was a tentative knock on the open door. You looked up to see Yeosang standing there nervously with an excited looking Wooyoung behind him.

“Would it be ok if I kissed you to see if I want to go through with this?” he asked gently, stepping into the room but not coming any closer to you.

“I would like that if it would make it easier for you to decide” you nodded, getting off the bed to meet him in the middle of the room swaying your hips just enough to get his eyes to dart down your body. Placing your hands softly on his chest you waited to see if he was ok with you touching him. After a moment his hand moved to cup your cheek stroking your cheekbone with his thumb carefully, you couldn’t help but smile at how sweet he was being, looking up at him through your lashes you almost thought he was going to turn you down until he swiftly pressed his lips to yours causing you to gasp and tighten your grip on his clothes.

Delving his tongue between your lips he licked into your mouth sensually letting his tongue dance with yours before tightly gripping your hip and pulling you closer. The involuntary whine that left your throat made him groan deeply as you let him continue to take what he wanted from you if it would lead to him being able to make a decision. Breaking for air you couldn’t help feeling a little dazed at how intense Yeosang had kissed you when he seemed like such a sweet and soft boy.

“So what can’t I do again?” Yeosang asked, turning back to Wooyoung who was watching on with a shit eating grin.

“Anything she wants you to except eat her out only I get to decide if you can taste my pussy” Woyoung ground out his voice much deeper than before. A shiver running up your spine in anticipation of what Yeosang was going to do to you.

“I’d say it’s about to be my pussy” Yeosang snorted his hand sliding down to squeeze your arse before kissing you again roughly his teeth tugging your lower lip teasingly. Walking you backwards towards the bed the kiss only ended when your calves collided with the bed frame and you fell backward Yeosang catching you at the last moment to prevent you crashing into the mattress. Yelping in surprise he gave you a devilish grin pulling his shirt over his head before grabbing your pants and tugging both them and your underwear off before he climbed over you his hands slipping under your shirt to squeeze and tease your breast as his lips found yours again his tongue tangling with yours.

“Shit” Wooyoung breathed huskily. You could hear him moving closer to the bed but you couldn’t concentrate with the way Yeosang was kissing you your fingers tracing the beautiful planes of his chest.

“This needs to come off” Yeosang mumbled kneeling up so he could pull your shirt over your head immediately latching onto one of your nipples through the fabric of your bra, biting it carefully before suckling on it.

“Fuck Sangie” you gasped your hands clutching at his biceps to keep yourself grounded your hips rolling again him with abandon.

“Good girl let Sangie treat you like the good little slut you are” Wooyoung cooed, unzipping his own jeans and tugging at his cock. 

“Can’t taste you but a can get you wet” Yeosang smirked darkly moving so that he was kneeling back on his heels his tongue running over his teeth before he leant over your core a fat drop of saliva falling from his lips landing on your clit and making you jolt smearing his spit all over your folds he continued to stare another glob of saliva dripping from his lips onto your entrance he began pushing it inside you with two of his fingers stretching your walls roughly as he pumped them into you.

“Sanigie, holy shit” you gasped your body responding to him faster than your brain could catch up. 

“Wooyo, get her shirt and bra off. If you’re going to watch, at least be helpful” Yeosang grumbled his eyes piercing you to your spot on the bed as he continued to drag his fingers against your walls, his thumb now pressing against your clit pressing and circling your bundle of nerves your hips rolling against his fingers.

“I will kick you out Sang don’t test me” Wooyoung snapped even though he followed Yeosang’s request to get you completely nude for him.

“You won't, you want to watch me own her” Yeosang grinned pulling his fingers from you to show your boyfriend how your arousal almost dripped from the digits. “Open your mouth for me pretty girl” he raised his eyebrow at you challenging you to disobey him but you were more than happy to let him do whatever he liked with you holding your chin firmly he dropped a thick hot sting of spit onto your tongue making Wooyoung hiss from his spot on the bed. You swallowed with a flourish opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to show him that it was gone.

“Dirty little baby” Wooyoung whined, his voice already higher than usual you preened under their gaze.

“On your front pretty girl I want your boyfriend to watch me destroy your messy little cunt” Yeosang instructed you smoothly, his smokey voice making you groan in anticipation as you faced Wooyoung, his face already looking dazed while he pumped himself rhythmically. You heard Yeosang unzip his jeans before his hand harshly pressed your shoulders down leaving your arse in the air as he placed one hand on your hip to hold you in place. Without warning he sunk into you his cock stretching you more than his fingers had and punching the air from your lungs as he bottomed out. Pounding into you roughly his hips slapping against your skin loudly with each thrust, the power of them almost pushing you forward if not for the tight grip he had on your hips making you flop your head to the bed starting to feel dizzy from the feeling of his cock splitting you wide open.

“Fuck you're going to split her in half” Wooyoung complained halfheartedly his hand moving in time with Yeosang’s hips.

“Does she look broken?” Yeosang snickered, the only other sound in the room besides skin crashing together and Wooyoung’s heavy breathing was the constant string of moans and mewls falling from your lips.

“Ah… Ah… Sangie” you gasped in between the noises you couldn’t help but make you heard him grunt his fingers digging deeper into the plush flesh of your hips another glob of saliva landing on the tight ring of muscle that wasn’t being filled slowly once of his thumbs began circling it pressing against you until he could sink it inside you. 

“Doesn’t your boyfriend look like he’s enjoying himself?” Yeosang rasped his voice shaking with his exertion as he continued to relentlessly bury himself in your wet plush walls.

“Woo… Wooyoung” you whined lifting your head to meet his eyes, his hooded eyes dark and his lips pink and swollen from biting his lip as he watched you. You let your eyes drag down his body stopping at his rock hard leaking cock that made your mouth water. 

“Look at you baby looking so pretty” he slurred while Yeosang huffed out a short laugh letting his other hand fall around your waist to tease your clit mercilessly making you keen loudly, your eyes squeezing shut while your legs began to shake. “Open your eyes baby”.

“Do as your told pretty girl” Yeosang ordered his voice low as he waited until Wooyoung grunted again before his fingers returned to your puffy and abused clit each sharp movement of his fingers making it hard for you to focus on anything other than the way his cock felt dragging almost painfully against your walls as your arsehole tightened around his thumb.

“Oh my god Sangie… Fuck it’ too much” you keened pushing yourself back against him to force him deeper inside you. Your mouth fell open as his angle changed and he was now kissing your cervix with each thrust of his hips pulling his thumb from you he held you hip again bruisingly pulling you back to meet each snap of his hips.

"At least have her suck you off Wooyoung! Don't waste such a pretty little mouth" Yeosang grunted as you tightened further around him the smoldering in your belly beginning to spread.

“Shit baby, shit, shit, shit” Wooyoung wailed his hand furiously pumping his length, the precum on the head of his cock glistening in the light as he fucked his hand faster only moving to shove himself down your throat when you opened your mouth and let your tongue fall out over your bottom lip. You could taste the salty musky tang of his nearing release as he harshly fucked as deep as he could into your throat you jaw relaxing instinctively to fit him.

“You take me so well pretty girl, fuck I could get you pregnant like this” Yeosang moaned his voice deep and smokey “would you like that? Like me to fuck a baby into this tight little cunt”.

“Yes…Yes Yeosang… Please. Please ” you sobbed desperately letting your boyfriend's cock fall from your mouth, coming undone around him, the muscles in your legs shaking violently as your walls fluttered and pulsed with almost painfully intense pleasure. Yeosang kept his pace to prolong your orgasm, your eyes rolling as your entire body felt like you were crackling with electricity. You felt him stiffen slightly before his hot seed flooded you, his hands holding your hips flush to him as he groaned loudly, rolling his hips with less urgency as you milked him dry. Wooyoung followed only a moment later thick ropes of his cum dripping down your throat and flooding your mouth as he continued to slide himself along your tongue.

“Fuck” Wooyoung mumbled carefully pulling himself from your swollen lips and wiping the few droplets that escaped the corner of your mouth “I think I just discovered I have a breeding kink”.

“Of course you have Woo” you swallowed panting, feeling the cool air hit your tender and sticky folds as Yeosang pulled away from you and reached for the tissues beside Wooyoung’s bed. 

“To be honest I assumed he already had that one” Yeosang scrunched up his nose, helping you to lay on your back and also clean you up being careful to be gentle with you.

“I’d be more surprised if he found a kink he didn’t like” you shrugged, making room for Yeosang to lay down to recover and bask in his post nut glow for a moment.

“Actually fair” he agreed, both of you looking towards your still spaced out boyfriend “Is he alright?”.

“Um, probably? If he doesn’t move in the next fifteen minutes we will worry” you sighed, closing your eyes for a moment.  

“Have to admit I didn’t expect this was going to be happening today. But you are incredible” Yeosang yawned softly.

“You aren’t so bad yourself Sangie” you mumbled shyly pulling the sheets over the both of you so that you could keep warm until you got the energy to get up and shower. Wooyoung finally moved handing you a bottle of water that sat beside the bed Yeosang helping you to sit up and sip slowly.

a/n: Thank you for reading lovelies I adore you all and I am so grateful for your likes, reblogs, comments and support you are amazing xx

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