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togrowoldinv · 10 months

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Sleepover

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When Yelena invites you to go home with her for the weekend, you spend some time with Natasha. She finds out you haven’t been with anyone before and offers to be your first

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, innocent reader, oral (R receiving), hot older Natasha

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

When your friend Yelena asked you to go home with her for the weekend, you agreed easily. It sounded like a fun time to spend with her and meet her family and friends back home.

But something else was motivating you too. Her very attractive older sister.

You’ve met Natasha before. She helped move Yelena in along with their parents. The redhead was nice to you that say. You’ve seen her countless more times through the phone while she’s FaceTimed Yelena.

So, there’s no denying you have a crush on her. Especially not when you enter the home and she’s standing in the kitchen with very little clothes on.

“We’re here!” Yelena calls out.

“Good to see you, sestra,” Natasha says, coming to the foyer. “I was just coming in from the pool.” She hugs her sister and kisses her cheek. “And it’s y/n, right?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you again,” you say.

Natasha smiles in agreement. It’s nice for her to see you again too. She turns back towards the kitchen and you can’t help but watch her body as she does so. The bikini bottoms she’s wearing leaves you able to see most of her.

“Hey, eyes off,” Yelena snaps at you.

“Sorry,” you reply.

You two go up the stairs and put your bags in Yelena’s room. She gives you a quick tour of the house before you two decide to go get lunch.

“We’re going to the diner, Nat. Do you want anything?” Yelena asks.

“No thanks. But hey, Mama is cooking dinner so eat a lot now,” Natasha says.

“Is she not a good cook?” You ask. Both of the girls chuckle. You’ll take that as a yes.

“Come on.” Yelena pulls you outside to her car.

You listen to the usual music as you drive there. Inside, you find a bustling group of tables and food that smells delicious.

Yelena knows a few people and they call her over to their table. You follow quietly.

“Yelena, you’re back in town!” A boy says excitedly. He stands up to hug her.

“Yes, yes Peter. The life of the party has returned,” Yelena says.

“Welcome back,” a girl speaks up this time. You recognize her from photos. She glances at you. “I’m Wanda.”

“Y/n,” you supply. “I’m Yelena’s roommate.”

The table greets you and you two sit down with them. Yelena orders you way too much food. The conversation is easy to join in on even though the friends have known each other forever.

They tell you about a party later tonight and Yelena says you’ll be there. When you go back to her house, Natasha is dressed in a cropped tank top and blue jean shorts.

“Yelena, malyshka!” Melina greets her. She hugs her even when Yelena protests it.

“My girls back in the same home!” Alexei adds in. He hugs Yelena too.

You politely greet them and ask if they need any help with dinner. They sho you away from the kitchen.

Yelena goes up to her room to change so that leaves you in the dining room with Natasha.

“So, how’s school going?” Nat asks.

“It’s going well. Not as hard as I thought it would be,” you say.

“You must be one smart girl then,” Natasha says.

“I’d like to think so.”

“And how’s Yelena doing? She doesn’t ever have much to say about it all.”

Natasha looks genuinely concerned about her sister.

“Yeah she’s good too. I make her get up for class most days,” you say. That makes Nat chuckle.

“Thank you for looking out for her,” Natasha says. She stands from her seat and places a hand on your shoulder. Her grip is strong as she looks into your eyes. “I owe you. If you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Oh- okay,” you say. Something about her words seem loaded with meaning.

Yelena comes back downstairs and the rest of the family comes into the dining room. Dinner goes well. You enjoy the banter of the group. Soon, you head off to the party.

It’s fun for a while. You meet some more of Yelena’s friends and have a few drinks. Nothing crazy. But when you’re ready to leave, Yelena has her eyes on taking someone home.

“Yelena, let’s go,” you say. The girl is drunk, you can tell that much.

“Kate is coming with me!” She says. You know they have a history, so you don’t even question it.

“Okay. Come on, lovebirds.”

You get back to the house okay and Yelena runs off with Kate to her bedroom. You figure that leaves you with the couch and no clothes to change into.

You’ve only been sitting on it for a few minutes when Natasha comes down the stairs. She catches sight of you.

“My sister kick you out?” She asks.

“She’s having her own sleepover,” you say with a dry chuckle.

“Brutal,” Nat teases. “Come with me.”

“What?”

She doesn’t reply, but you follow her anyways. Upstairs, she directs you into her bedroom.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, y/n,” Nat says. She opens her drawers and takes out a shirt and shorts for you. “And you’re not sleeping in those clothes.”

You don’t argue with her. You only go down the hallway and change into the clothes. Natasha likes the way you look in her clothes.

She pulls down the sheets next to her and gestures for you get in. You slip under them, enjoying the feeling of a real bed under you.

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say.

“Of course. Sorry my sister is a shitty host,” Nat says.

You lie back on the pillows. Nat turns to look at you. You hold eye contact with her.

“It’s okay. She’s all tied up in that girl.”

“I know. Surely, someone is all tied up in you too,” Natasha says.

“Nope,” you say dryly.

“No? Why not?” Nat asks.

“It’s just not really happened for me yet,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” Natasha assures you.

“What does it feel like?” You ask. It’s somewhat rhetorical but you also want to know Nat’s answer.

“To be in love? Or to have sex? It’s not the same thing,” Nat says.

“Either.”

“Hm, well what about kissing someone? Have you done that?”

You shake your head and turn away shyly. She reaches her hand out to turn your face back towards her.

“Do you want to?” She asks.

“I- um-“

“We don’t have to,” Nat says. “But I thought maybe this is how I could repay you for looking after my sister.”

“Yes,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Please yes,” you say.

Natasha smirks and leans in. She stops a couple inches from your lips. Your heart beats so fast in your chest.

She closes the distance and kisses your lips. You barely move, not really knowing what to do or how to kiss her back. But Natasha doesn’t mind. She deepens the kiss.

And you pick up on how to do it quickly. She grins against your lips. Your hands move across her chest to grab her breasts.

“I’m sorry,” you say when she pulls away.

“No, don’t apologize. I’m willing to go as far as you want, y/n,” Natasha says.

“Then keep kissing me,” you say, already feeling addicted to her lips on yours.

Natasha obliges and kisses you again and again and again. Soon, both of your shirts are discarded. Natasha isn’t wearing a bra and the sight of her above you makes you stop in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say, admiring her perfect body.

“Thank you, detka,” the Russian falls off her tongue. “Let me show you how beautiful you are too.”

Nat slips your bra off and immediately takes one of your nipples in her mouth. It’s a new sensation. One that you absolutely love. She listens for every sound you make to see what she wants to do more of.

You moan out loudly when she moves her hand down your abdomen and under your shorts. Her hand brushes against your folds and your body jerks in reaction.

“Is this okay?” Natasha asks. Her voice is deep, breathy.

“Yes please, I want you,” you say.

“Okay, baby. Lay back and relax. I’ll take care of you,” Natasha says.

She kisses down your body as she moves to lay between your legs. Your shorts come off along with your panties. You’re self conscious about no one ever seeing you like this before, but you feel better when Natasha dives in.

Nat places kisses around your center and her tongue moves through your folds. She takes her time worshipping you. You try to lean up on your elbows to watch but the pleasure is so strong that you have to stay on your back.

“Fuck Nat. That feels so good,” you say when her thumb brushes over your clit.

“I know, sweetheart. Be a good girl and tell me more,” Natasha says. Her voice vibrates against you.

“I want to come for you to Natasha. I want you to be the first person to make me come,” you say.

“Fuck,” Nat mumbles against you. She grinds her own pussy against the bed.

It’s only a few more minutes before you’re getting a feeling like you’re about to come for Natasha.

“I think- Nat- I’m going to- fuck,” you mumble as your hips move erratically.

“Come for me, y/n. You can do it,” Natasha says.

And you do. For the first time, you understand what it feels like to be taken care of.

“So fucking good,” Natasha says as she cleans you up.

She moves up your body and kisses your lips again. Her tongue moves against yours as you continue to get the hang of it.

Natasha lays next to you to catch her breath and let you catch your own. Her hand intertwines with yours.

“That’s what it feels like,” Natasha says.

“Every time?” You ask. You can’t help the grin on your face.

“No, not every time. But when you really like someone, yes.”

“You- um- you like me?”

“Yes, y/n,” Natasha says. “I really like you.”

You whisper a small yes and Natasha chuckles. She kisses your cheek.

“Can I- um-“

“I’d love for you too, but you don’t have to, babe. I’m okay with just pleasing you,” Natasha says.

“No, no. I want you to feel good too.”

“I already do,” Nat says. “But yeah if you want to, go ahead.”

You smile and shift to lay over Natasha. She kisses you deeply before you move down her body.

Natasha helps you please her in all of the ways she likes. By the end of the night, you’re both exhausted but so happy.

You fall asleep in her arms and wake up to the beautiful sight of her sleeping. She wakes up and snuggles further into you.

After a few good morning kisses, you get dressed and go downstairs together. Yelena notices you wearing Nat’s clothes and the two of you sharing secret glances.

But she only smiles. She always knew you two would find your way together.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff smut #yelena belova #wanda maximoff

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gojos-thot-patrol · 10 months

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Otherwise known as Seven Minuets in Heaven Part. 2 ;)

Find Part One Here!

Dating isn't easy, and falling in love is even harder. Ryomens love for you isn't up for debate, you're the only girl he's ever felt this way about. What is questionable though is if he's ready to leave his playboy life for you. Were diving back into the Modern Day Frat Boy AU

Warning: This fic contains smut, fingering, cunnilingus, a creampie- you know the drill, as well as Hurt/Comfort, possessive themes (especially in the smut), yandere themes if you squint, and a very much unwanted kiss. Reader discretion is advised <3

It’s surreal just how many times a heart can break before it shatters. How many times you can watch your boyfriend, who swore oh so many times that you were his one and only, flirt with truly breath taking girls before you finally snap. How many times you can accept the unacceptable before it feels like a full body breakdown, before you’re hiding in your room, crying into his hoodie because despite everything he was still so comforting to your stupid heart that still hadn’t caught up with your brain in terms of relationship status.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This story technically starts four months ago, and about a week after your first personal encounter with Ryomen Sukuna.

“Hey man, are you gonna eat that?” Gojo asked, pointing to Ryomens waffle. Sukuna barely looked up from his phone before pushing the plate over to the white haired man, who took it greedily. The act caught the attention of group empath (derogatory) Suguru Geto, who raised an eyebrow at Ryomen from the other side of his coffee cup.

“You feelin’ ok man?” He asked, setting the mug down.

“She still hasn’t responded to my text, but she read it. Is this what getting ghosted feels like?” Ryomen asked, finally looking up from his phone, “This shit blows, why do I keep doing it to people?”

“Because you’re a creep.” Nanami said without thinking from behind his book, ignoring the glare from both Suguru and Sukuna.

“Is this about the girl from the party?” Geto questioned, failing horribly to hide his genuine shock. “You haven’t moved on yet?”

“Can’t blame him, she was hot as fuck.” Gojo pointed out, not even bothering to swallow the food in his mouth. A move that would backfire when Suguru hit his back, causing him to choke.

“It’s not for a lack of trying!” Ryomen said, pointedly ignoring Satoru, “Trust me, I have. I even tried hooking up with that one girl from the Kappa Phi Beta sorority, fucking....” He snapped his fingers to try and remember her name, “Yuki? I think?”

“And?” Gojo asked.

“I couldn't go through with it!” He snapped, more in frustrated with himself than anything else, “I felt like…wrong about it, like dirty. I faked a stomachache to get her to go home.”

“Uh huh.” Suguru said, sharing a concerned glance with Gojo. “Go on.”

“The whole time I was just thinking about Y/n.” He sighed, now earning Nanamis attention too, “About what she would think, and what if she finds out and it hurts her, I just…I couldn't do that.” Ryomen grumbled, resting his cheek on the table. It felt good to vent. Until he realized all three of his friends were looking at him as if he had just grown a second set of arms and two more eyes. “What?” He asked.

“Ryomen…” Suguru started slowly, trying to think of how to put this gently, “You…are a fucking moron.”

“Poor bastard..” Nanami muttered, shaking his head.

“This bitch got his dick wet once and fell in love.” Satoru laughed. Ryomens entire soul flinched at the suggestion, and panicked at the notion it could be right.

“No, absolutely not, that’s insane.” He insisted, sitting back up. “I’ve known her for like, a week! Who falls in love in a week?!” Frat boys in fan fiction, thats who.

“Then why are you getting so caught up in the fact she hasn’t texted you back?” Suguru asked. This was not helping Ryomens panic.

“Because it’s weird! Normally girls text me back immediately.”

“Right, so why does it matter so much that this one hasn’t?”

“Because…because!-”

“Because you’re in love.” Gojo giggled.

“Say that one more time Satoru and I’ll put Nair in your shampoo bottle.” Sukuna threatened. Satoru was suddenly very quiet.

“You still haven't answered the question,” Geto reminded him.

“It’s because I don’t want the other girls to text me back! I want her to! I want her attention, I want to talk to her, I want- Oh god damn it.” His ramblings turned into a near whine as he dropped his head into his hands at the realization. Suguru patted his back, trying to be comforting.

“It’s okay man, it happens to the best of us.” He assured him. He handed him his coffee cup, “Here, try this. It might help.” Ryomen had no fucking clue how black coffee was supposed to help, so of course he had to try it. The moment it hit his tongue he realized why it was supposed to help, almost spitting the drink out at the shock of the flavor. That wasn’t coffee. He looked up at who claimed to be the responsible one.

“Fucking Kahlua?” He asked. Geto shrugged.

“Technically its a black russian, so some vodka too.”

“Suguru It’s seven am.”

♥️♥️♥️

Two weeks after that conversation, you still hadn’t left that poor fools mind. "Either I didn't hear you right or you've picked up a coke habit." You scoffed. He shook his head.

"Nah, coke's a rich person drug. A lowly college student like me can only afford crack."

"They're the same thing, different forms."

"Tell that to the law." He shrugged. You dropped the argument there, knowing he had a point. You just rolled your eyes.

"Then I must not have heard you correctly." You groaned, "why are you inviting me to go fuck at your dorm at," you checked your phone, "8:17 AM?" He grinned and you wanted to punch him in the face. That grin never failed to make your heart flutter and squeal and want to marry him. Stupid fucking heart.

"I never said hook up, I asked if you wanted to go on a date.” Ryomen clarified, “Like, to go get lunch or something.” And this is where your confusion came in. You had been casually sleeping with Ryomen for a few weeks now, which was fun. But you had convinced yourself he would never want anything more. Why would he? You thought he had a roster of beautiful women getting in and out of his bed, why would he give that up to be with just one? It didn’t make sense to you.

“Ryomen, I thought we agreed we were going to keep it casual.” You reminded him. It was the unwritten contract the two of you agreed to when you started hooking up. It was to keep both of you from getting hurt feelings. He sighed and raised his hands in defense.

“Okay, not a date.” He paused for a second, “Hey, do you wanna like, go get dinner tonight, maybe catch a movie and then head back to mine?” He asked. You felt a blood vessel pop. At this point in your “relationship” with him, you were almost positive the only thing he kept behind those pretty doe eyes was the god damn audacity.

"Ryomen, that sounds like a date." You pointed out.

"Does it?" He played dumb, "well, if you insist we can make it a date." He fucking grinned again.

"No."

"Oh come on!" He said it loudly enough to earn a sharp shush from the teacher, reminding him that other people were here to learn not date. He rolled his eyes and returned to a whisper. "What's the worst thing that could happen if you go out with me?" He asked.

What's the worst thing that could happen? Easy: You fall in love. You already knew you liked him way more than any reasonable person would or should. His sense of humor fell in line perfectly with yours, you had similar taste in music and movies, and you knew that he was more caring than he would ever care to admit; a trait you noticed from watching him interact with his friends. To top it all off, he was smart as hell, and he was about as beautiful as God said the Devil would be. He was fucking dangerous, and so easy to love, you couldn't blame any of the girls that fell before you.

And that was the issue. Ryomen had a vice, and it was women. You’d seen it in action on campus, the way past flings would come up to him to try and rekindle something that was never lit in the first place. And he ate that shit up. He loved basking in the attention given to him, and if it made you jealous now, you couldn’t imagine the fights you’d get into if he was officially yours. And you really didn’t need a criminal record.

"What's the worst that could happen?" You reiterated, "I get Syphilis."

"I hate to break it to you, beautiful, but if that was the case you'd already have it." He chuckled. Yeah, you walked right into that one. You pinched the bridge of your nose, repressing the urge to yell at him that it was way too early for this shit.

"Ryo-"

"I love it when you call me that."

"-Men, Ryomen let me finish," you groaned, "I'm really trying to pay attention here, can you just drop it?" You sighed in exasperation.

"Sure, if you agree to go out with me." He smirked.

"Why are you so desperate for this date?!" You struggled to maintain a whisper, "Isn’t what we’re doing right now enough? You’re already getting what you want out of me, why do you want more?"

Ryomen felt himself shatter, like a wine glass being forced to endure Mariah Careys’ high note. He thought the two of you had moved past your perception of him as a fuck boy using you for you body but, apparently not. Did you not know? Did you not know you were the only woman that was allowed to sleep in his bed? The only girl who he brought to just casually hang out with his friends? The only person in the world that he had ever cuddled with? He didn’t talk about his after graduation plans with any of those other girls. He didn’t talk about his little brother, or why he was a business major to them. He didn’t stay up all night talking to them because he just wanted to hear their voice. All of that was reserved for you. You had no idea just how special you were to him.

"Because I don't just want your body, I want you!" He said just a little bit too loudly. Great, now people were looking, "You've all I've been thinking about for weeks, do you know how weird this is for me?! I'm going crazy over you, and you won't even give me a chance, You won’t let me prove to you that you’re important to me!” You could feel the eyes of the classroom drill into you, and it made you want to shrink away. Something had to give.

"If I agree to go on one, count them, one" you held up a finger for emphasis, "date with you, will you shut up?"

"Without hesitation."

"Fine, then shut up." You chastised him.

"Wait, so is that a yes?" He smiled wide, and if he was a dog his ears would have perked up.

"That's not shutting up!" You reminded him, "it's only a yes if you don't say another word this entire class period." He beamed as he nodded, giving the universal sign for 'My Lips Are Zipped' as he settled into his seat, and you wondered what the hell you had gotten yourself into.

♥️♥️♥️

“You dress way too extravagant for him.” Mei Mei sighed as she saw your outfit. You didn’t see where she was coming from. A tight, albeit plain, black mini dress with pumps was hardly what you would call extravagant. Though, you supposed in the context of your typical wardrobe it was quite the contrast. But, this was your fifth date with Ryomen, and he told you to dress nice. You thought back to your one date stipulation, and almost laughed. You really didn’t expect that first date to go so well.

“Aren’t you the one that told me there’s nothing wrong with dressing up for a date?” You asked as you finished putting on your earrings. She rolled her eyes as you threw that back at her.

“Yeah, if you think your relationship with the guy might actually go somewhere it’s fine.”

“Who’s to say my relationship with Ryo won’t go somewhere?” You scoffed as you turned to her. She scoffed back.

“Ryo?” She all but sneered, “Gross. And it won’t go anywhere because it’s Ryomen Sukuna. He’s like, the literal definition of manslut. He’s going to break your heart Y/n, and you’re not even his official girlfriend. You’re his toy.” Mei muttered. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You knew her condescension came from a place of concern. Mei Mei had been with a lot of guys, and had her heart broken by even more. You almost took what she said into consideration. Then you remembered she had never really expressed concern for you before your situationship, and quickly brushed her off.

“He’s waiting for me.” You smiled at her as you left your shared dorm. You found him standing outside the building, exactly where he said he’d be. He always looked handsome, but tonight he looked damn near dashing. The black dress shirt and slacks worked for him, especially with the sleeves rolled up. He grinned when he saw you, and your heart squealed like a school girl in a shoujo anime. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t walk a little faster to get into his arms.

“Hey gorgeous,” He laughed as he picked you up in one of his signature bear hugs. You could get lost in the comfort of his arms. He sat you down with an adoring smile.

“Hey Handsome,” you winked, “Ready for our date?” He was taking you to a super upscale restaurant downtown. One of those places where you have to make the reservation like, a week in advance and pay way too much for not enough food. Admittedly, it made you kinda nervous.

“No, not at all,” His confession was disguised with a joke. He was as nervous as you were. “I have to give you something first.” By the power of plot, it was only then that you noticed the thin box in his hand. He lifted it up, presenting it to you as if he was a jeweler as he opened it. You didn’t quite process what you were looking at at first. It was a small white gold, cursive R with small rubies embedded into the stem of the letter. The pendent hung from a dainty white gold chain, and every ounce of your poor kid blood just knew that necklace cost more than your parents rent.

“Ryomen, what the fuck?” You asked, not fully processing the situation.

“I like to mark what’s mine.” He shrugged with a devilish smirk, “You don’t have to take it, but I bet it would look good on you.”

“I look good in everything,” You said, taking it out of the box to admire it. It really was a beautiful piece of custom jewelry. Your first reaction was to reject the gift. Gifts like these didn’t come without conditions, expectations. You knew that by accepting the necklace, you were accepting Ryomen. You couldn’t deny your situation anymore, couldn’t delude yourself into thinking the two of you were less than what you were. You’d have to accept the reality in front of you, the future in front of you. You looked at him and felt the smile tug at your lips. “Will you put it on me?”

“Gladly.” He said, trading you box for necklace. As he fastened the ornate safety clasp around your neck, he leaned down. “I trust you know this means you’re my girl, yeah?” He whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You hummed, placing a hand on his head to hold him still while you kissed his cheek. Mei Mei was gonna be pissed.

♥️♥️♥️

“Look, we’ll only be there for like, thirty minuets,” Sukuna groaned, rubbing his temple with his left hand. “ABO is throwing the party, so all of us have to show some face.”

“Do you have to show some face, or sell some weed?” You asked, crossing your arms as the two of you walked down the street. In the two months you had been with Sukuna, you had been to more parties than you could count. Which was really starting to stress you out, considering you fucking hated parties.

“Why cant it be both?” he sighed.

“You still haven’t explained why I need to come.” You huffed, pulling down your short dress. You had been trying to put more effort into your appearance lately, and experimenting with just how much skin you were comfortable showing. Sometimes you got it right, sometimes you didn’t.

“I told you babe, guys are fucking idiots. They wanna buy drugs from the guy with the prettiest girl on his arm, and when you’re with me, I’m always that guy.” He smirked, hoping that was going to diffuse the situation at least a little bit. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

“Really? You’re flirting with me? Right now?” You scoffed.

“It was worth a shot, right?” He shrugged.

“I’m going to fucking bite you!” you threatened, stopping in your tracks to emphasize how pissed off you were. He sighed again as he stopped and turned to face you. He put his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him, fighting the grin that came up as he noticed the slight shock on your face. He managed to suppress it though, and put his puppy dog eyes into action for evil.

“I know you don’t want to go babygirl, I’m sorry,” He murmured to you, ghosting the back of his knuckles along your jawline, “But will you go? For me? I’m only asking for thirty minuets.” Fuck. Fuck. This was a dirty tactic and he fucking knew it. You sighed, dropping your forehead onto his chest, and hugging him back as he pulled you into a proper embrace.

“Fine, but…can you promise me you’re not going to flirt any other girls there? Or let them flirt with you?” You muttered.You didn’t just hate parties for the drunken social aspect of them, though that was a part of it. No, you hated them because they always started fights in your relationship. Normally, you loved being with Ryomen. He was sweet and caring, and you knew he loved you. But he also had a problem with leading on other girls.

You knew his attention whore antics would be a problem, and while you believed him when he said it was never physical- just flirting, that he didn’t even realize he was doing it, it always hurt you anyway. There was always a seed of doubt that it wasn’t as subconscious as he claimed. That maybe he didn’t love you as much as he said he did.

“Of course baby girl, you know you’re my one and only.” He promised, wrapping his arm around you as he walked you to the fraternity house. You had a sinking feeling in your soul this was a bad idea, one that only got worse as you saw all the drop dead gorgeous women in the room.

“Hey, I’m gonna go grab us some drinks, want anything?” He asked, knocking you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll come with.” You said, following Ryomen to the kitchen. There sat Nanami in his designated spot behind the bar, half heartedly listening to an art major talk about the impressionist movement. He was nodding along like he understood, like he was engaged, but there was no light behind his eyes. You felt bad for the art major.

Ryomen grabbed two cups of the frat jungle juice for the two of you. You took yours and quickly started to chug without even considering who made it, and almost immediately gagged at the burn. You managed to choke it down after a fight for your life. “What the hell is in that?!” You snapped.

“Oh, Suguru made the juice this time,” Nanami said, taking any opportunity to leave the art history conversation, “It has like, an entire bottle of everclear in it.”

“An entire bottle?” You asked in disbelief, “Is he okay?”

“No.” Nanami scoffed, as if you should know.

“Hey, Ryomen!” Satoru laughed as he and Suguru spotted Sukuna. They walked into the kitchen. “And Y/n!” Gojo gasped when he saw you, always shocked to see you at these events no matter how many you attended. He ran over and hugged you, causing you to chuckle softly and Ryomens eye to twitch. He quickly got in between you two, pulling you from Satorus arms and into his. Gojo rolled his eyes, but otherwise let it go.

“I’m glad you could make it!” He smiled.

“I always do,” You laughed to hide your frustration with that statement.

“We’ve got a beer pong table set up outside, wanna play?” Suguru asked. There was a beat before you realized.

“Wait, me?” You asked, a little shocked. You fully expected him to be talking to Ryomen.

“Yeah, you,” He chuckled, “You’re our Fraternity Sweetheart, we gotta show you off somehow, right?”

“She is not the frat sweetheart.” Ryomen scoffed before you could process the information.

“Oh yes she is!” Gojo declared, “Everyone on campus knows it!” Everyone except you apparently.

“No, shes not!” Ryomen insisted. He hated that they called you that. It made him feel like he had to share you with them, a thought that made him actively violent. They could find some other sorority sister to be their sweetheart, but you were his. “Nanami, back me up here.”

“Sorry man, I’m with the boys on this one.” He shrugged, “She’s at all of our events, she’s here every weekend, the chapter loves her.” Oh he did not like the verbiage used there.

“I love how you guys all thought to ask me how I felt about this, so very thoughtful of you.” You laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Yea, exactly! You don’t even want to be a sweetheart, do you baby girl?” Ryomen asked, fully turning to you. A realization hit you like a truck trying to teleport you to a fantasy world. Something in the way he said baby girl, in how intense he was in fighting against the tittle. Ryomen was jealous. Of course, this was nothing new, but the idea of him being jealous of these guys just felt so absurd to you. You were used to giving into his jealousy, to baby it and tend to it; like a dutiful nurse. Protecting his ego at all cost. Your first instinct was to continue that tradition, but then you thought about it again. He never went out of his way to try and take care of your jealousy. And being a fraternity sweetheart may actually be fun.

“I mean, I am at every single party you guys throw, I might as well be the sweetheart, right?” You smiled and the other guys cheered, even Nanami let out a little whoop! Ryomens eyes looked dark though. He knew exactly what you were throwing in his face. You wanted to say being this petty was unlike you, but since you started dating Ryomen…

“You offered beer pong?” You smiled to Suguru, who gladly took you outside to the table, Satoru tagging along with a reluctant Ryomen dragging behind.

It had been four months since you first slept with Sukuna, and two months since you got together. Sometimes you questioned that decision. Actually, you questioned it a lot. You questioned if he ever actually wanted to be in a relationship, or just liked the idea of it. If he wanted to have someone stable waiting for him at home while he still got to do what- or who- ever he wanted. The way he talked to some of the girls at these parties made you think that was the case. He talked to them almost as if he forgot he had a girlfriend, or worse, as if he resented the fact he had one.

Which was so unbearably confusing for you! He pursued you so fervently, as if he was convinced you were soul mates. You were happy to keep things casual with him for exactly this reason. He was the one that wanted to take things to the next level, He was the one that made things official, hell- He was the first one to say I Love You! And it’s not like he tried to hide you, he posted you on social media, he took you out as often as he could, that motherfucker tried to get a tattoo of your god damn name! Thank God Suguru talked him out of that one. It didn’t make sense to you that he would be this obsessed with you regularly, but the moment he got a few shots in his system and a cute girl approached him it’s like you were a ghost to him. It made you fucking angry.

The air was warm and full of laughing as you played against Satoru.

“Hey, you have to bounce it, you can’t throw it!” He giggled, trying to swat away your ball.

“Oh, but you can swat it?!” You scoffed through smiles, “Unfair rules!” This was your third round, and he only had one cup left. That being said, he was about half way through yours, and you were definitely starting to feel it. It was actually kinda nice to be thoroughly enjoying a party. To feel like you were here to hang out with your friends and not just to please your man.

“Come on Satoru, how are you going to lose to someone who’s wasted?!” Suguru laughed, grabbing your elbow to help steady you. You should have known something was wrong when Ryomen didn’t step in.

“By also being wasted!” Gojo chuckled as he completely missed his shot and you sunk yours. Cheers and hollers erupted in the crowd, and you proudly threw up both hands as you had won again. You felt like a star. Like you were actually cool, and accepted. You felt amazing. You looked over to your darling boyfriend to share the moment with him.

Only to feel every once of warmth leave your body when you saw him talking to another woman. You knew her well, Amanda from your english class. She talked all the time about how hot Ryomen was before the two of you got together, and joked about stealing him after. From the look of that heart wrenching grin he had on while he talked to her, it looked like she had a chance.

“Walk away. Just walk away.” You thought.“Come to me.” She laughed obnoxiously loud at a joke that probably wasn’t even that funny. Even he looked surprised at the reaction he got. Then she got closer. Your body went into rigor mortis as your lungs forgot how to work. “No. Please No.”

She kissed him. The next three seconds felt like three years. You watched her wrap a hand around his neck and pull him closer, wrap another hand in his hair and you fought vomit. It was a tender act you thought was sacred between the two of you. You guessed not. You ran off, not having the heart to watch anymore. You didn’t see him push her away and onto her ass. You didn’t hear him yell at her.

“What the fuck skank?! Why the fuck would you do that?!” He scoffed, aggressively wiping his mouth.

“I-I’m sorry! I just thought the conversation was going well, so-”

“So you fucking kiss me?! Do you do that to every man you have a conversation with?!” He physically spat, “You didn’t even fucking ask! Have you never heard of fucking consent?!”

“Look, I thought-!”

“No, you didn’t think of shit! I have a fucking girlfriend, do you know that?! Jesus fucking christ.” He groaned, walking away from the situation to find you.

You were making your way through the house to go home, fighting tears because you’d be damned if these assholes saw you cry. You swam through the sea of drunken bodies swaying in the house. The bass from the music felt all too intense, the lights all too bright. Everything was just too much. You felt disconnected from and all too aware of your body all at once, and all you really wanted was non-existence.

“Leaving so soon?” Nanami asked from his place on the houses steps as you walked out. He looked up, noticing the tears you had let slip, and his eyes widened a bit. He immediately dropped the asshole act, standing up and placing a concerned hand on your shoulder. “Y/n, are you okay? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Ryomen is a cheating bastard.” You managed to gasp through choked breath. This whole not crying thing was so much harder than you thought. That didn’t sound like the Ryomen Nanami knew though. The Ryomen Nanami knew didn’t shut up about his girl. He wanted to marry her after graduation, he was trying to build a life with her. He wouldn’t cheat on her. Something wasn’t right.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, but that can’t be right. Theres gotta be a mis-”

“I gotta go Kento.” You whimpered, brushing his hand away. You refused to listen to one of his frat dude friends try to defend him. You took off the R that weighed down on your neck, his claim to you, and handed it to Nanami. You knew you wouldn’t be able to face him again to return it. “Please give that to him, I need to leave.” You muttered, all but running away from the party.

You should have known better. You did know better. You hated that you expected this and still got hurt. Everything just felt so unbearably heavy. When you broke up with your last boyfriend, you just felt numb. You felt about as inconvenienced by it as when they got your order wrong at Mcdonalds. Annoyed, yeah- maybe even pissed off. But ultimately you got over it quick, it had barely hurt your week.

But this? This felt like hell. This felt wrong. Like when a loved one suddenly dies, or if your house burned down while you were away; like the universe was fundamentally broken- turned upside down and left to rot. You felt so fundamentally stupid for giving him a chance. For letting him trick you into thinking he was in anything other than lust. For falling in love with a demon like him. All of the devotion and warmth you held for him tasted so fucking bitter, like it had been preverted and turned into a curse. You wanted to crawl home and tell your mom she was right.

But, your dorm was much closer. “Hey nerd, how was the- oh no.” Mei Mei said, looking up from her laptop as she heard the door open. You looked like a rejected member of Kiss, make up running down your red face, hair a mess from the outside wind.

“Mei mei, he-” You tried to get it out, but just choked on your words, breaking down into the sobs you were holding back. Mei rushed over to wrap her arms around you and keep you from collapsing in on yourself.

“Oh sweetheart…I’m so sorry.” She sighed, leading you over to your bed and sitting down with you. She knew what happened without you saying it. She knew it was going to happen. She was mostly just shocked it took this long.

“I’m so stupid..”

“Yea, a little bit.” She confirmed, patting your back and shushing you as you broke into another sob. Your phone went off. She checked it for you, snarling at the ‘where are you?’ text he sent. That motherfucker had a lot of gaul. She tossed your phone into your desk drawer, then went and grabbed the emergency ice cream she kept in her fancy mini fridge. She joined you on the bed with two spoons and her laptop.

“Okay, what do you wanna watch?” She asked, pulling up netflix.

Meanwhile, Ryomen was losing his mind looking for you, and Nanami was losing his mind looking for him. “There you are!” Kento snapped as he finally found Ryomen coming out of their shared dorm.

“Nanami, have you seen Y/n?” He asked immediately, “I can’t find her, and I’m about to start hitting people about it.” He said, running a nervous hand through his hair. He had never lost you for this long before, and he was really starting to panic now. If anything had happened to you, he was going to make tomorrows nine o’clock news.

“Yeah, she ran out like an hour ago saying you cheated on her, is that true?” Nanami asked, feeling like he already knew the answer.

“What?!” Ryomen snapped, grabbing Nanami by the shoulders, “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that an hour ago?!”

“Because I’ve been looking for you for an hour dipshit!” He yelled, pushing Ryomen off, “Answer the question!”

“No it’s not fucking true! Why the hell would I do something that fucking stupid?!” Ryomen scoffed at the very idea of such a thing. He remembered his encounter with Yuki, before the two of you had even become casual partners. The thought of trying to be with another woman made him nauseous then, and that feeling had only intensified as your relationship grew.

“Then why does she think that you did?” Nanami questioned further, trying to get to the bottom of the situation.

“I don’t know! I-” Shit. He didn’t even finish his sentence before the unwanted kiss flooded his memories. A hit from a sledge hammer wielded by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson would have been softer than the realization that not only did you see the kiss, but thought it was welcomed. Suddenly, he didn't have blood in his veins anymore, only liquid nitrogen. “Oh my god, she saw Amanda kiss me.”

“What?! Ryomen, you said you didn’t che-”

“I didn’t!” He snarled, “She kissed me when I was trying to sell to her. I pushed her off, it was not mutual!” The last thing Suguru and Gojo expected to find when they went to slip off to their room was Nanami and Ryomen fighting in the hall, but, suppose theres a first time for everything.

“Whats going on?” Gojo asked, needing to be in the center of every drama ever.

“Y/n thinks Ryomen cheated on her.” Nanami explained.

“You fucking what?!” Suguru hissed, ready to fight on your behalf.

“I didn’t actually do it!” Ryomen yelled in his own defense. “She saw Amanda kiss me, but I guess missed the part where I yelled at her for assault!”

“Well she’s officially on the ban list.” Satoru stated what everyone else assumed went without saying.

“Wait, where is Y/n now?” Geto asked.

“Home, I assume. It’s where she was going.” Nanami explained.

“I have to go get her.” Ryomen said more to himself than anyone else, attempting to leave before Gojo stopped him.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Satoru asked, “If it just happened, she may not be willing to listen to you yet.”

“No, Ryomen’s right. The longer he lets this sit the worse it’ll get.” Suguru pointed out. “This is something you address immediately.”

“Not necessarily! She may be working it out on her own,” Satoru was being delusional, “I mean, has she broken up with you yet right? Like officially? Cause if not, showing up at her doorstep out of no where may be the end your relationship.” Wait, he had a point.

“No, She hasn’t broken up with me.” Ryomen sighed in almost relief. You two were still together, that ment there was hope. Hope of a conversation, hope to save the future he had built for you two. Maybe all wasn’t lost.

“Yeah, so…about that.” Nanami muttered almost sheepishly as he held up the white gold necklace you had tossed at him. Ryomen felt his soul evacuate his body and the liquid nitrogen in his veins turn into lead. The room was spinning and the only thing he could focus on was the jewels that should have been around your neck. The symbol of your relationship, dangling abandoned from Nanami's fingers. You had left him and he didn’t even know it.

“Shit.” Mai Mai muttered, checking her phone half way through an episode of whatever you had put on. “Shoko got too fucked up and needs a ride home from the bar.” She sighed. You knew what that meant.

“That’s ok,” you managed a smile, “Go make sure she’s safe.”

“Are you going to be okay?” That was a loaded question if you’d ever heard one.

“Yeah Mei, I’m not gonna like, kill myself or something stupid like that.” You forced a laugh to really sell that you were falling apart. Mei gave a concerned face, but knew that Shoko still needed her help.

“I’ll be back in like, an hour, ok?” She said as she grabbed her keys, “If you need anything or god forbid he shows up, call me, ok?” She demanded more than asked.

“Okay, I will.” You sighed, waving off your friend as she left. Once alone, you decided you might as well take the opportunity to get into pajamas. You shuffled to your closet, feeling more like a zombie than much else. That was until you opened the door to reveal Ryomens hoodie hanging up with the rest of your clothes. The icy tendrils of despair returned, and despite your better judgment you pulled the old hoodie down.

He had left it here a few weeks back, and you had been snuggling up in it ever since. At the time it was a major comfort, now it was just another thing to return later. Despite yourself, you still hugged it, imaging you were just hugging him goodbye for some closure. You hoped it would help you let go. Instead what happened is you were greeted with his familiar scent, pine and cigarettes, and your eyes started gushing again.

You collapsed onto your bed as you clung to the fabric, wishing it was him. That tonight had never happened, and he was still yours. It was a nice thought. Your pity party was interrupted by what could only be described as a cop knock on your door. It startled a yelp out of you, and almost scared you enough to make you forget you were sad.

“Y/n, please, let me in.” Mother fucker! Why would he think this was a good idea?!

“No Sukuna, I have nothing to say to you.” You snapped, and he cringed on the other side of the door. He hated when you used his last name for him. It made him feel like his father.

“That’s fine! Just let me say what I have to say.” He begged, “Y/n, it’s not what you think.”

The Audacity

How fucking dare he show up to your door with the worlds lamest fucking excuse and expect it to work?! How fucking dare he act like you didn’t have two working eyes! The rage that filled you with pushed you off the bed and to the door, throwing it open just to smack him across the face. His eyes blew wide at the attack. He had never seen you violent before. He kinda liked it.

“You’re a real fucking douche bag, do you know that?!” You snapped, “You spent fucking months trying to get me to agree to be with you, just to do this to me! Do you know how much this hurts?!”

“Y/n, I-!”

“I’m not done!” You shouted, officially pissing off your across the hall neighbor.

“Take it to your dorm, not the hall!” Utahime yelled from behind her door. You growled, but reluctantly pulled him into your room, closing the door behind the two of you.

“You lead me on for fucking months, fucking months, making me think you loved me and wanted to be with me, just for it to turn out to all be a lie! Then, when you realize you fucked up, you turn up at my door with the lamest excuse known to man! What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?!” You hissed, venom dripping for your lips like thick cyanide.

“She kissed me,” He explained, holding up his hands when he saw you open your mouth to argue, “You asked me what I had to say for myself, right? This is what I have to say, just let me talk.” You closed your mouth reluctantly, waiting for him to continue.

“She started talking to me because she wanted to try pot and knew I had some to sell. I sold her an ounce and we kept talking about her fucking major or some shit. Honestly, I don’t even remember what we were talking about, I was just trying to give good customer service. But I guess she was into it, cause out of no where she kissed me. But I didn’t kiss her back, Y/n! I pushed her off of me, I yelled at her that I had a girlfriend, hell, I’m pretty sure I fucking spit on her. You have to believe me Baby, I wanted nothing to do with that!”

He was talking fast and panicked, and not at all like how he normally spoke. Like he was scared for his life, grabbing his hair and trying to control his breathing. His fear almost transferred to you, but all you really wanted was to hug him, to assure him it was okay. A part of you wanted to deny it all, because that was so much easier than admitting you were wrong and jumped to conclusions. That you let Mei Mei and your mother get into your head.

But you knew your boyfriend better than that. You knew that this wasn’t the ramblings of a liar, but the ramblings of a desperate man needing to be heard. The honesty in his eyes, the tremble in his normally steady voice. You thought about how Nanami tried to argue with you when you first accused Ryomen. At the time you refused to hear any of it, but Nanami had never been one to bull shit anyone or defend his fraternity brothers shitty actions. And suddenly, your stomach filled with stones as you realized what you had done, what you had almost thrown away.

“Ryomen,” You muttered, slowly approaching him as if he was a hurt animal.

“I kept looking for you after it happened, I was going to tell you! But you were gone-”

“Ryo,” You tried again to cut through his thoughts, standing close enough now to touch him.

“But then fucking Nanami found me, and he had your necklace, and-” Oh shit, he wasn’t there anymore. You recognized a doom spiral when you saw one. You gently grabbed his cheeks and forced him to look at you. Those puppy dog eyes you fell in love with were wide and full of fear, filling you with a sick dread that made your skin feel far too tight.

“Baby, look at me. You’re getting lost in your head.” You said softly, using your thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I-”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry I ran away instead of just talking to you about what happened.” You sighed.

“Yea that was kinda hypocritical of you.” He nodded.

“Ryomen.”

“I’m just saying, you’re the one talking about how important communication is.”

“And I apologized, did I not?!” You laughed at the emotional whiplash of it all. He let a small smile slip as he watched. He finally felt like he could breathe again. He pulled you into a tight hug and kissed the top of your head.

“I swear, this love shit’s gonna put me in the ground.” He more gasped than laughed, the crash of his body no longer being in fight or flight mode weighing heavy on him.

“Ain’t that the truth.” You huffed, shaking your head as best as you could against his chest. Your body still hadn’t gotten the memo that things were okay now. Your bones still felt like they were shaking in your skin. He parted enough to hook his finger under your chin, tilting your head up at him. Your heart skipped a beat, taking in how soft he looked in the moonlight fluttering in from your window. He was proof god had favorites. He smiled softly to you.

“I think you’re worth it though.” He whispered, before leaning down and pressing his soft lips to yours. It didn’t matter how many times they two of you kissed, your heart always freaked out about it- like a mega fan in the pit at a concert. Your arms instinctively moved to wrap around his neck, he he took you by the hips, pulling you deeper into the kiss. He bit your lip, and took the opportunity of your soft moan to slip his tongue into your mouth.

Your body started warming back up, his comforting smell putting your panic response to ease. Your nervous system pulsated back to life, sparks flying in your blood waiting to be caught in his inferno. On one hand, it felt almost wrong to be kissing him so soon after the events of the night- like a betrayal of yourself. On the other, your heart craved him like a drug, his affection gave you a high that nothing else could even come close too. You felt like you were spinning and a heat was quickly pooling in your legs that you knew he could take care of.

One of your hands tangled into his soft pink hair, tugging softly. He took that as his que to pick you up. You wrapped your legs around his hips long enough for him to sit you down on the side of the bed. His kisses moved from your lips to your cheek, to your jaw, to your neck. You moaned softly as he sucked soft bruises into your collar bone.

He pushed you back down on the bed, lowering himself to his knees in between your legs, like a sinner praying for forgiveness at an altar.. You were suddenly pretty thankful you hadn’t gotten around to changing yet. He hiked the dress up around your hips, smiling when he saw the underwear you were wearing.

“Black lace, huh?” He teased, forgetting the past like, hour and a half apparently, “Were you planning this sweetheart?”

“I assure you I did not plan on us breaking up.” You laughed. He did not like that you used the words “Breaking Up” and “Us” in the same sentence. It didn’t affect him they way that it did before. It didn’t fill him with that overwhelming feeling of panic that it had earlier. It didn’t freeze him in place. Instead, it just filled him with white hot rage. Surely you knew better than that, right? You were his, you weren’t going anywhere. “Breaking up” was not an option. He just had to remind you who you belonged to.

“Good thing we didn’t break up.” He said. Before you could protest, he pushed your panties to the side and ran his warm tongue along your folds, earning him a soft, pretty gasp from your lips. He smirked to himself, noticing how wet you were from just kissing, gathering the silky liquor on his tongue, and swirling it onto your clit. He started spelling his nickname with his tongue, R. Y. O, R. Y. O, and you were lost to whatever he wanted.

Your body pulsated with electricity, every swipe of his tongue sending a new wave of bliss through your body. You moaned out his name, fingers tangling into his hair to try and keep yourself grounded. You felt like you were made of pop rocks and stars, eyes rolling back in pleasure, pulling him closer to your core. You could feel a tsunami building inside of you, a sea of pleasure threatening to over take you.

“Have I ever told you how sweet you taste?” Sukuna moaned, sliping two fingers inside of your gushing pussy. You mentally added that to the list of weird compliments you had received since becoming bedfellows with the wannabe bad boy. Or, tried to I should say. As you were filing the thought away, he curled his fingers into your g-spot, turning any coherent thoughts you had had before into oh fuck that felt good and fuck I’m already getting close. Ryomen felt the way your cunt clenched around his fingers, and felt his own dick twitch. He knew how that clench felt around his cock, and more than anything he wanted to feel it again.

“Ryo, I-I’m...yea” You tried to warn him, but the electric shockwaves going through your body made communication rather difficult at that moment.

“Oh yea?” He chuckled from between your legs, punctuating his sentence with a sharp suck to the bundle of nerves between your legs. “Then cum for me pretty girl.” It didn’t take much after that, his words of affirmation waking up butterflies in your stomach and in your cunt. A few more curls of his fingers and swipes from his tongue and suddenly cartoon stars were exploding in front of your eyes. Your climax tore through you with a vengeance, the storm hitting you and drowning your senses in bliss and oxytocin. Your entire body felt like it had been struck by lighting made of erotic thrill, the aftershocks leaving you shaking in it’s wake.

Your soul was still trying to make it’s way back to your body when his lips met yours again, your taste mingling with his on your tongue and leaving your head spinning. You went to grab his shirt, finding that he had taken it off at some point, which was more than okay with you. He nipped at your jaw and your neck before pulling away and getting you up long enough to take your dress off you. You went to take off your bra, only for him to stop you.

“Hey, hey, whats the rush?” He asked from the foot of your bed, wicked grin showing off his naturally sharp canines, “Take it off slowly.” This was 100% a power play and you know it. Normally this fucker was literally ripping clothes to get them off you quicker, your sudden uptick in panty buying could attest to that. But now all of the sudden he wanted to go slow? Fine, you could play that game.

You stood on your knees to give him a better view, slowly shimmying the straps off your shoulders. His scarlet eyes burned into your every movement as you slipped your arms out of the straps as elegantly as one could. You made eye contact with him as you unhooked your bra, one hook at a time. Or, tried to at least. His eyes were trained on your chest. You grinned at the aggravated groan he let out, watching you catch the fabric before it fell and revealed your breast. His eyes were dark and you could tell by his shifting his jeans were getting too tight.

“Slow enough for you?” You smirked at him.

“Keep running that mouth and I’ll give you something to do with it.” He warned, and you just laughed, finally letting your bra drop to the mattress. You saw his body physically tense as to not grapple you then and there.

“You want my mouth? Oh, but I’d much rather have you somewhere else.” You teased, looping your thumbs into the sides of your underwear as you started to pull them off your hips at an agonizing pace. Ryomen felt like he was going to lose it, feeling his fingers, among other extremities, twitch with the need to touch you. He tried to be a good boy, he really did, but when you rolled your hips at him he lost it. In a flash he had pulled you under him, and was fumbling with his belt.

“Hey, what happened to slow?” You teased.

“Fun experiment, not for me.” He responded, freeing himself from his jeans and lining himself up with your still dripping entrance. He caught your lips in a kiss as he dived in, swallowing your sweet moans as he filled you to the brim. It didn’t matter how many times Ryomen was in between your legs, it always felt like the first. The burning stretch as his hips connected with you setting your body on fire and filling your brain with tv static. You could feel your already weak legs tremble around him, and he groaned as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

“God pretty girl, you feel so fucking good for me.” He moaned, setting a brutal pace as he pushed into you, his cock brushing against your g-spot and massaging your cervix. “Like you were made to be on my cock.” Who he was talking to was a mystery to you because you were not there. You were in outer space, floating on atoms and space dust as he rocked into you, bliss filling your veins as you felt euphoria spread through you and pool in your core.

He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, letting him dive even deeper into your velvety walls. He grabbed your hips in a vice grip, no doubt leaving bruises you could take finger prints off of. Every thrust hit your g-spot, the new position letting him reach places that you didn’t know existed. “Oh, fuck, Ryo don’t stop.” You begged.

“Didn’t plan on it,” He assured you, watching the way your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “Hey no-” He growled, removing his hand from your hip to grab your chin, “Look at me.” You whined as you opened your eyes, meeting his lust filled gaze. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You Ryomen..” You moaned, feeling yourself reaching your peak.

“Who’s the only person that makes you feel this good?” He demanded the validation.

“You, Ryomen, you!” You squirmed underneath him as all of the stimulation became too much. Your hands started to tingle as your body got ready to tumble off a cliff. You weren’t even fully processing what he was asking, you just knew to say his name.

“Who do you belong to Y/n?”

“Ryomen..” You whimpered, digging your claws in his back as your legs trembled, “Ryo, please..” You gasped, teetering on the edge. His hand left your chin and found your clit, massaging expert circles into it. It was your tipping point, sending you hurtling over the edge of your orgasm and head over heels into euphoria, the sea of bliss overtaking you as red hot lava replaced your blood. You felt almost dizzy as you were hit with wave after wave of ecstasy, vision going blurry with tears from the intensity of it all.

Ryomen wasn’t far behind you, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, pulling him in deeper and deeper with every convulsion. He told himself he really couldn’t have pulled out even if he wanted to; filling you until you were overflowing and thanking Aphrodite for the invention of birth control. He rolled you over as he collapsed next to you, managing to stay inside.

The two of you stayed like that for awhile, breathing deep in your afterglow, before he finally pulled out, albeit reluctantly. He kissed the top of your head, fixing his pants and finding a washcloth to clean you up with. “I’d say sorry for the mess but, It’s kinda hot.” He chuckled softly. You rolled your eyes and threw on his shirt.

“Dick.” You muttered. He nodded in agreement.

“Is that a request? I could go again.” He grinned as you weakly hit his arm with your finger tips.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumbled softly. He nodded.

“I know…I love you too.” He whispered. He waited a second before adding, “We’re still together, right?” more as a formality than anything.

“No, I slept with you as one final hurrah before deleting your number.” you joked.

“Oh, well then, I guess you won’t be needing this?” He asked, pulling your pendant from his pocket. Your eyes widened a bit as you saw it, almost forgetting that you had ever taken it off to begin with. Your hand instinctively went to your neck to protect it, only to find nothing there. obviously.

“My necklace-” You said, but he shook his head.

“Nope, my necklace. Unless you wanna be my girlfriend?” He smirked that evil smirk. You laughed fondly at him, then gave an overly exaggerated sigh.

“Well I suppose, if it’s the only way to get my jewelry back, then we gotta get back together.” He chuckled as he hooked the chain around your neck again, admiring the way it dazzled against your skin.

“It looks good on you.” he praised, kissing your forehead.

“Everything looks good on me.” You winked.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO CALLING ME IF HE SHOWED UP?!” Mei yelled as she finally returned home.

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#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #frat boy! sukuna x reader #jjk frat boy au #fratboy!sukuna #soft sukuna #hurt/comfort #college au #modern au #sukuna smut #curseless au

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wynnyfryd · 5 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 46

part 1 | part 45 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

Somewhere around the second chorus, Nancy finally stops twirling, head down and eyes closed as she wobbles dangerously in place — Steve can see Jon tensing just in case he needs to jump in and save her from busting her ass — and when she looks up, her eyes lock on Steve like she's seeing him for the first time in forty years.

“Steeeeeve!” she slurs, smile sloshing over her features like a splash of spilled punch.

Good god. “Hey, Nance.”

She reaches over and paws at his arm, a swiping motion like she's either about to yank him in for a hug or wipe some lint off his sleeve, and says, “Steve, I— I, um- can- can we...?”

With a determined look in her glossy eyes, she pitches forward and slams into him. Steve goes flopping backward into a squishy leather armchair and lands with a lapful of Nancy. Nancy Wheeler, the ex who dumped him at a party not unlike this one. Who left him for a guy standing a foot and a half away.

Who's snickering into the crook of his neck now as she clings to his shoulders to try and stop herself from slinking sideways to the floor.

Steve throws Eddie and Jonathan matching looks — something between 'this okay?' and 'what the actual fuck?' — but Jon just shrugs like what're ya gonna do? and Eddie gives him a quick wink and turns his attention back to the boys.

Super helpful, Ed. Thanks so fucking much.

“Hiii,” Nancy giggles, looping her arms tighter around his neck to hold herself upright. It should seem flirty, but it doesn’t, somehow. Feels more like… sisterly concern?

Feels fucking weird, is what.

“Hi,” he says a little stiffly, his arms hovering in a loose bracket on either side of her in case she topples. He feels a little bad for being standoffish when she's in a sweet and friendly mood; doesn't want to be a buzzkill, but he doesn't exactly know what to do with an armful of happy-go-lucky hammered Nance.

Never did, really, because he couldn’t ever tell when it was genuine or not. Which was kinda the whole problem, wasn’t it?

Nancy pokes at the edge of the frown he didn't realize he was making. "Aw, don't..." she mumbles with a wounded little sound, her eyes sliding over his face, head bobbling like she's standing on the deck of a ship. “Or do," she hiccups and swallows a burp. Her lower lip trembles. "I prob'ly deser— deserve it."

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He would've killed for this conversation twelve months ago; would've killed to hear it sober and asking for him back.

Now he mostly feels bad for making her feel bad, even though she’s not exactly wrong. Maybe she did deserve it, once. But not here; not now. “No, you don’t,” he sighs and lets his arm skim her waist. “You don’t. You should be enjoying the party, I’m sorry.”

She protests with an almost violent shake of her head. “No,” she insists, overenunciating the word. “No. I do. I was…"

She straightens her spine and stares at him like she's trying to bore a hole through his head; like this is important. Like there's a cut on her hand and gasoline in the carpet. "I was bullshit.” She jabs her pointer finger against her breastbone. “I was.”

Steve blinks at her. Feels tears bead in his eyes and slither into his sinuses. Gently, he reaches out and pushes down on the back of her hand; guides it away from her chest until it falls back to her lap.

“Think maybe we both were,” he offers with a quiet sniff. Takes a second to just breathe, sharp and wet through his nose. “Thank you, though. For saying that. Means a lot.”

Her eyes still look sad, but the corners of her mouth lift in a small, hopeful tick. “It does?”

“Yeah.”

Across the room, someone clambers onto a kitchen counter and hollers, "Hey! Listen up!"

The music pauses; the moment breaks. The crowd turns to the guy, who cups his hands around his mouth and announces, “Fifteen minutes to midnight! Find your make-out buddy, folks!"

Commotion as everyone scrambles to pair up: Nancy looks at Jonathan and stumbles off Steve’s lap; Gareth stares forlornly at a girl over by the stairs; Frank purses his lips and tells Jeff to start puckerin’, princess, and Jeff laughs and shoves him with a playful "fuck off, dude."

Eddie’s only got eyes for Steve.

He’s staring right at him, eyes lit up with desire; twinkling stars in deep woods. “Get a refill with me?” he asks as he offers Steve a hand.

Steve stands and does his best not to sway into Eddie’s arms.

“Oh, my god," Robin mutters over the rim of her cup, "so we’re not seeing you two again tonight."

“What was that?” Steve asks. Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

“Nothing, dinguses,” she sighs. “Happy new year.”

Steve wishes her the same, reaching out to link their pinkies and giving hers a quick squeeze. Pinky hug; love you, too. As he and Eddie shuffle past, Steve sees Argyle turn to Robin and casually try to shoot his shot.

“Hey, pretty bird lady…” he starts.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Robin responds by making crazy eyes and bleating out a nervous laugh that roughly translates to sorry sorry sorry sorry and never in a million years; Steve's tempted to lean over and clap a hand over her mouth to put her out of her gay misery, but Argyle's the most chill dude on the planet, apparently, because he doesn't even seem fazed.

“No sweat, my guy,” he shrugs and extends a closed hand. “Midnight fist bump instead?”

—

part 47

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #corroded coffin #my writing #my fic

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loveharlow · 4 months

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Heyy hope you are doing well! Can you pls do Rafe as a bully and then fem/rafe sleep together.

i know you probably wanted something a little more in depth but this was all i could do blurb wise😭 Rafe isn't really a bully but more of an asshole here but i still like how it came out tho

implied dub-con, swearing

The party was in full swing at this point. No one could hear one another over the bass of the music but they continued to talk like they could regardless, the endless chatter adding to the deafening noise inside of the Figure Eight mansion.

You'd never been to a Kook Party before now. Living on the Cut for most of your life meant keggers, kickbacks, and beach bashes. Not house parties and nightclubs. Kook life was new to you but you couldn't find it in yourself to complain, really.

You'd found a good group of friends, the same ones that had drug you out of your house in the first place. Right now, you were off your rocker, mindlessly playing beer pong with one of your friends that you'd been glued to all night.

You'd just beat her in your third round, hands drunkenly thrown up in the air, completely forgetting about the half-full cup that you had in your hand. "Boom, baby! Three in a motherfucking row-"

"Yo, what the fuck?!"

Your head whipped around to find a fuming Rafe Cameron standing behind you, beer dripping down the side of his face and length of his neck, dribbling into his half-buttoned polo shirt. Party-goers started to 'ooh' around the both of you.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry-"

"Are you fucking stupid?" Your face fell at his words, morphing from one of genuine concern to a nasty, offended snarl. "Shouldn't your ass be bussing tables down at The Wreck or some shit?" He spat, using a napkin handed to him by one of his yes-men to wipe his face.

A few people laughed, the mild embarrassment making your cheeks and ears grow hot. "It was an accident." You scoffed, eyes fleeting around you nervously before tilting your chin up. "You don't have to be a dick about it..."

"Yeah, you've seen plenty of those haven't you?" He chuckled meanly, looking around at his friends with a smirk before turning back to you. "Maybe I was wrong. The waitress vibe doesn't suit you but I could see you on your knees for a couple bucks. Girls gotta eat somehow, right?" He joked, the guys crowded behind him breaking out into laughter. He leaned down, face just inches from yours as he spoke to you lowly. "Why don't you go back to the slums where you fucking belong?"

You bit the inside of your lip, looking down at your feet for just a moment before something inside prompted you to reel your arm back, splashing what remained inside the plastic red cup into his face. The people standing around watching and egging you on with cheers and sounds of amusement.

You wasted no time in throwing the cup to the ground, looking the boy up and down, and stomping off into another part of the house, less crowded and hot. "Hey!" You heard a voice boom behind you, peering over your shoulder as you walked away to see Rafe hot on your tail, ducking through the cliques of people, basically shoving them to the side.

"Fuck off!" You shouted back, picking up speed and heading for the stairs inside of the house. Reaching them, you practically bolted upstairs, as fast as you could in the mini dress you had on.

Rounding the corner, you were about to enter an unoccupied bathroom before a rough hand grasped your shoulder and turned you around, pinning you against the wall.

"You throw a drink in my face and think I'd just let you walk away?" The Cameron boy spat in your face, staring down at you like an angry bull.

"I told you, it was just an accident. You were the one who had to go and call me broke slut in front of every body as if you're some kind of upstanding citizen yourself."

"Do you know who the fuck I am?"

"There isn't a single person on this island who doesn't." You told the boy. "But I'm not everyone else. I couldn't give two shits about who you are, Rafe." You spat.

He clearly wasn't fond of your answer, using his grip on your shoulder to roughly shove you into the nearest room, shoving the door shut with the bottom of his shoe and guiding you over to the bed until he was close enough to throw you on top of it.

Your body bounced as you hit the mattress, eyes finding Rafe standing to the side fiddling with his belt buckle. You couldn't help but chuckle in your semi-drunken state. "You're seriously going to try to fuck me after the shit you said to me?"

"Try?" Was all he laughed out in response, shoving his pants down his legs and throwing off his polo shirt, the action leaving his hair messier than before.

"And what makes you think I want to fuck you?" You spat, sitting up straighter on the bed, leaning on your elbows for support. He simply eyed you down and licked his lips.

"There isn't a single person on this island who doesn't."

©loveharlow.

heads up: i added emoji anons to my blog, so feel free to send an ask to take one if you frequently send in asks!

#harlowhasmail💌#req. ♥︎#rafe cameron x reader #obx rafe #rafe angst #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe

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spiritseeeker · 3 months

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This singular frame was all it took to undo my very extreme hatred of Adam, Vivienne Medrano how dare you make me feel sympathy for this man-

Like, Adam before this scene? A blatant misogynist and a hypocrite who unabashedly revels in sinners' suffering. A guy who has no regard for anyone else, and who pisses pretty much every viewer off with patronizing jabs like "sorry sweetie" and "try to chillax, babe." Ugh, disgusting.

As the first man, it seems like he got an easy pass into Heaven. Maybe the angels were just saving face, given that their core pair of humans both took the fruit of knowledge of good and evil willingly, ordaining Adam on the technicality that "Eve did it first." But I think we can all agree that it was not on the merit of Adam's virtue.

And then Charlie draws blood during their fight in Episode 8, and, for the first time, Adam genuinely realizes he can be hurt. Like, for the first time in the duration of the show, in his entire fucking existence, someone shows him that he is not, in fact, an all-powerful symbol of power and superiority. He's just a guy with privilege who is just as vulnerable, just as flawed, just as human as the rest of them.

But once the mask is shattered, revealing the rather unexceptional man underneath, does Adam back down? Of course not—he doubles down. There's nothing worse than a narcissist who is virtually incapable of seeing the error of their ways, even when they're clearly backed into a corner. Bruised and bloody, he bellows that he's THE man; everybody should worship him.

For me, that pretty much hit the nail in the coffin. There was no redeeming a character like Adam (ironic, since he's one of the few characters in the show not in need of redemption).

So isn't it fitting, then, that his death didn't happen in some grand display requiring all of Lucifer or Charlie's might? Isn't it fitting that Adam falls to Niffty—not Lucifer, not an overlord, but a common sinner, who sees him as nothing more than a foot soldier that needs to be eliminated, a pest as easily squashed as a roach? For someone as self-aggrandizing as Adam, this has to be one of the most humiliating ways to die. The perfect end for an insufferable antagonist.

But nooo, Vivziepop didn't end it there.

Because INSTEAD, we hear Lute's heart-wrenching screams as she realizes that Adam has just been defeated; we see the look on her tear-streaked face when it registers just how badly he's been injured. The fear in her eyes at the prospect of living in a world without the angel she idolizes, the man she serves.

She's not concerned that she's just lost her arm, or that Vaggie is standing right there. In that moment, the only person in Hell is Adam, and all she wants is for him to stay with her.

Adam could have easily dismissed her feelings entirely. He could have spent his last breath hurling one last insult at Lucifer, getting the satisfaction of having the last word before his death. He could have thrown himself a pity party and cursed his fate.

Instead, this greedy, selfish, murderous fiend has the audacity to see Lute in his field of vision and flash her one last, tender smile.

We don't know for sure what Adam was thinking in this shot, but personally, I think it was something along the lines of I lost. Proud of you, Lute. I'll miss you. Goodbye.

Whatever his final thoughts are, we can surmise from his expression alone that he's accepted his fate, and that he's grateful his last seconds alive are locking eyes with someone who's important to him. Someone he cares about.

And THAT—that was enough to crack through that thick shell of hatred I'd developed for Adam and shatter it like the mask he wore for seven and a half episodes of the show. THAT 8-second moment was enough to make me reconsider my stance on Adam as an irredeemable villain.

(CURSE YOU, VIVIENNE!!!)

Does this scene cancel out all the heinous things Adam does throughout Season 1? All the lives he destroys, all the pain he causes to thousands upon thousands of souls? Absolutely not. But it does change my perception of Adam from "obnoxious egomaniac with no self-awareness" to "obnoxious egomaniac with no self-awareness that is a product of the flawed system he perpetuates."

And, I gotta wonder, what would Adam have been like if Heaven had been different?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin spoilers #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel niffty #hazbin hotel theory #spirit musings #I had to do a character study of adam #that scene lives rent free in my mind #and now i'm kind of obsessed with adam despite how much he irked me #how dare you vivienne

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kelppsstuff · 4 months

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Lute and Adam simultaneously having a love at first sight with angel reader

Both of em just going around heaven, doing their work or whatever until someone passed them

It's like time stopped as both of them, at the same time, turned their heads to the stranger who looked so damn jaw dropping and simply minding their own business

These two have my heart in their palms you don't understand

Bewitched

Masterlist

Warnings: poly, fucking short work

Adam x Lute x reader

Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @leathesimp @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @carylinflors @strangerthings36 @adamsfavoritesinner

—

Once a year there is a party, hosted by Adam. It’s usually for the extermination, covered up as a yearly activity.

It was the most booming event of the year. Everyone in heaven was invited to his luxurious house. It was there where Adam and Lute saw you.

You entered the giant house and immediately went to the bar with your friends. It was your first year in heaven. You questions on why there was a party that was filled with alcohol and poker — and other concerning contents — were dismissed.

—

Adam and Lute looked away from each other to the loud laughed that echoed across the room. The two in sync slowly turn the heads to the woman taking a shot at the bar.

The two felt their breath hitch and their hearts stop. You were enchanting.

What stood out to Lute was your laugh that felt contagious.

While what stood out to Adam what your smile. It shined like the golden rays of the sun.

You looked up and saw the two angels staring at you. Adam titled his glass to you, taking a sip while Lute winked. This would be interesting.

—

You took a seat at the poker table, the dealer dealing you in. Adam took this chance to also take a seat at the table, across from you.

Adam was pleased to find out you knew how to play pretty well. It wasn’t long till you were taking everyone’s money.

Adams eye twitched as he saw Lute lean down and whisper in your ear. You blush was enough for him to know he had some competition.

—

That night you didn’t go home with Adam. You went home with Lute. The very next day Lute was quick to brag about her night and the new number in her phone.

Adam found it annoying, but he also found it hot. Like two hot chicks just… y’know? Adam took another sip of his drink and his question had Lute chocking on hers.

“Who topped?” Adam knew Lute was a top, so he was curious on how the night went.

Lute eyes glanced down, an embarrassing golden flush going to her cheeks, “she did.”

Adam eyes widened. Only Adam had been able to get Lute to be bottom so now he was curious. For all it’s worth, he didn’t want his place for most dominant to be wreaked.

—

You found yourselves genuinely liking Lute. You two would go on dates, and laugh, kiss, have sex. All that jazz. There was only one thing putting you off. Her boss.

You’d caught them making out once. Lute only excuse was we haven’t been made official — after that you were. Normally you’d have enough self respect to not be with someone after that, but seeing the act, it hadn’t filled you with rage. More so lust.

After that every time you saw Adam — more often than you would think — he would flirt. Eventually it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

“I’m loyal to Lute, Adam.” You said voice stern.

Adam only response was a scoff paired with, “come on babe, you really think she’s loyal? She wants it all. Just last week she wanted me and got me. Lutes a selfish woman, I say, why not see why.”

Flashes of Adam and Lute having sex cross your mind, but you liked what you saw. It didn’t hurt, it actually felt… nice?

After that you would sleep with Adam. Lute knew, you also knew about her “meetings” with Adam. None of you commented on it. Both happy with arrangement. Except for one. Adam

—

The three of you were hanging out. You and Lite were holding hands and Adam was unusually quite. He’d been starting at your hands, tuning out your voices with one thought. I want to hold their hands.

It irked him that he couldn’t call either of yours outings a date. That he wouldn’t wake up with the two of you. That he could kiss you two in public.

“I’m being used.” Adam spoke. Now he didn’t feel used, but he decided to take the dramatic route. “You two use me for sex, and comfort, and kisses, and hugs, and—“

“Is there a point?” You and Lute said together, both your arms crossed, brow raised.

Fuck Adam thought that was hot. “You two get to hold hands and kiss and be all lovely in public, but I can’t be, and I’m being kept a secret!” Like a slut, and honestly Adam was more than happy being your two slut.

You and Lute rolled your eyes and pulled him by his coat. Kissing the cheeks of his mask. “Better?” Lutes voice asked him.

“How would you like us to apologize?” You pulled his belt buckle, pushing him more into the two of you.

Most wouldn’t think of you to be a freak, but you were quite the wildcard.

—

After that you three were always together. You three never went anywhere without the other two — unless forced — It felt nice, for all three of you.

Most in heaven frown upon your relationship, but you guys couldn’t give a damn. When receiving glares — usually from older woman — Adam would flip them off, kissing whichever was on the right and grabbing the tit of whichever was on the left. Leaving you and Lute too roll your eyes lovingly.

—

Fuck this was short. I’m so so sorry if it wasn’t what you were thinking! I was trying to force myself to write the second half. I do have others, I’ve been working on like 7 works at the same time lmfao. Anyways thank you darling for the request and I’ll probably will rewrite this when I have the creativity for it. :)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #masterlist #x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam is actually hilarious #adam x reader #adam x lute #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #lute x reader #lute

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rwrbmovie · 9 months

Text

BTS of #RWRBMovie: Alex's bisexuality

TZP via Glamour:

TZP: He's had sexual experiences with guys in the past, but he doesn't lead with it. I think it's not even top of mind. He's kissing girls at a New Year's party. And then Henry comes and kind of forces him to grow up and go, ‘Oh, I'm really into this.’ It turns into love, and his identity and family and relationships become even more important. I love that about Alex. Because who knows? If there's an alternative universe, who knows what would have happened if he didn't meet Henry? What if he didn't find a purpose or a higher path for himself other than just being a powerful politician?”

ML via Teen Vogue:

Alex's bisexuality is as important to who he is as Henry's homosexuality is.

This is the story of a young bisexual man discovering that, in addition to being into women, he also — he kind of knows that he's into guys. He admits freely to Nora that he has messed around with guys before, but he's never really had the need to identify until he meets Henry. One of the things that was important to me is that line that he has in that scene with Nora, that “I can wrap my head around being low level into guys, what I'm really confused about is being into Henry.” That for me was key. I needed the audience to hear that, that we're not dealing with a person who's — Alex isn’t a closet case. Alex isn't confused. Actually, if there's anything Alex is confused about, it’s “why am I hot for my sworn enemy?” That's a more interesting story to me. Alex's bisexuality finally needs to be identified in order to articulate his feelings for Henry.

ML via Variety:

In both the novel and the film, Prince Henry first kisses Alex on New Year’s Eve, but Alex’s reaction changed significantly in López’s adaptation. In the book, the kiss sends Alex into a profound realization of his bisexuality, something he’d never given himself time to consider amid his feverish devotion to his mother’s presidential campaign and his undergraduate studies at Georgetown University. In the film, however, Alex is older — he appears to be in law school — and takes Henry’s kiss in stride, in so far as his attraction to men is concerned. “It was born of my decision to cast actors who are older than the characters were in the book,” says López. “I really wanted there to be some genuine stakes and gravity for these characters. If they were too young, you could just explain this away as puppy love. I wanted this movie to be about that first real romance of your life, the first real love affair, the first real love.” Rather than tell a story about a kid in his early 20s who is plunged into uncertainty about his sexuality, López says he wanted Alex to be someone who had messed around with guys but “has yet to have a reason to really understand himself as bisexual.” The director continues, “I wanted Alex’s angst to not be about his sexuality. I wanted it to be focused on Henry.”

ML via Metro Weekly:

One of the things that I think was so beautiful about the story that Casey wrote, is that Alexis such a refreshing character because Alex is so clearly, very definitively bisexual, and that he might even be, I think, maybe that sociologists would term him as bisexual preferring women. He just happens to find himself really preferring Henry, and it surprises him. There's a scene in the movie with Nora, in which he says, "I can wrap my head around being into guys, what I'm really confused about is being into Henry." And I love that there is such an easy acceptance to Alex and who he's attracted to. And that for me was something so unusual about the story and that was so refreshing, and I wanted to bring that to life.

ML via Pink News:

“One of the thing I thought was really refreshing about the book, is the idea that room can be held for people who desire men and women and the journey that Alex takes,” López said. “I really appreciate that in the novel and we’ve kept it in the movie. There is space made for Alex as a bisexual character.”

TZP via Newsweek:

TZP: And Nick and I were always in deep discussions with [Robbie Taylor Hunt] about this because the intimacy part is so important because Alex's arc as a character as somebody that has only dated women in the past—maybe a couple guy hookups—to not liking Henry to getting kissed by Henry and then having a relationship. It's just like, excuse me, the different degrees of comfort that Alex starts to have, this needs to be represented in in a proper way. And Robbie was with us the whole way. And Matthew was there. It was always a group effort, which I really respected.

#rwrbedit #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #taylor zakhar perez #matthew lopez #alex claremont diaz #tzp #bts #rwrbbts #rwrb bts #*#my stuff #the remaining bts posts are quite long

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cherienymphe · 11 months

Text

When The Party’s Over XXV (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, forced pregnancy, breastfeeding kink, toxic relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

This is it! My longest Rafe series is complete and I had a lot of fun writing this for you all. Enjoy!

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

You were rocking him to sleep, soft hums leaving your lips as you did so. He still seemed so small in your hands, something that was hard to believe. It was a nice day out, and you’d taken advantage of the sun and light breeze, opting to sit outside for a while. It was good for him, for both of you really. Rose’s paranoia about the one-year-old getting sick had more influence than either of you wanted to admit.

You looked down at him in your arms, hair simple and pulled back out of your face. Your lashes fluttered as you gazed down at him, a look on your face like he was your favorite thing in the whole world. It was a sight, like you two were the only ones in the whole house…the whole island to be exact. The dress that Rose had bought you clung to you, some baby weight lingering, the top of it straining across breasts that were much fuller than they used to be.

Rafe had done that.

The glow in your face, the extra softness in your frame, and the mewling baby in your arms was all because of him. He knew that if you’d had it your way, your son wouldn’t be here, at all, anger bubbling up in his chest at the memory of what became of his first child. He tried not to linger on that or think about it at all if he could help it because it would send him into a blind rage all over again. He was trying to be better. He was trying.

He'd told you that, and he meant it.

…but you had a way of getting underneath his skin.

You always had.

From the first moment he came across you on the side of the road like some hapless prey ripe for the picking, the sight of you had stirred something in his chest. You’d looked so unsure, so nervous, and what had started out as a ploy to get a pretty girl into bed had turned into something more the second he realized who you were.

To say that he and Pope had an ugly history would be an understatement. They’d left their mark on each other more than a few times, and staring into the face of the Pogue’s sister, having you completely at his mercy, had him smiling in a way that was less than friendly. He’d wanted you then because it would be fun and would eat at Pope better than any punch could.

…but then…

He’d wanted you because he didn’t want anyone else to have you.

You were sweet—too sweet—and kind—too kind—and where Rafe would normally have the desire to squash someone like you, all he’d wanted was to have you all to himself. You were just too trusting, letting Rafe touch you and talk to you in ways that he could tell you’d written off as nothing. You were too naïve…and too caring.

He hadn’t lied when he found himself at your window all those months ago, knuckles bruised from the force behind his punch. The concern in your eyes was almost enough to make Rafe feel bad, a genuine fear for him in there that he’d never seen in anyone’s eyes before. It had almost been enough to make him turn around, or at the very least, just leave you alone after that night.

However…

The thought of you looking at anyone else like that had made his chest tighten. Rafe didn’t want to imagine you letting anyone else climb through your window. He hadn’t wanted to think about you sitting on your bed like some rapt student, listening to some other asshole go on about whatever dull family problems weighed him down. He didn’t want to think of some other guy being on the receiving end of that soft voice and those expressive eyes and gentle hands.

No one had ever apologized for the relationship between him and his father before. The most Kelce or Topper had offered up was a halfhearted ‘that sucks’, and Rafe got it. They dealt with the same thing from uptight parents who expected too much, so what else could they really say? Sarah had only ever given him smug looks accompanied by some variation of ‘I told you so’, but you?

You’d been genuinely sorry. You’d looked at Rafe like being at odds with Ward was the worst thing you could imagine. You’d been so bothered by the thought of the older man making Rafe so angry to the point where he needed to take it out on a wall, hurting himself. You’d listened to him, comforted him and actually tried to make him feel better.

…and that was the moment that Rafe decided he had to have you.

You were just too good to be true, too good to pass up, and he hadn’t cared how he achieved it, only that he knew he was going to have you…for good. The slight guilt that he’d felt at taking advantage of your drunken state was quickly swallowed down by the feel of you underneath him, so tight and so warm. It was almost like he just didn’t deserve something as sweet as you, but if that were the case, you would’ve never been in his arms to begin with.

“Where are you going?”

The sight of you coming back inside pulled him from his reverie, and Rafe evenly gazed at you as you came up short at the sound of his voice. He hated the apprehension that seemed to live in your eyes now, knowing that he’d done that, but what was the alternative? Let you get comfortable enough to try and leave him again? Let you get bold enough to actually fight him off? Rafe was happy with your fear of him if it meant staying by his side.

“He’s been asleep for a while, now. So, I’m just going to put him down,” you told him, a look in your eyes like you wanted to mockingly ask him if that was okay.

He felt his lips quirk up into a small smirk, and he waved you off.

His eyes followed your every move as you breezed past him, gaze lingering on the way your dress hugged you as you climbed the stairs. There was a time where Rafe didn’t have to corner you and hold you down to have sex with him. There was a time when you initiated it just as much, happy to roll around in his bed and sneak around behind Pope’s back, and even though you were at a place where you could barely stand the sight of him, Rafe knew you’d get back to that once again.

It was only a matter of time.

You’d be raising a kid together for the next eighteen years. Not to mention however many more Rafe planned on having with you. Your only other option was to be completely miserable, and you were a lot of things, but stubborn wasn’t really one of them. It was solely your fear that drove you to keep your relationship with him a secret for so long. Not stubbornness.

He wouldn’t lie.

Rafe did feel a little bad about how it all came out, but in the end, it didn’t matter how everyone found out really. All that mattered was that the whole island knew you were his. This whole island would look at you and that baby in your arms and know that you both belonged to Rafe Cameron. He wouldn’t have to deal with assholes—both rich and low-class alike—hitting on you, and he wouldn’t have to keep arguing with you about it.

That was one aspect of your former relationship that he didn’t miss.

The secrecy was fun at first, so much so that Rafe could ignore how much it bothered him to keep you a secret and be a secret. Rafe was nobody’s secret, but it got old fast, and it was solely because of the horny fuckers that couldn’t put their tongues back in their mouth to hear you turn them down. He hated having to watch them run their eyes over you, tracing every inch if you with no effort to hide what they were thinking.

It was enough to drive him crazy, and he had let it.

What drove him crazier was your inability to see it. You’d treated him like he was silly, and all he’d wanted was to not have to sit back and swallow it down as countless guys approached you with every intention of doing to you what Rafe did every night. That was the only thing that kept him from losing it completely.

Knowing that when the party was over, it was his bed you were climbing into and his cock you were wrapping your lips around.

Not theirs.

Looking back, that was really all that mattered, and maybe he should’ve done a better job of remembering that. Hell, he’d even allowed his mind to run wild with the possibilities of you and Topper. It couldn’t be helped. Despite Topper’s own history with Bunny, Rafe saw the way the other blond looked at you sometimes, and even without Rafe in the picture, you weren’t the type to cavort with your friend’s sloppy seconds. That still didn’t stop Top from imagining what it’d be like though, and his fear as Rafe had confronted him only confirmed what Rafe knew he’d been thinking.

He recalled the way his best friend had seemed to trip over himself, stuttering to deny what they both knew was true. After all, if Rafe was threatening him over some girl, then it was serious and he’d been close to crossing a line he couldn’t uncross. Rafe knew you would never, but you’d been angry with him that night, and when he came back to the party to find you gone, only to track your phone, his mind had jumped to the worst.

You weren’t the vengeful type, that was more Rafe’s style, but he hadn’t been able to stop his imagination from getting the better of him.

He’d fucked up.

Bad.

He knew that that same night when it was just the two of you on the water, and you’d been trembling underneath him. He’d been determined to right his wrong, to apologize and beg for your forgiveness. You had to see how messed up he was. You had to see how stupid he’d been to let his paranoia get to him. He hadn’t meant it, and he thought that he’d made you see that.

He thought you understood how sorry he was for that mistake he’d never be able to undo.

He hadn’t anticipated you leaving him. Not really, anyway. After all, Rafe loved you, and he was shit at showing it properly yeah, but did that really matter? He knew he loved you, and he thought you knew too. If he didn’t, would he really have gone through so much trouble just to keep you? To protect you from assholes that’d had the same intentions he’d had?

Rafe had gone above and beyond to keep you at his side, and as he leaned against the doorway, staring at you as you peered down into your son’s crib, none the wiser to his gaze, he wondered if you really knew just how much you meant to him even if he sucked at showing it.

“If you’re going then I’m going.”

Rafe heard you huff, a tired sound that clued him in to the fact that he was going to get what he wanted either way.

“Rafe…”

He didn’t respond, lightly bouncing his son and smiling back at the cherubic infant as he tried to grab at his face.

“Pope’s home for the weekend, and I just want to spend some time with my family. I want them to play with him and bond with him-.”

“…and you can’t do that with me there?”

“I don’t want you there!”

The rise in your voice gave the infant pause, and Rafe cooed at him before his face had time to scrunch up in preparation of a wail.

“I just want it to be us,” you continued.

“Not happening,” he replied with no room for argument.

There was a brief pause, one thick and filled with tension. He could feel your eyes on him, and Rafe was unbothered, only lazily looking towards you after some time. You were sitting on the bed, as beautiful as ever, face pinched into a frown. He took great care to ignore the tears in your eyes.

“You have to know that I’m not going anywhere by now,” you told him, voice cracking. “I can’t just want a few days away from you?”

“That’s not very healthy,” he sarcastically told you, slowly walking around the room. “We have a family, now, beautiful.”

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled.

The insult merely rolled over Rafe’s back.

“You can go wherever you want, you know that, but you’ve lost it if you think I’m not going with you,” he said, sitting next to you.

You both watched as your son reached for you, and Rafe happily handed him over. He couldn’t swallow down his smile as the infant made himself comfortable in your arms, a happy sound leaving his tiny lips at the sight of you. Rafe loved how much he loved you, and he loved how much you loved him in return. The sight made him happy, and you only gave him a scathing look when he reached out to gently touch your face.

“You tried to run from me before…and you tried to take him with you…”

His voice was soft as he reminded you of this.

“I’ll never put it past you to do that again.”

He watched you lick your lips, tongue darting between them as your eyes flashed, memories of that night going through your mind.

“You didn’t really give me much choice, Rafe,” you whispered. “How could I not want to be away from you?”

Rafe looked away at that, hating how much that affected him. He knew it was his own fault, he recognized that, but how could he right his wrongs when you didn’t give him the chance?

“I…messed up,” he said, catching himself after a glance at his son. “I know that…okay? But I love you and-.”

“You can’t really believe that, Rafe,” you whispered, not looking at him. “You don’t treat someone the way you’ve treated me if you love them.”

“I’m shit at showing it, alright?” he spat. “You don’t…you don’t need to tell me that. I know.”

He looked towards the empty crib, swallowing.

“You don’t…”

He trailed off, letting his words die in the air. How could he explain it to you? How could he make you understand that he was so terrified of losing you that it made him go overboard to make sure he didn’t?

“I just can’t lose you,” he finally murmured. “…and…it just makes me so desperate to do anything to make sure I don’t.”

Your scoff had him looking at you.

“Do you hear how messed up that is, Rafe?”

You blinked at him, looking at him like he was crazy, and of everything that happened, he hated that the most. Unlike everyone else, you’d never look at him like he was crazy or horrible or the problem.

“I should be able to leave if I want to,” you whispered. “I shouldn’t be trapped into a relationship, threatened into staying with you. That’s not right-.”

“I know it’s not right,” he spat, breathing through his nose as he looked between your eyes. “I know that. I know that it’s wrong and doesn’t make sense and every other bad thing in the book. I know that, okay?”

He pushed himself off of the bed, taking a deep breath.

“…but I’d rather that than not have you, at all.”

When he looked at you, he couldn’t place the look in your eyes, but you were staring up at him with parted lips. His son squirmed in your arms, and it was almost like you didn’t notice.

“I’d rather you be dead than not with me.”

You flinched, and he watched the way a lone tear escaped, skipping down your cheek. You shakily exhaled, looking away from him with a shake of your head. As Rafe said it, he realized that it was the truth. He’d set out to have you, he got you, and he wasn’t going to settle for losing you. It didn’t make sense for both of you to exist and not be together. It didn’t make sense for you to be alive and well and not with him.

Let alone with someone else.

He watched you look down at the infant in your arms, his son much quieter now.

“You terrify me, Rafe,” you finally said.

When your eyes met his again, he could see how true that was, and his own gaze found the floor.

“You’re not who I thought you were, and you terrify me,” you went on. “…and even if I was some dumb broad who wanted to just pretend like nothing happened and forgive you for everything you’ve done to me, you terrify me.”

When his eyes met yours again, you were glaring at him.

“You’ve hurt me more than anyone ever has. You hurt me in ways I never thought I would be, and I can’t be around you without wondering when you’re going to hit me again or hold my head under water or-.”

“I told you that I’m trying!”

Your words were getting to him, making his chest tighten and his jaw clench. His son squirmed and made a small noise of protest, and you held him closer. Rafe forced himself to take a deep breath, running his hand through his hair as you just…stared at him.

“I’m trying my best.”

“Well, your best sucks,” you whispered, swallowing. “They’ve put men in jail for less.”

Rafe didn’t really have anything to say to that other than an apology.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You’ve said that before, Rafe. Some things you just can’t fix with an apology.”

You told him that in a tone filled with finality, and even though it wasn’t the first time you’d said it, it was still something he didn’t want to hear. Rafe knew that he’d wear you down eventually, even if it took years, but as long as you’d wake up next to him with a smile on your face, it didn’t matter how long it took.

Your nails pressed into his shoulder, and Rafe hissed. The sting added to the heat that was already coursing through him, and he tightened his free hand around your wrist. The other was digging into your thigh, his mouth buried between your legs, tongue laving at your folds. Rafe was sure that he’d never get enough of you.

Truth be told, Rafe never liked going down on any girl much. He much preferred them going down on him, but his ego was too big to resist a chance at hearing some faceless bimbo moaning his name and clinging to him like her life depended on it. It was always a means to an end.

…but with you…Rafe loved the taste of you.

He loved swiping his tongue over you, sliding it between your folds, thrusting it into you as best as he could. He loved the way your breath would catch, and the way your thighs would press into his head, almost suffocating him. He liked to look up and see your parted lips, eyes wide and on the ceiling or half-closed and lashes fluttering.

Rafe had once thought that he could stay between your legs forever if it was possible.

He pressed his hand into your stomach when you came on his mouth, letting your leg go and reveling in the feel of your thighs tightening around his head. You were twisting your arm, trying to get him to let go, but Rafe was having none of that. You were still fighting to catch your breath when he kissed his way up your body.

Your bundle of joy was sleeping in Ward and Rose’s room tonight, something Rose was happy to agree to when Rafe had brought it up. You seemed to be just on the precipice of sleep when he’d made his way into the bed, his lips on yours before you had an understanding of what was happening.

Despite your verbal protests, and the hands pushing against him, your body greedily clung to his when he pushed himself into you. You were so wet, a simple and smooth intrusion, and Rafe groaned at the feel. He heard your sharp intake of breath and felt your nails press into his skin. His forehead lightly rested against yours as he just held himself there, basking in the feel of you wrapped tightly around his cock.

It was a feel he’d never get tired of.

He pressed his forearm into the pillow beside your head, leaning over you as he pulled his hips back. The action made you gasp again, and your chest arched up into his when he pushed into you to the hilt. His thrusts were slow at first, taking his time, and Rafe pressed his lips to your neck.

Rafe did love you.

At least, he thought he did.

He knew that the thought of never being with you drove him crazy, drove him to terrifying lengths. He knew that you were the first thing he thought about when he woke up and the last thing before he went to bed. When he wasn’t with you, all he wondered was what you were doing. Your smile alone was enough to calm him down from any violent high, and sometimes when he thought about how badly he hurt you, it hurt him.

He would think about the frown on your face when he held you too tight or the fear in your eyes that day on the yacht. He remembered the way you shrunk in on yourself in his truck that night, clutching your cheek and wanting to be as far away from him as possible. It hurt Rafe to think about those things, some of them necessary, some of them not.

Sometimes you just made him so angry that he lost control, and while he never cared in the moment, the aftermath always had him feeling bad. He always wanted to hold you and tell you how sorry he was. Always wanted to kiss it better and beg for your forgiveness. Rafe had never wanted to lose control with you, and he’d failed at that so many times.

Your sharp moan brought him back to the present, and he curved his hips into yours, plunging into you without abandon. Your nails were drawing blood, but he didn’t care. He welcomed the feel, the pain, and his teeth grazed along your shoulder before his lips traveled to meet yours. You jerked your head away, but Rafe followed, covering your lips with his own.

He deeply inhaled, breathing you in and tasting the inside of your mouth. Every thrust had you shuddering beneath him, and Rafe felt like he wasn’t going to last for much longer. Against what you probably wanted, you clung to him, wrapping your arms around him and lifting your hips to meet his every thrust. Under the cover of darkness, you seemed to lose yourself, and it reminded Rafe of the early days in your relationship.

He missed waking up to the feel of your lips wrapped around him or your hand sliding along his bare skin in the middle of the night. No matter how much you might’ve wanted to erase it all, your body would never forget, and it was so evident in the way Rafe played you like an instrument, knowing exactly what to pull and what to stroke to make the sound he loved.

“I miss you,” he whispered into your mouth. “I miss you so much.”

You didn’t respond, pausing for half a second, and Rafe kissed you again.

“God, I miss you.”

Being with you was the only time Rafe felt…heard. Seen. You had never dismissed his problems because of however much money he had. You had never just placated him. You’d always genuinely felt bad for him and had always been open to listening to him and trying to make him feel better—whether that be with your words or your body.

In truth, you’d been way more understanding than he deserved at times.

…and that was how he knew you’d come around one day.

You had to.

There was no other choice.

When you came around him, he held you down, still pushing into you and fucking you through it. Your head was thrown back, and one leg was hooked along his waist, and Rafe didn’t want to look away. You were fighting to right your breathing, and Rafe took the time to kiss along your chest. His son was the greatest thing you’d given him, and despite your silence on the matter, Rafe could tell that you weren’t all that comfortable with the changes in your frame.

Rafe had never been happier, to be honest.

The fullness of your breasts were addicting to look at, even more addicting to feel, and knowing that it was to nurture his pride and joy turned him on so much. His teeth grazed over the rounded flesh, and his palm pressed over one, massaging it and squeezing it, and Rafe didn’t miss the mewl you let out. Nursing him before bed was something you hadn’t done today, and he both felt and heard your sigh of relief when he wrapped his lips around a hardened bud.

The pressure from his hand and mouth eased the pressure in your chest, making a mess on your skin and eventually the sheets. Rafe wondered what it felt like, that relief combined with the feel of him inside of you. When it was Rafe’s turn to come, he did so inside of you, jerking against you and rutting into you until he was spent.

You yourself were completely spent when he pulled away from you, resting on his back beside you. The only sound in the room was that of your combined breathing, and this was the part where you beat yourself up and allowed guilt to force you into more isolation. Rafe refused to let you, reaching over and pulling you closer. You didn’t react, and he’d take that over a fight any day.

“I love you,” he whispered after a while.

When you didn’t respond, Rafe continued.

“I know you don’t believe that, but I do. I-.”

“You’re obsessed with me,” you tearfully mumbled. “That’s not the same.”

Rafe swallowed, frowning.

“You want to possess me. You only care that I’m with you, never mind if I’m happy or not-.”

“You were happy with me before-.”

“…and that was before!”

You pulled away from Rafe, sitting up and wrapping the covers around you.

“That was before I knew what you were really like and before you tried to drown me and before…”

You trailed off, hurrying to your feet and quickly looking for something to put on. Rafe watched you with a frown, huffing to himself.

“Where are you going?”

“To be with my son,” you spat out.

You were moving out of the room before Rafe had time to respond, and he only stared after you.

Rafe knew that getting to where he wanted with you wasn’t going to happen overnight. Hell, it might not even happen in two years, but Rafe was patient when he knew what he wanted. He was patient the morning after you had sex with him, calm as he told you he wanted more from you, knowing the kind of girl you were and the pressure you’d feel to be in a relationship with him.

He’d been patient before that, content to orbit himself around you until he was a regular part of your routine. Patient until he’d made the decision that he wanted you all to himself. He was patient when he’d tampered with your birth control, knowing it was only a matter of time before your worry drove you to seek out a pregnancy test.

He had not anticipated the abortion.

That had shocked him, and it was only then did it click for him just how badly you wanted to cut ties with him.

Rafe had been patient that day he and Ward pulled into your yard, relaxing in your living room as his father talked to your parents and he waited for you to arrive. Rafe was impulsive, this was true, but he was patient when he needed to be. He’d been patient in tracking you down, following your every move until he had you right where he wanted you, alone on the side of the road and at his mercy.

…and Rafe could be patient with this too.

He fingered a familiar box in his hand, taking it from its place in the nightstand. The ring was ostentatious and shiny and perfect—fit for a Cameron woman. Fit for the wife of Rafe Cameron. He was unsurprised to find you in the other guest room, leaning against the headboard with his son in your arms as you nodded off.

It was a sight that warmed Rafe’s heart with pride, and he gently sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake either of you. You looked so peaceful in your sleep, a contrast to how you looked whenever you were looking at him these days. You were beautiful and the kindest person he ever knew, and you’d given him a healthy baby boy.

How on earth was he expected to just let you go?

He grabbed your free hand, your left one, brushing his own fingers over your own. You hated him, now, but you wouldn’t forever. You were afraid of him, now, but you wouldn’t be forever. Rafe was confident that a day would come where he’d hear the sound of your laughter mixed in with his son’s, and when you’d look up at him, it wouldn’t disappear.

He knew you’d probably scream at him in the morning and probably hurl it at him, but that didn’t stop Rafe from slipping the heavy ring onto your finger. It looked like it belonged, and Rafe brushed his finger over the solitaire. It wouldn’t be tomorrow, and it probably wouldn’t even be next year, but a day would come where you wouldn’t take this ring off, and while that day couldn’t come fast enough…

Rafe loved you just enough to wait.

Fin.

#rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction

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writeonwhiskey · 5 months

Text

the skz house: ch 7 [NEW] 18+

a/n: PLEASE READ TO AVOID CONFUSION! i have chosen to push back the Halloween party (previously chapter 7), to chapter 9. i needed a few more interactions to take place to really hold up the events that happen. this is the NEW chapter 7, and next chapter will also be before the Halloween party, then we will be back on track.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to @yonaofyourmom for agreeing to be an editor for me. i cannot thank you enough for your help! and thank you to my Shmeems for proofreading as well!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

[ read chapter six here ]

Chapter Seven: Of Watching and Submitting

As scheduled, you’re with Chan again on Monday, bright and early, riding to campus together. You’ve made more of an effort to remain cordial with him. Which consists of constantly reminding yourself to not take his behavior towards you personally. You agreed to please him without expecting anything but a roof over your head in return. You can’t assume he will treat you a certain way just because Hyunjin does. They’re different men with different needs. Hyunjin has adapted, in nearly every way, to accommodate for what you need emotionally. Not to say that he’s uninterested in anything physical, but it’s not a driving factor in your budding connection. Chan on the other hand…

The other day in the hot tub, for example. You have not been able to rid yourself of the polarizing emotions you felt. Chan created an onslaught of sexual tension as his hand fiddled between your legs while you simultaneously felt safe and comfortable sitting in Hyunjin’s lap as he kissed your neck. It was fitting and symbolic of your separate relationships with them. The incident has been added to the list of things you’re certain have happened, but Chan doesn’t acknowledge.

Aside from needing a place to live for the year, your desire for sexual exploration is another reason you didn’t get up off the couch and walk out on interview day with the other girls. Though a threesome had not been on your bingo card, it now consumes your thoughts every time you’re in the same vicinity with both of them.

“I’ll wait for you after class,” Chan says as he parks the car.

“For two hours?” you ask. “I’ll just ride back with Seungmin.”

He shuts off the car and turns to look at you.

“You don’t want to be around me or something?”

He doesn’t sound genuinely concerned with the question, or your answer for that matter. He knows you want to be around him, even if it’s just for one thing. But that’s how he wants it, right?

You purse your lips.

“I’m currently undecided on that,” you reply with a shrug, hoping it comes off nonchalant.

“Hm.”

The car is quiet as you both stare at each other. You can practically see when a thought has crossed his mind by the look in his eyes. You expect some sort of retort, but instead he reaches for the door handle.

“I’ll see you at home then.”

He opens the door and exits the car before you get a chance to respond. You mumble an expletive to yourself as you get out and consider dodging him at home to prove your point. But you’re with him for the next three days and, well, you have the safety of your ass to think about after all.

When you make it back to the house with Seungmin, everyone is home already. You go upstairs to put your backpack away and as soon as you enter Chan’s room, you see a black gift bag sitting on your bed. It’s a surprise that makes your silly heart flutter. You are suspicious, though. What reason did he have to get you anything? You open the bag and take out the card that’s inside first.

Since you don’t want to be near me.

Charge it.

You set the card aside and take out the rectangular box. The words ‘Magic Wand’ are written across it, followed by ‘For Her Pleasure’. You open the box to reveal a black vibrator and charging cord. You take the vibrator out of the box to inspect it. Of course, if he was going to get you anything it would be a sex toy. Your first thought is that Chan took your words to heart—was he not going to touch you anymore? No…that couldn’t be it. There was still so much of the school year left with you at his disposal.

You plug in the chord and leave it on the nightstand next to your bed to charge.

Downstairs, you help Allie start dinner and Changbin says he’s going to help too, but really just ends up loitering in the kitchen to sample everything as you cook. When it’s time to eat, Chan sits at the head of the table and you take a seat somewhere in the middle. You spend most of the meal looking anywhere but him, not wanting to lock eyes with him and be forced to contemplate what’s awaiting you in his room tonight.

Chan announces that renovations on the den will start next week—it’s being turned into an office space to provide the current and future assignees a dedicated place to do their homework. He also brings up the chapter project again. It’s something the members of SKZ complete each year to showcase and summarize their experiences throughout the year.

You think back to how passive he was during the Halloween party discussion, and right now he appears the opposite. He was appointed chapter president for a reason, you can see that now. There’s something about the way he addresses everyone that lets even Lee Know and Seungmin—the two that stay ready with smart ass responses to everything—know now is not the time or place.

Later, after your shower, you return to Chan’s room. He’s in his bathroom, brushing his teeth in nothing but his boxers. You sit on your bed, facing him with your hands in your lap. What would he do if you just crawled beneath the covers to avoid whatever he has in store for you?

No, you wouldn’t do that. You want to know why he purchased that particular item.

The light to the bathroom shuts off and Chan walks over to his desk, just in front of your bed. The light on his ceiling fan is on, illuminating the room.

“Did you charge it?” He asks.

You look to your nightstand where the vibrator is still plugged in.

“Yes,” you answer. “You want to use it on me?”

A mischievous smile plays on his lips.

“Stand up,” he commands. And you do. “Take off your clothes.”

You lift your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. When you reach for your bottoms, he tells you to stop. You pause, thumbs hooked in the waistband of your pajamas. He picks up the chair from his desk and places it on the side of your bed. He sits, one leg bent, the other extended out in front of him. He cocks his head to the side before speaking.

“Face your bed, then pull them down.”

You turn around and bend over your bed. You pull down your pajama shorts and underwear together, feeling his eyes on you as you expose yourself. You kick them to the side and start to turn around to face him, but he stops you once again.

“Up on your bed,” he says. “Get on all fours.”

You blink at his instructions, but continue to do as you’re told. His dominance is effortless when he wants it to be. Whether he’s with you, or acting as chapter president for the fraternity. His voice is deep and stern when he speaks, leaving no room for a rebuttal–just acceptance.

He stands from the chair and unplugs the vibrator from the charger.

“I wanna watch you use it on yourself.”

“Chan,” you say, getting into position. “Where do you come up with these things?”

You couldn’t help but ask. From the moment you gave that sarcastic ass answer in the car this morning, he must have started thinking of what he would do to you tonight. He went so far as to buy a vibrator and with you on your bed like this, the chair he brought over…had he been thinking of this all day? Having you on all fours in front of him? You like the thought of that, don’t you?

He shrugs, “My imagination is limitless when it comes to things I want to do with you, y/n.”

“Why me?”

“You’re a naturally submissive person.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He holds the vibrator out to you. You shake your head, but he nods his. He wags it in front of you until you take it from him.

“See?”

While submissive is not the adjective you would have chosen to describe yourself, you can see why he could come to that conclusion. You’re gentle, compassionate and value harmony and cooperation above all else. You want all things in your life to flow smoothly, even if that means bending (literally) to someone else’s will. Chan must have spotted that attribute in you a mile away and chosen to exploit it for his pleasure.

“I don’t even know how to work this.”

He reaches forward and covers your hand with his on the vibrator, guiding your fingers to the power button. You press it and the sound of it buzzing to life fills the room. He guides your hand down between your legs before letting go, wanting you to do the rest.

You had hardly ever masturbated, let alone done it in front of someone else. You know there’s no use in protesting or saying you’re nervous or shy—he’ll have you do it regardless. He sits back down on the chair, ready for his show.

You grip the handle tightly and press it against you, jerking at the initial contact. You slide it up and down your slit, trying to focus on the feeling rather than the fact that Chan is staring at you so close and so intently.

“Find your clit,” he instructs.

You move it back up until it’s settled right against your clit, but instantly pull it away due to the intensity. You take a deep breath and try to clear your thoughts. It feels like an awkward attempt at putting on a sexy show you didn’t sign up for. You press the vibrator to your clit again and close your eyes.

You think back to the night Chan had you bent over his legs on this very same bed. You think of the way he spanked you, the way he caressed you. You hold yourself steady with one hand as your hips begin to circle against the vibrator. You allow your mind to replay the better parts of that night—sitting on his face, looking down at him, the feeling of power it gave you.

You spread your knees apart further, lowering yourself on the bed. You hear him shift behind you. You peek over your shoulder to see Chan rest his elbows on his knees, leaning forward a little more. A whimper escapes from your mouth as your hips pick up the pace, grinding against the vibrator held between your legs.

“Does that feel good?” He asks.

“Yes,” you reply immediately.

“So you like your present?” You nod and let your head hang between your shoulders. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moan.

You want to turn around, to watch him as he watches you. You stay as he instructed, though, arching your back to poke your ass higher in the air and press the vibrator even harder against your clit.

“Chan…come…come here,” you plead, feeling that even the short distance between you is too great.

He leans forward more, his face getting closer to your pussy. You want his mouth on you, or his cock in you. You won’t be picky. You slide back on the bed, trying to get closer to him, letting him know you want him.

“You’re undecided,” he teases, reaching a hand out to hover above your ass. The heat radiating off of him is enough to make it feel like he’s actually touching you.

“No,” you recant.

“No?”

His hand palms your ass, gripping it. You moan at his touch, moving back even more towards him. His finger slip between the crack of your ass, down to your opening. Your back curls towards him. He slides his fingers up and down your slit smearing your wetness all around.

Just as his fingers reach your center and you naively think he’s going to enter you, he instead reaches for the vibrator between your legs—snatching it from you. The room falls silent when he powers it off, save for your heavy breathing. You feel the vibrator land on the bed next to you.

Your head hangs between your shoulders again…you should have known better. When will you learn?

“I don’t like this, Chan,” you breathe.

“Because you’re resisting,” he says. He smacks your ass. “Turn around, and sit down.”

You turn around so you’re facing him and sit down, legs open, leaning back on the bed.

“Do you trust me?” His gaze is focused on your glistening pussy but he raises them to look you directly in the eyes.

“To an extent…” you answer honestly.

He reaches for both of your pillows and hands them to you. You prop them up behind you and lean back on them. He picks up the vibrator and hands it to you once again. You graciously accept it this time, quickly turning it on and placing it back against your clit. You’re thankful you’re able to see his face.

“I want you,” he says, leaning back in the chair and stroking himself over his boxers. “ready and willing to give yourself to me whenever the fuck I say so.”

You whimper at his words.

“I don’t care where we are, what day it is, or who’s room you're sleeping in for the night.”

He extends his arm forward and pushes his first three fingers inside of you.

“I make you feel good, don’t I?” His tone is soft, but his eyes are hardened.

“Yes,” you answer weakly, unable to deny it.

“I wanna please you, y/n. In so many ways.”

You bite your lip, watching the way his eyes roam over your body–your pussy, your tits, your face–taking all of you in as his fingers slowly move in and out of you. It feels like so much more than just him watching you get yourself off, though. This act of solo play is giving him some kind of pleasure as well. His other hand is still stroking his cock over his boxers. It seems like some kind of exercise in self-restraint for him too.

As you start to move your other hand to your breasts, his eyes dart to your hand and you freeze.

“May I?” You ask.

Your question sets something alight in him. He licks his lips and nods so you proceed, cupping your breast in your hand. You pinch your nipple while moving your hips against his fingers and sliding the vibrator back and forth across your clit.

At the sound of your moan, his hands spring to action. He withdraws his fingers from you to pull down his boxers. He grips his cock and you let out a soft grunt at the sight. You still want to feel it inside of you.

“I wish you could see how good you look right now–you’re fucking dripping,” he says, extending his hand again to rub his fingers in your slick.

You spread your legs apart even further. You want him to have the best view after all.

He groans at your movements. He brings the hand on his cock to his mouth, spitting on it before stroking himself.

Your back arches. Your toes start to curl. Watching him rub his cock as he looks at you, his fingers inside of you, the vibrator…it’s all starting to make you come undone. But you haven’t forgotten your lessons.

“Chan…I want to come,” you announce.

He’s quiet. Contemplative. He withdraws his fingers from you once again and sits back in the chair.

“Turn it off,” he tells you.

You hesitate, breathing heavily as you weigh the outcome of potential disobedience in the fraction of a second. You’re right on the edge–it would be so easy. It would feel so good.

You let out a saddened sigh, pressing the power button on the vibrator.

“You’ll always listen to me, that’s why I chose you…that’s why you’re mine.” He says in the deafening silence of the room. “But will you let me be fully in control?”

His hand continues to slowly stroke his cock as he speaks to you.

“You already are…clearly,” you say, feeling jaded as the feeling of an orgasm dissipates.

He holds his hand out to you. You scoot to the edge of the bed and stand, placing your hand in his. He brings you to him, pressing his knees together so you’re forced to stand, straddled above them.

“But it’s better if you want it, too.”

He grabs you by the back of your thighs, making you move forward until your tits are right in front of his face. He looks up at you from in between them. The sight is exhilarating.

He holds his cock steady while the other hand still gripping your thigh guides you down. You step your legs further apart to accommodate. He positions himself at your opening and allows you to slowly lower yourself until he’s fully inside of you. You let out a low breath. His hands rest on your hips as you move slowly up and down on his dick.

“It doesn’t have to be this way. I can be tame. We can just fuck,” he says.

You can’t think straight. Not with him inside you.

As if sensing this, his fingers dig into your hips to still you. You clasp your hands behind his neck.

Do you want this? Most facets of your life thrive on routine and you being the one in control, always knowing what to expect. If you say no…what becomes of your year at SKZ House with Chan? Will you lose out on getting to know him? Right now, your sexual connection is all that you have. Is it more meaningful to explore this side of him than nothing at all?

Your hips start to rock against him as you nod your head, rubbing at the hairs on the nape of his neck.

He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, groaning at your acceptance.

“Say it.”

Say what? His nails dig into your skin, pulling you forward and pushing you back. He grunts each time he’s fully inside of you. He maneuvers your weight on him with ease, muscles flexed, face in place of bliss.

“Say it,” he growls, eyes snapping open to stare daggers at you when you’ve remained silent for too long.

“I want…” you begin, leaning back to allow a better angle as you grind your pussy onto his cock. “I want to submit to you.”

Your words garner an immediate reaction. He sucks in a breath, sitting up and forcing you to do the same. As soon as you’re upright, his mouth is on your tits. Kissing, bitting, swirling his tongue around each nipple in turn.

“Only me, yeah?” He asks, biting down on your nipple.

“Yes,” you pant.

You plant your feet firmly on the floor to allow yourself more control in your movements, bouncing on him as the feeling of an orgasm relentlessly sweeps through you.

“Come for me,” he says, squeezing your tits in his hands as you toss your head back.

You alternate between bouncing and grinding against him until your orgasm rolls through you. You’re loud, but you don’t care and neither does he. Your legs start to shake, but Chan takes over lifting you up and down, a sloshing sound filling the air as he continues thrusting into your wet pussy.

You need a respite. You place your hands on his chest and stand up, legs feeling like a newborn fawn trying to walk for the first time. You slip down to your knees in front of him before he has a chance to protest.

“May I?” You can still feel your pussy throbbing, thighs wet from your come.

He nods his approval and stands up.

The second you take him in your mouth, his hands are in your hair, guiding you back and forth as he grunts and groans. You use both hands in conjunction with your mouth. The taste of yourself on him encourages you to move faster, to be sloppier. And he fucking loves it. He grips onto your hair as he thrusts his hips forward. You remove your hands and let him fuck your face. You brace yourself, ready for him to fill your mouth again.

He pulls his cock out but continues stroking it vigorously.

“Lean back,” he says.

You lean back, resting your head against the edge of the bed just as he aims his dick directly at your chest and comes.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

The first spurt lands near your neck. It startles you, but you don’t flinch. You maintain eye contact with Chan as he marks his newly acquired territory.

“You look so fucking good,” he moans, still stroking, still spilling onto you.

And with the look in his eyes, you feel like it.

When he releases the last drop, he lowers himself to his knees, breathing heavily. He watches for a moment, as his come slowly drips down your torso. He reaches a finger out, wiping up a splatter that’s dripped from your neck to your nipple. He hooks that same finger inside of your mouth and you swirl your tongue around it. He quickly takes his finger out and replaces it with his tongue. The kiss is slow and calm, but heated, as you share in the taste of each other. He bites your bottom lip as he pulls away, exhaling a deep breath.

He stands and pulls his boxers back up. You enjoy him from your vantage point, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his toned abs, the look of pure delight on his face. You caused that. A smile forms on his lips and it’s the biggest reward he could have given you. He adds in a wink and you think you might melt into a puddle of goo.

He jerks his head towards the bathroom.

“Clean up in there,” he says.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and turns to walk towards the door. He stops before opening it, adjusting himself in his boxers, then exits the room. The lack of his presence is immediately felt, but your feeling of abandonment at his departure is significantly less than previous nights.

You slowly stand up, feeling euphoric, dizzy and dirty. You walk to the bathroom, turn on the lights and then start the shower. You return to his mirror as the water warms up, looking at yourself. You’re covered in Chan. The girl in your reflection certainly is you, but given the events that just occurred you can’t understand why there’s a coy smile on your face. Have you no shame?

[ read chapter eight here ]

a/n: 😅 that needed to happen before what's to come. hope you all understand the need for the switch up and its not too jarring. thank you all for continuing to read, like, comment, and reblog. it makes me so dedicated to providing a good, well-rounded story for you!

taglist: @iflmho / @skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #bangchan fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #skz smut #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bangchan smut #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x reader

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saerins · 6 months

Text

⋆୨ chapter four ୧˚ behind a box of reasons why

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter three - for a while, you were all mine <> next: chapter five - if not for this love of mine ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 7.3k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, abuse/gaslighting, some blood, trauma sharing | notes: sorry if there’s any mistakes !! rushed this out and had no time to proof >_< but heh i tried to keep angst minimal so enjoy <3

Tumultuous is a fair word to describe your honeymoon. Between being over the moon when Sae finally started acting like an actual husband to you and being down in the dumps when you realise that he’s still in contact with the ex-girlfriend that he had apparently promised to wait forever for, you’re still a little conflicted.

Still, you’re easy to appease, given how easily you believed him when he promised you he’d stay. You chalk it up to you being efficient—you’re not about to let your overactive imagination ruin your days. You’re just going to trust Sae, even with that little seed of doubt already planted in your mind.

There’s a part of you that believes he wouldn’t bother promising anything he didn’t mean; although you should know he could, given the day of your wedding, both of you lying through your teeths about loving each other. You’d like to believe that the present is different somehow.

It proves hard to do though, given how you’re achingly suspicious every single time a routine changes.

Like this morning, when Sae tells you he’s taken the day off and tells you it’s for no particular reason when you asked him about it. That paranoid voice in your head keeps wondering if he’s just using that time to meet with Mirin.

The chat messages you saw from her that day is an indication that they’re still on friendly terms, if anything. And somehow, it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?”

Your coworker and best friend at work, Sumi, asks as she swivels her chair around to look at you, the concern lining her brows.

“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” you tell her, trying to brush it off as you offer the widest smile you can manage.

Sumi sighs, the scepticism clear on her face. “You’re always bottling things up to yourself,” she chides, with a hint of motherly affection your own lacks. “If you need to rant just remember I’ll listen to you anytime, okay?”

Days like this, you’re thankful for nice people like her who treat you normally despite knowing you’re the owner’s daughter. Even working in a subsidiary they own, it’s hard to escape the greedy ones who try to get close for perks.

“Thanks, Sumi,” you tell her, a genuine smile on your face this time. “Maybe I’ll take you up on it one day.”

You’re usually grounded, and you don’t usually allow stray thoughts to influence your mood or decisions. But somehow, it’s difficult when it comes to Sae, and you have to wonder whether it’s because this is the first time you think you’re in love with someone.

How would you know what it is, anyway? How should you know if it’s what you’re feeling? You’d thought Reo was someone you loved, but that felt entirely different. It was always comfortable, like a safe space that you’d rather keep stagnant than to try rocking the boat.

You think about it the entire trip home. Back home, where you’re wondering if Sae’s there, or whether he’s out with—god, you don’t even want to think her name.

When you open the door, you don’t see anyone there, and you feel a sinking in your chest. You’d been hoping that he’d be there and you can keep from overthinking, but maybe that’s asking too much. And just when you’re ready to give up and pour yourself a bath and hope to fall asleep while having one, you hear someone clearing their throat as you retreat down the corridor to your room.

Spinning around, you see your husband there, hair a mess and face stoic as usual, looking like how you first left him in the morning. You blink once, twice, wondering if you’re dreaming. Sae doesn’t usually like to stay cooped up in his room, which was why you’d thought he wasn’t home in the first place, but it looks like you thought wrong. (Yay!)

Sae’s about to speak when you cut him off.

“Oh! Right, dinner—let me put my stuff down and I’ll cook something up!” You’re already bounding down towards your room as Sae tries to call out your name, unfortunately falling on deaf ears.

But he doesn’t have to wait much to get a reaction out of you, your mind twirling a thousand possibilities in your head as to why the fuck your stuff are gone from your room.

Sae thinks it’s absolutely comical how the first things he hears out of your mouth are: “Sae, are you kicking me out? Where’d you send my stuff?”

Because in every single universe, that would be your first thought.

He doesn’t say a thing, only offering you a roll of his eyes and a sigh as he gestures with his hands for you to walk the other way.

So you do—slowly. You walk towards him, furrowed brows and eyes searching his expression for answers which, unfortunately, do not give anything away because he’s annoying like that.

Fifteen agonising seconds (for Sae) later, you open his bedroom door to find your “missing” items.

The books you’re reading are on one side of the nightstand, your clothes that you’d haphazardly collected on a pile on your chair are in a similar arrangement on the other side of the room where the study desk stands, and even your beloved Santa doll is situated on one side of the king-sized bed, sitting atop the pillow.

Turning around to face Sae again, you suddenly feel the guilt wash over you. While you were thinking that he’d go out and meet his old flame, he probably spent the whole time carefully moving everything over.

To his bedroom.

It takes you a while to really connect the dots.

Sae, on the other hand, is too impatient to wait for you to speak, your mouth slightly open and looking like a total idiot. For once, the expression you see on his face isn’t completely stoic. There’s a lilt in his eyes, and a hint of a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Okay, you figure out where the fuck your room is, and I’ll sit here and wait for you,” he tells you, the playful sarcasm dripping from his lips, his inviting subtle chuckle sounding like the signal of forever.

He sits down on the couch, idly flipping through the channels while you enter the bedroom further and take your time looking around. And by that, you mean to make sure you’re not dreaming.

You slap your face a couple times, you open the cupboard to ascertain your clothes are there, you peek into the bathroom to find that Sae is unexpectedly kind of corny because you find matching his and hers sets of toiletries.

A few minutes later, you find yourself at the doorway, Sae looking at you expectantly, brows raised. “Yes, wife?”

Now he thinks you’re kind of pathetic because he can see your face light up from just a little call of your title. But Sae thinks he might like that look on you. Maybe a little too much than he’s comfortable with.

Your excited grin dissolves into a sheepish one. “That sounds kinda corny.”

Sae shrugs, getting up off the couch, “guess that’s the last time I’ll call you that then—” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence because you slap your hand across his mouth, and Sae can almost laugh at how different you are from the first time he saw you. Still as pretty, just a little less reserved, a little more happy.

“I take that back,” you tell him, giggling and skipping away to the kitchen, not giving him any time for a rebuttal. “What do you feel like tonight? Fish?”

He follows you, looking over your shoulder as you get the food ready. “Anything, as long as you’re cooking,” Sae says, as if it’s normal that he says shit like that and it takes everything in you not to make too big a deal out of anything he says. “Oh, I’m going out drinking with the guys later by the way, so you can get to bed first.”

Yeah, as if you can get to bed when you’re that happy and excited. Later that night you just end up tossing and turning in bed, grinning yourself silly. And who can blame you? It’s the first proper time that Sae is solidifying that he’s had a change of heart. Even if it’s in spite of all your uncertainties. To which Reo had told you to try talking to him and asking him about it because he’s your husband and you really shouldn’t have to be afraid of talking about the difficult stuff when you have to be with him forever.

Reo’s right, you know that. But you’ll hold off on it. Only because you don’t want to possibly ruin this right after it barely started. It’s foolish, but you really don’t want to go back to square one.

Even if it’s the right thing to do.

That night, Sae gets home only after three, to which he finds you peacefully sleeping on your side of the bed, phone still with its screen lit up. You must’ve been scrolling through it before you passed out.

If he was sober, maybe he would’ve allowed himself to think that this gesture of his was just a whim, that it was a moment of weakness. That you don’t really mean all that much to him. After all, how could you, when he just met you not long ago?

But he finds himself treading carefully, and he finds himself moving quietly, all in the name of not disturbing your sleep. And maybe he can’t convince himself you don’t mean that much to him anymore.

While he gently settles himself on the other side of the bed, your phone buzzes and Sae looks over, your text chat with Reo left open on your screen. The slept already? weak. message he just sent you would’ve been left at that by Sae, except he sees one message at the top, a night, stupid. call me if you need anything.

And so maybe he feels more for you than he thinks. Because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that message especially because Reo’s your best friend but Sae’s stupid in relationships and he scrolls a little bit upwards and sees the previous message from Reo.

maybe i should marry you instead, sae who 😇

It’s irrational how much it can bother him. Even if it’s dated over a month ago.

When you wake up the next morning, you find yourself pressed up against Sae, his head atop of yours, his arms wrapped around your waist. His breathing’s slow and steady and he’s definitely not up for work, it looks like. And neither are you, because this moment feels precious and you’re not sure what spurred that on, to hug you to sleep out of nowhere, maybe it’s the alcohol, but whatever it is, you’re thankful for it.

At times like this, you’re grateful for the fact that your parents own the company. They’ll be fine if their daughter ditches a day of work. Especially since this was what they wanted from the start—for the marriage to work.

ok, i’ll pick you up later. see you, stupid.

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Frantically, you try to suppress your grin and lock your phone screen, but it doesn’t escape her—your reason for being happy.

“Meeting your husband for dinner tonight?” Sumi asks, looking like she’s been bored out of her mind for the past half hour anyway.

Deciding it’s pointless to act coy, you nod. “Managed to convince him to cook with me so we’re just gonna stop by the market later.”

“Wow, look at you guys,” she cajoles, nudging you playfully on the elbow. “You know, the first few weeks of your marriage you looked absolutely miserable, I was beginning to wonder if he was abusing you or something.”

You laugh awkwardly, because you can’t blame her for that. For the first few weeks you’d been spacing out at work, going home looking so downtrodden, and then going back to work looking like a zombie. It’s not that much of a stretch for Sumi to think so.

“If he ever treats you like shit, you tell me, okay?” Sumi tells you, looking as fierce as she can muster. Which is funny because she’s a small petite-sized girl, not any older than you and has such pretty brown doe eyes that it’s almost more adorable than angry. “I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Later on, when Sae waits for you in his car at the lobby, Sumi follows you, curious to see what your husband even looks like because she wasn’t invited to your wedding despite your adamant requests to your parents to include her. Lucky for you, she’s understanding enough.

“Hey, from here your husband looks kinda handsome,” she whispers to you, trying to make out what he really looks like from behind the tinted windows, but it’s hard to see especially when Sae has his shades on. Still, Sumi tries to wear her cynical face, “but a husband who doesn’t even open the door for his wife? What a—”

As if sensing her cynicism, Sae hops out of his car at that moment, black Burberry wool coat shielding him from the cold. He looks straight out of a magazine that you can’t even blame Sumi for gaping as he walks over.

“Hey, ready to go?” He asks you, ignoring Sumi at the side who’s completely gone mute.

“Yeah let’s go,” you tell him, internally laughing at how meek Sumi turns, reminding yourself to make fun of her tomorrow for it until your mind goes completely blank as Sae plants a kiss on your cheek.

You’ve been able to process when his affections go on in private, or around strangers who barely pay any attention, but when he kisses you in front of your friend, you’re half-embarrassed and half-flattered.

Sae puts his hand on the small of your back, starting to guide you to the passenger seat before he turns back to look at Sumi. “Do you need a ride too?”

Sumi hurriedly waves both her hands, shaking her head. “No no, it’s fine I wouldn’t want to interrupt your date,” she tells him, and you snicker. She’s being a whole lot more polite than you’re used to her being but you suppose it’s not weird for people to be intimidated by Sae.

He nods curtly in acknowledgement before he goes around to the driver’s seat, Sumi mouthing a ‘have fun’ as she winks at you.

That’s exactly what you plan to do—you and Sae being at the grocery store together makes you feel like everyday life with Sae, even if it’s doing something simple like this, it really won’t be so bad. His initial cold shoulder and semi-hostile nature has completely gone, and he’s been initiating a lot of things too that you wouldn’t feel right doubting him too much over whatever you might’ve seen back in Korea. Or maybe it’s just your aversion to confrontation that’s speaking.

Either way, you decide to shove it to the back of your mind for the future you to deal with.

A flick to your forehead brings you back to Sae, his deadpan face unamused as he finishes the self-checkout.

“What’re you daydreaming about?”

With a cheeky grin, you shake your head. “Nothingggg.”

Sae clicks his tongue, brushing his card against the reader and doesn’t even wait for the receipt before he’s pushing the trolley full of dinner out to the car. “Mm, must be about me then.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks, pouting as he raises a brow at you, taunting you to deny him. But you don’t, because you’re honest to a fault and Sae knows that.

He suppresses a grin, looking smug as he loads the food onto the trunk, earning a smack on his arms from you.

The ride back to the apartment is so different from the first that you can barely believe it. Sae’s cursing out everyone he had to deal with at work today and you know he’s only doing it because he’s comfortable with you now and it warms your heart. Compared to the first time where he barely spoke to you or even deigned to look at you, you’re impossibly happy right now, your playlist blasting over the speakers while Sae entertains your questions about his day.

“If you hate it so much, why’d you agree to take over the business then?” You ask, though quietly, because you’re not sure if it’s too sensitive of a question.

Sae goes silent for a second, like he’s considering whether he wants to tell you. “There was something else I wanted to do.”

He’s not really answering you, but he’s trying to give you something, and that’s all you really need.

“What was it?”

By instinct, he drives slower whenever he’s thinking. His hand on the joystick tenses up a little, gripping it slightly tighter before he ultimately releases it and shakes his head. He looks in your direction before looking back to the road ahead.

“I’ll tell you next time, okay?”

If he isn’t ready to share, then you’re not willing to press him either.

“Okay.”

By the time you reach home, the atmosphere between you and Sae has dissolved to normal, and you’re all for a wonderful date night in, happily thinking how you should torture Sae by giving him some insanely difficult tasks just to see how he would handle it—until you realise the world loves giving you bad surprises.

The moment you open the front door, your laughter dissipates, replaced by a perplexed smile as you notice the two guests sitting in the living room.

“Darling, there you are!”

Your mother bursts forward to hug you while your father remains expressionless, standing in the bright living room, black suit a stark contrast against the white walls.

Behind you, Sae sticks close, whispering an are you okay? in your ear, waiting for your nod before he relegates to the kitchen to put down the groceries.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, we had a copy of the key since we were helping to furnish the place for you both and we just missed our baby so much that we wanted to drop by,” your mother announces, and you already want to gag from the amount of bullshit you hear.

This is definitely not normal parenting.

“Would you like some tea?”

From the kitchen, you can already hear Sae brewing something. You want to help him, but your mind goes numb, drawing a blank. It’s never good news whenever you see your parents. Their care has always been a ruse for some other agenda, and you don’t know if you want to know what they’re really here for.

Questions fill your mind. Questions like why must they come at such a time? or why are they here at all? and then comes the feeling of impending doom all because that since you’ve been young, you’d only ever been taught that your parents’ will are absolute and that you’d rather die than have to disobey and suffer the consequences.

But a warm hand on yours begs to differ. Before then, you didn’t even realise you were trembling.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sae’s right there, beside you, already made sure your parents are distracted by the tea. Calloused fingers intertwined with yours, a gentle squeeze—one, two, three times—to get you to calm down.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really.”

“Sure you don’t wanna just tell ‘em to go?”

“I can’t.”

Two simple words and Sae doesn’t ask any more. There’s a certain kind of comfort to know that he’s here with you, that he’s someone like you, that he knows what you’re going through and out of everyone, he would understand. Two older siblings who unfortunately have to obey their parents’ every wish for probably different reasons and yet suffer in the same way anyway.

“Let’s go,” he tells you, gently dragging you by the pinky. “I’ll take your side whatever it is, so don’t worry so much. We’ll get them out of here in no time.”

Sae makes it sound so easy he makes you nearly believe it. But you of all people know your parents are anything but easy.

About five minutes into small talk (and by that you mean that they’re skirting around, asking about all the pictures hung up in the house, asking why you two still looked kind of awkward when your pictures show otherwise, and last but not least a very awkward question your mum threw about asking for a grandson to which Sae had choked on his tea), your father wastes no more time trying to get to the point.

“So, Sae, how’s our daughter treating you?”

Caught off guard by the question, Sae clears his throat, picking his words wisely. “She’s perfect, sir. Why do you ask?”

Internally, you’re grateful he’s being more polite than he usually cares to be. Can he feel you stressing out beside him?

“Nothing, just curious.” Your father throws you a dirty stare before focusing his attention back on Sae. “So nothing’s been off, then? Everything’s all good?”

Sae’s just as confused as you are, but he keeps his cool, nodding. “Everything’s great. We were actually having a date night in before, well, we saw the both of you here.”

Your father doesn’t say anything much after that. Your mother does most of the talking, but you know this is all just part of their plan. That’s what they always do. Your father is the one who’s straight to business, doesn’t waste his time or energy speaking in some roundabout manner. But he’s not a businessman for nothing—you can’t get anywhere without establishing a connection, and that’s always where your mother comes in. She’s always charming to people who aren’t aware of the inner workings in your family. That’s why you’re immune to it. And after hearing so many negative things surrounding your parents, it looks like Sae is as well.

The next ten, twenty minutes are carried by your mother, talking about anything and everything in the world. Sae talks more so you don’t have to.

“It’s fine, you can pick that up, we’ll have some alone time with our daughter,” your father says after noticing that Sae’s phone has been vibrating for a while now. There’s a pattern—his phone vibrates, Sae silences it, it starts vibrating again. Like the caller either has some emergency or they know nothing about personal space.

Sae’s about to reject again when you put your hand over his, squeezing it in the same way he did. “It’s fine, just go.” And come back soon because I don’t want to be left alone with them for too long—you try to telepathically implant that thought in his head, anxiety gripping tightly onto you.

It’s not like he wants to leave you defenceless, either. He of all people know what toxic parents are like and yours are class A vultures. But he’ll get this call out of the way and then switch his phone off and help you get out of whatever this is.

But then he sees the caller ID and he stills for a minute before picking it up. “Mirin?”

Over the phone, he can hear her muffled voice, saying his name and then a string of words he can’t understand.

“Hey slow down, what’s wrong?”

Mirin’s just sniffling now, and maybe it’s because of all the years of friendship and relationship they had that she can still tug on Sae’s heartstring.

“Remember that you said you’d be there for me if I needed you?” She asks, half sobbing in between. Sae doesn’t know what to answer her, so he keeps quiet. “I really really need you right now.”

Sae hesitates a little. “How bad is it? Can it wait because—”

Mirin’s sobbing gets even louder. “No, please, I just… I really need you here, Sae.”

Maybe it’s because he rarely ever heard her cry like this. Or maybe it’s because of how it’s different when there’s someone crying and begging for him that the words just slip out of his mouth before he realises it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me, yeah?”

Out in the dining room, you’re drumming your fingers nervously on your thighs, shrinking under the heat of your father’s gaze.

“So, have you been behaving, Y/N?” It’s your father speaking, and he’s as relentless as ever. The moment Sae is out of earshot, he’s back to his authoritative tone, the one that he used to ring terror on you and your little sister as children. The one he still uses to this day to assert his authority over you. To remind you that you’re being seen as his properties, that you’re just a cog in the machine that runs for him.

Even if you’re not sure what he’s referring to, you nod anyway. You haven’t done anything wrong.

Somehow, you feel like nothing you do can appease him, because the next moment, he’s heaving a deep sigh, getting up and sitting himself in Sae’s seat, flipping his iPad open and scrolling through something on the screen.

What he shows you next makes your heart sink to your ass.

It’s a picture of when you met Reo last, before you went to Korea, when you were confiding in him about Mirin. There’s nothing wrong with meeting him, you know that. In fact, your parents keep a good relationship with his for a reason. They just never pushed you to marry Reo because there are bigger fish; namely, the Itoshis. But what’s wrong with it is the angle from which it was taken; it’s from behind Reo, and the way he’s leaning forward and your eyes happen to be closed, it looks like you’re kissing him.

You can tell your father a thousand times that that’s not what’s going on and that the angle is misleading, but you know that’s not what he’s nitpicking about. It’s about how you carry yourself, you can recall from those lessons he tried to instil in you as a child. It’s about not giving anyone else anything to say anything about.

“We were just having—”

“I don’t care, Y/N,” your father sighs, rubbing his temples, entirely frustrated for god knows what reason. “I don’t care if you want to be a fucking tramp and fool around with someone else when you’re already married. But if you do so, you better make fucking sure no one sees you.”

There must be an art to how he can say words so cruel, filled with toxin and yet his face remains so straight. There must also be an art on how to not give two fucks because your mother’s in her original seat, sipping on her tea as though this is a normal evening as any.

“Dad, I’m not doing anything wrong with—”

“Do you know how hard it was for us to convince the Itoshis that you’d make an excellent wife?” He cuts you off once again, spitting words that could break your bones. “And here you are, flaunting around town with that Mikage boy.”

Is it bad to say you’ve lost all will to fight when you realise your parents don’t care one bit if you’re in the right or wrong? You want to ask how they managed to get such a picture too, but you doubt they’d entertain anything from you right now.

“You know, we thought you were finally useful after all this time,” your father ponders out loud, eyes fixed on the marble tabletop instead of at his own daughter. “But here you go again, making a mess of everything.”

You’re about to speak, but this time it’s your mother that cuts you off.

“Honey, I don’t think you realise the gravity of the situation,” she says, her voice silky smooth and calm even though what she’s saying is quite the opposite. “This marriage marked a wonderful partnership with the Itoshi company, the merger is almost finished and we don’t want you to ruin it all by wasting your time with some second-rate boy.”

That must be the first time you feel the anger bubbling up and threatening to burst where all other times you’d feel scared. To call Reo second-rate is uncalled for, and your fist clenches, ready to argue, when you hear your father chuckling beside you.

“Looks like this girl can’t control her temper either,” he says, as though you aren’t even here. “That Mikage boy aside, looks like our poor girl here can’t even control her finances.”

“What?”

By now you’re more than just a little confused. You’re used to them having a say in everything when you still lived with them. But now that you’ve already moved out, you’re already used to the freedom that came with not having to worry about them criticising your every move. Turns out, that was premature. Even after moving out, they still make sure to keep track of every single thing.

“Tell me why there’s barely any money left in your account,” your father demands, tone lacking any sort of sympathy and choosing to go full on accusatory. “Did you just go insane and spend it all? Did we bring you up to be a spoiled brat, is that it?”

There’s a dagger to your heart with every single syllable. Finally coming to terms with the fact that your parents never loved you nor cared about your wellbeing hits harder than you expected. They didn’t miss their daughter nor did they care about her happiness in the marriage. It was only ever about them them them.

“I didn’t—”

“Honestly, after all this time you still haven’t learned to control yourself. First it’s with Mikage and now it’s with money—”

“I’m afraid that was my doing, actually.” Sae cuts your father off, stepping in for you, reappearing at the kitchen doorway. His teal eyes are cold, staring straight at your father. “I told her to move it to a joint account since we’ll be sharing finances.”

Your father narrows his gaze, shifting his attention to your husband, your hands shaking under the table. Why does it feel like some bad confrontation is going to happen? One thing’s for sure: your father doesn’t like that rebellious tone of his.

“And what makes you think you qualify for that? What if you try to swindle my dearest daughter out of all her money? As her father I’m sure you can understand why I have my concerns.”

For the most part, it looks like Sae is unfazed, and why wouldn’t he be? From what you gather, it doesn’t look like he’s had such an easy childhood either.

“Then as her father, I’m pretty sure you’d want the best for your daughter, right?” Sae asks, more taunting than anything. “She’s chosen to put her trust in me, so I’m handling it. She doesn’t have to worry. Sounds like a good deal, no?”

Sensing the defiance oozing out of Sae, your father goes back to his favourite target: you.

“Is that right? You trust your husband over your father’s words now?”

The threat in his eyes is real. They’re daring you to go against him, like they just know you’re way too scared to. But then you catch the pair of eyes behind him—the teal ones that look at you gentler than they’ve ever been—and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so scary.

A single nod of affirmation from Sae is enough to give you that pump of courage that you need.

“I trust Sae a hundred percent,” is all you say, deciding that’s enough to get your point across.

But maybe you’d been obedient a little too long, and you’d been spared from how harsh your father could be for too many seasons that you didn’t see it coming. You’d forgotten how cruel he can be, both mentally and physically.

With his hand raised, you watch it go up the same angle like it always did back then, and you’re reminded now of just how much force is behind one of his slaps. You remember the way your little sister cried as she hugged her teddy bear, watching you take the blame for her mistakes and bearing the brunt of your father’s anger. Your eyes squeeze shut, the fear taking over.

You wait for it to land, but it doesn’t.

When your eyes open, Sae’s there, his hand around your father’s wrist, a vein appearing on his forehead as he stares him down.

“You may be her father, but I’ll have to tell you this: don’t you dare hit my wife.” Sae’s more menacing than you thought he could be. His knuckles are white, your father feeling the force before yanking his own hand away.

As always, he’ll look at you with all the hatred he can muster, unwilling to back down. “You ungrateful little bitch—” His words still hurt, but you catch sight of the pot of tea he’s thrusting towards you and you squeal, instinctively cowering backwards. Either way, either the scalding hot tea or the porcelain with which it’s made is going to hit you.

But once again, you’re proven right to trust Sae, because he’s in front of you in a heartbeat, shielding your body from any harm, letting the pot hit the floor, breaking into countless little pieces, some tea splattering onto your arm and you can’t even imagine how badly Sae got hit.

Still, he doesn’t wince even a little bit. He’s still staring at your father, but with his back facing you, you can’t really see him.

“Mr L/N, this is the last time I’m going to tell you nicely. If you dare to hurt Y/N again, I’ll personally stop the dealings myself.”

Your father bursts out laughing at Sae’s declaration, as if he doesn’t believe that Sae has that sort of authority. In all honesty, you’re not sure if he has. But you appreciate the thought. You’re still a little shaken up, eyeing all the little sharp pieces of glass all around the floor.

“Honey.” Your mother’s voice is soft but firm, and she’s only glaring at your father. It’s a look that tells him he needs to back off. It’s a warning, only because she’s his only anchor. She doesn’t care about any of this that’s going on, only at the fact that offending Sae might put their relationship with the Itoshis at risk.

Clicking his tongue, your father rolls his eyes and gets up and you can’t even wish for him to accidentally step on a piece of glass because he’s wearing his shoes in the house. Always prepared.

“Suit yourself,” is his last parting words before he strolls out of the apartment, banging the door shut behind him and leaving you two to the mess.

The first thing you do after they leave is get up and make sure Sae’s okay—although you’re quick to realise he’s not, because his pants are soaked with the tea and there are cuts on his feet and ankles, none too deep but they are still the result of your father’s temper and you feel only guilt. He got into this shit because he was trying to defend you.

But you find out that you’re always underestimating Sae when you feel his strong grip around your arm, preventing you from moving even more.

“Hey, careful, you’ll get hurt,” he tells you, harshly but only because he cares.

You manage a weak smile, “says the one who’s already hurt.”

Sae chuckles, ruffling your hair. “It’s fine, just some small cuts. But you really weren’t lying about your parents. Real piece of work.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are sitting on the couch, Sae letting you tend to his wounds. You have the first aid kit out, and the mess in the dining room is long gone, both you and Sae’s date night ruined because of it.

“Sorry about him. He’s… always been like that.”

There’s a sombre mood in the air, but Sae sighs and flicks you on the forehead. “It’s not your fault, don’t apologise.”

You smile at him, a quiet understanding falling into place. You don’t need to explain your father’s temper and Sae doesn’t need your apologies.

“For what it’s worth, thank you.”

Sae nods, though he feels there’s nothing to thank him for. It may have taken him a while, but he’s figuring this out slowly. If anything, he’s sorry it’s taking him so long. It’s just that since the longest time, there was only one person he’d thought of marrying and now… there’s you.

Your hand reaches out to his feet, dabbing alcohol lightly on the cuts, and Sae doesn’t even flinch. You slowly reach the cuts on his ankle until you freeze.

“It won’t hurt so don’t worry,” Sae tells you, as if you’re the one that needs consoling.

You furrow your brows, unsure, though you heed his words and dab on it lightly. There’s a big scar lining his ankles, and now that he’s changed out into his shorts, you see a similar one lining his knees. All on the right side.

“You can ask if you want to.”

Trust it to Sae to figure out what’s going on in your head.

“How did you get it?”

Sae smiles, but it’s filled with more melancholy than mirth. His eyes seem like they’re gazing into thin air. “Your father seems to use his own physicality when he’s unhappy with something,” Sae ponders, eyes focusing back on your face. “Mine tends to leave me alone. Until I leave him with no other choice but to hire other people to do the hurting.”

You listen to him as you tend to all the cuts, trying to be gentler with the red on his skin, burned slightly from the tea.

“I told you I wanted to do something else right?”

You nod.

“I was dead set on a soccer career instead of taking over the business.”

“You mean, like Rin is now?”

Sae nods. “Yep. Exactly like Rin. Taught that little guy everything he knew.” He chuckles a little, and you can see how fond he is of his little brother, even if he doesn’t express it all that much. “But once they found out both of us wanted nothing to do with their business, that’s when things got ugly. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say they have a certain vision that they wanted me to uphold, and this—” he gestures to the scars on his leg—“was a warning of what would happen to Rin if I refused.”

As an older sibling yourself, you guess you can understand why Sae quit. But going so far as to hurt your own children like that—both your father and his seem to be assholes in their own rights.

“Can you still play at all?” You ask, out of genuine curiosity.

Sae sighs, pondering. “Yeah, but I get tackled once and that’s probably it for me,” he says, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh. “Why? Wanna watch me play that bad?”

You grin. “Depends, is my dear husband gonna let me?”

Sae’s brows raise in surprise. “Oh, someone’s getting comfortable,” he points out, and you can’t stop grinning, earning a shake of his head. “Maybe next time, stupid. We still got dinner.”

“Okay since you’re hurt, I’m gonna cook, okay?”

“I got a few cuts, I’m not a cripple.”

“La la la can’t hear you,” you hum, winking at him before skipping over to the kitchen, intent on saving date night by at least cooking a decent dinner.

Back at the couch, Sae suppresses a smile as he looks at you, and he wonders what is it about you that he can’t shake off, that he can’t help but let in. He tilts his head in wonder; maybe it’s your adamant nature. In how you’re always nice no matter how much of an asshole he is.

After seeing what your father is like, he feels the guilt building up from the back of his head. If that’s what you had to endure everyday as a child, he doesn’t find your demeanour now to be all that weird.

Before he can even think of anything else, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Fuck, it’s Mirin. It’s Mirin who he’d promised to go find because whatever it is she’s going through, it sounds like a lot and she’s sobbing her guts out, apparently. And now he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

“Do you want spicy or garlicky?”

It’s something so small, so tiny—just your voice from the kitchen, the clanging of pans as you hurry to cook a dish for him, and the fact that he knows you’d let him go if he told you he has somewhere to be.

Just like that, the answer isn’t so complicated anymore.

He rejects the call and opens up her message thread, typing in a won’t make it tonight, sorry before he switches off his phone.

“Mmm, garlicky,” he says the moment he reaches you, standing behind you as he watches you mix the sauce together.

You bring a spoonful up to your lips, tasting it. “Think it needs some salt, what about you?” You ask, offering him the small concoction in your saucer pan.

But Sae doesn’t take it, instead he leans forward and presses his lips against yours, his tongue savouring every single inch of you he can taste, his hand on your waist, pulling you close.

When he pulls away, you can’t help but stare at him blankly, in a daze because is this really happening? Sae can tell what’s going on in your head, but he throws you a bone by not teasing you about it.

“I think it’s perfect.”

By the next time you see Sumi in the office, she can sense the radiant glow from your face, hurriedly rushing over to your desk.

“Wow, I take it date night went well?”

You nod, not being able to contain your surprise. “Very well.”

Sumi asks for the details, and you divulge, since at this point, Sumi’s the one you trust the most. Even if she’s a little loud most of the time, you’re sure that you can call her a good friend.

“I’m so jealous, your marriage sounds like a dream,” she gushes while the two of you are having lunch.

You hesitate a little, the mention of it makes you think back to the Mirin issue. So far, you haven’t seen anything else that are any red flags, so at least that’s a step in the right direction… right?

“Uh oh, I know that look, tell me!”

So you give her the bare minimum, about how Sae had an ex-girlfriend who he seemingly can’t get over, about her calling him during the honeymoon and your little stalking spree. Sumi immediately does the same, typing in her phone before scrolling through her posts, unimpressed.

“She looks like she’s trouble,” Sumi remarks offhandedly, thumb pressing on the story that she apparently just uploaded five minutes ago and you completely freeze up. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Her story seems completely innocent until you realise you can tell exactly where she is: in your own house, at your own kitchen, taking a picture where Sae’s hand is barely visible, no doubt in a bid to make it seem mysterious.

“She’s in my fucking house.”

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp @saharei @danibxe @lectris00 @comet-kun @ishitam67 @gskill @sweet2wthsblog @astruoise @scaraslover @beaniedoodz @bersuadikotatua @idk-bro-gay @etoiile @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu @yourstrulyharu **bolded: means i can’t tag you guys because of your settings >_<

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livingemkayde · 10 months

Text

ch vi. bruises

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter six of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. ooof okay where to start, smut unprotected p in v, mentions of bruising from sex? fighting like actual real life fist fighting, rough but sweet sex, grinding, lowkey some cockwarming?? kinda unwanted kissing, tommy being annoying and somewhat overbearing, and unwanted touching, but not sexual. caroline. just, caroline. because she deserves her own warning for this one. no use of y/n.

summary: everything comes to a head at tommy's birthday party.

a/n: this is genuinely the longest part/chapter thing i've ever written so enjoy. tommy is really annoying in this one, im still deciding if he's going to have a redemption arc. sorry this took so long. as always, i love you all so much. MY TUMBLR LITERALLY SHIT ITS PANTS WHEN I TRIED TO EDIT THE TAGLIST SO IM SORRY IF YOU GUYS GOT TAGGED LIKE 400 TIMES.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused. “Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.” But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

You can almost remember it like it was yesterday.

A few weeks back, the first time you invited Tommy in for a drink after dinner. Sarah was asleep back at the house, Joel was doing — god knows what. The sun was set, the mosquitoes were probably out, and there was a quiet, even maybe too quiet silence when Tommy pulled up to your house.

He had asked what the rest of your plans were for the night.

You had said nothing much, not knowing it was an invitation — he stayed till 2 a.m. that night.

But it was okay. Because he made you laugh and you enjoyed his company. He was interesting. Tommy told you about how he never wanted to go into contracting in the first place. About his broken bones, his all time biggest regrets, how he was smitten with his old high school flame turned mean cheerleader until graduation.

It was the first time you ever realized he was — well — his own person in the sense. Not just Joel’s younger brother. But Tommy. Tommy Miller.

Maybe in another life Tommy might’ve even been good for you. A perfect pair — a match. He wasn’t mean and brooding and he certainly didn’t have 12 years on you.

And he made you smile. And he was genuinely—genuinely interested in your life. Your post grad prospects, college, books, and even how you played soccer just like Sarah when you were younger.

But when he leaned in that night, closer to you than ever before. You froze. Like genuinely frozen, and you couldn’t even dare to look down to his slowly approaching lips, let alone how his arms caged you in.

“First kiss?” you remember him asking.

You had just stuttered out nonsense, not wanting to breathe too hard and run the risk of pushing your lips flush with his.

“I — um —” you nervously laughed. You couldn’t even think—not in the way you should—not when the first person that comes to mind when Tommy says, kiss is his brother.

He had leaned in closer then—more tentative. Like you were a scared deer in headlights or a frightened kitten and he was inching forward, wanting to move closer.

But you didn’t really do — anything.

And he had pulled back a bit, gave you a teasing look and a ruffle on the head and continued with the conversation.

In all honesty you were scared that he might've been inching forward to kiss you. The small fear settling through a slightly erratic heartbeat and nervous laughs.

You were scared then, but can’t really remember the last time you’ve felt this kind of fear.

Hurt, discomfort, shock, maybe.

And although it was being quickly replaced with anger, you don’t remember this feeling — this kind of fear. Not even the kind you get from watching a scary movie — where you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and then dissipating when the screen goes dark, and the lights turn back on and all you have to worry about is if the scary nun from the big screen will appear in your dreams.

You can remember all the last times you’ve gotten mad, sure. Mainly at the Miller brothers.

But never fear — well, not until right now.

Because whoever that Tommy was is definitely not the same guy staring back at you right now, with a bruised fist, an angry look swirled with hurt marked permanently on his face and one emotion that you can definitely place behind his eyes — jealousy.

Some hours earlier.

You spread colorful tablecloth over the mismatched tables in Joel’s backyard. The string lights are being hung up, Joel stands on a ladder towards your right, the sound of a hammer echoing through the small backyard.

You pick your phone out of your back pocket, checking the time. You also find it in you to check Tommy’s texts again, but no other messages have been sent since last night. You look down at your phone — at the messages — and sit against one of the tables.

Yesterday:

You: can we talk in person?

Tommy Miller: I’ll see you tomorrow at the party?

You hadn’t seen the text until this morning, when Joel and you found it in yourselves to get out of bed, have a shower, and start setting up for the party. So when you saw it, you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

You’re a bit nervous at the prospect. You did not want to talk to him at his party—honestly just trying to text him so that the air would be cleared for the party.

But his words echo in your mind.

“Just think ‘bout it before you say no.”

You let out a cursed sigh.

Tommy had to know. Right?

If he knew the dreaded ‘no’ was already braced on your lips he had to know. That this thing between you and Tommy would never work out. That you’re way better as friends. That it would ruin everything — the dynamics of it all — that you were smitten with his brother and you guys had just slept together for the second time without Tommy’s knowledge and that—

“Alright?”

Joel stands in front of you, dipping his head to see a scowl marked on your face. You quickly — maybe even too quickly — forget about the messages, hell, forget about Tommy.

Because Joel looks handsome. He’s always handsome, you’ve thought since the moment you met him at the bar. There’s something intoxicating about him, his arms, the curve of his neck. His brooding nature does him justice — a uniqueness about him that makes you want to uncover more, learn more, see more.

You remember last night—very vividly through small ebbs and flows of sleep. The moonlight seeped into your skin as you both rolled around in gray sheets.

It makes your cheeks heat a bit at the thought.

You remember everything. Every little detail. You don’t think you’ll ever forget.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket.

“Yeah, sorry. ‘S just…” you trail off, he nods his head in understanding, coming closer to you.

He braces his hands on either side of your body, caging you in. Your faces study each other’s mere inches apart.

“Tablecloth givin’ you trouble?” Joel teases in a soft whisper, looking down at your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Funny,” you say with a grin and run your tongue over your lips.

“You need help, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” Joel’s small smile plays on his lips for a fleeting second. You miss it as soon as it’s gone.

“Duly noted. But I’m not the one who’s been hanging up string lights for the past hour.”

He pats your ass a bit, teasing you and pushing out a playful sigh.

“Perfection takes time.”

Joel’s beginning to dip his head to kiss you, but you find it in you to bite back.

“And yet the left side’s still lower than the right,” you whisper, pulling your head back slightly. He turns quickly to look at the fence, but gives you a harder slap on your ass when he realizes the lights are, in fact, straight.

Joel chuckles, pushing off from the table, you turn back around to continue fixing the cloths, and look back at him over your shoulder.

He’s looking back at you too.

“You’re killin’ me,” he says, and you smile to yourself when you turn back around.

You look around the backyard and check your phone for the millionth time since the party started. You can hear Sarah running around, screaming a bit while jumping into the pool. But your brows furrow when you find that Tommy still hasn’t texted you.

You spot a tuft of red hair swinging through your vision and spin to find Janet Baker squeezing through the crowd.

“Janet!” you say, approaching her quickly. You’re happy to see her—Tommy didn’t invite many people you’re familiar with.

“Hey, Doll. Thanks for the invite!” she says, pulling you into a quick hug, but when she sees the look on your face, her mouth drops into a frown. “Sweetie, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I—Tommy didn’t…I don’t really know anyone here,” you reply while sheepishly looking around the small, bustling backyard. It’s the kind of feeling you try your best to avoid. Like everyone is in on some secret joke that you have no clue about. Or everyone knows each other and you can’t even put faces to names because you don’t know any names—like right now.

“‘S fine—I’m happy to see you made it,” you let out a defeated chuckle.

“‘F course, baby. Charlotte really wanted to see Sarah,” she nods towards the girls in the pool, Charlotte’s red hair looking strikingly similar to the woman standing in front of you. Janet seems to be on her second drink of the afternoon, you saw her tipping back a solo cup out of the corner of your eye earlier.

“What are you drinking?” you ask her, nodding at her cup.

“Someone brought a fancy lookin’ wine I popped open,” she says, giving you a sly smile. “Why don’t we get you a drink? You’ll like this,” she says, you don’t have much time to react, she’s already pulling you towards the drink station.

You both settle into a comfortable silence, looking around the backyard while Janet pours your drink.

“So,” she says, giving you a wink.

“So…” you echo, sending a nervous laugh her way.

“Who’s that girl,” she nods towards Caroline while passing you a cup, you take a big sip, Janet fills it back up to the top without a second glance.

“Caroline,” you say looking at her and Joel. They’re talking to some other people, a small group of them congregating by the barbecue.

“Caroline…” Janet tests out on her tongue, willing you to continue.

“Caroline—Joel’s,” you can’t help but chuckle. “date. I guess.”

“That bother you?” she says, finishing the bottle of wine while the two of you walk back towards the edge of the pool so she can watch Charlotte and Sarah.

“Nope,” you say, and it’s not a lie. Sure, it might be a little weird to see another woman clinging to his arm after yesterday. But you know now. And that’s all that matters.

“Joel can—” you laugh again, “—Joel can do what he likes.”

Janet stops walking suddenly. You tear your gaze away from Joel and look at her with a confused furrowed brow.

“Sweetie…” she says with eyes that look way too knowing for your comfort or peace of mind.

“Janet…?” you say, though her gaze just intensifies.

“You mean to tell me it happened since I last saw you?”

Your eyes widen, a shocked look crosses your face and you quickly try to replace it with a bad mask of confusion.

“W-what? I—”

“Don’t lie to me, doll,” she warns, and she looks like she really means it.

“Janet…” you say in a not as effective and halfhearted warning tone back.

“Don’t you dare,” she wags her finger—a final warning.

What has gotten into you and why can’t you find it in yourself to lie to this woman?

“Don’t te—” she gasps, “Janet, I mean it. Do not tell anyone.”

She shuts her half open mouth and makes the my lips are sealed motion across her face. You laugh while stealing a glance at Joel.

“I told you,” she whispers to you in a hush, joining your eyeline towards Joel.

You stay silent for a moment, just taking everything and everyone in—but at the same time just looking at Joel. when you finally break the silence you’re a bit shocked at your question. You’ve never talked about Joel like this with someone who actually knows him. Everything has always been a secret—like you were supposed to be ashamed or something. You never were.

“How did you know?” you ask, hushed. You’re not sure she’ll even hear you.

“Would love to say it was intuition, sweetie—but—it was him. It was written all over his face.”

You stayed with Janet for the better portion of the hour, all through silent peaks at your phone to see if Tommy had texted you. When it was getting to the point where people were getting curious, you’ve just about had your limit.

You approach Joel quickly, you don’t miss Caroline’s stunned face but you really can’t be bothered with—that—right now.

“Joel?” you ask, pulling at his arm a bit, he excuses himself from the group and follows you towards the backyard's edge.

“Where the hell is your brother?” you whisper.

“He’s not here?” he asks, the same hushed tone also pushing through his voice at your question.

“No! I called him, but he’s not responding,” you pipe back while pulling out your phone. Though the lack of notifications from Tommy—just as before—tells you enough.

You both look at each other for a fleeting second. But the same worried look is probably etched on both your faces — fuck.

“This fuckin’ guy,” Joel mutters under his breath while pulling out his own phone and then putting it up to his ear.

You pace around the small area you and Joel are in, observing the unfamiliar faces.

“Nothin’,” Joel grovels, taking a peak over the fence towards the street to see if Tommy's truck has pulled up. “I’ll try ‘im again — just — you should mingle,” he says, still looking down at his phone.

“‘S fine. I don’t really know anyone here anyways,” you say absentmindedly, looking through your phone for Tommy’s contact and putting your phone up to your ear.

You hear yelling and shouting from the entrance to the backyard. You slowly lift your head, reluctant to tear your eyes away from frantic texts.

You spot him, in all his glory. Tommy Miller. Two hours late to his own birthday party—though he looks like he couldn’t care less, hugging old friends and new ones. He spots your eyes in the crowd and you can’t even be bothered to smile, a frown is almost permanently placed on your face—Late to your own birthday party?

He nods his head toward the house, a silent invitation to talk when he’s done greeting the guests. You nod back and turn to Joel, Tommy turns to everyone else.

“He’s here,” you say, pulling Joel out of his own phone, he does a double take towards the entrance and huffs out a groan.

“Goddamn idiot,” Joel says, running his palm over his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go—” you say, nodding towards the house, towards Tommy.

“Yeah. Alright,” he replies, though he looks a bit concerned and unfocused, looking towards Tommy, then back to you, “You need me, ‘m there.”

“‘M not telling him about us on his birthday and It’s Tommy, Joel.”

Tommy—harmless.

Though Joel’s look sends a sweat to your palms for some reason. You don’t know why he’s worried.

It’s Tommy. It’s fine.

Right?

You hope as much as you make your way through the crowd. You beeline for the house and slip past the sliding doors into the kitchen where cups and bags of chips lay open and equally sprawled.

You can hear the door slide open and shut again behind you as you try and salvage the mess.

“Baby,” Tommy says, rounding the corner and coming close to you, “‘M sorry. The concrete guy was supposed to drop off the shipment tomorrow but he came today and needed a signature—”

“Tommy, it’s okay,” you almost have to will yourself to say. You also have to remember it’s his birthday.

He looks down.

“‘S okay. It’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” you reassure with a small smile.

“Looks great out there,” he says, fiddling with his phone in his hand.

“Thanks.”

You’re suddenly a bit nervous. You hadn’t really thought about everything that had happened when Tommy being late to his own birthday party was blanketing all the drama. But he’s here now, and you have no idea what to say. Maybe it would be better to not say anything at all—not address the fact that he asked you out, or you and Joel. But that guilty gnawing feeling eats you alive the longer you stand in silence.

“Joel helped you?”

“Yeah. I went shopping yesterday and dropped off the stuff here then we set it up this morning,” you say, nodding towards the backyard and then your car parked out front.

“You went shopping on your own?” he almost sounds offended.

“I wanted to go on my own.”

Tommy doesn't look convinced.

“Really, T. ‘S fine,” you brush off, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing your arms. He stares at you from the other side of the kitchen.

“Caroline here?” he asks, a hesitant look on his face as he switches from looking at the ground to your face—almost like he’s looking for a reaction.

“She’s out there somewhere,” you nod, keeping a neutral face masked with a small smile. “You should mingle. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

But he doesn’t move, he just keeps fiddling with the case on his phone again, looking down to the floor—his feet.

“I— you said you wanted to talk in person.”

Shit.

You both look at each other, waiting. A game of cat and mouse.

“It can wait, T. Enjoy your party,” you say, gesturing to the crowd outside.

“Is it about—is it about what happened Friday?”

“Tommy,” you say, almost warningly. This situation is shitty enough as is. You really don’t want to spoil everything—even if there’s nothing left to spoil.

He doesn’t say anything. His thumb fiddling with his phone is the only sound coming from inside the kitchen. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Almost unbearable. You crack way quicker than you’d hope to last.

If he wants it like this, at his own birthday party, then so be it.

“Fine. I just—I wanted to…” you scramble for words but they jumble in your mind.

“I’m—” you fall short again. “About what you said. What you asked me. I don’t think that it’s…something I want. I’m—sorry.”

“You don’t think it’s something you want? Or you know that—”

“Tommy,” you say, giving him an awkward stifled laugh. Like he’s being childish with his response. Because he is. “I don’t—I’m sorry.”

He turns away from you suddenly, towards the window above the sink and just stares at it for a long time. You can see his chest puffing. When he finally turns back around, it’s different. It’s the Tommy you know.

“‘S okay,” He says.

Maybe he’ll get over it quickly—you hope.

“Are you okay? I’m—I mean I hope that this doesn’t change anything since I’m still gonna be around—” you lift your arm up to run a ragged hand across your forehead and through your hair, you don’t even notice that your shirt riding up, “— I just don’t want it to like—”

“What is that?”

Your eyes snap to Tommy’s, confused. You think he might be looking out the window again but his eyes trail to you, but lower. Like he’s looking at your hips—because he is. You’re still confused for a second, before examining your shirt, looking for stains or anything out of the ordinary. But you don’t find anything, your top spotless.

“What? I don’t—”

“No—” he takes a couple quick steps forward, into your space, you try to find his eyes—yours blown out with confusion and shock but his are trained and laser focused to your waistline.

“What’s—” he tries to pull up your shirt, you shove him back out of reflex. “You’re hurt, what happened t’you?”

He almost pins down your hands to see your skin under your shirt, dipping his head to look at your waist and hips and you suddenly know. You know there are hand shaped bruises littered across the skin of your waist, turning it deep purple. Handprints that match Joel’s exactly—almost like they’re burned into you. You saw it this morning. It’s why you didn’t bother to put on a swimsuit and decided to keep a top on instead.

What’s even worse is you know Tommy saw it too.

“Tommy!” you’re yelling now, fighting his grip.

You slip up, unable to get a good hold on his wrist like he now has on yours and he pushes the shirt up to reveal the bruises.

“What the hell is that?”

“Fucking—get off!” he backs away with your second shove, a different kind of look on his face. “Jesus,” you huff out, yanking your shirt back down.

You both stand there. A pregnant silence between you. You can almost hear the gears turning, he stares blankly. Putting it all together. Like maybe you’re not hurt, but you wanted it—wanted it from another man. Somewhere in the back of his mind he might keep wishing someone hurt you so he didn’t have to feel so betrayed. So when he asks, it’s like he doesn’t want to admit that it’s true—the quiet possibility of someone else in the picture.

“Who,” he says slowly, pointing down to your waist, “did that?”

“Tommy—” you say, but footsteps cut you off, you both turn your head to the entrance of the kitchen as Joel rounds the corner. He looks out of breath and his eyes flicker from Tommy and his finger pointing down at your waist then back to you.

“We alright in here?” Joel stands, hesitant, his fingers play with the bottom hem of his shirt in an anxious way. Like he doesn't know what he’s just walked in on—you’re not entirely sure you know the answer to that either. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy so you stay silent, waiting for the man in front of you to respond.

“Yup,” Tommy replies, too angry to be believable.

Joel looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. Not out loud.

No. You try to say with your eyes. We are definitely not alright in here.

“Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.”

But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

He stands beside you, putting a flat sprawled palm on Tommy’s chest and silently tries to push him backward. But Tommy breaks first, pushing Joel’s hand off him, staggering back while looking at you and Joel.

And maybe he gets it then, you think. Because Tommy lets out a deep chuckle—like you’ve got clown makeup on. Like he’s never seen anything more funny. He’s a lot of things but he is not fucking stupid. So he looks past Joel to your eyes. To your face, almost covered—ridden—in guilt and he can see everything.

“Really?” Tommy says, not sparing Joel a glance.

“You put your fuckin’ hands on her?” Tommy says, almost at a whisper which makes it all the more intimidating. You can see Joel’s back puff, his anger rising. But you also know Joel would never hurt his brother. Not on purpose.

But you’re scared. You’re really fucking scared in this moment because Tommy is entirely too worked up and you know whatever excuse Joel is going to say won’t help.

“Easy,” Joel says, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

You’re sweating. The hot summer of July in Austin getting to you. They stare at each other for a long time. Like at the kitchen table, like when you all first met. But this time, Tommy breaks, and his eyes flicker to yours, he takes a tiny step to the side so he can see you better.

“Is this why? Is this why you’re fuckin’—jesus, fuck. ‘S this why he went to get you a tire?” you stand, you can’t really say anything, your stunned figure doesn’t move.

“He hurt you,” Tommy breathes out, his voice almost breaking if he wasn’t so angry. You shake your head.

You both know that the bruises aren’t from hurt. That they’re far from it.

“He didn’t,” you reply.

“No, no, baby. He’s—you’re—” Tommy almost looks like he can’t believe it, shaking his head, switching between you and Joel. The look you give him shuts him up, and makes him back away, until Joel unclenches his fists and relaxes his shoulder a fraction.

“I didn’t really want to tell you like this, I was—”

“Fucking my brother?” he bites back, interrupting you.

That makes you a bit mad. You’re not in love with his attitude, nor his tone. It’s not like he has any right. It’s not like either of them do.

Joel moves to speak but you do it first.

“Don’t give me that,” you say, almost laughing, though the situation is not funny, not in the slightest. “We’re not dating, Tommy. We never were.”

Caroline strides in at that, looking at the scene unfolding in the kitchen. She stops short of the three of you, her mouth slightly agape. You roll your eyes, fucking perfect. Let’s just bring the party in here instead. You’ll give it to the woman. She has impeccable timing.

“Needed some napkins…” she trails off, holding the empty napkin stand in her right hand up so everyone can see. “I—I can come back.”

“Did you know?” Tommy turns to her, gesturing to you and Joel.

“Tommy,” Joel says from in front of you, a warning. Tommy ignores him.

“Did you know?” he asks again, Caroline stares back shocked. But she does consider it, rolls the idea around in her head before speaking.

“Them two?” Tommy nods. “Her?”

Okay. You really don’t love that tone. You silently chastise yourself for thinking she was nice at the bar when your first instinct was that she was a bitch—because she is. You were waiting for her snarky undertones or spoiled takes to show. You knew it was coming, you just didn’t know when.

“No, ‘f couse not.” She’s almost laughing, like it could never be possible. It hits you harder than you’ll ever admit. “She’s — you’re…young,” she says, looking at you.

Tommy gestures to you and Joel like he’s saying, well believe it, because it’s true.

Joel moves faster than you can comprehend. He’s got a tight grip on Tommy’s arm. He probably doesn’t even have to say anything, Tommy knows what’s happening. But Joel warns him anyway—again.

“Quit,” he growls. You’d guess this might be the point where Tommy usually backs down. But this situation is far from usual.

“Or what?” Tommy bites back. When Joel doesn’t respond he continues. “You gonna mark me up? Leave me all black and blue?”

Tommy doesn’t stop there, you try to move past Joel but he stops you, turns his head to you slightly, a hardened look in his eye.

“Oh, I forgot you’d probably like that, huh?”

Joel remains frozen for a couple fleeting seconds before whipping around and pushing Tommy into the back counter. You’re rooted to your place, you don’t even care that Caroline is still in the corner, holding the fucking napkin holder in the air.

“What’d you say?” Joel barks in Tommy’s face.

“Look at her fuckin’ stomach, dude!” Tommy throws the words in his face, pushing him back slightly and making a vague gesture in your direction, it causes your feet to move towards the brothers before you can think.

Joel backs off then, sneaking a tiny glance at you out of the corner of his eye, like he really is thinking about the marks he left on your waist. He had seen them this morning, ran his fingers over them too, and saw how the notches matched the curves of his fingers perfectly. But you kissed him, and told him it was okay. That it was more than okay. Maybe even whispered that you liked it between muffled groans. So when a glint of guilt flashes in his eyes it makes your heart break more than it already has.

“She said no,” Joel says, looking back at Tommy. A tense silence follows—like you’re not sure if Joel is going to continue or Tommy is going to bite back.

“Get back to your party,” Joel growls after a while. You bite your lip.

Tommy looks at Joel with unwavering eyes. His glance turns towards the window where he can see the bustling crowd—can almost hear the laughter. Then he looks down to his hand, outstretches it, undoes his gnarly fist, and when it curls back up again, you finally bite.

“Tommy!” you say, moving closer. But it’s too late. Joel’s figure knocks to the side and his hand instinctively grabs his face, his nose, his eye. Maybe the worst part about it all is that Joel doesn’t even look remotely surprised, or that he wants to fight back—he just stays there, a little hunched over when you yelp in shock and Tommy groans, shaking out a now bruised fist.

“Fuck,” you almost yell, your body doesn’t know what to do between bending down to see Joel’s face and looking at Tommy—at his face—because you don’t recognize him.

Joel almost huffs out a laugh, and to shut him up, to get him to bite his tongue, you speak again.

“Okay. We’re done here,” you say, pushing Joel towards the entrance of the house, towards your car.

And Caroline is there, pushing Tommy towards the couches and for the first time, you’re grateful for her.

The ride back to your house is silent after a short and quick bicker about who can drive. You think Joel might want to sit in the driver's seat so you can’t see the quickly forming bruises on the left side of his face but you make a decent argument, enough to settle him in the passengers—looking out the window.

You send Janet a quick text, asking if she can watch Sarah for a few hours. Brother emergency. Janet replies back and says the girls haven’t gotten out of the pool since you left. It makes you smile a bit, despite it all.

When you park in your driveway, you hop out quickly, Joel following closely behind. He waits there, right behind you, when you pull out your house keys, and waits when you unlock the deadbolt and waits when you push through the door.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, nodding towards the couches and dropping your keys in the bowl.

You disappear into the kitchen and brace your arms on the counter, your head hanging between your shoulders. You let out a deep, ragged breath and try to control your heartbeat.

“Fuck,” you mumble, shaking out your wrists, grabbing two advil from the bottle on your counter, a glass of water, and peas from freezer.

Joel’s sitting on the loveseat, looking down at his hands. You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either. He just takes the water and pills from your hands and swallows it silently. You extend the peas to him, he thinks about it for a while and when you shake them again, huffing, saying—just fucking take them. He finally obliges.

You get a good look at his cheek when he turns to set the water down on the table and you have to stop yourself from gasping.

“Joel,” you murmur, reaching for him, bending down, he stops you, grabs your wrist, then grabs your hand. But he’s gentle. Not like Tommy. Joel’s gentle.

“‘S fine,” he says, and winces when the peas touch his face. “‘M fine.”

You settle in between his legs, looking down at him. He’s got one hand on his face, holding the peas, and the other, wrapped around the back of your thigh. He doesn’t even want to look up at you. It breaks your heart.

“‘M sorry,” you say quietly, his hand on your thigh trails upward. He plays with the hem of your shirt and lifts it enough to take a peek at the purple that lies there.

He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, running a gentle, ghost-like touch across the bruises.

“He — saw it. I don’t…” you look down to your stomach. You can see the shape of his fingertips so clearly. It’s no wonder Tommy reacted how he did. “It was an accident.”

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. He tosses the peas onto the table and pushes the cotton of your shirt up further, to where he can see all of it—all the black and blue there.

“Are you mad?” you whisper, hesitantly, as he stares at his own hands, his own branding.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be,” you say, begging, “Please.”

“He did that cause—,” you breathe out, taking his chin in your pointer finger and thumb and getting your first good look at his cheek, “—it’s-’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“C’mon. Don’t do that,” he says, cutting you off, nipping your apology in the bud, “I should be the one who’s sorry, this is — I hurt you.”

You shake your head.

“You know that’s not—you know that I—” you stifle a short chuckle.

“That you what?”

You let out a couple hot breaths, looking down at him, the purple around his eye slowly taking shape.

“That I liked it.”

Joel bends forward then, and you gasp. The dull scratch of his beard is the only thing keeping your eyes open. He trails his hot breath across your stomach, and leaves gentle kisses on your sides, on your bruises.

“Joel,” you mumble, and you hate how your voice sounds so breathy, maybe even desperate. You tangle your hands in his hair, grasping at the nape of his neck he pulls you down, closer, so you’re slotted in his lap, straddling him. Joel pulls back and looks at your face, brushes the fallen hair from your eyes.

“I meant what I said,” you start, he furrows his brow, “Still—mean it.”

From the look in his eyes he knows what you’re talking about. The words you slipped into his ear last night.

‘S you, Joel — it’s-’s always been you.

“But if this is—if Tommy—” you cut yourself off, correcting your words, “If I messed it up—”

“Sweetheart,” he says. Your heart pulls, you almost put your hand on his cheek, but you see the rising skin and settle for his shoulder. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

He pulls you down further, so you’re flush against him. He studies your eyes and rubs at your waist, your hips. It sends a little fire down between your thighs.

“‘M here—‘M…I’m right here,” he mumbles, and shakes his head. Like he’s telling you no to any silent thoughts of doubt that might be floating around your head.

And then he pulls your head down to kiss you.

It’s needy, and hot and everything you want at this moment. He’s everywhere and you can feel his growing arousal between your legs. You both needed this—you think. After everything, after—fucking—Caroline and Janet Baker and Tommy Miller. You both needed each other so bad that when you grind down onto him he lets out a little desperate groan into your mouth that spurs you on.

Joel slips his hand under your shirt and finds the hardened peak there. He pinches it and rolls it between his fingers, it sends your hips forward and suddenly he’s sitting up, and shucking your shirt off.

He grabs your hips and moves you against him, your most vulnerable spots grinding against each other. Giving you both blown out eyes and puffy lips and panting breath.

“Sh–it,” you gasp when your shorts catch on your clit perfectly.

“Pretty,” he says, grasping at your tits, at anything he can find while you grind against his length. “fuckin’—pretty like this.”

You claw at his belt and before you know it, he’s lifting you up so you’re on your knees and he’s pulling his pants past his hips. You get the memo and take your shorts off, tossing them behind you. When you sink back down onto his lap, you can feel his cock slip between your wet lips down there.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say, gliding along his cock, soaking it. You can feel all of him now—grinding along his hardness—the girth of him fitting perfectly between your swollen lips.

“Angel,” Joel pants out, through sloppy kisses. You look at him. He’s got a desperate look on his face. Like he couldn’t wait just like you. Not even to get upstairs to your bedroom or to get all his clothes off. Like he’s been wanting this all day. Just like you.

You move up and reach down, feeling the wet mess you’ve both made down between your legs. You find his cock, hard and wanting, and position it at your entrance. The head sinks past your walls, enveloping it somewhere deeper and you both groan at the feeling.

You sink down on him slowly, you’re by no means physically ready to take him. But you can’t wait any longer. He kisses you, and down to your neck, making it easier to ease yourself down onto him, and when you finally reach the end, and you’re seated fully in his lap, you both gasp.

Your walls clench around him, eliciting a quiet groan from Joel somewhere near your neck. Your eyes roll back in your head, your forehead drops onto his shoulder. You both just sit there, waiting for the other to make a move.

It’s kind of like a game.

See how long you can both relish in each other’s warmth — the first person who moves loses.

Your walls tighten again and he lets out another groan, “Jesus,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck. You’re slowly adjusting to him, relaxing around him. It makes you shudder.

You realize he’s not really touching you. He’s got his hands on your thighs, but they’re just resting there. Not squeezing or gripping your hips like you know he so desperately wants. Maybe he’s scared, you think. From everything that’s happened today. From the consequences his touch barred.

But you didn’t care about the consequences. You liked his touch, needed his touch, just as much as he needed something to hold him back down to earth, anchor him to you—in you. And afterall, you just want him to feel good. Feel better.

“Touch me,” you gasp out, reaching down to his hands.

“Am touchin’ you,” he forces out, panting near your ear. His thumb absentmindedly pushes down on the skin of your thigh a fraction harder and then eases up, like he’s saying this is the best I can do.

“No, Joel,” you moan, rock your hips a little, moving first, moving frantically and suddenly, “touch me,” you say into his neck, reaching down to usher his hands to your hips, your waist, you.

Joel gets it then, the silent permission. The it’s okay, and grips you harder, but not as hard as you know he would like. It’s good enough for you because he moves your hips, rocking you up and down onto his length—having enough of the senseless grinding.

“Fuckin’ good—” Joel groans, your hands fly to his shoulders, his hair. “You feel good.”

Your legs grow tired, he can tell. You try your best, but you’re sweaty and tired and fucked out, and when he hits a spot deeper inside you that makes you moan out, louder than before, and you almost collapse onto him. He ruts into you a little. Meeting you halfway. Fucking you deeper—maybe even a bit faster.

Your legs ache and you feel a sheen of sweat wash over both of you. And Joel’s eye is fucked up, his cheek too. Tommy is sitting back at the house—or god knows where—with a possible broken hand, Janet baker is watching Sarah instead of you or Joel, Caroline is still back at the house, and everything is a fucking mess, but it’s so right. He feels so right. He’s — he’s right.

You’re close then, the coarse hair on him inching you toward your climax. He knows, he can feel it from the inside. You don’t even have to say it this time, your question for his permission. He can see it already braced on your lips but he shuts you up with a kiss, a sloppy one, where he sticks his tongue into your mouth and your walls tighten around him again.

“Yes,” he says with a moan into your mouth, “yes, yes—ah.”

“Fuck,” you say tightening around him, becoming breathless and boneless, but Joel holds you up. He always does.

He grips you tighter, like how you know he wanted to, and you relish in the feeling. His thrusts become desperate and you brace yourself on the back of the couch so he can rut up deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. You can’t really breathe. Not when he’s everywhere.

“Shit,” he says, rocking into you.

Joel cums hard, holding onto you, wrapping you up in his arms as he groans somewhere near your temple. You let it spread through you, the mess of it all. He keeps you locked in his arms, even when you think he might pull away.

He finally pulls you off him, when he says it becomes too much and you sit on his lap, playing with his curls. When you both settle from your panting you can’t help but ask.

“What are we gonna do?” you say quietly to him.

“I dunno,” he grabs your hand and gives it a quick kiss. The bruise on his face is turning an ugly shade of purple. And the peas have gone warm, creating a small puddle on the coffee table. And your phone keeps buzzing from the entryway.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, running a hand on your thigh.

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