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yeonjuns-beanie · 1 year

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Don't You Want Me?

warnings:18+, unprotected sex, jealous hongjoong, roommate au, face grabbing, roughish sex, lusty bitches, mutual pining, idiots in love, hair pulling, overstim, oral ( m & f receiving), lil possessive nothing crazy but im feeling disgusting lol, pussy slapping( once..), dirty talk, spit play,

summary: You and Hongjoong have been roommates for a while and friends for even longer. Over time he’s realized his feelings for you and now they can't be ignored. He asks you to accompany him to a release party hoping to find it within him to tell you his truths. When you get a little too close for comfort with one of his members, he decides how he’ll finally tell you.

word count: 7.4k (my bad ;-;)

a/n: this is my first time attempting Ateez, so I hope I did okay! i love feedback good or bad. also our requests are open if interested! have a great day everyone :3 ~nero

Your eyes slowly blinked open as you awoke to the sun peaking through your blinds and exasperated groans coming from across the hallway. Forcing your body to sit up, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and begrudgingly removed yourself from your warm sheets. Walking across the hall you opened up Hongjoong’s door.

“What’s with all the noise?”

He almost didn’t notice your presence, but with the sudden extra light coming in through the door he looked up. You jutted your head forward, raising your eyebrows waiting for his response. He clicked the spacebar on his computer pausing the track he was working on.

“Huh?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I said, what’s with all the noise? I could hear you groaning in my sleep. Damn near woke me up.”

“Well, it’s almost noon so you need to be up anyway. But to answer your question, I can’t layer these tracks the way I’m hearing them in my head.”

You walked into his bedroom sitting on his bed, not wanting to stand in the doorway anymore. He turned around to face you and you pointed towards his computer motioning for him to play the track. He took his headphones out of the input and turned up the master volume on his computer. You closed your eyes listening to the track.

This was something that happened often between the two of you. Hongjoong would get frustrated with a track and you’d come in and offer your opinion cutting away at some of the edge he was feeling. As you listened to the demo he was working on you caught on immediately to the hiccup he was talking about.

“Pause..go back like 5 seconds.”

As he clicked back to where you said you let the audio play through before you told him to stop the track again. Humming the instrumental to yourself, you started thinking about how you would construct the section.

“You might not like it but what I would do is allow a little bit more space before the riser. And then maybe do some low pitch snare hits at the beginning of the riser. Right now I think there’s just too much going on and that’s why it’s not coming together.”

He turned back around in his chair and input the changes you said and rolled the track back a little bit to hear the difference. Lightly moving his head with the beat he paused the track again and turned back to you.

“How do you do it?”

“It’s 'cause I’m not the one staring at it from scratch. I’m not as frustrated with it.”

He nodded his head and swiveled the chair back around to save the file.

“I agree this sounds better but I still think something is missing. Thank you, for your help though.”

“Anytime. You know I’m right down the hall.”

You heard his laptop close and gathered yourself up from the bed.

“Can’t imagine you’ve eaten yet, wanna go grab something for lunch?”

He nodded and you went back into your room to begin getting ready. As you finished your morning routine, you walked out of the bathroom to make the change from pajamas to whatever you were planning to conjure up for an outfit. As you brought your head up from facing the floor, you felt your heart drop to your stomach and your heart skip a beat.

Hongjoong was perched perfectly on the edge of your bed watching you finish your routine.

“Jesus! Scared the shit outta me Joong. Also, get out, I have to get dressed.”

Hongjoong looked up at you, eyes lazy with intent and thoroughly unamused.

“After all these years, you still kick me out. Have you no shame?”

“Shut up, I’ll be done in a second.”

You smiled to yourself as you shook your head trying to rid yourself of the feelings bubbling back up again. It was horribly cliche, but you had a suffocating crush on your best friend. You’d never utter a word to him about it for fear of losing him or at the very least ruining the years of friendship that you created.

Jumping into your jeans, you wiggled the rest of the fabric over your hips and secured the button. You settled on a top that did wonders for your chest, rounding out your boobs and cinching your waist most slightly. Grabbing a sweater from off your floor, you sprayed yourself with perfume before heading out into the main room where Hongjoong was scrolling on his phone.

He heard your footsteps before you could come and leer over his shoulder, but if you were quick enough you would've caught him staring at a picture of the both of you. If you could read minds, you would've been privy to the extensive fairytale life he was imagining with you. As you came over, he swiped out of his photos and locked his phone.

“Ready?”

“Mhmm. Where should we go?”

Furrowing his brow, he thought about all of the food options near your apartment.

“Why don’t we go to that cute cafe down the street?”

“Oh yeah! I’ve been seeing people post all about it. It looks really cute and the food looks good.”

Nodding you both headed towards the door and began the walk to the cafe. As you guys followed the gps on your phone, you almost missed the cafe. It was hidden in plain sight. There was no real sign designated where it was, but when you stumbled in front of it you opened the comically large door to the inside. As you walked in you were met with a cottagecore dream. It was cute and cozy and you could see why everyone had been obsessed with it lately.

You guys ordered and were waiting in front of the cashier to finish typing everything in. Reaching into your purse you got ready to put your card to the reader, which had Hongjoong smacking your hand.

“Stop that.”

“But you always pay.”

“As I should y/n.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, knowing that you weren’t gonna win this time. On occasion, you were able to get him back, but he always seemed to beat you to the reader. As the cashier handed him the receipt, he told you guys that your order would be called out over the speaker in a few moments. Thanking Hongjoong timidly, you guys walked around the cafe looking for a place to sit. Settling on two chairs and a table situated under some fairy lights, you guys got comfortable.

Leaning forward on the table, you rested your chin on your hands.

“Soooo, whatcha thinking about.”

Hongjoong smiled at you lightly, a barrage of sirens sounding in his head at how cute you looked sitting across from him. If anyone on the outside were to see you two, they would easily assume that you were dating. The way you both looked at each other was so obvious you couldn’t miss it on the outside, but for some stubborn reason neither one of you could see it on the other.

Hongjoong leaned forward coming closer to you.

“Funny you should ask. I’ve been meaning to ask you this but it always left my mind.”

You raised your eyebrows, silently telling him to go on.

“So, you know how we have that release party coming up?”

You nodded, eyes layered with curiosity. Now was the time. He had been mulling over this for weeks now and it was either now or never he had to ask.

“I was thinking about it and we’re all allowed a plus one…and I would like that to be you.”

“Oh, word?”

You tried your best to seem unphased and that this would be just another ordinary outing with him, but your heart was accelerating thinking about all of the possible what-ifs of attending with him.

“Yeah. I would love for you to be there. You know you’re always there to help me out when I need it and I think it would be the perfect time to show you off.”

“Show me off?”

Your eyebrow raised, wondering what he meant by that comment. Even though there was a line of friendship between you two, it still felt nice to hear.

“Well not like show you off, ‘casue obviously were not dating but like you come up all the time and I think it would be a perfect time for the guys to meet my mini producer.”

You rolled your eyes at the compliment suddenly feeling a bit of imposter syndrome set in.

“Oh come on, you give me too much credit.”

“But you help me so much and I mean that. I’d probably be bald if I didn’t have you around.”

You paused pretending to think about your answer.

“I’d love to.”

His name was called over the speaker and he went to go grab the tray of food. As he walked away, you were fighting the biggest grin running over his words over and over. When he came back over, your stomach made its presence known with a heavy growl. You guys began to eat making mindless conversation. Everything was just so easy between you two.

As you guys were finishing up, his phone rang. Silently asking him you cleaned up the table setting the tray in its return spot. As you came back to the table he was shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“What’s up?”

“Oh nothing, they just need me at the studio to run over what’s gonna happen for the release party.”

“Oh okay, so I guess I’ll see you a little bit later?”

“Yeah, I hate to leave you but-”

“-It’s okay Joong, I need to go shopping now anyway.”

You guys began walking out of the cafe continuing your conversation.

“Shopping for what?”

“For the party genius, I don’t have anything to wear.”

Hongjoong paused, thinking about the array of outfits he’d seen you go out in before.

“Yes, you do.”

You looked at him a little confused which spurred him to continue.

“That black dress with the leg slit and the mesh center.”

He motioned towards his stomach talking about the last bit.

“But I thought you said you didn’t like that one?”

“Well, you’re gonna be with me so I can keep an eye out for you.”

There it was again. The ten thousand butterflies swarming your stomach. You knew his tendencies and how jealousy was just in his nature. He meant no harm by it, it was just that he cared about you deeply and didn’t want anyone to do you wrong. At least, that’s what he told himself to keep his sanity. He hated knowing others could gawk at you when you went out and he could do nothing about it.

“Okay you have point, and I do really like that dress.”

“So do I.”

“Shut up, you perv!”

“Hey! I’m just being honest.”

He held his hands up in defense.

“Well, anyways I still need to get some makeup but at least I don’t have to worry about an outfit.”

Hongjoong nodded to you and leaned in for a hug before pulling away in the opposite direction.

“Alright, I’ll see you later tonight. Be safe and text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

Smiling to yourself, you walked back towards your apartment, knowing that there was a drug store right around the corner. You didn’t need a lot you just really wanted a new lipliner. Before moseying over all of the colors, you started to think about what kind of makeup look you’d settle on. You picked up a deep brown liner and decided on indefinitely doing a bold red lip and you’d figure out the rest the day of.

Checking out, you walked back to your apartment, somewhat relieved to be back home. You were a homebody at heart no matter how much you claimed to love city life. Kicking off your shoes, you pulled out your phone to text Hongjoong.

Y/N: just got in

You didn’t get a response back but you did get a notification that he hearted the message. You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and wandered into your bedroom to scroll on your phone. At some point, you felt your eyelids become heavy and you drifted off.

When you woke back up, your room was shrouded in darkness and the apartment was a little colder than usual. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you heard the lock on the front door turn.

“Y/n/n, you home?”

“In here.”

Your voice scratchy and your throat dry from just waking up. You saw the light in the main room flick on and heard him shuffle into your room and he switched on the overhead light in your room.

“Turn that shit off bro, it is so bright.”

“Aw did princess just wake up from her nap.”

You looked at him with narrowed eyes and huddled more underneath your blankets.

“As a matter of fact, I did. And now I’m cold and hungry.”

Hongjoong crawled up on your bed and snuck under the sheets with you wrapping his body around yours, letting his head rest on your shoulder.

“You know, body heat is the best way to warm up.”

“And so is turning on the heat.”

“Okay lemme turn it on then.”

As he went to get up from the bed, stopped him by leaning back into him.

“No, don’t, the body thing is working. How was the studio stuff?”

Hongjoong smiled to himself, and with him behind you, you couldn’t see how wide it was beginning to spread.

“It was alright. A little stressful but we got everything figured out.”

You nodded and you nuzzled more into him. You turned your head to face him as best you could.

“By the way, when is the release party again?”

“Tomorrow.”

You whipped your head around, eyes wide, dramatizing your reaction to his answer.

“Well, at least you told me today, might’ve had a stroke if you told me tomorrow.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You love it.”

You were cut off by your stomach growling against Hongjoong’s hand that was resting against it. You both laughed as you looked at each other completely surprised by how loud it was. As you went through your list of options you both decided that it would be more satisfying to cook something at home. Hongjoong got out of your bed first and as you heard the clanging of pots in the kitchen you found yourself wandering after him. As you guys helped each other with dinner, you couldn’t help but relish in the domestic feeling you were feeling with him. Unbeknownst to you, he was feeling the exact same thing. Finishing up cooking you guys decided on something to watch before eating in comfortable silence.

You excused yourself to go through your night routine. When you finished you walked back out to the main room and noticed Hongjoong wasn’t in there anymore. Shuffling to his room, you peeked through his cracked door and saw him posted up in front of his computer again, his headphones sitting around his neck.

“You need help with anything?”

He looked up at you with such a soft look you couldn’t help but fall even deeper into the grave you were digging.

“Huh? No, I’m okay actually. Thanks for checking in.”

“Okie, I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

“See you in the morning.”

He smiled at you before putting his headphones back on. You gently shut his door and walked down the hall to your room where you snuggled up against your stuffed animals and fell into a deep sleep quickly.

When you woke up the next morning, your stomach was in knots suddenly nervous with the idea of meeting the rest of his members and attending the party in general. As you opened your phone you finally saw the time and almost flew out of the bed. Opening your door you saw Hongjoong fixing himself something to eat.

“What time do we have to leave tonight?”

“Like 5ish, why?”

You finally took a regulated breath and calmed yourself down. Pulling yourself out of the panicked state that you found yourself in fresh out of sleep.

“Okay good. You know I need 7 years to get ready, I thought I woke up way too late.”

“You should eat something before you make yourself go crazy in the bathroom though.”

Agreeing you fixed yourself some cereal and then waddled back into your bedroom flopping on your bed, the task of getting ready seemed so incredibly daunting now that you had to do it. You checked the time and it was only 1:30pm. Giving yourself half an hour to dick around, you figured you could get ready in three hours.

Once your precious thirty minutes expired, you groaned the entire way into the bathroom. After brushing your teeth, you turned on the shower gathering all your necessary products. Grabbing your face wash last and throwing on a shower cap, you begin the extensive process that was showering. After you finish your shower, you moisturized your body, and put on your undergarments and a dressing robe.

Before starting your makeup, you grabbed your speaker from your bedroom, turned on some music, and started the painstaking process of making sure your entire face was symmetrical. Deciding on a smokey liner for your eyes, you made sure everything was even.

Before you knew it, the sky outside began to change colors, the hues reflecting into your room turning much warmer than when you started getting ready. You checked your phone and the time read 4:32pm. You took a breath realizing that you still had time. Lining your lips and filling them in with your favorite red lipstick, you rubbed them together, blending the two products. Satisfied with your look you slipped off your robe and left it on the bathroom floor.

Sliding through your racks of hangers, you found the dress you were looking for. Heading back into the bathroom you slipped into the dress, fighting with the fabric as you pulled it over your hips. As you pulled the straps up over your shoulders, you situated your boobs so that they sat higher creating the perfect cleavage. You played with the slit on the dress cinching it a little higher up your leg.

You gave yourself a once over, loving the way the dress hugged your curves before heading back into your room to grab your jewelry pieces. You settled on a small, silver Cuban link necklace that Hongjoong gifted you for your birthday one year, small dangly silver earrings, and a few rings adoring your fingers. Grabbing a clutch and your black, pointed pumps from your closet, you sat in the main room waiting for Hongjoong to come out.

As you sat on the couch he called out for you.

“Y/n! Are you ready?”

“Yup! Just gotta slip my shoes on.”

As you wiggled your feet into your heel, you heard Hongjoong’s shoes clicking from the hallway. He was clad in a pair of ripped blue jeans, a white dress shirt, and a black and white cropped and frayed jacket. You thought he was attractive before but staring at him dressed up had you at a loss for words. When he lifted his head from the floor and his eyes landed on your figure, he couldn’t help but widen his eyes and be in awe of you. If he wasn’t completely smitten with you before, he surely was now.

“You, you look great Y/N.”

“Can say the same for you Joongie.”

He felt his heart melt. Whenever you called him that he couldn’t help but be whipped for you, he wanted you all for him and now he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to share you with everyone else. His thoughts were running wild with nothing but you in them. Your voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Should we get going?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Walking to the parking lot by your apartment, Hongjoong opened the passenger door for you before letting himself in. The drive to the venue was a little silent except for the music coming through his speakers. You were wracked with nerves and were honestly a little more than nervous about the event.

“Y/n, why are you so nervous?”

“Wha-, I’m not nervous!”

“You’ve been silent the whole ride, cmon I know you.”

You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hide your feelings.

“I don’t know, I guess I just don’t wanna mess anything up for you.”

He looked over at you as he pulled into the venue parking lot.

“Everything is gonna be fine. Besides, when have you ever messed anything up for me?”

“Well, there was that one time-

“-Something serious.”

You were silenced knowing he was right. You took another breath and didn’t even realize Hongjoong had already come to open your door.

“Thank you.”

As you walked to the entrance, Hongjoong had his hand on your lower back keeping you close to him. Walking into the building, there were neon lights everywhere, an array of people, Ateez’s music blasting through the overhead speakers, and of course, you picked out immediately the seven other men you were destined to meet. San noticed Hongjoong first, waving his hand to come toward the group.

You had a large grin on your face, masking your conglomerate portrait of emotions.

“Hongjoong! And I’m assuming this is the special lady we’ve all been hearing about?”

You held your hand out towards San and introduced yourself.

“Y/n, it’s nice to meet you!”

San gently moved your hand away and pulled you into a hug.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you! Hyung here is constantly talking about you.”

Whom you would later find out was Wooyoung, made his presence known by shouting over the music and commenting on how you looked next to his friend.

“Hongjoong! You didn’t tell us she was taller than you too!”

You smiled and chuckled to yourself, feeling slight steam come off of Hongjoong.

“It’s just my shoes!”

San dragged you to the rest of the group to introduce you to everyone to which you realized you had nothing to worry about. All of them were so inviting and greeted you with a near bone-crushing hug. There was someone who stuck out from the rest though.

Seonghwa.

The way his gaze lingered on you, you noticed it from when you walked in and when you were pulled so close to him, his touch loitered on your skin a little bit longer from the rest.

You had to admit everyone single one of them was attractive in their own right and perhaps this is exactly what you needed to get over your little massive crush on your best friend. As the night went on, you got along with everyone so smoothly. The conversation never seemed to have an end.

Every time you spoke though you found Seonghwa’s eyes fixated on you, something Hongjoong noticed as well. You looked around for the bar, desperate for some alcohol in your system to maybe find some courage to approach his leering gaze with the same confidence. Seonghwa noticed this and came closer to you leaning to your ear so he didn’t have to shout.

“You want to go grab a drink?”

“Uh yeah actually. Joong do you want anything?”

Hongjoong’s eyes were cold as he looked towards Seonghwa but softened his expression as best as he could as he turned back to you.

“Yeah, I’ll just come with you guys.”

As you three went to get up Yunho grabbed Hongjoong’s attention.

“Hyung! Wait. We have to go over that prompt before you do anything. You have to give that speech here in a moment.”

His shoulders hunched coming to terms that he had to do his job first before catering to his bubbling emotions. You turned back to him before walking off with Seonghwa to the bar.

“You want your usual?”

He nodded and you and Seonghwa made light conversation over to the bar while you were waiting for the drinks to be made. When the conversation died down a bit, Seonghwa felt that this was the perfect moment to ask.

“So I have to know, are you and Hongjoong a thing? Or is that just him being possessive?”

“It’s definitely just him being him. Ever since we met he’s always been a little bit protective of me. But to answer your question, no we’re not together.”

“He definitely acts like your his.”

“Yeah no, just friends.”

He nodded leaving the conversation there and with perfect time all three of the drinks were finished as well. You walked back to where everyone was congregating and gave Hongjoong his drink. His gaze was still hard but you couldn’t quite figure out why. The music faded out and a light targeted its way to where all of Ateez was sitting. Hongjoong gave his speech and you were nothing but enamored with him.

The way the light was hitting his face, his outfit, the way he carried himself with such elegance talking about his pride and joy. As you were standing off to the side soaking him in, Seonghwa was doing the same thing with you. Drinking you in with every second that he could. When Hongjoong finished his speech, the music faded back in and you looked back over toward the group. Seonghwa with his newfound information about your single status had to seize this opportunity.

As Hongjoong was preoccupied with his members, Seonghwa sneaked off to you.

“Wanna dance?”

“Sure, why not?”

He pulled you down to the dance floor where some other people had the same idea. Feeling the music you swayed with the beat and smiled up toward Seonghwa. As the song faded out, you finished your drink and told him you were going to go grab another. He followed you not wanting to leave you alone. As you guys walked back to the main floor you continued dancing with each other. Seonghwa leaned down to you again.

“You know he’s in love with you right?”

His comment caught you off guard and you sipped your drink.

“What do you mean?”

“If you were to see him from my angle…he wishes he could strike me down right now.”

“Wait turn me so we swap spots, I want to see.”

You did just that but Seonghwa made sure to add a little extra to your turn. When your eyes spotted where the group was sitting you saw how silent Hongjoong was. The way his gaze was now directed towards the both of you.

He was pissed.

You almost felt bad but at the same time, you desperately begged any god that was listening that this would pan out in your favor.

“Wrap your hands around my neck.”

You furrowed your brows

“Just do it.”

In beat with the song that was playing you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck.

“My next question is, do you feel the same way about him? And I already know the answer I just wanna see if you’ll lie to me.”

Seonghwa smirked at you.

“So much so that it’s excruciating to think about.”

As the two of you swayed you talked about your crush.

“Well Y/n, looks like this is your lucky night, 'cause here he comes.”

You felt a hand grace your back and you turned around to face Hongjoong. He tried his damnedest to hide his hardening feelings from you because they were truly directed at Seonghwa.

“I’m not feeling too well I think we should head home.”

“Oh! Okay, do you need me to do anything.?”

He shook his head and you sucked down the rest of your drink throwing the cup in the nearest trashcan.

“Let me just say goodbye to everyone.”

You walked over to the rest of the boys hugging everyone goodbye. When you went to hug Wooyoung, he pulled you a little closer so he could whisper in your ear.

“Hope you know your man is pissed and I hope you get the best sex out of this.”

Your mouth hung open, surprised by his boldness. You pulled away from him lightly smiling.

“He’s not my man Woo.”

“Well, he’s been acting like it! Good luck y/n.”

He laughed and you suddenly felt your nerves settle in your stomach as you walked back over to Hongjoong. Hugging Seonghwa goodbye and began to walk off with Hongjoong.

“Don't forget to text me y/n/n!”

You turned around and waved towards Seonghwa, confused for only a moment before you understood that he was egging Hongjoong on. Hongjoong picked up his speed and borderline was pulling you out of the venue. When you got to the car he opened the door for you but the drive was viciously silent. His knuckles were gripping against the steering wheel turning a forced shade of white.

His breathing was heavy and slow and you felt like if you said anything it would be like poking a stick at an angry bear. You couldn’t bear the silence anymore though so you spoke up.

“Joongie…are you okay?”

He didn’t answer you. You were only a few minutes away from home so when he pulled into the apartment complex you felt a bit of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to have that question linger in the air.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did to upset you but whatever it was I’m sorry.”

The air was heavy, suffocating even. Your timid voice dissipated immediately into the tension he was spewing into the air. He got out of the car and walked around to open your door, but started walking a bit ahead of you. You both stepped into your apartment door and you let him in first, locking the door behind you both as you took off your shoes.

“That’s what you call it?”

You almost didn’t hear him, but you didn’t want to make him more upset by having him repeat himself. You didn’t have to ask though, the time you took to respond had him wired up enough.

“I said, that’s what you call it? Not knowing whatever it was.”

“Joongie I can’t know what you're so upset about if you don’t tell me.”

“Don’t ‘Joongie’ me and don’t act like you don’t know. You let him all over you all night and I just had to sit there and watch!”

You paused.

“This is about Seonghwa?”

“No, it’s about Jongho, c’mon y/n you’re smarter than that.”

His tone was frustrating you to no end. He was chastising you for no real reason. It wasn’t like you were dating so why was he treating you as such? You loved him you knew that much but every time someone so much glanced at you, you had to deal with some sort of small outburst like this.

“Joong it’s not like we’re dating, I don’t understand why this is bothering you so much.”

“Because you’re mine y/n! You’ve always been mine! And every time I have to sit back and watch you possibly find the feelings that I feel for you in someone else it drives me up the fuckin wall. I can’t stand seeing you with someone else and I-”

“-Hongjoong I-”

“No! Let me finish. If I have nothing at least I can have the peace of knowing that you finally know.”

Your heart was in your ears. You felt like you were underwater and slowly watching yourself begin to drown. He was confessing and you didn’t know whether to feel overjoyed or scared at the thought that everything you wished for was happening at such an intensity.

“And I love you. I can’t watch you hold somebody else when I love you with a passion that suffocates me while I sleep. If you don’t feel the same way, I understand but I can’t keep living without you knowing.”

Now it was your turn to be silent. You stared at him like a deer in headlights unable to form a response for him.

“Well don’t just stand there, say something! Please.”

You went to open your mouth but nothing came out.

“Oh, fuck it.”

Hongjoong walked over to you, clearing the short distance that was between you two. His hands encased your face and his lips covered yours. Your eyes blew wide for only a second before relaxing completely into his touch. You returned the kiss with equal fervent, curling your nails into the nape of his neck. His kiss became more urgent and he bit at your lip pulling it with him as he pulled away.

He looked at you trying to read your features. Your eyes were glistening with a mixture of lust and love and there was heat you could feel rushing to your face as you gazed back at him. Lust was evident in his eyes but none of the hardness that he was harbouring earlier. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you want me?”

His tone was pleading, his eyebrows curling upwards. Everything about him begging to hear a similar response from you. When you finally spoke his heart began to beat again.

“Hongjoong, I’ve wanted you since I met you and I don’t know how you missed all my signs. But I swear if you don’t take me now I’ve got a text message to send.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you down the hallway into his bedroom. He pulled your body close to his once again, pressing his lips firmly against yours. His hand fingered its way through your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it. A weak moan left your mouth and he pulled you away from his.

“I don’t ever want to hear you say his name again.”

You carded your hands through his Styx colored hair, smirking up at him.

“Make me forget it then.”

It wasn’t a growl, but it was a sound that reverberated in the depth of his chest before he pushed you onto the bed. You scooted more towards the center of the bed as Hongjoong crawled over you. His lips attacked your jawline, trailing down to your neck where he began sucking crimson marks distinctive to him, claiming you for anyone to see.

His hands traveled down to your breasts and he played with your nipples through the fabric of your dress as he continued his assault on your skin.

“Hongjoong please.”

“Oh, now you wanna beg me? What happened to that text message, hmm?”

“I don’t, I just want you. Only you. Please.”

He chuckled against the space where your neck and shoulders connect, the warmth of his breath sending goosebumps up your body. He raised himself on his hands looking you in the eyes. His hand came up to caress your face, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip. You opened up your mouth so that his thumb slipped in and you began sucking on it. Your eyes glazed over in lechery. Your hands trailed down his body and rested on the hem of his jeans, hooking your fingers into his belt loops bringing him closer.

He removed his thumb from your mouth and went back to teasing your nipple. You whined, attempting to writhe your body against him.

“Open.”

It took you a second to register his words, but you looked up at him with wondrous eyes and opened your mouth slowly.

“Wider.”

Nothing would’ve prepared you for the wad of spit he aimed in your mouth nor the asphyxiating grip your pussy reacted with. You swallowed without any command and opened your mouth again for another take.

“Wanna know how I know you’re mine? I didn’t have to tell you to do that. You’re just filthy enough to take whatever I want to give you, isn’t that right, baby?” The pet name had you squirming. The ring it had coming from his mouth had you wanting to cling to him for the rest of time. He snaked down your body and bunched up the skirt of your dress so he could easily remove you from your underwear. He dragged his finger between your slit, gathering not even a fraction of your arousal. The pad of his finger gently swiped over your clit and your body jumped due to the sensitivity.

“Aw, is my girl a little sensitive?”

You mewled out, words not forming correctly in your mind.

“Is this all for me y/n?”

“Mhmm”

You writhed against him hoping that it was enough to satisfy him. The slap against your pussy led you to believe otherwise. You moaned out and pushed yourself to your elbows to look down at Hongjoong.

“I said, is this all for me?” “Yes, yes, yes! It’s all for you Joongie. Fuck it’s always you~ah!”

He swiped his tongue up your slit ringing your precious little bell with his hellish tongue. He pushed your legs further apart and his fingers toyed with your entrance.

“You want it?”

“Hongjoong, please! I want you to do whatever you want. Make me yours.”

You whined out finding it harder and harder to keep your composure. Hongjoong entered two fingers into your decadent cunt, your warmth wrapping around him like a tender blanket. His tongue kept a perfervid pace on your clit, bringing you dangerously close to your edge.

“Hongjoong, I-I’m gonna.”

You were panting, your words barely forming enough to be heard. Hongjoong took your affirmation and used it against you, pulling his fingers and his tongue away from your heat. You whined and writhed against him, in clear distress from the lack of him.

You got up and he pushed you back down with a searing kiss. The taste of you, tart and something faintly sweet on your tongue. You pushed back against him and you rolled him over so that he was lying on his back now. You kissed him on his jawline and bit at his ear, pulling gently at the skin. You moved off the bed and shimmied out of your dress, presenting all of your glory in front of him. You crawled back up on the bed and unbuttoned his pants pulling them down his legs.

“I want you in my mouth so bad.”

He lifted himself from the bed, removing his jacket and throwing it somewhere in his room. You fumbled with the buttons on his dress shirt, but you needed to see all of him. With the final button undone, he threw that behind the both of you and your attention was back on the bulge fighting against the fabric of his underwear.

Slowly pulling them down, you dropped them off the bed and eyeballed his length.

“Can I?”

“Don’t let me stop you, baby.”

You let a glob of spit fall onto his head before you licked him up from base to tip. Hollowing out your cheeks you found praise in the frequency of his moans. You twisted your tongue around his shaft as you bobbed up and down his length. When you looked up at him he was already staring you down.

“Fuck, y/n! You’re so good. You’re so so good.”

You picked up your pace, intent on making him cum and making him cum quick. His moans became louder almost turning into whines. He sucked the spit through his teeth and tried to calm himself down.

“Baby, baby, slow down I’m gonna cum.”

But you weren’t listening, you had no intent to. Hongjoong wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled you off of him.

“You don’t listen do you?” “Maybe you should teach me how.”

You smiled completely fucked out, your mouth swiped with saliva.

“Get on your back.”

His tone was domineering and you love every drop of it. He brought himself down to your nipple sucking on the tender skin. You moaned out needing more from him.

“Joongie, please. I need you inside of me. I need to know what you feel like.”

Your eyes were pleading, you truly needed nothing more in this moment. He lined himself up with your entrance before teasing you and sliding his hot and needy cock between your folds.

“Joong please, don’t tease me~ugh!”

He filled you up so nicely. You could feel every inch of him and the stretch you felt from his size was indescribably delicious. He started with long, slow strokes allowing you to feel every bit of him. Your hands found refuge on his back, your nails leaving red marks of ardor in their wake.

“More. I need more Hongjoong.”

He picked up his pace but it still wasn’t enough for you. You needed him to be rougher with you, you needed him to claim you and make you never forget where home was. You grabbed his face with both of your hands and forced him to look directly into your sex-blown eyes.

“Joong, I need you to fuck me like you mean it.”

Something in him broke. His dam of reservations crumbling with your words. He wanted to be sweet with you and forget about the earlier moments of the evening. But with every bratty comment that left your lips, he simply couldn’t. He flipped you on your hands and knees and began pounding you from behind. The cry that left your mouth was one of pure pleasure. You could feel him hitting the parts of you that made you insatiable.

The tip of his cock was bruising your g-spot leaving you in a sex drunken stupor.

“Who’s pussy is this?”

“You~ah!”

“Who’s pussy is this y/n? I’m not asking again”

“It’s your’s Hongjoong! Fuck it’s always been yours, baby.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes from the pleasure you were feeling.

“Hongjoong baby, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cream all over my cock baby, let me feel how good I make you feel.”

That’s all you needed to be sent over the edge. His cock was making you dizzy with lust and you didn’t know if you needed a rest or more of him. Hongjoong already made that decision for you though, fucking through and after your orgasm, wildly overstimulating you.

It was almost too much to handle and you started crawling away from his pistoning hips. Hongjoong grabbed your hips and pulled you even closer to his fiery drives of pleasure.

“Stop running. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To fuck you like I mean it.”

He leaned over you pressing your head into the mattress. His thrusts became more erratic and rougher and you could feel his cock begin to twitch against your seraphic walls.

“y/n, where do you want me?” “Fuckin hell, inside of me Hongjoong. I don’t wanna forget who I belong to. Fill me up please, Joongie.”

His cum shot out of him at a rate that even surprised him. It colored your walls, making its own rapturously beautiful painting. You were now his color and couldn’t ask for anything more. You flopped down on the bed, your body spent from the adrenaline you were banking on. Hongjoong kissed your cheek and spoke against your skin, his breath sending chills up your spine again.

“You’re mine, baby. Now, wait here, I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t plan on moving, completely spent from the moments prior. Hongjoong came back into the room with a warm cloth and cleaned you up as gently as he could. Not wanting to cause you any discomfort. He left the rag on the floor and climbed up next to you and you wrapped your body around him resting your head on his stomach.

“Say the words.”

He looked down at you.

“What words?”

“What do you want me to be to you?”

“My girl.”

You paused looking up at him giving him the most obvious of hints.

“Will you?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

You sat up and looked at Hongjoong.

“Are you hungry?”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, we didn’t really eat at the party or before we left and it’s now…11 at night.”

You both chuckled and you looked at him thinking of what would be open this late and still be good.

“Pizza?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, you order I’m gonna go pee.”

When you looked at yourself in the mirror you felt a sense of relief and pride wash over you. Your post-sex glow gave you something else to gawk at besides the fact that it was this timeline where you would get to be with the one person you thought you could never have.

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong x reader #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong

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captain039 · 8 months

Text

Wolf and bear

Halsin x shapeshifter!reader

Warnings: sexual, adult content, eventual smut, light swearing, mentions of dog fighting, first times.

Again! I don’t know Halsins character very well, nor have a played the game still lmao (3rd of the 9th ) well 5th cause that’s when I get paid lol.

Angry little wolf with her future bear husband lol

Kinda questionable xD

I cannot find Halsin smut and I need it

Also need Astarion smut

Challenging a bear probably wasn’t the smartest idea you had, but he was too close to your home. He smelt different though, not like normal wild bears that sometimes roam through. There was a scar down his eyes and his one of his lip. He was bigger than a normal bear also, then again you were a bigger than a normal wolf. Was he a shifter? He didn’t seem fazed by your warning growls and snaps, if a bear could looked amused he looked it. You huffed through your teeth and hoped he’d disappear. You headed back to your cottage, shifting back into your human form with a pained groan.

“Why’re you in pain?” you screamed at the deep voice behind you, body instantly going back into a wolf form due to reflexes. You smacked the ground with a groan before shifting back. Your body extra aching now, of course it bloody hurt your body literally changed into an animal! stupid idiot. You grabbed your robe quickly and covered yourself, you turned seeing an overly naked large man.

“Gods!” you covered your eyes praying he’d just leave.

“Do you have clothes?!” You yelled.

“I rather enjoy changing without them on, more comfortable” he said and you couldn’t argue with logic, but still. Sure if you were skilled enough in magic you’d keep your clothes on and not ruin them, every time you changed though they’d be torn and ruined.

“Why’re you here?” You asked keeping your hand over your eyes.

“It’s been a long time since I met another shifter, I was curious I suppose” he said and you sighed.

“Well I shift, the end, please leave” you probably sounded like a bitch, but you hadn’t had anyone here in years, people weren’t to found on a wolf in their villages, and life with other shifters was weird, constant need to bond with nature and a lot of nudity.

“Why have you not joined others?” He asked and you sighed.

“Because they are too much for me I like my quietness!” You pressed hoping he’d get the hint.

“You are against bonding with nature and being yourself?” He added and you groaned.

“Listen man, I don’t want your company or questions please leave!” You finally moved your hand to look at him, geez he was big. Big broad shoulders and wide torso, strong legs- oh gods. You flushed and looked back to his eyes seeing a small smirk. He had the same three scars over his eyes and the one on his lip, tribal markings down the right side of his face. Pointed ears and long brown hair half tied back.

“You didn’t answer my question” he stated and your mouth hung open slightly, did he not get a word you just said.

“I’m Halsin” he said.

“I don’t care!” You groaned getting up and going inside, slamming the door behind you.

You awoke the next morning ignoring the scenes

of last night, hopefully he’s gone back to his little nature loving pack. You went outside to tend to your garden only to freeze when you sensed someone to your left. You stared at the large man sitting by your table chewing on what looked like dried fruit. Is he serious? You walked back inside surely this was a dream, or an illusion.

“I’m real” he called and you walked back outside.

“What in the hell are you doing here?!” You snapped and he just smiled. He was clothed thankfully as he stood, woah he was much bigger than you.

“You intrigue me” he said.

“I don’t care, get off my property or-“ you stuttered what could you really do to a giant bear man? He smirked head tilted he knew you couldn’t do anything.

You ignored him as you went about your gardening. He didn’t say anything which annoyed you more, what did he want somewhere to hibernate?! Certainly wasn’t going to be in your comfortable bed.

“Excuse us” you frowned at the approaching men. The bear man stood on edge a frown on his face. You walked to them and wiped your hands.

“What is it?” You asked seeing a note in their hands.

“Have you seen or heard any bears around?” He asked and you froze.

“One with a scar on his face!” The man behind him piped up.

“No?” You said questioning.

“We believe it’s a demon” he said and you raised a slight eyebrow.

“Bear shifter” he added, so this man was a shifter hater.

“He caused a rampage in a dog fight arena” your stomach churned at the words, people still did that? Horrible beings.

“Was anyone hurt?” You asked trying to not sound suspicious.

“Just the owners, not dead, but all the dogs were let free” he answered and you felt relief flood you.

“This your husband?” He nodded to the bear man behind you.

“Uh-“ you faltered as he stood and came over with a smile.

“I am” he said and you froze as a hand went around your waist. You wanted to punch that smile off his face.

“Ah, have you heard or seen anything?” The man asked and your supposed husband shook his head.

“Can’t say I have” he said.

“Kinda got scars like you” the one behind said studying.

“Oh these I was attacked by a bear actually, got its head in our living room” he chuckled, but you felt how rigid his body went.

“Awesome!” The man behind said and you sighed.

“Well if you see or hear anything let us know, oh and if you see a dog or dogs let us know, we’re at the village council” the man said and left. The bear man growled and you tensed feeling the anger rolling off him. You rested a hand on his chest feeling his urge to murder those men.

“Killing them won’t solve anything” you said hushed and he stared down at you with big eyes. Now that he was close, you could feel his warmth, feel the muscles beneath your hand, smell his scent.

You closed your eyes for a moment taking him in before you realised what you were doing and stormed away embarrassed.

“What about those dogs?” You asked.

“They’re with good people now, away from that horrible place” he growled the last part and you couldn’t ignore the shivers and unwanted arousal it gave you.

“Good” you whispered as you went back to gardening.

Apparently this was his daily ritual, to greet you in the morning, ask some questions and just be around you. You really couldn’t deny how comforting it was to have his presence, but you also couldn’t ignore how weird it was. After a few days of not shifting your body began to ache, you hated it, hated having to change and run in the forest despite the freedom it gave you. You waited till night, waited till Halsin was gone. You went outside in a robe, shrugged it off and shifted. You took a moment to gather yourself before you took off into the woods. You rested by a lake and looked at the moon reflection rippling in the water. You heard heavy steps and stood, hackles up before you recognised the scent and scar on the big bear. You sat back down listening to him saunter over and sit by you. You enjoyed the cool breeze and took in a breath to smell the forest around you. Halsin bumped you suddenly and you looked to him seeing the bear smile. You huffed at him and looked away feeling him doing it again. You gave him a narrowed look feeling his playfulness. You pushed him back with your body watching him stumble. He roared playfully and you stood up tail wagging slightly. You bowed down slightly in a playful dog stance as he roared softly and began play fighting with you. If someone was to walk by the would be weirded out, but for some reason this felt natural. If you could laugh you would, it just came out a strange grunts and growls as you nipped playfully at Halsins paws. He was stronger though and knocked you into the water. You froze standing up quickly and shivering. You growled charging at him and trying tackle him into the water only to fail. You were pinned under him, paws in the air and you gave a huff. He shifted above you and you tilted your head.

“Shift” he said smiling and you did expecting pain. You frowned though as he waved his hand, yellow light coming from his hand.

“Was that better?” He asked softly and you nodded surprised.

“I’m a Druid” he said.

“Oh” you said glancing at your nakedness and his. You covered your breasts and looked away with cheeks flushed.

“Why do you hide?” He asked and you glanced to him, biting the inside of your cheek.

“This is- intimate” you muttered.

“I’ve never been intimate, nor has anyone seen me like this” you added embarrassed, you glanced to his face seeing his eyes darken slightly but remaining soft.

“May I kiss you?” He asked softly and you froze, but felt yourself nod. He smiled as he leant down, you closed your eyes as you felt him press his lips to yours. You made an embarrassing noise, but he just deepened the kiss. Your arms left covering your breasts and you gripped his forearms instead as he began to kiss down your jaw and to your neck. You felt him press his lower half to you, hips meeting yours, you gasped hand slapping over your mouth. You heard him chuckle lightly, his breath tickling your neck.

“I want to worship you” he said softly and heat ran straight through your body.

“I want to taste you” he pressed a kiss to a sensitive spot on your neck that made you squirm.

“Feel you” he muttered and you sealed your eyes close. You felt his hand rest on your ribs before sliding up your side and over your hip, before gripping your thigh. He gripped the flesh pulling it gently so your knee bent. He stopped kissing your neck and chuckled again as you opened your eyes and flushed, you moved your hand and he kissed you again.

“You’re not so feisty when you’re flustered” he grinned and you glared.

“I was wrong” he chuckled and you hated how you loved the sound. Hated how you loved the feeling of him against you. You were battling with yourself, you didn’t even realise he had slid down your body till lips pressed against your inner thigh. Your eyes went down to his, he smirked pushing your legs further apart before you felt his breath against your folds. Your breath hitched when a tongue darted out and ran through them, a groan leaving his lips as he began to lick. Your body squirmed and you closed your eyes leaning your head back fully. You had one hand on your stomach in a fist, the other at your side, he was skilful, gods you felt like you were in heaven, or hell. You felt his hand snake up your stomach and you opened your hand to hold it, which he gladly accepted. You moaned as he began to suck and prod his tongue against your entrance. You gripped his hand harshly but he didn’t seem to care, too busy working you up with his tongue. You felt fingers though, joining his tongue and sliding in heat. You moaned back arching as he began to slowly thrust his finger in and out. His fingers were much bigger than yours and much more delightful, you kept clenching his hand as you felt your stomach tighten with need and release. You moaned brokenly when he added a second finger, working you open for what was hopefully to come. His mouth paid extra attention to your clit while his fingers scissored and beckoned. You whined lowly muttering a please that you barely managed to get out. You felt him grin and wanted to slap the cockiness off his face, but was too caught in the pressure building. You felt the knot in your stomach come undone as you came with a moan. Your legs shuddered and you panted loudly as he continued riding out your high slowly. He sat back up, and crawled up your body again smiling down at you.

“Beautiful” he whispered and you flushed looking away. You waited for him to move, but he didn’t and you looked back ready to huff at him. He had a playful look and you groaned quietly with a huff, why was he teasing?

“Why’re you teasing?” You asked.

“Because it gets you worked up” he smirked and you glared with a huff, you crossed your arms over your chest too, looking away till he kissed down your neck and you felt his hips shift. You tensed a bit as you felt the tip of his cock resting by your entrance. He grabbed one of your hands and pressed it above your head, clenching it before he thrusted in. You moaned while he groaned in your ear, you held your breath before panting. You clenched his hand, gods you felt full. He let you adjust before slowly skipping out and back in, your eyes slipped shut as you felt the sting.

“Gods” you muttered.

“I’ve got you” he whispered giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You whined in response as he set a slow pace, the sting slowly fading. His hand left yours as he rested on it instead and you wrapped your arms around him. His pace quickened slowly and you were struggling to keep in your moans.

“Only I can hear you” he whispered lifting his head which made you open your eyes. He kissed you gently and you moaned into his mouth as he began to quicken again. He was getting close, his pants became uneven and his hips were moving more desperately. You closed your eyes tightly again, back arching as he sped up to chase his release. You gripped his arms in your hands as his hips stuttered and he came with a groan. His head was in your neck panting harshly as you lifted your hands to run them up and down his back.

“I’m sorry” he suddenly said and you frowned.

“Why?” You asked as he lifted his head.

“I didn’t bring you to your release again” he said looking guilty and you smiled shaking your head pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Another time” you whispered and his eyes widened slightly but smiled as he kissed you once more.

#Halsin #Halsin x reader #x reader #bg3 #shifters

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lesinquietes · 4 months

Text

Summary: You talk shit to the wrong person on a discussion forum. Idly, you troll one user who’s really into the Paranormal Liberation Front’s new leader, Tomura Shigaraki. You’ve heard he’s being heralded as the Villain of Villains, though you’re not sure that’s a valid title. You decide it’s time to make your opinion known. “Idk if I’d give him that title… lol he’s giving insecure incel.”

Mean!Yandere!Shigaraki x Bimbo!Reader

⚠️ mdni. degradation. incel. misogyny. noncon. oral. panic attacks. shigaraki is a mean dom. slut-shaming. yandere.

Next l

You snicker as you press enter. Admittedly, you don’t know enough about the white-haired criminal to make that judgement call. You’re basing your statement solely on appearance. What can you say? Making ignorant comments is the essence of shitposting. You get to act a fool online because no one will ever discover who you are.

Until the user you mouthed off to replies.

Crumbleking: the fuck do you know?

Crumbleking: and you think a guy like him wouldn’t get women? he has a fucking army you stupid bitch he can have anyone he wants. that’s not insecure.

You roll your eyes, noticing he didn’t address the incel comment.

(Your username): I literally do not give a fuck lol do you want him @ crumbleking? Seeing as you know so much about his personal life and all

Crumbleking: you should be thankful he hasn’t killed you yet

(Your username): I’m not hearing a no

Crumbleking: get fucked

(Your username): Apparently shig is doing enough of that for both of us lmao

Crumbleking: you’re asking for it

You block the user. How many times has some moron threatened you online? Too many. But you take solace in the fact that, just like you, everyone’s simply a keyboard warrior. At the end of the day, it’s not like any of this shit is serious.

Right? :)

Well, a few days after this incident, you login to your social media account and notice a message in your mailbox. You lift a brow. It’s probably a meme from your best friend. You’re surprised to find a notification next to Requests. Someone you aren’t friends with has messaged you.

Hastily, you tap the Requests tab. You don’t know why your heart is pounding, or why you have a horrid feeling about this. Perhaps you’re under too much stress lately, or perhaps your intuition is trying to tell you something — that you’re in danger.

The request is from someone named Shigaraki. You know it can’t be the real villain. You clue in that it’s likely that freak who was defending him on the forum. He must have determined who you are somehow and resorted to messaging you on your private social.

Shigaraki: hello you dumb slut

Shigaraki: remember me?

Yeah, it’s definitely him. You wonder what his goal is, what he wants from you; normal behaviour doesn’t include stalking. You debate on whether or not to reply. You could play dumb or own up to your role. Of course, it’s far easier to do the former.

You: no?

It’s simple and to-the-point. You see him typing back right away. You hold your breath when he stops. Then, the screenshots from the forum come, reminding you of the conversation.

Shigaraki: i know you’re (username).

You resort to the IP tracker on your laptop, figuring you’ll spook him and he’ll leave you alone. You power it up and click eagerly. When you’re halfway through locating him, it’s as though he’s read your mind.

Shigaraki: if you think I’m not using a vpn then you’re stupider than I thought

The panic really sets in now. You’re hyperventilating. The message shoots you into a panic attack — the kind when your throat constricts and your lungs heave stale air. You scratch at your chest and gasp. You feel like you’re dying. You can’t breathe. With quivering fingers, you type a nasty message to him.

You: what the fuck is wrong with you. why the hell do you care what i think this much???? please leave me alone. blocking you.

That’ll end this terror once and for all. Or will it?

Shigaraki: Don’t you fucking dare you whore

His response is nearly instantaneous.

Shigaraki: if you block me I’ll find you irl

Shigaraki: i just showed you how easy it was to find your social media profile

Shigaraki: i’ll fucking find you

Shigaraki: and we’ll see if you feel the same about me when we’re face to face

You can’t stand it. You press the block button and exit the app. You turn off your phone — as if that’ll help — and throw it onto your bed. You shut down your laptop place it gently atop your desk. That’s enough for tonight. You have to remind yourself that the person threatening you is just a persistent troll, that the Tomura Shigaraki would never waste his precious time bantering with a random person on the Internet. You get to bed using that precise logic.

Except you’re wrong.

A few weeks pass, and you make the foolish mistake of thinking you’re safe. You start to throw caution into the wind, glancing over your shoulder less and walking home from work at night. You don’t notice the pale man trailing you. He watches you at work, as you hustle under pressure, and at home, before you close the curtains. He’s seen you naked twice. He assumes you meant to show off your body to an audience, that you like a bit of exhibitionism. Well, he’ll keep that in mind when he extensively plots out your payback.

Finally, one evening, he strikes. You come home from work and close the door. Securing the locks, you don’t see him until it’s too late.

He wraps a hand around your neck, keeping his pinky lifted to prove a point. He could kill you if he wanted. He could turn you to dust and be done with this stupid shit. In truth, he doesn’t know why he let his anger overtake him to the point where he had to find you. The problem is, he can’t stop his pursuit. If you escaped him right now, he would find you again.

And again.

And again, until he’s able to teach you a fucking lesson.

“Thought you could get away from me, huh?” He rasps next to your ear. “I found your social media account. Didn’t think I’d find your address?” He cackles venomously. “Stupid whore.”

You know immediately who you’re being held captive by. It’s the guy you were talking shit to online. It also happens to be Tomura Shigaraki, in the flesh. You realize, at once, that your luck is positively atrocious. Like, honestly, how the fuck did this happen to you? You can’t make sense if the madness.

He drags his knuckles along your cheek, stroking it. You feel his index finger trace the outline of your lips. Instantly, your heart sinks. On cue, he hums.

“I bet these can suck dick better than they talk shit,” he remarks darkly. “Wanna find out?”

You don’t, but he does.

“Take off your jacket, or I’ll crumble it off with the first two layers of your pretty skin.”

He takes away his hand to allow you space. The way you understand it, if five of his fingers make contact with your body, you’ll begin to fall apart. You’ve seen footage of what he’s done to heroes who have defied him. It causes you to wonder why he’s chosen to torture you, of all people.

The answer lies in his discovery of your social media account. Before he saw what you look like, he was content to merely leave you a little scare. Then, he started diving into your life, going through each and every one of your photos. It turns out you’re quite the socialite. You with your friends. You with your family members. You with animals. Food. Music. Video games. With all these posts, he was granted a perfect snapshot of what it is you do. And now, he wants to watch everything you ever loved decay.

“Why the hell are you doing this?” You hiss, daring to make eye contact tact with your stalker. “Don’t you have better things to do, you fucking freak?”

You spit the last two words with as much vitriol as you can muster. He doesn’t miss the effort you pour into your distaste. He rewards you with a callous cackle.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” He cooes, scarred lips contorting into a smile. “We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

You lick your lips. You can’t recollect if you referred to him by name. Everything is a rapid blur.

“Shig.” He prompts you. “You’re the first and only person that’ll call me that.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You didn’t consider it overstepping at the time because you didn’t think you were interacting with Shigaraki. You can see how it might have been construed as intimate in his eyes, given your casual use of the pseudonym. The least you can do is apologize. It won't save your ass, but perhaps it will urge him to go lighter on you.

"I-I'm sorry," you squeak. "T-to be fair, I—“

“To be fair, I should wrap my hand around your throat and watch you beg me for air as your whole body turns to dust.” He interrupts you venomously. “Take off your fucking jacket.”

You unzip the garment and throw it onto your sofa. Next comes your hat and scarf. You finish his request when you’re in only your sweater, pants, socks, and undergarments. He smirks at the result of your swift labour, drinking in your silhouette. He’s seen enough photos of you outdoors to know what lies beneath the rest. Thirst traps, you’d probably call them. Little did you know they’d be used against you one day.

He removes his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. With a languid thumb, he swipes it to life. He logs into his fake social media account and finds yours. It��s bookmarked as a favourite tab, of course, especially considering how many times he’s used your pics to jerk off. If you only knew how many nights his cock twitched, begging to be sheathed in your soft pussy, you’d probably be petrified.

He grins.

“What were you thinking, posting shit like this?”

He twists the screen around for you to see. It’s a photo of you and your bestie in bikinis. Your hair is wet from spending time in the ocean. You and your friend were vacationing at a beach, and you wanted to look your best. Beside her, your lips are coiled around a lollipop, cheeks hollowed out from sucking on it. A thirst trap? Absolutely. But not for him.

He stares at the image one more time before putting the phone away. His crimson orbs lock with yours. A smirk settles across his lips.

“Get on your knees.”

Your eyelids clamp shut. Wordlessly, you lower yourself to the ground. It feels utterly humiliating. You have no choice but to let him use you. There has to be a way out of this situation, but how? If you’re serious about surviving, you have to cook up an escape route.

Shigaraki nears your submissive form. He wishes he brought something to tie you up. You’d look gorgeous bound for him. Helpless and barely willing is how he likes his lovers.

He wasn’t lying when he told you he gets women. Since establishing the Paranormal Liberation Front, people have been throwing themselves at him. They’re attracted to his power. He doesn’t have an interest in any of them, though; there are better things to do, and more enticing partners to find. You fit the bill quite nicely.

He hovers over you, leering at you with his crotch mere centimetres from your face. His jeans smell like laundry detergent — you didn’t expect that. You guess he’s not as crusty as he seems, with his scraggly hair and raspy voice.

Suddenly, he grasps the back of your head with four fingers and pushes your face against his clothed erection. He grinds it along your cheek, twitching in his underwear, yearning to feel the warmth of your slutty mouth. Soon you’ll serve him, but not yet.

“Look what you do to me,” he groans, lulling his head back. “I’ve been waiting for you to fix this problem. Won’t kill you until I’ve had my fill.”

You shiver. You’ve got to get to fuck out of here. If you can distract him, you can jump out of the window and get help. It’s risky, but you don’t have much of a choice.

He releases you and moves to unzip his pants. Your breath hitches. You don’t want this to extend any longer than it has to — not if you can help it. Who knows when he’ll get bored and murder you? He’s unhinged. The time to act is now.

“Wait,” you mumble. “Sh-shirt.”

Shockingly, he lets up for a moment. You take the opportunity to gesture to the garment you’re wearing. It’s your work uniform. Nothing special. He doesn’t have to know that, though.

“Lemme take this off,” you insist. “P-please. I-I don’t wanna ruin in.”

If you remove your shirt, that’ll leave you in merely a bra and pants. Fortunately for you, Shigaraki isn’t a stupid man when it comes to his own satisfaction. He decides to offer you reprieve. Robotically, he steps back to give you space. He’s seen them from afar; he knows they’ll be impressive up close.

“Hurry up.”

He doesn’t anticipate you being a skillful little idiot.

You roll backwards and stumble to your feet. Bolting towards the window, you’re grateful that he didn’t make you strip completely. The hesitation of humiliation and shame might have prevented you from leaping out from the second floor. It’s with luck that you don’t break anything upon hitting the ground.

Shigaraki lunges for your hair a millisecond too late. He catches himself on the window frame. At the same time, you get to your feet and sprint. By the time he reaches the street, panting and growling with fury, you’ve disappeared; there’s not a trace of you left behind.

He suspects you’re off to alert a local hero or police officer. That’s fine. He doesn’t expect them to believe you, and even if they do, how will they protect you? He can feel his power accumulating; moreover, after the impending procedure that’s set to occur in the coming months, he’ll be unstoppable. He doesn’t mind killing those who get in his way.

Thus, with a heavy huff, he lets you go. You obviously want to play, and he’s a master gamer. He knows you want this just as much as he does. After all, didn’t you grasp that he was serious about finding you as many times as you manage to flee from him — that he’ll keep his pursuit steady until you no longer have the strength to run? You must want to be hunted, like pretty prey reserved only for the best.

You have no idea who you’re fucking with.

#minors dni #tw misogyny #tw noncon #shigaraki tomura #yandere shigaraki #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #afab reader #fem reader #bimbo reader #shigaraki x bimbo reader

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hushedlover · 1 year

Text

Screaming and Crying Part 2

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x reader

Summary: Part 2. You're recovering from the hurt Xavier caused. You've avoided him at all costs, but how long can it go on?

A/n: Here's part 2! I had so much fun writing this. Isabella is based off of one of my best friends who helped me proof read this lol

Requests are open! Send anything in!

The sun was setting by the time you made your way back to the school. Your phone had gone off multiple times with calls and texts from friends questioning your disappearance. You ignored them all. You couldn’t find it in you to care. The blood had long dried on your knuckles, not until after you had finished punishing the poor tree more. Your arm hung limp at your side, your wrist had swelled and was throbbing. Probably sprained or broken. You couldn’t find it in you to care about that either.

You were sure you looked crazy, your hair a wind blown mess, face tear stricken, and blood covering your hand. You walked through the quad and ignored the people who gawked at you. It was very few due to the late hour, dinner had passed so you just made your way to your dorm. Isabella, your roommate, would be pissed seeing as you had ignored every worried attempt she made to reach out to you. You were correct in your assumptions. The minute you swung your door open she was bolting to her feet.

“No, no she just came in. Yeah I'll call you back. Okay bye,” she hung up the phone and sighed. “That was Enid. We were worried sick about you! What happened? Oh my gosh your hand! Bitch, what happened?”

You surprised both yourself and Isabella when you broke out laughing at their outburst.It was odd, the rush of adrenaline you had gained from the situation. You felt floaty, like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. Isabella stood there, gaping at you. This caused more laughter to flow out of you due to them looking like the human embodiment of the stupid emoji everyone uses. She almost looked afraid of you. When you finally calmed your fit of giggles, they spoke.

“Girl, what the fuck. What is happening right now?”

“I don’t even know man. I’m... I'm so tired. And boys are buttheads.”

“You say that like that's something new. I’m telling you, women are just better. But what happened? Was it that blonde beanstock you’re always with? What’s his name? Tarzan?”

You laughed again,” Xavier. And yeah it was him. It was him and his infatuation with that Wednesday girl.”

“Oh my god,” Isabella dragged out the last syllable, “I can’t blame him girl she’s so fine!”

You just glared at her and moved to go to your shared restroom. You wanted to wash the blood off your hand and inspect the damage done.

“Way to rub salt in the wound, thank you. So much,” you muttered over the sound of the sink running.

“Listen. Here me out on this. Please, plEAaase,” they whined from the doorway.

“Just grab me some pajamas, will you? I think I need a shower to get all of this off. My plaid pajama pants please.”

You heard rustling and heard Isabella call out to you.

“Not to ruin the good mood or anything, but shouldn’t you be having a mental breakdown right now? You haven’t even told me what happened, but I feel like there should be more tears.”

“I think it’ll come later, I’m kind of-,” You cut yourself off to take the clothes she had gathered from them. “Thank you. I’m kind of numb right now. I think it’s shock. And adrenaline. I don’t know. Can I explain after my shower?”

“Fine, but hurry up. I wanna know what my reasoning is going to be for kicking Tarzan’s ass,” and with that they shut the door behind them.

You slipped into the shower, the warm water relaxing your muscles. The silence without music would usually bother you, but tonight it was welcomed. Your head was finally quiet. Thoughts of Xavier and Wednesday kissing and holding hands long forgotten. You were just looking forward to the weekend now.

—------

It had been 2 days since that night. Isabella had kept you sane and occupied all weekend. You had shit talked and stuffed your faces with all the junk food you could find. Isabella had also confiscated your phone, claiming that “We can’t risk you being a pussy and giving into your problem.” So if anyone had tried to contact you it went unanswered. Bianca and the twins, you and Isabella’s friends, knew to take her if they needed something.

It was Monday morning now. You really, really did not want to go to class knowing you would have to see both Xavier and Wednesday and all your mutual friends, but Isabella forced you. They told you to “women up” and be a bad bitch. But you really didn’t feel like a bad bitch. You felt a bit pathetic. Isabella threw a pillow at you, startling you from your thoughts.

You flipped them off and then slipped out of bed and went to get dressed. Due to the weather being so cold the rules on uniform were a bit more lenient so you slid on some leggings and your Nevermore crewneck. The sleeve stuck to the brace you had around your wrist, luckily you hadn’t broken it, but it was sprained pretty bad. Isabella was getting ready too, but when she saw you in your comfy outfit she paused.

“Tell me you are not planning on wearing that.”

You looked down, confused.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Girl! We get the chance to dress how we want, be cute!”

“Says you,” you grumbled playfully but went to change anyway.

You threw on some jeans and a long sleeve top with a t-shirt over it. Then you threw on some shoes and walked out of your closet.

“Is this better,” You raised your arms in question.

Isabella nodded in approval and then they shoved your bag and phone into your hands.

“Let’s go, Bianca is waiting and I’m hungry. You took too long.”

“What?,” You yelled as you were pushed out the door and towards the stairs. “You’re the one who made me change! I was ready!”

The two of you continued to bicker all the way down to the quad, where Bianca and the twins were standing there waiting for you. When you approached them, Bianca wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. You laughed softly at the action. It was odd, your guys' relationship. She was Xavier’s ex yes, but before that you had all been friends. And that didn’t stop despite the conflict between the broken up couple. You had always trusted Bianca, and though it was a bit awkward at first, you remained close no matter the circumstances.

When you pulled away Bianca held you by the shoulders and smiled at you.

“He’s a dick who doesn’t know what’s good for him. You’re amazing and you’re so much more mature than him.”

You smiled at her, and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, Bianca.”

“Guuuuuyyyyys, I’m hungrryyyyyyyyy.”

Your group all laughed at Isabella’s complaints. You all agreed to have the twins grab the food and then they’d meet you guys back at the table to eat. It was nice to laugh freely with your friends. A weight was lifted off your chest. When the twins returned you all dug into your food. You were all joking and bickering amongst yourselves. You almost forgot about your conflict with Xavier. Almost.

The thought of him still lingered in your brain. It stayed there through breakfast and while you were walking to class. You were so lost in conversation that you forgot that you had your first class with him. You remembered when you walked in the doorway and saw him sitting in his seat, the one next to him empty where you would usually be. You froze in your spot, your heart palpitating painfully. Isabella stopped next to you with a puzzled look.

“Why’d you stop in the middle of the- Oh.”

They cut themselves off when they saw where you were looking. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too enamored in his drawing he was working on. You looked up at your friend next to you, your eyes wide with panic. You didn’t know what to do.

“Hey hey hey, don’t cry please. I don’t do well with crying. Here, you’ll sit with me. I’ll be your new partner,” She was already guiding you to your new seat.

When you got there you kept your head low, afraid to look up and make eye contact with Xavier. You sat next to Isabella and they struck conversation with you easily until the teacher walked in. When you heard the footsteps walk in the room you instinctually looked up, and you wished you hadn’t. Your eyes drifted across the room to where Xavier sat, the seat next to him now occupied. The sight of him and his new partner made your stomach drop. It was Wednesday sitting next to him. Of course it was.

He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced over at you. When his eyes met yours and widened, you quickly hardened your gaze and looked away. You didn’t want him to see the hurt you still felt. Straightening your back you focused your attention on the lecture, you wouldn’t let him get to you.

___

The lecture felt like it went on forever, so when it was finally over you were extremely relieved. You and Isabella parted ways at the door, they would go to their next class and you would go to chemistry. With Xavier. Your chest tightened at the thought. You sped up your pace as you walked towards the class, hoping if you got there fast enough you could find any seat away from him. But the universe decided to give you a huge middle finger today. When you arrived at the class there were only 2 open seats. Right next to each other.

You sighed. You were too tired for this. Maybe you could just ignore him and he’d leave you alone. That is if he even wanted anything to do with you. You didn’t have to wait long to see his reaction. He walked in not long after you, his eyes darting between you and the chair next to you. You continued to look down at your paper, refusing to meet his eyes. You heard him audibly sigh before he dropped his bag and sat next to you. You could feel him burning holes into the side of your head, but you didn’t dare look over.

Class started and things were going smoothly. The class was mostly notes, so there was no need to talk to the boy next to you. That didn’t stop him from bothering you though. As you concentrated on the board ahead of you, you felt something land on your hand. Looking down, you saw a butterfly perched on the back of your hand. It was a dark gray, clearly one of Xavier's drawings. You felt your heart pick up at the thought of him trying to get your attention. Immediately, you shook your hand, and your head, slightly to clear the butterfly and your thoughts. Xavier sighed again and then looked back at the board.

—

After that there were no incidents. The day continued smoothly and by the end of it you were exhausted and ready to flop on your bed. You did just that when you arrived at your dorm. Throwing your bag to the ground, you ran and fell face first on the plush covers. Not 5 minutes into your silence, the door burst open. In came Isabella and Bianca, talking loudly before they saw you.

“Y/n,” Isabella called out. “What are you doing? We’re going down to Weathervane in like 10 minutes?”

You grumbled back, your words being incoherent. You didn’t want to get up. But you also wanted coffee.

Slowly you rolled off your bed and to the floor, and then looked towards your friends. Isabella looked confused, Bianca looked concerned. You reached your hands out towards them and pouted.

“Help please,” You wiggled your fingers at them.

They looked at each other and sighed before walking to you and pulling you to your feet. Then they dragged you out the door, leading you on the bus that was going to bring kids down to town. When you arrived in the cafe you practically ran for the counter. No one was there yet, but you knew the boy who worked here most days, Tyler. You guys had met at one of the festivals in town before his whole argument with Xavier. You had been pissed with him over what he did to Xavier, but after he apologized and explained himself you had become civil once again. Now you were more acquaintances than friends, but you loved the way he made your coffee so you were kind to him.

You dinged the bell on the counter obnoxiously while Isabella and Bianca made their way into the shop. You heard Tyler yell something from the back before he came into your view, clearly frustrated. You gave him a sickly sweet and innocent smile.

“Hi Tyler, did you miss me?”

“Oh so very much,” he smiled back at you. “The usual I assume? You want to put theirs on your order too?”

He pointed at your two friends behind you, who he had seen come in with you hundreds of times before. They had already sat down and were chatting idly.

“Yes please, I’m treating today,” You said, pulling out your wallet.

As you fished for the right amount of cash you heard Tyler speak again.

“What about his?”

Your head snapped up, your brows furrowed. You had been so focused on the money that you hadn’t heard the door open. When you glanced behind you, you saw the last person you wanted to see. Xavier.

“No, uh. He’s not with me- us today,” You tripped over your words, hands now shaking as you tried to hand the cash to the boy in front of you.

Tyler quickly took note of the way you trembled and how your eyes were watering. He quickly grew concerned. You two may not be close, but he cared enough to know he didn’t like seeing you this upset. He made eye contact with Bianca, who had been watching since Xavier walked in, and waved her over. Then he placed his hand over yours.

“Hey, Y/n,” He dipped his head trying to make eye contact with you. “Hey, why don’t you go sit down? Bianca or Isabella can help me okay?”

You just nodded slightly, feeling Bianca take your shoulder gently and guiding you to the table. Isabella was finishing the transaction with Tyler, both of them looking over at you with worry occasionally. You glanced around the shop in panic, not being able to find the boy you were so desperately avoiding. That was until he was standing directly in front of your table, just next to where Bianca sat.

“Y/n, can I- Can I talk to you, please?,” Xavier stumbled over his words.

Your friend tensed and got ready to get up and give him a piece of her mind, but your hand on her arm stopped her. Xavier saw you whisper something in the siren’s ear before she slid out of the booth, giving you room to slip out too. You made brief eye contact with your previous best friend, before turning on your heel and walking out the door.

You continued to walk until you were in the grass across the street from the cafe. You knew he was following you. Like a love sick puppy. You scoffed to yourself. When you decided you were far enough from the shop you stopped and waited for him to approach you. You felt him stop behind you, but you didn’t turn.

“Y/n, please would you look at me? Look, I know I messed up. I was a total dick and I’m so sorry. I just was so excited about Wednesday, I mean I really like her. I haven’t liked anyone this much since Bianca and I-,” He cut himself off when he noticed your arms wrapped around yourself, your shoulders shaking.

You still had your back to him so he couldn’t see the tears streaking your cheeks, but he knew you were crying. You never cried. And he made you cry. Oh shit. Why were you crying? He rushed forward and turned you gently. Grabbing your cheeks, he made you look up at him. Xavier’s thumbs brushed along your cheeks, concern filling his eyes.

“Please talk to me. I don’t think I can handle you being quiet anymore. You’re never quiet with me and these past couple of days I've been trying to give you space but it’s so hard. I miss you. I miss my best friend.”

He whispered the last part, resting his forehead on yours. You furrowed your brows and sniffled. Then you pushed him away, hitting his chest. You punched and pushed and hit and Xavier took it all because he knew he deserved it.

“You idiot,” You yelled at him. “I have supported you for years! I’ve been your best friend, no matter how much you’ve pissed me off. No matter what you have said to me. And you know why I did that? Because I love you, you moron. I have loved you since we were kids, and I haven’t done anything because I just want you to be happy. But whenever any other girl comes along, you throw yourself at her! You ignore me! I’m tired Xavier! I’m so tired.”

Your shoulders slumped forward and you sighed. Xavier was a few steps in front of you, shock written across his face. His eyes were watering, his cheeks flushed. You wiped your face and felt that you had been sobbing the entire rant. Xavier took a step forward and you took one back.

“You… love me?,” He asked, like he was afraid he would scare you off.

You shook your head and glared at the grass below you.

“Only since we were 8.”

“Y/n… I don't know what to say,” He started.

“Don’t say anything. Go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

As you turned to walk away, Xavier’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. His mind was racing, he was panicking. He couldn’t let you walk away. Not when he found out you loved him back and every stupid this he’s done in the past year was for nothing. So he panicked and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Wednesday is a lesbian. She likes Isabella.”

You froze. You tried to process the information the tall boy had just blurted but you couldn’t. Not fully. So you burst out an incredulous laugh and collapsed to the ground. Xavier wasn’t expecting it, and with his grip still tight on your wrist he was pulled down along with you. He landed half on top of you, his arms on either side of your head to keep him from crushing you. His long hair tickled your face and you scrunched your nose at the sensation. Then you realized the position you were in. You blushed, heat rushing to your face and looked everywhere but the boy on top of you.

Xavier on the other hand could only see you. He could only focus on your eyes, the freckles that dotted your skin, the way your lips pulled into that beautiful little frown. He gently reached down and ran his thumb across your eyebrows, trying to soothe the harsh lines there. Then he cupped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. What he did next made your heart completely start and restart in your chest.

Xavier had leaned down, pressing his lips to yours carefully. He pulled away quickly, not wanting to overstep. Before you could question him, he spoke:

“I thought you only saw me as a brother. That’s what Rowan and Ajax, my parents, everyone told me. They told me I couldn’t ruin our friendship. So like the moron I am, I listened. I pushed away my feelings for you and I went after other girls because I thought it was the only chance I had at staying in your life. Sure, I liked Bianca and Wednesday. Maybe I had a crush on them. But I wasn’t in love with them like I am with you. I am so sorry, Y/n. I never should have said what I did. If I could take it back I would. But because I can't, I'll spend my entire life making it up to you.”

You were in shock. What the fuck was he thinking:? He could just apologize and confess his love and everything would be fine? No. You smiled up at him and then you slapped him. Hard. His face turned with the impact. And then you grabbed his face and kissed him. Hard.

“You owe me so many things, the list is at least a mile long,” You said as you pulled back and then kissed where your hand had met his face. “But we have all the time in the world for you to complete that list.”

Xavier leaned down to kiss you again and then pulled away with a frown.

“That hurt,” He whined.

“You deserved it and you know it,” you kissed his cheek once more before gently pushing him off of you. “Now come on, we need to get Isabella a girlfriend. Maybe she’ll finally stop making me watch anime with her.”

___

Tags: @555stargirl555 @weasleylovers @wrenwastooshort @justanotherkpopstanlol @lovurryy @rainehatepage @ghostlycrystobalove @bambi-munson @hershey2813 @karslyn @nothingbeatsthebeautyofthemoon @parkersmyth @multistangirl07 @emilykolchivans

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x reader comfort #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader smut #xavier thorpe x reader angst #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe smut #wednesday addams #wednesday show #wednesday

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multi-fandom-imagine · 3 months

Note

Thinking about if Alastor’s twins were like the shining twins…

-freaks everyone out, especially because both never drop their sharp toothed smiles.

-their big eyes stare into your soul.

-something they know a little TOO well because they will stare at whoever just to mess with them.

“Where’s the popsicles?” Charlie hums to herself at the frozen refrigerator.

She hears some giggling behind her, catching both little deer girls with the popsicle box.

“Hey girls! Can I get one of those?”

They both simultaneously stop laughing and instead stare at the woman.

“…”

“Uh..” Charlie repeats her question.

They both continue staring, their smile still on their face as they continue to eat their popsicles. Making no move to give one to the Princess of Hell.

It’s a good minute before Charlie just backs away quietly. Walking away with her feelings hurt for being ignored 🥺 (poor Charlie why did I do her like that 😭)

-they WILL speak in unison because they know how uncomfortable people get.

“We’ve been watching you.” *little giggle* 👹

“I’m not doing this. I’M NOT DOING THIS!” Vaggie exclaims running out of the hotel.

-when there is an option for peace or violence they WILL choose violence.

“Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?” Vox says.

“Like an ugly primbly bitch 👹”

-I could see them both tying up some horrible sinner and giving them a makeover. Alastor catches them and is deeply amused.

“Ladies~ what did mother say about kidnapping sinners from the street?~”

“But father we’d like to play with her.”

“She’d look much better with more eyeshadow.”

“Yes indeed, we are helping her look more pretty. She’s ugly right now.”

The father of two gives them both looks, his smile stretching maliciously at the wayward sinner begging him to save her.

“Hmmm…very well then! Don’t tell your mother!”

“Thank you papa.” Both say.

Both love you dearly.

After a long day of tormenting others and hurting everyone’s self-esteem, you can find them curled up in your lap reading a story for bedtime.

When they’re tired enough, you’ll tuck them in bed and land little smooches on their foreheads.

When you leave them to sleep and they’re sure you’re gone, they’ll open their eyes to stare at one another.

“I’m hungry.”

“Me too.”

“…”

“Let’s eat 👹”

Cue them raiding the kitchen and eating everything 👁️👄👁️

The next day:

“WHY IS THERE NO FOOD?”

*little giggle* 👹

Idk why I like making them unhinged lol

No because I love this too and you know that they would 1000% torment Valentino and Vox.

But when the reader catches them they dropped the act because they don't want to make Ma'ma mad.

The reader make's them apologize to Charlie and Vaggie.

This is just perfection.

#hc #hcs #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #dad!alastor

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loveesiren · 6 months

Text

𝖲𝗇𝗈𝗐𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 - 𝖢.𝖲.

DISCLAIMER: This is my first Sturniolo fic and I have taken a longggg break from writing so I am very rusty. Sorry in advance that this most likely sucks. I'm also not great with fluff but I thought this was cute so I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think <3

Synopsis: In which Y/n finds the one person who brings joy to her life.

Warnings: Language, broken family (deceased father, alcoholic mother, troubled youth), fluff, cigarettes, very brief mention of drugs

Word Count: 2.4k+

“I WISH I WASN’T EITHER!” You screamed at your mother before slamming the door and walking out into the cold winter night. You grabbed a cigarette from your coat pocket and placed it between your teeth as you searched for your lighter. You brought it to the tip of your cigarette, flicking it a few times until it finally lit.

I wish you weren’t my daughter. The words echoed in your head as you made your way down the dimly lit street. Light snow fell from the sky and your neighborhood was silent, the fluffy white powder absorbing all sound. The space around you was liminal. It was nights like these that were perfect for clearing your head.

Chris’s POV

I heard Y/n yelling and I immediately turned my attention to the window. I slipped my headphones off, completely ignoring Matt and Nick and abandoning the game. I watched as Y/n clicked her lighter to light up her cigarette before walking off down the street. She looked sad. That wasn’t unusual. Especially this time of year.

I’d grown up next to Y/n my whole life. I’d dare to even say she is my friend. Although maybe she doesn’t feel the same about me? She was confusing at times. She was often quiet and kept to herself at school. She was really kind. But I’d also seen her lay someone out before for disrespecting her. She was smart as hell but always managed to end up in detention and for some reason I found myself getting into situations to get detention just so I could hang out with her.

Obviously, my parents didn’t love that but she was so intriguing. The whole neighborhood knew of her situation. Her mom definitely wasn’t the most pleasant neighbor. Y/n tried to escape that as much as she could but she was still viewed as the “troubled kid” growing up. Now we are 18 and on the verge of graduating. I was beginning to fear that she’d be gone soon. She’d told me before how she couldn’t wait to get out of this town, that there was nothing keeping her here.

Where would you go? I texted her.

Idk. Maybe the Outer Banks? Learn to surf, search for treasure, live like a Pogue. Lol. She responded.

We didn’t always stay up late texting but when we did our conversations were always interesting. I was always excited to see my phone screen light up with her name. It wasn’t constant, but often enough that Matt and Nick began to notice.

“Who are you texting?” Nick asked one day.

“Yeah, you smile like a goof every time you look at your phone.” Matt added.

“No one,” I responded quickly.

“That’s a fucking lie. Who is it?” Nick asked again. Matt quickly snatched my phone from my hands and ran away with it.

“Matt, what the fuck!” I yelled as I attempted to chase him. Matt tossed it over my head and Nick caught it at the perfect time for Y/n to text me back. My phone lit up with her name and photo and Nick's jaw dropped.

“Y/n?!”

“Ew, the weird bitch?” Matt added.

“She’s not fucking weird!” I snapped, grabbing my phone back. “Don’t fucking worry about it.” I stormed off to my room and since then they haven’t brought it up. Which was fine by me. They didn’t take the time to get to know her, no one did. She was actually cool as fuck.

I thought about texting her as I watched her walk further down the street. But it just didn’t feel right. I wanted to talk to her in person.

“Dude! What are you doing?” Matt burst through my door. “You totally fucked me and Nick in the game!”

“I’m done playing for now.” I told him as I went to my closet to grab my coat and snow boots.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back in a bit, okay?”

“Chris!”

I hated keeping things from my brothers but this was something I didn’t feel like discussing with them further. They made it clear they didn’t care about Y/n. The only time they ever made comments is when they noticed her and her mom fighting. They knew she was my friend and that’s all they needed to know. All I cared about was catching up with Y/n and making sure she was okay. It was absolutely freezing outside.

I left out the backdoor without responding to Matt and made my way down the street.

Y/n’s POV

You let the tears fall freely from your eyes as you dragged your cigarette. One more semester until you graduate and then you could leave this god awful suburb for the rest of your life. After your dad died when you were just thirteen, your mom took all her anger out on you. The last five years had been miserable. You missed your dad. You missed when your mom didn’t drink. You missed when you were a regular family. Now you were just the girl everyone felt sorry for. The troubled one.

You made your way to the small pond near the end of your neighborhood. You were ready to sit and let the stillness of the water distract you until you heard footsteps behind you. Your body tensed, nervous for who would be out here at this hour. You reached in your pocket and grabbed your knife, quickly pulling it and turning it on the person walking your way.

“Whoa, whoa!” The dark figure said, stopping in his tracks with his hands up. “It’s me! Chris!”

“Chris?” You asked softly, lowering your knife. He stepped forward. It was indeed Chris Sturniolo. You took a deep breath at the sight of him. “You scared the fuck out of me!” You scolded.

“I’m sorry…” He said. Unsure if he should walk closer or not.

“It’s fine,” You chuckled. “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, you know, just enjoying the freezing weather.” He said, smiling and stepping closer to you.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” You joke as your teeth chattered.

“What are you doing out here, Y/n?” Chris asks, his voice more serious now.

“Just needed some air.” You told him. “I like this pond in the summer. There are lots of frogs. I wonder where they all go in the winter…” Your face fell as you pondered the thought.

“Y/n..”

You sniffled as you looked down at the pond. Chris always knew. “What.” You responded. It wasn’t a question.

“You have mascara running down your cheeks.”

Christopher Sturniolo might have been the only person to ever see you cry. He always knew and he was always there. It was a rare occasion but as you thought back on it, he always seemed to appear when you were sad and find a way to cheer you up. Whether it be walking home with you, trying to make you laugh, or even just sitting next to you silently so you wouldn’t be alone.

“She said she wishes I wasn’t her daughter.” You confessed, allowing your head to fall. Chris wasted no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. Normally you hated being touched but you felt so comfortable with him. He wrapped one hand around your lower back and the other made its way to your hair as he towered just above you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve so much more.” He said softly.

You cried more at his words. In what world did you deserve more? In what world did you deserve Chris?

“Y/n, you’re freezing.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll call Billy-”

“No. Come to my house.” He cut you off.

You were taken aback for a moment. You hadn’t been to the Sturniolo’s since their 13th birthday party. The only reason you were invited was because your father died. You couldn’t imagine his parents or brothers actually liked you.

“Chris, I can’t just intrude like that-”

“You’re not intruding. And I don’t want you at Billy’s.” He stated. You’d never heard the sweet Chris Sturniolo sound so serious about something. Billy definitely wasn’t the best guy but he always gave you a place to stay when you needed it. “I don’t trust him.”

Chris had no reason to trust him. Billy was a dick and often fucked people over. But having him as a connect meant a place to stay and drugs to do as long as you put out or helped him out. But to be invited to Chris’s house made you nervous. His parents were sweet. His brothers were protective. Chris bringing you home would be like bringing home a stray raccoon.

“Chris, I can’t.” You sigh.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not a good look sneaking some degenerate into your home at midnight,”

“I will walk you through the front door proudly,” He says. “Besides, my parents are asleep and my brothers are too invested in their game. Just come over for a bit to warm up? We can listen to music in my room.”

You thought about it for a moment.

“If you hate it, you live right across the street,” He smiled hopefully at you,

You couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Fine.” You say. “But just for a little bit! Once my mom is asleep I’m going home.”

“Deal.” Chris agreed, throwing his arm over your shoulder and guiding you back towards the street.

The two of you walked back to his house with minimal conversation.

“Wanna catch snowflakes?” Chris asked before sticking his tongue out and letting the snow fall on it.

You giggled at him but followed his lead. The crisp flakes on your tongue felt nice. You were having fun jumping around in the snow with Chris. You even stopped at the park to make stupid snow angels and throw snowballs at each other. Before you knew it, the snow was getting heavier, almost blizzarding.

“C’mon!” Chris yelled, grabbing your hand and running towards his house.

You made it to his porch and he opened the door slowly. The kitchen was mostly dark aside from the microwave light being on and the light that shined underneath Nick’s door. You could hear him still awake, obviously yelling at a video game he was playing.

Chris put a finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet as you both slipped out of your boots. He grabbed your hand and you both tiptoed through the dimly lit house and up to his room. You made your way down the hall and followed Chris into his bedroom.

“Make yourself at home,” He said with a smile. He went to his computer and logged into his Spotify. You scanned his room, noticing all the posters of his favorite artists on his walls. You could tell he was passionate about music.

“Who’s your favorite?” You ask. He looks at you and you gestured to all the posters.

“Skies, for sure!” He says. “What about you?”

You unzip your coat to reveal the shirt you got at Grey Day last year. “$uicideboy$”

Chris smiles at you. “I’ve never really listened to them. What’s a good song?”

“A Death In The Ocean Would Be Beautiful,” You say as you slip off your coat and sit on his bed.

Chris turns on his galaxy projector so that wave-like colors flow across his ceiling before he presses play and joins you on his bed. You both lay back and listen intently as you watch the lights.

“They’re kind of depressing…” Chris admits after the song is over.

You chuckle slightly. “Yeah, they can be. But they can be helpful. They get it, you know? What I’m going through.”

Chris turns on his side and you mirror his movements as if you were his natural reflection. “I hate hearing it every night.” He admits.

Your body curls into itself, you pull your sleeves further over your hands. “I’m sorry…”

“No, not like that,” He says, propping himself up on one arm and placing his other on your shoulder, gently tangling his fingers through the ends of your hair. “I just hate hearing you guys fight and seeing you walk out in the cold every night. You don’t deserve that.”

“Trust me, Chris. I’m no saint.” You say with a sad laugh.

“Don’t have to be a saint to deserve basic respect, especially from your own family.”

“I only have to deal with it for a few more months. When I graduate, I’m out of here.” You smiled at the thought.

“You know…I’m really going to miss you…” Chris says softly.

You look up to see his eyes already on you. You wanted to tell him you’d miss him too. You wanted to tell him to come with you, although you knew he’d never leave his brothers. You wanted to tell him he was the only good thing in your life and every time you were near him you felt happy and warm and like everything was going to be okay for once in your miserable fucking life. But with every single thought your brain contained about Chris Sturniolo, your mouth could only mutter three little words.

“I love you…”

Chris’s lips parted slightly with shock as his eyes quickly scanned your features.

“Fuck! I’m sor-”

You were quickly cut off when he pressed his lips to yours. You were taken aback for a moment but quickly leaned in to deepen the kiss. He brought his hand up to cup your jaw and your fingers found their way to his hair. His lips were soft and sweet and you felt that fluttering feeling in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

He pulled away slightly and you frowned at the loss of contact. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long fucking time…” He said, his voice almost a whisper.

“I-I didn’t know you liked me…” You said. “Why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You’re smart, you’re sweet, you know what you want, and pretty as hell.” He smiled. “Not to mention you’re like the strongest person I know. You deserve so much better than the cards you’ve been dealt.”

You felt tears welling in your eyes again but you couldn’t help but smile. You don’t know what you did to deserve the pretty boy who had his arms wrapped around you, but you hoped you never had to let him go.

“Can I stay?” You asked shyly.

Chris smiled and pulled his comforter over both of you. “Please,” He said.

You snuggled into him, resting your head on his chest while he played with your hair.

“And Y/n?” He said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Mmm?”

“I love you, too.”

Tagging a few mutuals! Let me know if you want to be added/removed from tag list :)

Tags: @strniohoeee @flowerxbunnie @christinarowie332 @kenzieiskoolaid @bluesturniolo333 @chrattnick @recklesssturniolo @soursturniolo @byechristopher @justangelheree @sturnimovies

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo oneshot #my writing

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prettypei · 9 months

Text

“AND MY MAN, THANK YOU TO MY MAN.”

plot: in which they (try to) save you from embarrassing scenarios; fluff!

reader: gn! Reader, but in geto’s part reader has a period

warnings: icky scenarios (in an embarrassing way), blood in getos part (but like in period blood)

parings: gojo, geto, yuuji, yuuta x reader

(a/n): some of these are from personal experiences lol also names used in yuuji’s part are purely fictional ☝️

✰GOJO isn’t afraid of awkwardness. He’s well aware of the tension, but he mostly chooses to ignore it. He just doesn’t care enough. Until now. After your “particular loud outburst of gas” on the subway, everyone’s staring at you. Right now gojo is faced with the (probably) most important (and hilarious) decision of his life: save his soulmate from embarrassment, or stare at them as well, pin pointing the blame on them? He sees you trying to advert gazes, looking at the floor and anywhere but the faces of those who are staring at you in a disgusted manner. He then feels a little annoyed too. It’s hard to hold it in! What’s the big deal?

“*clears throat* ahem…. I was the one who farted. You can stop glaring at (name) now, guys.”

Everyone then immediately looks away, swiping on their phones or pretending like they weren’t even looking at his lover in the first place. You look at him, an expression of bemusement and awe on your face. He shrugs and gives you a cheeky grin. Well, it was worth it to see your smile.

✰you and GETO were on a date at a restaurant before you excused yourself and went to the bathroom. And when you come back with a mortified expression, he expects the worst. “What is it?” He’s asks. “I-uh….” You fiddle with the hem of your T-shirt. “My…pants are…stained…” Geto gives you a confused expression. “Huh? Babe what do you-“ “BECAUSE it’s that time of the month, suguru.” Geto’s eyes widen. “Oh. Oh!” Cue the awkward silence. You speak up: “Im really sorry suguru, we have to cut this date short…I didn’t expect this I-I am so so sorry.” He looks at you once again, and stands up.

“Let’s go to my apartment, Kay? You can borrow my jacket to cover yourself up.”

“But I might stain it!” “Well, I can wash it anyways. It’ll be fine! Plus I love you more.” he chuckles while adding a short peck to your cheek.

✰YUUJI and you were just coming out of the cinema, laughing about the comedy you and him just watched. “Ohmigosh did you SEE Angelina’s face when Ryan fell for her best friend?” You howled. “She got what she deserved, that bitch.” “Angelina was like, like that one meme.” Yuuji takes out his phone and scrolls through his photos, finally finding the photo. “THIS.” He snickers. It was then you just couldn’t stop laughing. And laughing. And laughing, until you earned a few glares from strangers. “Y-y-Yu-yuji.” You gasp for breaths. “I-I can’t-“ you continue laughing. Yuuji then notices your face red from laughing… and he laughs too. And laughs. And laughs. “(n)-(name)!” He sputters. “Y-you look just like that seagull, y’know? The meme?” You both look at each other, pausing for a second before bursting into laughter together. He then pauses to smile at your face.

“Y’know, it feels better to laugh with you. Is that weird?”

you smile back. “No, not at all.”

✰YUUTA was just looking for you because boy, the line for the bathrooms sure were long at the amusement park. “(name)? (NAME)!” He calls, searching for your familiar face. “I’m here!” You wave your arm, squeezing out of the line and walking towards your boyfriend. It was then yuuta noticed something stuck on the back of your shoe, and the line of people snickering and taking pictures of you. A long white roll of toilet paper was being dragged by the back of your left sneaker, and you were completely oblivious to the fact. You stand in front of him and grin. “Let’s go ride the roller coaster then, is that okay?” “Sure. Uhm wait I just dropped my ring, give me a sec.” You stand while yuuta walks behind you, pretending to pick up the ring while taking the toilet paper wedged under your shoe. He throws it away in a nearby trashcan, sending a glare to the people who were giggling at you. They all turned quiet. “Found it!” He says in a sing-songy voice, before lacing your arm in his and heading towards the rollercoaster. “Hey what was that about? The line suddenly turned quiet, did you see what happened?” You ask.

“No. I think someone tried to cut the line or something, I don’t know.”

#pei writes 🖋️#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk geto #geto x reader #itadori yuuji #jjk yuuji #yuuji x reader #okkotsu yuuta #jjk yuuta #yuuta x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru

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rinstaro · 1 year

Text

attitude

a/n: this is an ask for twilight that i accidentally deleted lol. this one’s gonna be loooooong. i feel really sick today so sorry if it’s really bad 🫠 not proofread because im ashamed of what ive done

cw: overstim <33, clit slapping, twilight being mean cause you pissed him off, you shouldn’t have bitched at him!! he says mean things in the sweetest tone, he still loves you very much, crying, biting, squirting, he cums in you hnnnnn, reader has a vagina and no pronouns

minors do not interact.

twilight was at his wits end. he’d come home to a clean house, a lovely dinner, and yet you were no where to be found. when he ventured into your shared bedroom, you were perched on the bed with your nose in a book. twilight got the feeling you weren’t reading, though.

you glanced at him quickly before letting out a small huff. what was that all about, he wondered. “i’m home, doll,” he smiled, reaching a finger out to push your book down. instead you snatched it away from him, causing him to jump back.

“did you eat?” you asked, still not looking at him. he frowned at your strange behavior. he decided to ignore it, maybe you were just really into that book?

“it was amazing, doll. i cleaned up the dishes for you.”

“hm. thanks,” you mumbled, finally setting your book down. twilight thought you were finally giving him some attention, only to watch you climb off the bed and walk towards the door. “i’m gonna fold the laundry.”

“oh, i did that too.” you grit your teeth. of course he did. he was just doing everything but you, huh?

the reason you were upset at him may have been silly, but you couldn’t help it. when you woke up this morning, there was an ache between your legs. you tried to ignore it, but how could you when your lover was right next to you? it was rare that you woke up before him, so you thought you’d use it to your advantage.

you turned over, wrapping your arms around his waist the same way his were currently wrapped around yours. you leaned up a bit, placing soft kisses on his neck at which he stirred slightly. you pressed your almost naked form closer to him, innocent kisses turning into little love bites. soon enough your lover was awake. “mmm, mornin’.”

“g’morning, baby. sleep well?”

“mhm. always do when you’re next ‘ta me. c’mere,” he mumbled, laying on his back and pulling you into his lap. perfect, you thought.

you ran your hands down his chest, your gaze heated. twilight had closed his eyes again, relishing in the feeling of your body heat. you leaned down, lips hovering over his when—

“are ya comin’ with me today?”

“…huh?”

“you said you wanted to come watch me work, right?” he asked, opening his eyes to look at your confused face. you almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing. here you were in all your glory, horny, barely any clothes on, and he was thinking about work?

you pouted, climbing off of him and laying back down, back towards him. “i’m still sleepy. maybe tomorrow,” you mumbled. twilight thought nothing of it, assuming your attitude was due to you being ‘sleepy’.

“alright, darlin, i’ll see you soon.” without a second thought, twilight rose, planting a kiss on your forehead before going to get ready for the day.

yes, you were pissed off because you didn’t get to fuck your husband in the early morning. damn him for being so hardworking.

now you were standing in the door frame looking silly, still scantily clad with a scowl on your face. “thank you,” you hissed. you had no choice but to walk back to the bed, sitting next to him and picking back up your book. twilight frowned. this was getting frustrating.

“whatsa matter, darlin’? you okay?” he asked directly, prying the book out of your hands. you looked appalled at the fact that he dared take it away from you. “i’m fine—“

“no you’re not. tell me. now.”

“excuse me? why do i have to?” you growled, “whatever. go play with your stupid goats.” with that, you stood once more, marching towards the door. before you could even reach for the handle, your lover’s hand was around your neck, chest pressed to your back.

a growl rumbled in his chest, making you freeze on the spot. you could tell that he was trying to calm his breathing, the grip on your neck pinning you in place. “mind sayin’ that again?”you choked back a whimper, slightly shaking your head no. “i d-didnt mean—“

“you didn’t, huh? so why you been so mean since i got here?” he could feel you swallow. when you didn’t respond, twilight took a moment to sniff the air.

right, just like he thought. surely you wouldn’t talk to him like that for no reason. “how ‘bout you go sit your pretty self back on the bed? i’ll make sure that attitude’s dealt with.”

and that’s how you were tied up by your wrists and stripped bare in the span of 15 minutes.

there were bite marks littering your entire body, coloring your skin in different shades of reds, purples and blues. you trembled, tears decorating your lash line already while your lover sat in front of you and spanked your clit.

“can’t even go one day without me touchin’ this cunt? that’s a lil’ pathetic even for you, doll,” twilight hummed, landing another slap on your clit. you cried out, legs twitching in an effort to close. too bad twilight was absolutely fucking massive. “got me a runner, huh? you know that’s not gonna work, darlin’.”

your pussy was sobbing, a damp spot already formed on the sheets. your clit was so sensitive from his spankings and you didn’t think you could take anymore.

“i-i’m sorry, please let me go! i won’t do it anymore!”

“hm? i’m just givin’ ya what you wanted,” he smirked, thumbing at your over sensitive clit. you gasped, legs trying to close again. he never understood why you kept trying to stop him, you craved his touch. how could he deny you what you had been asking for?

“y’know what? i think you even deserve a reward for waiting for so long,” twilight said while lowering himself and pushing your thighs back, not even giving you a moment to brace yourself as his tongue attacked your swollen bud.

you let out a slutty moan, rolling your hips into his mouth. “ahhn, link!–” finally he was giving you what you wanted and more. you couldn’t help but yell his name, eyes rolling back in pure bliss.

even though he was upset with you, twilight only ever wanted to please you. his dick twitched in his pants at every gasp you let out. more, he needed to hear you more. he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking at your gushing cunt. the tears finally started falling as you came abruptly, overwhelmed by his ministrations and your own sensitivity.

you twisted and turned in your restraints when he didn’t stop, drinking your cum like he hasn’t had water in days. “f-fuuuuck! quit it, let go let go!” you cried. he didn’t listen, not even for a second. instead, he dove his tongue even further into your cunt, viciously tongue fucking you towards your second orgasm. your legs shook in his grasp.

“please please i’m sorry! n-no, no more! too much!” twilight laughed into your cunt at your cries. where’d his tough little darling go? you had only cum once and he was far from done with you.

he kept tongue fucking you until he could feel you cum again, creaming all over his face. he sucked your poor pussy til there was nothing left, pulling away from your clit with a ‘pop’. you continued to shake, eyes squeezed shut. twilight ran his hands up and down your body, massaging the tense muscles. he didn’t need you cramping, he still hadn’t fucked you full of cum.

he gave you a minute before he spoke. “you said you’re sorry?” “mhm,” you whimpered in response. he smiled softly, grabbing your chin and kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue. “how you gonna make it up to me? you thought i’d let ya off that easy, brat?” you flinched at his words. his tone was sinister, holding promises that tonight would not end well for you.

“y’know, i was thinkin’ ‘bout you all day. your pretty face never leaves my mind,” he spoke quietly. “neither does that pretty cunt. thought about how my sweet darling feels so good when i fuck them. after all, don’t i deserve something for dealin’ with that nasty attitude of yours?”

as mean as he sounded, he was testing you. seeing if you wanted to stop. after all of that? fuck no. you needed him to batter your pussy til it was sore. you whimpered once more as you nodded, which made your lover laugh.

“there’s my good doll. just needed me to take care of you, right? then you’ll stop all that bitchin’?”

he finally stripped himself of his clothing, making you drool at the sight of him. you squirmed once more, whining at him. “liiiiiiink!” his dick throbbed painfully at the sound of his name coming from you. “please lemme go, i wanna hold you too.”

you’re so damn cute. how could he say no to such a precious request? he was gonna destroy you.

twilight untied the rope binding your wrists, sighing dreamily when your arms wrapped around his neck. maybe he should let you get this needy more often.

“you ready, darlin’?”

“y-yes, please give it to me,” you whispered, looking him right in the eyes. he could’ve came right then and there.

slowly, he pushed his cock into you, the stretch making you hiss. it felt like he was splitting you open every time and you adored it. a broken moan left your throat, toes curling so hard it hurt. twilight was no better off, shuddering when his hips met yours.

“oh my— fuck, move!” you yelped. he started at an easy pace, letting you get used to his size. your eyes rolled into the back of your head, the pleasure sending you into a frenzy. hell, twilight could even feel you trying to fuck him back, your hips chasing his whenever he pulled back.

“that’s it, fuck, let me feel you,” he growled, gradually increasing his pace. your cunt was so wet, clenching around him so hard, he felt like he was in heaven.

“my p-precious darlin’ was just waitin’ for me, huh? needed me to bury my cock in ya? ‘s that all?”

“yes! yesyesyes, please! i love you so much, please!”

twilights pace stuttered, a choked groan tumbling out of his mouth. “i love you, too. gonna make me cum.” you were about to cum yourself, thighs shaking violently. you pulled him into a searing kiss that sent both of you over the edge. you were cumming so hard you couldn’t breathe, cunt squirting all over your husband and yourself. he moaned loudly, thrusts slowing but never stopping as he fucked his cum into you.

you started growing sensitive once more, begging him to stop, to take a break. but he couldn’t, not when you missed him so much and your pussy fucked him so good. twilight suddenly started fucking you at an animalistic pace, his grip on your hips bruising. you were screaming, certain that the entire village could hear you. your poor neighbors.

“fuckfuck, can’t stop, so fuckin’ good, need more,” he moaned out, throwing your legs over his shoulders. your back arched almost painfully. he was so deep you could only feel him. everything felt so good, too good, and you weren’t sure if you could handle any more.

“link, it’s too good! c-can’t take it! can’t— oh my— hahhhh!” your fucked out babbling was cut short as you came again, squirting all over the two of you once more. you felt so good, you were sobbing. twilight chuckled darkly.

“there ya go, jus’ like that. give me all of it til there’s nothin’ left, you hear me?”

#head in hands.#i’m gonna go insane #kore.writes #link x reader #link x reader smut #loz #loz x reader smut #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda x reader smut #loz x reader #kores.blurbs

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dollfaceksj · 8 months

Note

please i need to know what happens next in toapp

hang on tight!

ignore any errors . don’t say anything or ur cloverphobic. i was not in the right headspace when i wrote this and im still not kncjdnxks

warnings: :)

taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) #12

masterlist

<- previous ; next ->

you walk up to the table and yoongi instantly turns to you, pulling the chair out next to you to help you sit down

you quietly thank him and sit down

you start eating, talking, enjoying everyone’s presence

you notice the food is rapidly disappearing so you make a quick sandwich for jungkook

just??

just because

NOT FOR ANYTHING WEIRD!!

he just!

helped u at night

made u feel warm

and gave u his pillow while u were sleeping :(

so you just

wanna make sure he has some food :(

are you becoming … soft ? on JUNGKOOK?

no ur not! it’s just human decency

“how’d you sleep?” yoongi asks, reaching out to play with the shell of your ear

you smile at his touch. “i slept well. you?”

“okay. hoseok punched me in the mouth 3 times in his sleep.”

you laugh and reach out to rub his swollen bottom lip with your thumb. “it’s okay, your lips look softer now.”

a small smirk creeps on his lips. “you wanna test that theory out?”

you press your lips together and your thighs.

you shrug your shoulders. “will i get anything if my theory is correct?”

he thinks about your question for a moment. “i’m not sure. is there something on your mind right now?”

ugh he’s so smooth

you roll your eyes, slapping his knee under the table

jungkook joins later and doesn’t really look at anyone as he sits down across from you

he looks around the table and notices the food is actually gone

you reach for the sandwich on your plate and hand it to him without a word

he glances at the sandwich in your hand

and then glances at you

he slowly reaches for the sandwich and quietly thanks you

he eats it in silence while everyone is still chatting

cue mouse eating alone meme

hours have passed

everyone’s playing pictionary with each other

jungkook is just sitting in the back on his phone

it’s weird

well he’s always been quiet in group activities

but now he’s not playing along at all

isabella and hyunjoo are sitting next to him and he’s only really chatting with them

lol

not like u care though

just as you’re laughing at the competition of pictionary in front of you

you suddenly get tugged to the side by tae

he pulls you to the side, away from the others

you frown and cross your arms. “what’s up?”

he looks to the side to make sure no one’s listening

???

“what’s up with you and jungkook?”

he asks it with so much annoyance in his voice

heart drops to your ass

what

WHAT

oh shit?

nothing happened between you and jungkook yet!!

wait

yet?

LMAOOOO

nothing WILL happen between you and jk.

believe that.

“what are you talking about?” you ask, feigning innocence

he sighs in exasperation, trying to find his words. “i know y’all are not the best of friends but i’m sensing some tension. are you still mad about the fact he said that he doesn’t like you?”

you blink at him

wait

wait a second

he thinks there’s a problem between you and jungkook

he’s not suspecting the opposite

okay

you can do this

you shrug your shoulders. “i just don’t like him, tae.”

he tilts his head to the side and squints his eyes at you, staring at you with his intense eyes. “so, why did you accept sleeping in a tent with him?”

shit shit

think this through

you drop your arms. “because i’m not a little bitch, taehyung. i’m not going to ruin the trip for everyone else.”

“well, you’re going in that direction. you think i didn’t notice that little never have i ever game between you two?”

you swallow in distress. fuck

were you that obvious?

he shakes his head at your lack of response. “get your shit together, y/n.”

you rub your forehead. “sorry.”

he sighs, he never likes having to call you out but you clearly needed to hear it

taehyung leaves you by yourself

well

he’s right

let’s try building a friendly relationship with jungkook!

you help seokjin and joon with preparing the food for tonight

you’ve kinda been ignoring jungkook in hopes no one else will catch onto the games between you two before you can tell him in private to stop w the games and act friendly with each other

because tae is suspecting something

during pictionary you were just teaming with yoongi

flirting with him

being touchy

now you’re spending time with the others

hoping that you’re not the reason for ruining it for everyone

so you’re going out of your way to interact with everyone

you’re laughing and having a good time

you taste seokjin’s food and hum in delight. “that’s so fire,” you moan

he smiles and puffs his chest out proudly

“oh, you wanna taste too?” seokjin says to someone behind you

you look behind you

:)))

jungkook is walking up to the 3 of you rn

seokjin hands you the spoon holding the broth so you can give it to jungkook since you’re closer

you blink as you take it and turn back to face him, holding the spoon up to him

instead of taking the spoon

grabs your wrist

and leans down

directing the spoon to his mouth

and sucking the broth off of it whilst holding eye contact with you

you gulp and you can swear you hear your heart beating in your throat

he drops your hand and nods. “that’s really good, hyung.”

seokjin beams at the compliment

but not for long when seokjin has to redirect his attention to namjoon

namjoon + knife = danger

suddenly jungkook leans into your ear and whispers, “come to the tent at 8pm. then i’ll know you’re done with this childish game and ready to hear me out.”

hear him out?

about WHAT?

did tae already speak to him too?

he doesn’t give you a chance to ask when he suddenly ditches you to head toward his tent

you check the time

it’s 7.30pm…….

be normal!!! don’t go

don’t go

okay!

so are you gonna tell the audience

why you’ve been standing in front of the tent since 8:06pm?????

minutes pass

and you’re still not entering

8.06pm…

8.09pm….

at 8.10pm, the tent unzips and you watch as jungkook crawls out

he stops and looks up at you as you stare down at him

well

he’s seen you now? just go

hear him out

he slowly backs into the tent and you don’t really think about it when you follow him further into the tent

you zip up the tent and watch as he backs up and sits straight up, legs stretched out as he leans back on his hands

you sit on your knees as far away from him as possible, waiting for him to say anything but he won’t

it’s quiet

too quiet

your eyes drop to his lap

and you catch the slight tremor in his leg

you finally break the silence. “why are you bouncing your leg?��

he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “because i’m nervous.”

your brows pinch together. “why are you nervous?”

why?

what is he thinking about?

should you be nervous too?

he sighs and rubs his face with one hand before placing it back and leaning on it again. “because there’s a pretty girl in my tent and none of my antics or tricks work on her.”

uhh

wow :)

okay

we’re good

WE’RE GOOD.

well

maybe…

maybe it’s best to just finally be honest?

sigh

just be honest

you shake your head. “but they do work.”

his head snaps up at you. “what do you mean?”

you awkwardly shrug your shoulders. “remember the time when i came to your apartment for the speaker? when you almost kissed me?”

he frowns but nods his head nonetheless.

“i would have let you.”

wow

u actually just admitted that

he blinks at you like he doesn’t believe you

“there are a lot of times where i would go with the flow but you just,” you say as you shake your head. “why do you never just.. do it?”

he shrugs his shoulders. “i don’t know.”

this space is so … raw and vulnerable right now

it’s best to just talk about everything

you ask, “is it because of taehyung and namjoon?”

he shrugs his shoulders for the nth time. “probably. i feel like i just don’t want to be the one that makes the first move and disobey them, you know?”

hmm

is that why he always stopped before it got too far?

you bite your lip for a moment. “so what if i make the first move?”

he shrugs his shoulders. “how about you come find out?”

well

that’s it

every bone in your body

every thought in your head

that makes you act rationally

leaves your body in that specific moment

you don’t waste any time as you crawl over to him

you watch as he suddenly sits up, big eyes watching you

you throw one leg over his thighs, hands on his shoulders to support yourself

he keeps his hands respectfully besides his body as you climb onto him, looking up at you in anticipation

you slowly sink down on his lap, straddling his thighs as you cup his face

jungkook stares at you with big eyes, lips slightly parted

if you were crazy

you’d say you could hear his heart beating out of control

it could also be your own heart

but without any hesitation

you press your lips to his

oh fuck

his lips are so

damn soft

his hands automatically move on their own, gripping your waist tightly as he allows you to taste him

fuck

his hands on your body

feel otherwordly

you pull his face even closer, tilting your head to kiss him deeper

you poke his lips with your tongue and he wastes no time allowing you into his mouth

you lick into his mouth, tasting the minty toothpaste he brushed his teeth with after the late lunch he had

you need more

you move your hands down to his and push them further down, making him grip your hips

he smiles into the kiss, wasting no time as his fingers drape over your hips

his lips chase yours as if he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingertips

you wrap your arms around his neck to fully close the gap between the two of you, your chests firmly pressed together

you slowly start rolling your hips into his, making yourself moan and him hiss

fuck you need to stop

before you do something dumb

he abruptly pulls away whilst shaking his head

what

oh no

his big black eyes stare up at you

“you’re playing a dangerous game.”

well

he’s been playing games with you all this time?

a smirk tugs on the corners of your lips. “what? getting cold feet because you can’t handle a little friction?”

he raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised by your provocative words

he doesn’t like that

suddenly in one swift move, he flips you over

a yelp leaves your mouth when you’re being pushed back

you’re suddenly on your back against the floor of the tent

and jungkook has wedged his hips in between your thighs

oh fuck

you’re trapped under his body

and unfortunately

you don’t wanna be anywhere else

he reconnects your lips and gently grinds into you, making you quietly moan into his mouth

holy shit

your entire body feels like it’s on fucking fire

pathetic whimpers and pornographic moans leave your lips as he rolls his hips against your pelvis, the thin fabric of your leggings making it feel like he’s grinding directly into your sex

his tongue dives into your mouth, sensually rubbing against yours whilst he grinds his sex into yours

his tongue continues to explore your mouth, the cold of his liprings rubbing against your lips sends electricity right up your spine

he disconnects your lips and starts kissing down your neck, tongue tracing your collarbones

his hips continue to roll into yours at a perfect pace

he’s so fucking good at this

oh fuck this feels good

no wonder. he’s literally a fuckboy

everything feels that much more intense because you shouldn’t be doing this

shouldn’t be doing this

wait

why shouldn’t you be doing this?

wait

what if

someone were to come right now???

what if tae or yoongi suddenly stand in front of the tent!!! ask you to come out !! see you with messed up hair !!! swollen lips !!!! jungkooks red cheeks !!!!

panic

“wait, wait, wait, stop,” you say, pushing your hands against jungkook’s shoulders

he pulls away and worriedly looks down at you, his hips also coming to a halt

it’s clear he thinks he did something wrong

“i-i want to keep going but what if someone comes right now? looking for us?” you ask, breathlessly

he blinks a couple of times, clearly thinking about what you just brought to his attention. “then we’re fucked.”

DAMMIT

you’d hoped he could dismiss that thought so you could keep going

but now you’re worried

calm down

and think

just

think

to be continued

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winkwonkwankwenk · 3 months

Note

hi! can I please request Gojo x reader where instead of Gojo getting boxed, it's the reader and gojo ends up witnessing it?

(just love it when men go feral for their partners lol hehe)

thank you so much, I hope you're doing well!

I LOVE GOJO!! Sorry this took so long, at first I thought you were asking for a Boxer AU Gojo 😭Anyways, now that I'm done with my FNAF fic I have more time to do these oneshots- Yay!

Word count: 1k

Pairing: Gojo x Fem!Reader

SFW/NSFW

“Satoru, you’re not going alone!” You follow him through the dense subway station. “Listen to me!”

“This isn’t up for debate, get out of the subway station-”

“No.”

You stand tall, hands curled into fists by your side. He always does this, throwing himself into danger without a second thought. You know he’s used to this life, used to dropping everything to go save thousands but for once you had hoped…he’d choose you. Things had been rough lately, mission after mission. The two of you had barely any time together so the moment you were told about Shibuya you decided to go- ignoring all the risks. Quite hypocritical, but you’re just a lovesick girl. What did he expect you to do? You had waited long enough to have a conversation about the two of you and what you were becoming. You didn’t want to be his secret forever, you couldn’t. You just wanted him to understand that.

“Can’t you just listen to me-”

“Run.” He pulls his hand from yours, “Run!”

Chaos. One moment everything was fine, the next Gojo had pushed you into a sprint. You aren’t sure why you’re running or where, your naivety always hindering your ability to use your technique.You want to use your technique but you can’t, your mind a scrambled mess as shadows appear around you. Curses- you’ve been able to see them since you were a girl but had only learned how to fight them recently. You can’t fight now, not like this. You keep running as people around you panic and do the same, cries and shrieks echoing in your ears as curse after curse appears. You manage to dodge a few, but then you run into a man dressed in fine robes. He throws something, and it hits you before you can blink.

You’re stuck.

You try to move but your limbs, your head- every muscle restricted by a cursed force. Kenjaku wears a large, toothy grin on his face as you glare at him. He casually creeps closer, arms crossed over his chest. He’s got you- but you aren’t who he’s after.

You’re just bait.

“Where’s loverboy?” His breath is hot against your face as he leans down, burning like the sun on a sweltering day. “Surely, he wouldn’t leave you here, all vulnerable and weak-”

“I’m not weak.” You sneer through gritted teeth, then you spit on his face, right in his eyes.

“You bitch!” He’s about to slap you, but his hand stops before it meets your cheek. His head tilts to the side, eyes narrowed. “Look who finally showed up.”

“Satoru…” You think it before you say it.

“Y/N…” He’s breathing hard, blood on his cheek and hair hiding those blue diamonds you adore.

He had told you to run ahead so you could escape, but instead he had put a target on your back. Why was he surprised- he knew there’d be a target no matter what he did.

After all, the two of you were…in love.

It was impossible to hide his feelings when he had fallen so deeply. He tried, he really did, he distanced himself but he crawled back every time. How could he leave you alone? No one understood him the way you did, no one treated him- touched him, the way you did. Every stolen glance in the corridors of Jujutsu high made his heart race and ache, because he knew how much is weighed on you, hiding and rushing through rendezvous. Every kiss had always been desperate, ravenous because he knew he wouldn’t taste you again for days, sometimes weeks at a time. He bared it, because he knew when all of this was over, the two of you would run away together- that was the plan.

Things weren’t going according to plan.

“Geto…?” No, that wasn’t him, that wasn’t his bestfriend, it couldn’t be. Gojo gulped away his surprise as Kenjaku closed the cursed object- trapping you inside. “No!”

The box hits the ground with a quiet thud! and he rushes to grab it, only for Kenjaku to kick it away right when he’s about to reach it. He twists his body, flipping it so he can land on his feet. Gojo needs to get that box away from Kenjaku, but his options are limited. There’s still too many civilians around despite most escaping when he finished slaying the demonic curses Kenjaku released. He’s forced out of his thoughts by a punch to his gut, skin skidding against the floor as he’s sent down it. He stumbles up, shaky breaths dripping from his lips along with blood from the tears on them.

“Let her go! She’s not who you want-”

“That’s what makes her perfect.” Kenjaku’s smug face only makes Gojo’s blood boil, but it simmers down when Kenjaku throws the box over. “I’m feeling generous, I’ll give you two thirty- no, ten seconds alone.”

“You-”

“Ten…Nine…”

Gojo picks up the box, looking for any way to free you but falling short. Tears prick his eyes and drag down his cut up skin, stinging it as the salt seeps into his pores. If he had listened you, taken a moment to focus on you, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation. If he had spent more time with you at Jujutsu High, then you never would’ve felt the need to join him for this mission. This is his fault, he was supposed to protect you, supposed to keep you safe- he didn’t.

“I failed you, Y/N.” Gojo says hoarsely, “I’m sorry.”

“Time’s up.”

Pain- it’s fleeting but enough for him to know where it’s from. Kenjaku’s behind him, hand held out and dripping red. Gojo’s body slumps down in front of the box, painting it with something he had tried to keep you away from: bloodshed. It sprays from his neck, Gojo’s head on the ground a few feet away from his body. His eyes are open but empty, a single tear falling before they close for the final time.

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seasonsbloom · 2 years

Text

bad habit (hangman)

read part ii, read part iii

pairing ; hangman x female!reader

synopsis ; the moment you meet hangman, you know you hate him. and then suddenly, you're not so sure anymore.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “when you look like me, you don’t really need any lines.”

wc ; 15k

warnings ; angst, explicit language, mentions of previous character death (reader’s mother dies of cancer), mentions of sexual activity, (some) explicit sexual activity, horrible dirty talk, age gap, hangman is sort of an asshole but not really, inexperienced reader

note ; i cannot believe i am posting this, it is so LONG and i am so embarrassed... at first it was just supposed to be pwp and then it suddenly had a LOT of plot and backstory and then i was at 15k and hadn't even really gotten to the smut part yet and now... i'm thinking... part 2? maybe? let me know if you're interested lol. anyways... first fic... yay?

Fightertown is all sand, suntan lotion, and contrails crisscrossing like latticework across the endless stretch of baby blue that is the Californian sky.

At first, you don’t know how to handle it. You’re from Seattle, which means an average of 156 rainy days a year, and here it feels like the only water you’re ever gonna feel again is the Pacific Ocean and the layers of sweat drying sticky on your skin when you wake up every day. You’re too stingy on your electrical bills to leave the fan spinning circles that herd stale air through your room all night, and it gives you a stuffy nose anyways, so you just suffer through it. Then, in the morning, you spend ten minutes standing under ice-cold water until your teeth chatter with enough force to hurt your jaw, only to forget once more what it feels like not to be hot minutes later.

Penny says you’ll get used to it eventually. But, two months in, you’re wondering if maybe she’s wrong.

“‘Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,/ Men were deceivers ever,-’” you read from the book in front of you. “‘One foot in sea and one on shore,/ To one thing constant never.’ Now, what does Shakespeare mean by that?”

Amelia is starting to look like she’d rather be anywhere else. You’ve been at it for about 55 minutes, meaning you’ve got approximately 5 more left for today’s session. Usually, you’d call it quits by now and let her enjoy the remainder of her afternoon because she looks tired enough to fall asleep right here at the dinner table, but you don’t want to leave yet. You’d like to think it’s because you’re a sensible teacher. Most likely, though, it’s because the Benjamin residence is airconditioned, and Penny keeps that shit racked up to a moderate 71 degrees all day, and apparently, you’re a selfish bitch who will put her own need for heat relief before her student’s need for a reprieve from Shakespeare.

Which, like. Semantics.

“I don’t know,” Amelia says, chin resting in the open palm of her hand. She probably would know if she’d listened at all, but you’re pretty sure her mind is as much on the popsicles in the fridge as her eyes are on the clock on the wall.

“It means men are moody assholes who can’t stay faithful,” Penny says as she steps into the living room, ignoring her daughter’s scandalized Mom! “Pretty self-aware for the 16th century, don’t you think?”

You hum. “Pretty true, too.”

Penny laughs. “Don’t you know it? Take it as a life lesson, Amelia.” Then she extends something wrapped in colorful plastic in your direction. “Fudgesicle?”

Maybe some part of you should feel bad about exploiting the Benjamins for their aircon and free ice cream, but you’re sort of past that point.

“Thanks.” You take the fudgesicle and start unwrapping it without any further ado.

“Mom,” Amelia, her phone in one hand and her own ice cream in the other, asks as she gets up, “can I go upstairs now?”

“Ask your tutor,” Penny responds with a thumb pointed in your direction.

You shrug, preoccupied mainly with the flavor of chocolate and fudge melting on your tongue. Your bank account doesn’t really allow for luxuries like popsicles anymore, but, God, this must be heaven.

“Yeah, we’re pretty much done with Shakespeare today. Go over those pentameters again before the test, okay?”

“Sure.” Amelia smiles at you, already halfway to the door. “Thanks. See you next week.”

You wave at her turned back, and wait until she’s disappeared before you say, “She’s a good kid.”

Penny snorts. “A little glued to her phone, maybe.”

“I think that’s sorta par for the course.”

“Not very good with Shakespeare, either.”

“Now that’s definitely par for the course with a fifteen-year-old. Be glad they aren’t reading Hamlet.”

Penny laughs. She sinks into one of the unoccupied chairs at the dining table and stretches her legs out with a sigh. She’s already switched her usual cotton shorts for jeans which tells you she’s about to head over to her bar for the rest of the night.

“I guess I should count my blessings,” she says. “At her age, I’d already hijacked two planes with two different pilots.”

Penny’s stories about her teenage transgressions are always enough to make you feel stuck somewhere between awe and profound jealousy. Your own life is downright dull in comparison.

Then again, your life - and especially the romantic aspects of it - are downright dull compared to most things.

“You must have given your parents gray hairs,” you say, packing up your pencil and notebook in your tote bag. It’s not easy with only one free hand, but somehow you manage without leaving a trail of chocolate across Penny’s tabletop.

“I sure hope so.”

You’re down to the part of your Fudgsicle where the wooden stick pokes out of the ice cream, and try to avoid licking at it accidentally. You hate the feeling of the wood against your tongue, but the whole thing is a bit difficult, as you’re also trying to eat at a pace you know will give you a stomach ache later.

You have to get out of here before Penny sinks her talons into you and…

“You should come by the Hard Deck today,” she says, and you bite back a groan.

Too late.

“I can’t,” you say semi-automatically, “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Roughly a month ago, you pinned a sheet of paper to the bulletin board at the gas station where you’ve been picking shifts up since you arrived in town, advertising Tutoring for English, Grades 1 to 12. Penny was the only person who answered. Since then, you’ve been coming to the house once a week to tutor Amelia and, unofficially, to be lectured by Penny on all the joys life has to offer.

Her words, not yours.

“No, you don’t. You never work Sundays,” Penny shoots back immediately. Then, at your frown, she just shrugs. “You can’t lie to me, sweetie. I used to do it professionally. It takes one to know one.”

You sigh. “I don’t know that I feel like going out tonight.”

“You’ll feel like it once you’re actually out.”

Having finished your fudgesicle, you place the stick carefully in the wrapper before getting up. You reach across the tabletop and heft up your complete edition of Shakespeare’s plays. The thing is thick enough that you like to keep it by your bedside, just in case you ever wake up to an intruder in your apartment. It definitely doubles as a defensive weapon.

Penny lets out the long-suffering sigh of someone over going through the interminable motions of this spiel the two of you have inadvertently established. “What are you going to do then, tonight?” she asks. “Eat Cup Noodles and read Shakespeare?”

You can feel your face heating up. That really had been the plan.

“Jane Austen, actually,” you mumble without looking at her, clutching the book to your chest like a shield.

“Just… come down tonight, yeah? It’ll do you good to see some people. You’re twenty-three, sweetie. You shouldn’t be sitting around all on your own,” she says gently. “Please?”

The thing about Penny is that beneath her cool-girl veneer, beneath the tough-as-steel attitude of a bar owner, beneath the badass single mom allures, she’s really, really kind. It lets her get away with stuff that would be unacceptable coming from anybody else, but it also means she’s coming from a place of love, most of the time.

You know this. Which is why the next thing you ask is, “Does your bar have aircon?”

The dress was a mistake.

You know it the moment you step out of your Uber. It’s too short, so you just know you’ll be spending the rest of the night tugging at the hem every few minutes. It’s also low in the back where the tightly tied straps of the halter-neck slap against your shoulders, and that means everyone can probably see the patch of acne your dermatologist promised would subside after puberty. Turns out, all men really do is lie. So you’re also going to have to find a wall to perch against and maintain that position until it’s socially acceptable to leave without Penny being angry with you.

In short: you’re deeply uncomfortable.

You don’t even remember why you picked this out earlier, let alone why you bought it in the first place. A mixture of misplaced bravado and alcohol on a night of online shopping, probably. It’s just that there’s this thing you sometimes get, this peculiar tug in your stomach, this strange desire to be seen at the same time that you’re terrified. You want to be invisible, but sometimes you think you’ll die if you don’t get any attention.

Maybe you just want people to perceive you, but without any of the negative consequences that might come with it.

That’s not how the world works, though, a voice at the back of your head tells you that sounds so much like Penny it scares you.

You spend a good five minutes idling by the parked cars, turning your keys over and over and over in your hands. You have half a mind just to go back home.

The Hard Deck is spilling buttery yellow light into the darkness of the night, and people migrate to it like moths to a lamp. You can hear the music and the chattering of voices even from where you’re standing in the gravel parking lot. It’s the sort of thing that should probably make you excited, but instead, you feel the familiar swoop of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

Ridiculous, you scold yourself. You can’t honestly be afraid of a night in a bar.

Even past ten o’clock, with the sun set beyond the horizon in a display of pinks and oranges and blues so ostentatious it bordered on smugness - like the sky was saying, hey, look what I can do! - it’s still too hot. You can feel pearls of sweat beading in the nape of your neck, the tops of your thighs, the peak of your hairline. If you don’t go in now, the make-up you spent an embarrassingly long time perfecting will melt down your face in a puddle of mascara and lipgloss.

I’ll just stay for a while, you think. I’ll let Penny make me a pink and fruity cocktail, and then I’m going home in an hour. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna be okay.

You’re really trying to hype yourself up as you climb the few steps to the front porch. A few people are milling about here, nursing beers, a couple making out towards the railing where the light doesn’t reach.

Inside, the air smells like sweat and beer and good times. There really is air conditioning, but it doesn’t do too much to dispel the heat of too many people pressing into too little space. People crowd towards the bar, a throng of them, as they nudge and poke to beat each other to the next drink order. It’s mostly people from the Army base, you realize, a little taken aback. A sea of short hair and tan uniforms, beers in hands, and smiles on faces. The jukebox is playing a Springsteen tune.

You’re distracted enough that when somebody bumps into you, you let out an actual yelp and almost lose your footing.

Large hands come up to steady you by the elbows. “Sorry, sweetheart,” someone says from behind you.

You turn on your heel quickly. The guy is beautiful, because of course he is. The sort of beautiful you can recognize even when you get only a glimpse of his jaw and shoulders. Tall, tan, fit.

Your heart skips a beat.

He’s also not looking at you at all, hands already gone from you, neck craned to presumably look for someone in the sea of people.

“Didn’t see you there,” he says, and then he’s strutting away from you just as quickly as he’d come.

And, okay… ouch.

Now you regret wanting to be invisible earlier. Turns out the actual thing does not feel good. Not one bit.

A pit opens up in your stomach, and you need to swallow down whatever emotion is rising in your throat. You have the sudden, embarrassing, debilitating urge to cry.

Then somebody calls your name across the room. It’s Penny, waving at you from behind the bar with a massive grin on her face, and you could fall to your knees with relief.

You push your way through the crowd, fighting elbows and knees until, finally, your palms hit the wooden counter. It’s sticky beneath your fingers. You cringe.

“You made it!” Penny cheers. She draws a perfect glass of beer from the tap even as she talks to you.

You’re reluctantly impressed.

“Yay!” you agree, miming sad little jazz hands.

Penny laughs, never one to let even the most pitiful excuse of a joke pass her by. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

“I did promise,” you say. You didn’t mean for it to come out as defensive as it does.

Penny shakes her head, still smiling. She deposits the beers in the waiting hands of a Navy pilot, then turns to you. “I don’t doubt your integrity, sweetie. Just your commitment to having fun.”

“Yeah,” you agree, slowly letting your gaze wander over the overstuffed bar. “Fun.”

This time, Penny actually snorts. “Just have a drink, yeah? Relax.”

People have been telling you to relax for years now. You’re too tense, you’re too uptight, you gotta loosen up a little. They did it in high school. They did it when you were studying for an English degree in college you haven’t used even once in the year since your graduation. Hell, you’re pretty sure somebody did it when you were still showing up to kindergarten Halloween costume contests dressed up as a Math teacher while everybody else was a Power Ranger or a Princess.

It’s just a little difficult to relax when all you’ve got is childhood trauma, an apartment you can’t afford, friends you don’t talk to anymore, and student loans to pay off until the end of your life.

“I haven’t been relaxed a day in my life,” you say drily.

You can’t be sure because she’s turning to fill a row of shot glasses lined up neatly on the countertop, but you’re almost positive Penny is rolling her eyes.

“I could help you relax.” You know it’s the guy from earlier before you even turn to confirm your suspicion. He’s sidled up behind you, leaning half over your shoulder. This time, he glances down at you and has the audacity to send you a wink. “I’ve been told I’m quite good at that.”

Now that you know he’s a total sleaze, you feel better about how he ignored you earlier.

“Seriously?” you say. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

A grin spreads over his features. You realize he has an incredibly punchable face.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, “when you look like me, you don’t really need any lines.”

You bristle. A remark you hope will be scathing builds up on the tip of your tongue, but you’re interrupted before you can let it loose.

“Hangman.” You’re seriously confused by the tone of genuine affection in Penny’s voice. What the hell is that about? “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a round of beers.” He lets his eyes drift down to you again, and his grin grows impossibly wider. “Plus whatever the little lady’s having. You can put it on my tab.”

Little lady. You’re about to vomit on the countertop. You’re definitely not feeling a strange tightening sensation in your stomach. Nope, no way.

“No, thank you,” you say pointedly. “I can pay for my own drinks.”

Never mind you know for a fact you have about ten dollars left in your wallet.

“Come on,” the guy says, nudging you a little where he’s still hovering over you. He’s so goddamn close. You can feel the heat he radiates, can smell the scent of his aftershave, something spicy yet sweet. When he speaks, his chest rumbles with the sound inches behind you. “See it as an apology for knocking into you earlier.”

So he does remember. You’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Penny is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle of something you can’t name in her eyes. It’s enough to inspire actual fear in you.

“Let me guess…” The guy pretends to think about it for a moment or two. “You want something pink and fruity, yeah?”

You can’t believe it’s that easy for him to read you, can’t believe the way it has instant, white-hot shame flashing through you. Now you really want to punch him.

Shoulders actually, genuinely shaking with all the anger piling up inside of you, you turn to face Penny. “Scotch,” you say. “Neat.”

Penny is staring at the two of you as if she’s watching a tennis match. Then, you become suddenly and uncomfortably aware of a bar full of people tailgating behind you, waiting their turn to order their drink.

While you’re starting to feel your skin itch with all the attention, the guy seems to have no qualms. His finger appears in your field of vision as he points at you. “You heard the little lady, Penny. One scotch. Neat.”

He over-pronounces the word, the t crisp and sharp, mocking you, and you grab the countertop hard enough your knuckles protrude white beneath the skin.

Penny shrugs and reaches beneath the bar to retrieve a glass and a bottle of scotch. Then, as if calling back to some inside joke, she says, “You got it, Hangman.”

That stuns you.

“Your name is Hangman?” you ask, and you can’t keep the genuine disbelief out of your voice. “What, did your parents hate you? What the fuck kinda name is that?”

He raises an eyebrow, but the smirk remains unrattled. “You got a pretty dirty mouth, huh, sweetheart?”

“I can curse as much as I like, thank you very much.”

He hums, says, “We’ll see about that.”

And when you look over your shoulder, you find him staring at your lips.

You whip back around, elbows squished between your body and the bar, heart beating a hundred miles a minute. Blindly, you stare straight ahead, through the open back doors, to where the moonlight reflects off ocean waves. Something is itching beneath your skin now. You have to calm down before you blow your fuse.

“Hangman,” he explains after a moment of silence, “is my callsign.”

That clarifies just about nothing to you. “Callsign?” you repeat. “What are you, a phone sex operator?”

It was supposed to be an insult, but he throws his head back, laughing like you made the funniest joke he’s ever heard. Then he leans forward, all the way into your personal space, chest pressing to your back, shoulders brushing yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he says, “If you want me to talk dirty to you, sweetheart, all you need to do is ask.”

It sort of wipes your mind clean. No thoughts, only your body reacting - stomach tightening, hairs standing on end, a shiver down your spine. Penny sets the scotch down in front of you, then breezes off to serve some other customers. You barely even see her. Your breaths are coming a little faster, your heart is beating a little harder.

Then he straightens up again, all points of contact suddenly gone. If you weren’t sandwiched between him and the bar with nowhere to go, you think you might tip over backward. It’s all so sudden it leaves you dizzy.

He chuckles, and you hold your ground. Refuse to look at him. If he has picked up on just how rattled he’s got you, you’d rather at least not know about it.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not a phone sex operator,” Hangman says. “I’m a fighter pilot. More dangerous, just as sexy.”

You twist around to get a better look at him. Then, for the first time, you take note of the khaki uniform. Nobody, you think, absolutely nobody, should be able to make that color work for them. And yet somehow, it brings out the green in his eyes.

“Bigger environmental footprint.”

It’s pretty weak, admittedly, but this whole night has spiraled into a realm you didn’t plan for so quickly that you can’t come up with anything else. As a result, you’re uncharacteristically out of your depth.

“Bigger everything,” he shoots back, raising a single eyebrow in challenge.

You don’t know how to counter that, so you take a sip of your scotch and then have to concentrate way too hard not to spit it right back out. The first time you ever tasted alcohol, you snuck a gulp from your dad’s class of Whiskey on the rocks. This is almost as vile, if not worse. Years of consuming margaritas exclusively seem to have dialed your tolerance for straight, hard liquor down to a solid zero.

“You still sure about that drink?” Hangman asks. The amusement is so evident in the upward turn of his mouth that it makes you want to kick his teeth in or hide behind the counter with Penny. One of the two, just as long as you don’t have to keep looking at him. “I’ll buy you something else. Maybe Penny serves juice boxes.”

Just to spite him, you down the whole thing in a single, long drink.

It burns a trail of fire down your esophagus, and you have to fight a coughing fit so violent you’re not sure you aren’t about to choke. Big mistake, definitely. Huge.

You try your best to keep your face neutral, but your muscles aren’t cooperating. At least if Hangman’s smirk is anything to go by, he’s definitely called your bluff.

“Well, you took that like a trooper,” he says drily.

Anger lodges in your throat.

“You must be the most insufferable pilot in the whole Navy,” you tell him, hoping all the distaste you feel for Hangman translates into your voice.

Not that it matters. He seems to be one of those guys so infatuated with themselves that everything just rolls off their shoulders, like water off a duck’s back.

“I like to think so,” he says amicably. “I excel at most things I try. Always strive for excellence.”

You’ve never considered yourself a particularly violent person, but you’re pretty sure you would have broken his nose right then and there if it hadn’t been for Penny choosing that exact moment to swoop in.

“Here are your drinks, Hangman.” She places them on the countertop, then jabs a thumb towards the back of the bar. Her voice goes a little pointed as she says, “I think your friends miss you.”

He doesn’t look annoyed to be interrupted, and you can’t believe it, but it puts a little dent in your pride.

Just how stupid am I? you ask yourself, making a point to face away from him again.

Hangman twists his upper body to reach around you, somehow balancing three bottles in each hand, clamped between his fingers like he’s the alcoholic version of Edward Scissorhands. For a moment, you’re completely enveloped by him, in his arms, and it’s too much, definitely too much, goes straight to your head. You can smell him again, the aftershave and the body spray and the sweat, and as his chest presses flush to your back, you swear you can feel the beat of his heart against all that bare skin exposed by the dress.

“You ever need some help relaxing,” he says into your ear, and for an instant, you feel the ghost of his lips tracing against your ear lobe, “you just ask, yeah, sweetheart?”

And then he’s gone, leaving you clutching at the bar desperately. Your legs feel like jello, ready to give out beneath the weight of your body.

What the fuck just happened? you ask yourself silently. Your mind is still completely, absolutely blank.

Penny pops up out of nowhere like a meerkat. Something on her face tells you you’d better run for cover right now unless you want to get wrapped up in one of her schemes, but you’re rooted to the spot.

“So…” she drawls, and the grin blooming on her face is downright devious. “Hangman, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, rummaging through your purse just to have something to steady the tremors in your hands.

“He was so coming onto you.”

“He was not.”

“Oh, yeah, he totally was. That was aggressive even for Hangman standards, and, lord, that’s saying something.”

“Can I get, like… a glass of water?”

Penny ignores you. “You should totally go for it.”

She nods her head in the direction he disappeared, and you can’t help but follow with your eyes. A group of Navy pilots is shooting pool in the back towards the opened doors. Even among all the uniforms, Hangman sticks out to you - blond hair, tan skin, smirk you want to slap right off his face. He’s laughing at something the only woman in the group said - a real, full-bellied laugh - and then, out of the blue, as if he can feel your gaze, looks right up at you.

Across the chaos of the bar, across the scattered tables, across the people swaying to the ABBA song playing from the jukebox, across the raised beer bottles and lowering shot glasses, he sends you a wink.

Feeling caught, you turn away instantly. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“No way,” you say. It doesn’t come out as firm as you want it to, your voice wavering, and you have half a mind to ask for a bucket of ice to thrust your head into. Maybe that could clear the cobwebs.

Penny laughs. “You sure, honey? You look like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

“I’m sure I do,” you agree. “From anger. I’ve never met somebody that obnoxious.”

It’s pretty clear you’re grasping at straws here.

“I’ve known him since he was a student at Top Gun. He’s a good guy,” Penny says. “Deep down.”

“How deep are we talking? Like Mariana Trench? Center of the earth?”

Penny rolls her eyes. “Come on. Stop thinking so much. Go and have some fun.”

You point at the sign hanging above her bar, the one she’s so proud of she has mentioned it to you several times. “I thought you were supposed to help out when somebody disrespects a lady in here.”

It makes her laugh, a genuine laugh full of amusement and affection that bursts out from deep in her belly. She pets your hand gently.

“You can handle yourself. I know it for a fact.” The smile goes from genuine to mischievous. “Besides… you could stand to be disrespected a little. In the bedroom.”

You gape at her retreating back for a moment.

Then you drop your face into your hands and mutter to yourself, “Oh, God.”

Again… what the fuck just happened?

“Hangman asked me to give him your number.”

Penny doesn’t even wait until the end of the lesson this time.

You’re at the Benjamin dining table, watching over Amelia’s shoulder as she writes a short paragraph on misogynistic themes in Much Ado About Nothing. All the ice cubes in your water glass have melted, and the condensation leaves rings on the tabletop and damp against your palms.

When you glance up from Amelia’s work, her mother is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms folded in front of her chest. She’s grinning. You look back at the notebook and pretend your heart hasn’t just started racing.

Amelia, whose pen has stilled, asks, “What’s a hangman?”

“Who,” Penny corrects. “He’s a guy interested in your tutor.”

“There’s only one c in unnecessary,” you say. “A shirt has one collar, two sleeves.”

Amelia doesn’t seem to have heard you. “Oh my god,” she says. “Is he cute?”

“Very,” Penny answers at the same time that you grit out, “Not at all.”

“Is he a pilot, too?” Amelia asks, shooting her mother a look you don’t miss.

For all that she is just a teenager with all the eccentricities and dramatics that entails, Amelia has what some would call an old soul. She’s always looking out for her mother, always thinking things through to the bitter ends that Penny would rather look at through the lenses of her perpetual rose-colored glasses.

It reminds you of yourself, and sometimes you want to hug Amelia, hold her, tell her she doesn’t need to take on all these battles. That she deserves to be a child, should revel in it for as long as she can. You don’t want her to end up like you, all this baggage and no one to help you carry it.

“Of course.” Penny, unperturbed, pushes into the room and pulls out a chair for herself. “Nobody can resist those Military men.”

You hide your snort behind a coughing fit just so you don’t give Penny the satisfaction of thinking she’s actually funny. She doesn’t deserve that.

“When did you meet him?”

“Saturday, at your mom’s bar,” you explain, pulling her notebook towards you. “And we didn’t meet. He almost knocked me over and then proceeded to mock me for ten minutes. Not exactly romantic.”

Penny rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. He was flirting with her like crazy.”

You pretend to be busy scanning over Amelia’s writing, but you don’t register much past the words Hero and Claudio.

“Which one is Hangman again?” Amelia asks. She sounds much too invested in this for your liking.

“The blond one.”

“Oh, with the green eyes?”

“That’s the one.”

“Wait, he’s so cute.”

You groan and drop your head onto the tabletop.

So yeah, maybe there are people out there with real problems. People that are starving or people that have lost their homes. Compare your situation to them, and your toil will seem like nothing. All that is true. But right now, at this moment, you can’t imagine a fate worse than having both Benjamin women pouncing on you like this.

“Don’t be so dramatic, sweetie.” Penny pats the top of your head like you’re a small dog. A miniature poodle or something. “If anything, Hangman will be a good time.”

You turn your head so your cheek is pressed against the wood of the table and glare at her. “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this in front of your teenage daughter.”

“This isn’t the worst conversation she’s had in front of me,” Amelia says. She’s doodling something in the top corner of her essay. At your skeptical look, she shrugs. “Mom gets chatty when she’s drunk.”

“What I’m saying,” Penny continues, voice rising just a little, “is that you won’t regret giving Hangman your number. You need to loosen up a little.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t notice that innuendo,” you mumble under your breath, then sit back up abruptly. “Absolutely no way. He’s not getting my number.”

“I think it would be cool if you had a boyfriend,” Amelia interjects.

“You and me both, baby,” Penny agrees, leaning across the table to take a sip of Amelia’s sugar-free Mountain Dew.

You are going to start screaming spontaneously any minute now.

“I’m perfectly fine being single.”

Amelia grimaces. “You literally know half of Much Ado About Nothing by heart.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Penny reassures quickly and gives her daughter a placating look. “Just that you might have a bit too much time on your hands.”

“That’s not true. I work six days a week.”

“Exactly!” Penny smiles from ear to ear. It’s almost angelic, that smile. You can’t believe there’s an actual demon hiding behind it. “Which is why I should give Hangman your number. You have to have some fun at least one day a week.”

“I agree,” Amelia says.

“Am I still getting paid for this?” you ask, glancing at your phone to get the time. “Does this stay on the clock?”

Penny doesn’t answer your question. “I just think anybody in Fightertown needs to go on at least one date with a Navy pilot. It’s a rite of passage, really.”

“Aren’t there any other eligible pilots around then? Somebody nice? Literally anybody else?”

Penny’s smile turns soft. “You’re not seriously trying to convince me you’d be content with a nice guy, are you?”

That gives you pause. “What’s wrong with nice guys?”

“Absolutely nothing. Just… I don’t think nice is what you need at all, sweetie.”

You exhale loudly and then sit up, shaking away the strands of hair plastered to your cheek. “I don’t think I could stand being around Hangman either.”

“I’m not saying you should get married to the guy,” Penny acquiesces, “just… go on one date.”

You think about it for a moment. Think about dressing up in your prettiest dress, waiting outside your shitty apartment complex for Hangman to pick you up. Would he wear his uniform again or civilian clothes? You imagine him in jeans and a t-shirt, a hoodie for when it gets colder, the way the fabric would hug his broad shoulders. Would he take you to a restaurant or to the movies? No, Hangman seems like the type of guy to take you somewhere he can show off, you decide, to go bowling or surfing or something equally embarrassing for you, gratifying for him. You think about sharing a bottle of beer on the beach, the ocean spreading far and wide and blue in front of you, waves cresting, the moon gleaming, his warm hand on your back, his voice so close to your ear. Think of drawing him closer, his breath on your mouth, his touch on your hips…

You shake your head to banish the thoughts.

No way, you think, and something inside of you flutters with the sudden fear of it all, no way I can do this.

“I don’t think so, Penny,” you say. Your voice has gone quiet, dispassionate but firm, and you know Penny will know not to push further. “We should get finished with this lesson.”

Penny is quiet for so long that you know she’s swallowing down words. So you make it a point not to look at her.

There’s a fear inside of you, a fear that stands in doorways and won’t let you pass. A fear that blocks the pathways of your life. You’ve been static for so long now that you don’t know how to shake it. Sometimes you don’t even know if you want to.

There’s something reassuring about not moving. It means you won’t get lost.

Finally, Penny sighs. “Alright,” she says, rapping her knuckles against the tabletop. “Be good, you two.”

You concentrate on the words blurring and sliding off the page in front of you and ignore the insistent, nagging voice at the back of your head chanting coward coward coward.

It’s Friday, but you’re not feeling at all inclined to thank God for it.

The gas station is deserted, which, in your humble opinion, is much worse than when it’s busy. Because no costumers mean nothing to do and nothing to do means nothing to occupy your mind with, and nothing to occupy your mind with means thinking, thinking, thinking.

You’re like a broken record - getting halfway through a thought before you circle back to the beginning, endless loops cartwheeling around and around.

It goes: Penny, Amelia, Hangman, Saturdays at the Hard Deck, Arizona Ice Tea spill in aisle four, Hangman, Hangman, Hangman… record scratch, pause, tape spooling, rewinding, replaying.

You’re so bored you’ve counted all the ceiling tiles four times. On the radio, they’re talking about the weather. The slushie machine is spinning cherry-colored ice with little, gurgling sounds.

The bell chimes, and you barely look up from your phone screen. A few lowered voices, the sound of laughter, and shuffling feet on linoleum floors as the group approaches the glass walls behind which row after row of drinks stands huddled can to can in the blessed cool. You blow a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

And you must have done something really horrible in a past life - there’s no other explanation for why the universe keeps doing this to you.

Hangman is leaning against the counter, one elbow braced on the top, the other arm lifting to flick his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose. He’s smirking, and the expression has become so familiar already that you think it might be melded with his face. You pretend not to notice the sleeve of his uniform straining against his bicep.

“Are you stalking me?” you ask.

“Definitely not.” Stepping away from the counter, he lifts a sixpack into the air. “I’m buying beer.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You got any ID?”

It punches a laugh out of him, and you don’t like it. You weren’t aiming to amuse him - you want to annoy him. You want to make his skin crawl the way he does to you. You want to slip inside his mind and burrow there, stay there, get lodged there. A splinter in his finger. A thorn in his side.

The intensity of it scares you, and when you reach for your water bottle, playing with the cap, your hands are shaking.

He reaches into his pocket and gets out his wallet. The picture on his driver’s license is old; He’s younger in it but no less handsome. His hair is just as blond, his eyes just as green. There's nothing ridiculous about it, unlike the botched photo you took at the DMV years ago.

You glance at his date of birth belatedly, almost like an afterthought, then do the mental math quickly. Not because you think he isn’t old enough to buy the beer. Just to find out how big the gap between him and you is.

Seven years. Seven years… you don’t know what that means. You don’t know why you care.

“Alright.” You move to ring up the sixpack, but he shakes his head.

“Waiting for my friends,” he explains with a thumb thrown over his shoulder.

“You have friends?”

He laughs again. “You’re funny.”

“I’m not trying to be,” you mutter and, resolved not to engage with him any further, pick your phone back up and settle in against the shelf of cigarettes behind you to ignore him.

He is having none of it, and you’re not even surprised.

“I liked the dress better, but those shorts aren’t half bad either.”

You look down at your work uniform of white denim shorts and a hideously orange vest with your name tag pinned to the chest. It is a downgrade from Saturday’s outfit, that’s for sure, but you haven’t settled on how you feel that he remembers it yet.

“I didn’t think you noticed my dress,” you say.

“Sweetheart, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice that dress.”

It has you lifting an eyebrow, seeing an in. “Oh, so you admit you’re an idiot then? Since you ran into me and all?”

His smirk goes just a fraction wider. “Maybe I did it on purpose.”

“You run into girls on purpose often?”

“Only the real pretty ones.”

It makes your head spin because… things like this just don’t happen to you. Not with guys like Hangman, at least. And it’s not even because you think you’re ugly or unappealing. Rationally you know you’re not. It’s just that he’s so… he’s so…

“What, am I so handsome you’re speechless?”

He’s so goddamn insufferable.

“You torturing this poor girl, Hang?”

You recognize the woman from last Saturday, her sharp cheekbones, the glossy hair sleeked back into an army-mandated but nonetheless impressive coil at the back of her neck. She’s pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head, which already makes her less of a show-off than Hangman by a mile. The smile she gives you is genuine and warm, and you feel yourself relax.

Anything’s better than being alone with Hangman.

“Oh, hardly.” Hangman shuffles to the side to let the woman heave another six-pack onto the counter. “If anything, she’s the one torturing me.”

There’s a literal ball of fire in your stomach, radiating heat all the way up to your cheeks. You must be looking like a deer caught in headlights right now.

The woman purses her lips. There’s so much derision in this one minuscule expression that it has actual jealousy jolting through you. Man, if only you could look at Hangman like that, you might actually make some sort of impact on him.

“Stop lying, man.” The woman rolls her eyes and then shares a look with you, something conspiratorial, something long-suffering only women can share in the presence of a man severely overestimating his own desirability. “She’ll punch you before she lets you take her out.”

Hangman shrugs. “Fine with me. It’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“What the fuck,” you mumble and busy yourself with the register.

“Is he bothering ladies again?” Two other men in Navy uniforms step up. One, tall, dark-skinned, mustachioed, dumps a whole armful of snacks on the counter, then grins at you a little sheepishly.

“Always,” the woman answers without missing a beat.

Hangman says, “I’m not bothering her if she enjoys it.”

You’re almost entirely positive that he winked at you again, but you make it a point not to look up and start scanning items instead.

“You guys need any bags?”

“That’s alright,” the woman answers.

They chat among themselves as you ring them up, but you can feel Hangman’s eyes on you the whole time. It’s enough to make you feeble, clumsy, and try your best not to drop anything.

You don’t know what compels you to say something. By all means, you should stay quiet. Let him leave. Never think about it again.

Instead, you pick up a bag of flaming hot Cheetos and say, as casually as you can manage, “Are you having a party?”

“Bonfire,” Hangman corrects. His elbow is still balanced on the counter, all that tanned skin, and you let your eyes follow the trail of his arm, up to his chest where his name tag spells SERESIN, all in capital letters. You pause there, staring at the name. “On the beach.”

You think that’s going to be it, that you’re going to ring him up and send him home. You’ll bite your tongue bloody before you say another word.

But then he continues, “You should come.”

He hasn’t been exactly subtle in his flirting, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet somehow it does, enough to stun you. Maybe it’s just your lack of self-confidence, but such a blatant invitation to spend an evening not just with him but with all his friends, makes your brain short-circuit.

“I have to work,” you answer almost automatically, brain operating completely on auto-pilot.

He lifts his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “After work, then.”

You open your mouth but can’t come up with another excuse, so you just settle on, “Your total is 42,98.”

You think he will fight you on it like he’s been fighting you on everything since the first time you met. But he just smirks, only one side of his mouth lifting, and gets his card from his pocket.

“I’ll pay,” he says.

When you accept his card, you take painfully meticulous care not to let your fingers brush against his.

The woman watches the whole exchange, and as you glance at her, something unreadable, some tiny flicker of emotion crosses her face before a genuine, slight smile replaces it.

Hangman stores his wallet in his pocket and starts collecting snacks in both arms, as do the other two men. You watch it all with a strange feeling fluttering in your chest, something that grows in your throat, threatening to choke you.

You wonder what it would be like to live in the moment, to stop thinking of consequences, stop weighting every decision with scales, overthinking every issue until you’ve looked at it from every angle and still haven’t found a single solution. You wonder what it would be like to throw your hands up in the air, say fuck it, who cares, wait for the end of your shift and drive down to that beach, get drunk on the beer you sold to the most obnoxious pilot in the history of the Navy, to take him home later and then have him inevitably never call you or text you or even speak to you again.

You wonder what it would be like not to feel the weight of the world drag you down, down, down.

“See you around, sweetheart,” Hangman says, smirking, pushing his aviators back up the bridge of his nose until the green eyes disappear behind the dark shades, until he’s obstructed from view. Until he becomes once more just a guy you pass on shopping streets, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful to ever talk to you. He turns towards the door, the other two in tow.

If he looks back, you think, torn between wishing and dreading, if he looks back, I’ll go.

He doesn’t look back.

Only the woman hangs back, looking at you with the same expression you can’t make light of. Curiosity, maybe. Interest.

“He’s not giving you too much trouble, is he?” she asks after a moment.

Her voice is different now, less harsh somehow. Softer.

You can’t even imagine what it must be like to try and make it as a woman in a world that’s still as obviously run by men as the army. You suppose there’s some amount of adjustment involved, some posturing. A shell as thick as armor.

“It’s… it’s fine. He’s harmless.” You’re surprised at your own words but not as surprised as you are to find that you actually mean them.

No part of you feels threatened by Hangman; no part of you feels unsafe or intimidated. You’ve been hit on by enough sleazy men in bars to know that that’s a rarity.

“He can be a lot, sometimes.”

You snort. “I can tell. If anyone’s in danger here, though, it’s him.”

She raises an eyebrow, and her sunglasses, still pushed into her hair, climb with the movement. “How so?”

“If he keeps going as he has been, I’ll punch him in the face.”

She grins and says, “I don’t doubt it.”

It’s nice. Pleasant. Easy.

You can’t remember the last time you spoke to somebody close to your own age like this, almost like you’re friends. At the realization, your heart gives a painful pang.

“I’m Phoenix, by the way,” she says, offering you a hand across the counter.

You take it without hesitation and smile at her as you tell her your name.

She nods. “We usually hang around the Hard Deck on Saturdays if you ever want to come by.”

“Oh,” you say, “Thank you.”

It’s a genuine offer, you can tell. She doesn’t strike you as somebody who says things she doesn’t mean, and that’s why it’s special to you.

She nods again, says goodbye, and pushes off the counter.

By the door, she pauses suddenly. Then, with one hand already on the handle, she glances back at you.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Phoenix says, face gentle, and you don’t need to ask who she’s talking about. “He’s just… he’s just Hangman. He acts like an asshole, but he’s a softie on the inside.”

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, unsure how to answer.

Phoenix shrugs. “I just thought you should know,” she says.

The bell above the door rings as she steps outside. A gust of warm wind blows in. The aircon groans once and pumps more stale, cool air into the room. The radio is stuck on a Katy Perry song. You tap your fingers against the countertop in a rhythmless pattern, squeeze your eyes shut, and think of the long, long stretch of nothingness that extends before you.

Three months ago, you packed your life into a car.

It had never been part of the plan. Because that was a thing you used to have, once upon a time - a plan. You knew exactly what you wanted, from the job to the dog breed to the car. There was a house down the road from your parents, a house with a blue door and a white fence, and a tire swing dangling from the branches of an old, twisting willow tree, and you had known you’d buy it one day since you were five.

When you were eight, you used to run past that house every day to catch the school bus, thinking what it would be like to be up on that swing, kicking your legs and soaring higher, higher, higher, up into the blue of the sky. When you were fifteen, you wondered what it would be like to live in a house with two stories, a house where things wouldn’t be cramped, where you didn’t have to spend fifteen minutes waiting for the only bathroom to be free, where you didn’t hit your elbows and knees and shins and toes on all the nooks and crannies and rusting nails protruding from wood. Finally, when you were twenty, you wondered what it would be like to come home from work to a husband who loved you and kids who smiled at you.

So you used to have a plan. Go to college, get a job, grow up, get married, buy that house. You used to have things figured out.

And then your mother died.

You remember watching her as she began to fade, as she went translucent like the paper she used to wrap your sandwiches in. As cancer dissected her, flayed her open, ate away her edges, a little more each day. As she went from vibrant colors to shades of gray, film history reversing itself. You remember when it got so bad, you left college to go back home, to sit by her bedside every day, to feed her by the spoon as she had once fed you, to read to her from the books you had once studied in 8 am classes, from Bronte and Joyce and Fitzgerald.

One morning you walked into her room, expecting to see her awake, and found that she’d gone cold in the night instead. To this day, you’ll never forget how that felt - the grief of it, instant and cleaving you in two, the panic of practicality, of not knowing what to do or who to call. And then the relief, that horrible, warped thing that welled up inside of you, that you still can’t forgive yourself for, because at least it was finally over, all that suffering and all that waiting around for the inevitable.

It was a small funeral. Your parents divorced years ago, back in the cartoon and apple juice days of your life, and your father was clumsy as always, a stranger in the face of the familiarity you’d shared with your mother. Just a touch of his fingertips to your shoulder at an open grave, a downward twist to his mouth, whispering sorry, kiddo, before he disappeared back into the lovely townhouse with his new family and the younger, more agreeable versions of you, the children he’d actually wanted. Back to sending you a birthday card a week late or a month late or not at all and never calling and never visiting and scheduling Facetime calls he forgot about in favor of dance recitals or school plays.

So then you were alone. Resoundingly. Irrevocably.

You finished college in a daze, graduated just because you had gotten halfway there, and dropping out seemed like a bigger hassle than finishing. Found yourself with a degree you no longer remembered what you had wanted to do with in the first place and all those crippling student loans.

That house with the blue door and the white fence and the tire swing on the willow tree had lost its meaning. Your plan had turned to dust and slipped through your fingers, had been buried right alongside your mother.

So you sold your mother’s place (because who wants a house full of ghosts anyway, a house where each room reminds you of something that will spend the rest of your life missing from you) and got in your car, and you drove. You drove along the coast, through the thick trees of Washington, past the streams of Oregon, through the deserts of California, and when your car finally broke down in Fightertown, you said, fuck it, whatever, might as well, other places suck too. And you stayed.

It has remained the only time in your life you have ever acted on impulse, ever let your heart decide instead of your head, and you’re still not sure if it was the right decision.

You spend your days now trying to scrape together enough money to pay for your electricity bills and your rent and your gas. Just enough to get a frozen yogurt every once in a while. Just enough money so you don’t have to think about money all the time, counting it, saving it, missing it.

It’s sad, you think, when you’re alone at night, spread-eagle on your bed, limbs dangling off the sides of the mattress, staring up at the water stain spreading like a plume of smoke across your ceiling. A sad, little life with no direction.

You’re wallowing, and you know you are. Your penchant for dramatics is getting the best of you.

Most days, it’s not so bad. You like Penny, and you like Amelia, and the other day you went to see a movie at the theater, and that was nice. You like your books and your music and the Reese’s peanut butter cups you buy with your employee discount at the gas station. You like the beach, the taste of salt on your lips, and how the sun feels on the tip of your nose.

So most days, it’s not so bad. And then sometimes, it is.

Then it settles around like a dark cloud, like a fear you just can’t shake. That nagging anxiety in the pit of your stomach that seems to have no cause and no solution gnaws at you, yaps around your ankles, sinks its fangs into you, and won’t let go.

That’s when you curl into bed (but not under the covers because it’s still California and still too hot and still too expensive to keep the fan spinning) and blink into the nothingness and don’t move. And that’s when you dream, or else the dread of it all will swallow you whole and never spit you out again.

So you tell yourself that’s why you’re here again, at the Hard Deck, for the second week in a row, choosing to spend your Saturday with a bunch of sweaty drunk people instead of a family-size pizza. It’s just because you want to avoid the maelstrom of your mind.

It’s definitely not because you couldn’t stand the echoing loneliness of your shitty apartment anymore. It’s definitely not because Phoenix invited you and just seemed so goddamn nice. And it’s most definitely, a 100 percent certainly, cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die, not because of Hangman.

You’ll go to your grave swearing that.

When you shuffle into the bar, Penny stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. It’s early enough that there’s still space to move.

“What the hell?” she says, abandoning her task completely in favor of turning to gawk at you. “What are you doing here?”

You shrug your shoulders, trying for nonchalance even as you feel like there are tiny bugs wriggling beneath your skin. Too many eyes on you. “I was craving a drink.”

Penny raises an eyebrow in what you recognize as the international sign of not convincing enough.

“Who the hell are you,” she asks, “and what have you done with my daughter’s tutor?”

Ducking your head, you clumsily climb onto one of the barstools and fold your arms on the counter. Then you try to look around the bar as inconspicuously as possible.

“He’s not here yet,” Penny says.

“Huh?” Feeling caught, you busy yourself with adjusting the hem of your skirt, so it covers as much thigh space as possible. “What?”

Penny doesn’t even pretend to buy it for your benefit. “Hangman,” she says. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

You stiffen, alarm bells going off in your head. If she can read you this easily…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie.

“Oh, come on, sweetie.” She pats your hand in a gesture you can’t describe as anything but pacifying. “It’s alright.”

Your face feels hot. “It’s not like that,” you say, but even you can tell it’s a feeble attempt at an argument.

Penny chuckles. It’s not a mean sound, quite the opposite, actually, but it still makes your heart sink an inch or two.

“There’s nothing wrong with being attracted to someone, you know?”

That has you bristling. “I’m not attracted to him,” you protest. “I hate him.”

Utterly unbothered by the note of distress that has snuck its way into your voice, Penny shakes her head, an affectionate smile playing about her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of hate-fucking either.”

The gasp her words elicit from you is downright scandalized. You throw a furtive look at the patrons around you to make sure nobody heard, but that just makes Penny’s smile grow.

At least one of you is having fun.

“I’m not going to hate fuck anybody,” you say and then immediately wish your voice had sounded more firm. Less squeaky.

Penny shrugs. “Alright. It’s a fine line between love and hate anyway.”

“Why does everybody keep telling me that?” you whisper.

Either Penny doesn’t think that worthy of an answer, or she didn’t hear you. Which is fine either way. It was more of a rhetorical question anyway.

“So what do you want to drink, then?” Penny asks, finally seeming to decide to indulge you just a little.

Finally you perk up. “Can you make me a Mojito?”

You spend the better part of an hour sitting at the bar, telling yourself you’re definitely not waiting around for him. You’re only here to get drunk.

But the longer you sit alone, watching people around you enjoying themselves, watching as the chatter goes from quiet to deafening, as the place fills up with a steady stream of patrons, the worse of an idea the whole thing seems like. You can’t remember what provoked you to come in the first place for the life of you.

Suddenly, your bed, a gaping, looming lion’s mouth earlier, seems like the most inviting place in the world.

“Penny,” you call, leaning across the counter and waving your hand to get her attention. “Can I just pay, please?”

“You’re going home?”

“I… yeah. I think so.”

With the way Penny is frowning at you, you can tell she isn’t too pleased, but she doesn’t fight you on it.

“I’ll let you go home, but you’re not paying,” she says.

“Penny, you already pay me. You don’t need to let me drink here for free, too.”

She chuckles. “Oh, I’m not. Hangman said to put anything you drink on his tab if you ever show up again.”

That gives you pause, your stomach tightening. “I can’t accept that,” you say, and your voice comes out strangely choked.

“Oh, but you can.”

It’s Hangman, because of course it is. He seems to have an uncanny ability to show up whenever you do so much as think of him. Like he can sense any mention of his name even from miles away. His ego is certainly big enough.

Grinning, he claims the empty space at the bar next to you, leaning his back against it with both elbows braced on the wood. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let a girl as pretty as you pay for her own drinks, now would I?”

“Gentleman,” you repeat under your breath. “We’re just saying whatever now, huh?”

He ignores that, twisting around instead to chirp, “Penny, darling, light of my life, will you get her another… what is that, a virgin Mojito?”

You wish you could come up with something witty, but you’re distracted by the long, long stretch of his legs, and all that comes out is, “I drink them with alcohol, actually.”

“Really? Is it only scotch you have trouble with then?”

Now this reminds you just why you hate this guy. Who cares if he’s handsome? Who cares if your heart starts cartwheeling every time he smirks at you? He’s a certified, purebred bastard, and you’re seriously considering if the satisfaction of breaking his nose would be worth the inevitable lawsuit.

“I don’t need you to pay for my drink,” you say, voice firm this time.

“I know,” he counters, still smiling, “but I’m pretty sure the Navy pays me better than whatever you’re making at that gas station, so I don’t mind. Just stop being difficult and let me pay for whatever you order.”

The anger settles in your throat, already familiar. It’s difficult to keep it down, to keep your head from exploding.

“Fine,” you grit out from between clenched teeth. Then you turn away. “Penny? One round for everybody. It’s on him.”

The smile slides off Hangman’s face, his expression morphing into something stunned. For a moment, he actually looks impressed.

Then he laughs and shakes his head. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was something like begrudging admiration flickering across the planes of his face.

“Alright,” he says, “I’ll hand it to you, sweetheart. That was well played.”

He gives Penny the okay, smirk once more firmly in place. And you, triumph so short-lived that it dies inside you like a pathetic little candle snuffed out by a typhoon, consider letting loose a long, echoing screech.

Is there anything that will break that steely resolve of arrogance he carries everywhere he goes?

Penny rings the bell, and the answering cheer almost pops your eardrums. You turn away from Hangman before you do resort to violence and drain the last of your cocktail in a single sip.

“I’m going home,” you say and hop off the barstool. It brings you inevitably closer to Hangman, your thighs brushing his, and you pretend not to notice.

“So soon?” he asks, and you don’t need to turn to know he has raised one eyebrow. “I only just got here.”

“Hence my leaving,” you counter drily.

“And here I was thinking you wore this dress for me.”

He doesn’t touch you, but for a moment his fingers hook into the soft pink fabric of your dress, where it flares out around your hips. It’s enough to send a shiver down your back.

The worst part of it all, you think, is that he isn’t wrong. You upended the contents of your wardrobe earlier tonight until every available surface in your room - from the bed to the chair to the floor - was covered in clothes you deemed just not right. This number - flimsy, tight, low in the chest but a little more modest where the hem hits almost halfway down your thighs - was buried at the back of your closet, practically forgotten and with the price tag still on. Even as you laughed at how ridiculous you were being, part of you hoped he might notice.

And now that he has, you’re wishing you could rewind time and exchange the infernal thing for sweatpants and an old flannel.

“You’re way too full of yourself,” you tell him.

“So I’ve been told.” He gives you another once over, and suddenly you feel as if you’re standing naked in the middle of this bar. “This one’s spectacular, too, sweetheart, but I still maintain that first dress was my favorite.”

Somewhere between flattered and fed-up, you shoulder your purse. “Goodbye, Hangman.”

“Oh, come on.” He steps to block your path but makes no further move to touch you. “Have another drink with me.”

You’re about to protest when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder.

“You really need to learn how to take no for an answer, Bagman,” Phoenix says. “The lady’s not interested.”

You can feel the smile spreading on your face. Just in time, you think.

Ignoring Hangman completely, she turns to you. “You wanna shoot some pool with my friends and me?”

You glance at Hangman from the corner of your eye, unsure whether you hope she counts him among those friends or not. Then you nod because Phoenix is still nice, and you don’t actually want to go home to your empty apartment, and playing pool sounds fun just about now.

“Sure. Why not?”

As Phoenix leads you toward the tables in the back, you feel Hangman’s eyes on you like hot irons.

You’re five drinks in by the time you give up on pool.

“God,” you whine, lowering your cue. “I suck at this.”

“I’d disagree,” Payback says, staring down at the green felt of the table like he might be about to cry, “but I think you’re right.”

“Hey, we’re supposed to be on the same team!”

He grins. “Sorry, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar.”

There’s a warmth flooding your chest, something liquid and light. It might be the alcohol or the unfamiliar levity of it all. You’re more used to intense fits of worrying and anxiety than laughter with people you met only about an hour ago but still almost feel like friends.

“Want me to teach you, sweetheart?”

Hangman’s sitting on a barstool not far away, nursing his beer. He’s been staring at you since you started the game, and maybe it's part of the reason your cue stick kept going in directions you didn’t mean for it to. Now you can just hear the smirk in his voice.

If you were less drunk, you’d come up with a witty response. But, as it stands, you just say, “No.”

Hangman ignores you. You can feel him behind you even before he steps up, your fingers tensing around your cue, your whole body locking up as if in anticipation, as if in dread. And then he’s there, solid and warm behind you, fingers curling around your arm and moving it backward.

The place he touches you seems to tingle.

“Like this,” he says, voice low and chest rumbling with the sound. He’s speaking right into your ear again, and suddenly it’s impossible to talk, to think, to breathe.

He brings you into position with one hand on your waist, and you can’t believe it, but he’s practically bending you over that pool table in the middle of that bar, and you’re just letting him. His hips press into your own, an insistent weight that makes your head spin, makes you feel like you’re about to slide right off the face of the earth. The table's edge cuts into your abdomen, but you barely even feel it. You can’t register anything past the feeling of his skin gliding against your own as he lets his free hand wander slowly, slowly, down the expanse of your arm.

“Now, just gently…” He guides your arm backward as he speaks, his voice right in your ear, right in your head, his breath against your cheek, the side of your mouth, and you’re dizzy, can’t even see the ball that’s right in front of you, have no idea what he wants you to shoot at. “... thrust.”

The ball lands in the pocket with a resounding thunk.

For a moment, you just blink at where it disappeared.

“Good girl,” Hangman says, so quietly that only you can hear, fingers squeezing just once where he still holds you by the hip, and then he steps away.

It sends a jolt of molten heat through you. Your knees, which felt wobbly before, threaten to buckle. You just stay there for a moment, frozen, bent over that table, feeling like the earth beneath your feet is rolling in waves. A sound escapes you, something from low in your throat that gets swallowed up in the bar's noise - all the chatter and the music and the sounds of the engines running in the parking lot.

And then it’s an ice-cold panic that has you scrambling, standing upright, stepping away from the table, turning towards the group of people around you, and pretending you’re not trembling all over, that your panties aren’t soaked through.

“I’m done, I think.” You raise your cue above your head like a sports trophy. Your voice is remarkably firm for how frail you feel. “Who wants to take over for me?”

There’s a shuffle as a few of the guys whose names you can’t remember start fighting each other for your spot on Payback’s team. You give up after a while and just drop the cue. Somebody catches it before it can clatter to the ground, and you turn your back on them.

Tugging at the folds of your skirt, you try desperately to regain control. The evening is slipping through your fingers like wet rope. You feel unmoored.

Phoenix, grinning from her perch against the jukebox, offers you a swig from her beer bottle. “I think you weren’t too bad.”

“Well, I did keep forgetting if I was supposed to hit the stripes or the solids, so, like….” you admit, accepting the bottle and taking a tentative sip. Maybe this will help calm you. The taste hits your tongue, and you grimace. “Ew. I don’t get how you guys drink this.”

Phoenix laughs at you. “It takes practice.”

“I don’t wanna practice that,” you say. “I’ll just get another Mojito, I think.”

You’re not going to survive this night unless you have another drink. Hell, you might not survive this night even if you have another drink.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this confused. Your mind is a thicket of thorns that bite your skin at any move.

Hangman leans forward in his seat until he’s in your field of vision. His eyebrows are furrowed in a way you haven’t seen before, but beneath them, his eyes glint. It hits you suddenly that he knows exactly what he’s done, that he is perfectly aware of the effect he has on you.

You consider getting that cue stick back and whacking him over the head with it.

“You sure you want another one, sweetheart?”

You frown and say, more forcefully than necessary, “Why? You don’t wanna pay for it?”

“Oh, I’ll pay for it,” he says. “I’m just thinking somebody will have to carry you home if you have another one.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t love to carry her home,” Coyote chimes in, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. At least you think that’s Coyote. Things are starting to go a little blurry.

As you approach the bar, you say, a bite to your words, “I’ll make your dreams come true, then.”

Penny is busy at the opposite end, so you order from a girl who seems a lot less interested in serving you than the group of aviators currently trying to get her attention. Which you can’t really blame her for.

From behind you, maybe-Coyote keeps going, “You should make some of his other dreams come true, too.”

Phoenix lands a well-placed elbow between his ribs. “Shut up, man. You’re being creepy.”

“I don’t sleep with drunk women,” Hangman says as the bartender deposits a dispassionately assembled Mojito in front of you. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman.”

Your snort is decidedly unladylike, but you couldn’t care less. You’re so far gone.

“You keep saying that, but I haven’t seen you act like one even once.” Then, as an afterthought, you add, “Also, I’m not drunk.”

You pull your drink towards you, the glass cold with the ice cubes swimming in it, and promptly spill a healthy stream across your own arm and the bartop.

“Sure you’re not,” Hangman agrees smoothly. He procures a stack of paper napkins from somewhere and starts dabbing at your elbow, soaking up the worst of it. You stare at his movement with your head spinning. Why is he being nice? “I’m not a gentleman in the bedroom, though, I’ll have you know.”

He winks at you, and that’s more like the nefarious Hangman you know. It lets you relax a little.

“Christ.” Phoenix looks like she might hurl. “You want to lay it on any thicker, Hang?”

He just shrugs, so casual about it all. You wonder if he’s ever been rattled by anything. If he’s ever felt as out of his depth as you do every time he enters a room.

“Who doesn’t like it a little rough in the bedroom, Phoenix?”

You can’t believe he said that to her. Part of you expects Phoenix to roll her eyes and give him a piece of her mind, but she just grins, shaking her head.

“Me, actually,” she says. “Just leaves you sore. I prefer it slow.”

“Slow?” Hangman repeats. “You and Rooster would be a match made in heaven. Masters of the geriatric pace.”

“Who’s Rooster?” you ask, wondering if Hangman is trying to set Phoenix up with someone running a poultry farm.

Nobody answers your question.

“It’s been my experience,” Phoenix says, “that most guys only like it rough cause they have no idea how else to do it.”

Coyote laughs at that. It’s obviously meant to taunt Hangman, but he doesn’t react much beyond a tiny upward twitch of his mouth.

You’re left wondering if these are normal conversations people have with their friends. Are you just a prude? You feel like you’re going insane.

And then Bob, who has been quietly snacking on peanuts for most of the night, pipes up, “I think it just depends on your partner. You gotta listen to them.”

Hangman stares at him like he’s just revealed he likes to take his clothes off and perform an Irish jig on top of an aircraft every Sunday. “Am I just supposed to believe you’ve had sex with multiple partners?”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap Hangman’s chest. Admittedly, both the alcohol and the way your head is still reeling have the move lacking any real vigor, but it still leaves you a little stunned at yourself.

“Don’t be mean,” you say. His chest feels very firm beneath your palm, muscles hard and heartbeat steady. Then you realize you’re still touching him and withdraw your hand as if you’ve burned yourself.

Hangman is grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m mean.”

That almost makes you choke on your Mojito.

“Right,” Coyote says. His teeth gleam white when he smirks at you. “So, how do you like it?”

You freeze. Your mind stumbles, then short-circuits.

“Oh, god, boys. Just leave her alone,” Phoenix sighs. She gets up to sling an arm over your shoulder. It’s a reassuring presence by your side, one that makes you feel a little less like you’re about to levitate off the face of the earth. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

Hangman is staring right at you. He’s still smiling, but something in his eyes has shifted.

You can’t look away from him. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“I… I don’t…” you falter.

Across the distance between you, Hangman raises an eyebrow. “What are you, like a virgin?”

It hits you square in the chest.

You know you need to laugh it off, know you need to counter with another quip, another insult, another jab, but your mind is blank. Time seems to freeze for a moment. You can’t breathe.

Your eyes burn, and you realize with a sudden, horrible lurch that you’re going to cry, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Several emotions pass over Hangman’s face in quick succession. The glint is gone from his eyes now, replaced by something like genuine guilt. That’s how you know he was just joking around, but it doesn’t soften the blow at all.

Anger, humiliation, and, worst of all, the remnants of your earlier desire pump through your veins. You feel weak and tired and helpless. A snowglobe shattered on the floor. All of it hits you at once.

You’re painfully aware of all the eyes on you. You’re painfully aware you haven’t said a single thing in way too long.

Hangman says your name, his tone caught somewhere between concern and apology.

I can’t, you think. I just… can’t.

So you turn on your heel and all but sprint for the open doors.

Out back, the air has cooled down to a more bearable temperature, but it does nothing to calm you. Your skin feels several sizes too small, the world is tilting a little bit to the left, as if everything’s written in cursive. In your ears, your blood rushes like a roar.

You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life.

A few tiki torches light a path from the Hard Deck’s back entrance towards the sand of the beach. You follow almost blindly, stumbling down the two steps. The ocean stretches endless and dark blue in front of you. Your sandals fill with sand that scrapes against the soles of your feet.

You walk a few steps until you reach a weathered tool shed with the blue paint eroded by years of wind and salt spray. Only when you’ve found shelter behind it, when you know you’re hidden from view, do you allow yourself to cry.

They’re bitter tears. You’re embarrassed about your display earlier, about letting Hangman get to you, embarrassed because everybody saw. Embarrassed that you didn’t deny it when it isn’t even really true, not technically. Embarrassed that you’re twenty-three and practically a virgin, embarrassed that it matters to you. It shouldn’t matter.

Virginity is a social construct, you remind yourself, and then you just cry harder.

Most of all, you’re embarrassed because you want Hangman.

It’s the first time you admit it, even to yourself, and the truth of it settles heavy in your stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted someone as much as you want him, and you don’t even like the man.

It’s ridiculous, humiliating, mortifying, and suddenly you wish you had stayed home tonight, had never come here in the first place.

And then he says your name.

The moonlight paints his hair a blueish shade of silver. He looks impossibly handsome, standing just a step or two away from you with his hands in his pockets, backlit by the flickering of the torches.

Immediately you straighten up and rub your cheeks to get rid of the tears. Your fingers come away stained black with the remnants of your mascara.

For a moment, you and Hangman just stare at each other. The distance between you gapes like an open wound, like a canyon, like an ocean.

Finally, he asks, “You okay?”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

He looks torn. His jaw moves as he grinds his teeth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You don’t have to ask him to clarify. You know exactly what he means.

“I don’t know you,” you say quietly.

He makes a strange, strangled sound at the back of his throat, then buries his face in his hands for a second. When he re-emerges, he looks honestly distressed.

“If I had known,” he says softly, “I would have stopped being so aggressive.”

You don’t know how to tell him that that’s the opposite of what you want. You don’t know how to tell him that you don’t know what you want.

You don’t know how to tell him that you know exactly what you want.

Everything’s a mess.

Shrugging, you say, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” he repeats, disbelief in his voice. “Of course it matters. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

That makes you frown.

“I didn’t say you make me uncomfortable.”

Aggravated, sure. Annoyed, wound-up, frustrated. All of that. But uncomfortable? Never.

That gives him pause, but only for a moment. He goes on, “I shouldn’t have… it was too much. I’m sorry.”

You can’t explain any of this, but you want to. You wish you could just make him understand, but you can’t even make sense of yourself.

Your insides are all tangled.

“It’s not like… it’s not like I’ve never done anything,” you rush to explain. “I did sleep with someone when I was sixteen, but I just… and then there was always so much other stuff that I didn’t have time to date, and then other stuff happened, and I didn’t even want to date, so I just….”

At the look he gives you, you trail off.

“So you’re not a virgin, then?”

“Not… technically,” you confirm, then cringe at how ridiculous it all sounds.

He just stares at you.

“It… what does it even matter?” Suddenly, you’re angry. “Even if I was a virgin, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with it. And it’s none of your business. Why do you even care?”

One of Hangman’s eyebrows raises. “I don’t care if you’re a virgin,” he says, voice perfectly calm. “I care that you’re comfortable.”

That staggers you. “I… why?”

He shoves his hands back into his pockets. “Because I happen to like you.”

Now you’re the one staring.

That can’t be right. Hangman’s not supposed to like you, not when you’ve just established that you can’t stand him. Not when you’ve spent every night since you’ve met him listing all the reasons why you need to stay as far away from him as possible.

When you don’t answer, he starts talking again. “Why didn’t you just say you’re not a virgin in there?” he asks, jerking his head back in the general direction of the Hard Deck.

You shrug and look away. “I’m not… experienced.”

He waits for you to continue.

“It was just once, with my first boyfriend, and it wasn’t… I didn’t… well, after it was over, I never wanted to do it again.”

Hangman’s expression is unreadable. The breeze picks up, and you shiver, crossing your arms over your abdomen.

“I’m not…” You swallow. “I’m not confident. I can’t talk about it the way you guys do. So easily.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is gentler than you’ve ever heard. “I’ll stop, then. This was too much. I’m sorry.”

But there’s something there, in the words. A challenge. He’s giving you a way out at the same time as he’s giving you an in.

The way he’s looking at you seems to say, Ball’s in your court now, sweetheart.

In your life, you’ve always taken the familiar path. You thought things through thoroughly, made decisions with your head and not your heart. You liked to be safe, too scared to step out of your comfort zone. And so the house with the blue door stayed a dream, one that eventually moved so far out of reach it lost any appeal it ever had.

But then you think of your life stuffed into a car. Arriving in an unfamiliar city and deciding to stay. Diving headfirst into the unknown.

If you have done it once, you tell yourself, there’s no reason you can’t do it again.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you say, voice quiet, hands shaking. “I like it.”

It might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Being honest. Here in this moment, with him, bathed in moonlight that dips the worlds in shades of mercury.

It’s almost impossible to get the words out, and then they dangle awkwardly in the air between you. You feel exposed, stripped, flayed open in front of this man who is practically a stranger to you.

Over the beat of your heart hammering away in your chest, you can barely even hear the roar of the ocean.

And then Hangman steps closer to you, bridging that distance. His features are dipped in half-shadows, but you see his eyes flickering down to your lips.

You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“When I saw you for the first time,” he says, and his voice is husky, low, “in that little dress… I wanted to bend you over the bar and fuck you right there. With everyone watching.”

It knocks the air out of you. You let out a choked sound that might be the beginning of a gasp. A jolt goes through the core of you.

He comes even closer, and, instinctively, you stumble backward. He crowds you against the wall of the shed. The wood is rough and cold where it presses against your back.

The stupid nametag is right in front of you then, and it occurs to you suddenly that you don’t even know his first name.

“Look at me,” he says.

In spite of yourself, you listen immediately. There’s something in his voice, not just demanding but commandeering. You don’t think you could disobey him even if you wanted to.

And Hangman’s so close now. Close enough that you can see the specks of gold swimming in his eyes, close enough that you could probably see yourself reflected in them if it wasn’t so dark.

One of his hands is braced against the wood by your head, palm down, and the other goes to cup your cheek. Fingertips trace across the jut of your cheekbone, down, down, down over the planes of your face, avoiding your mouth to ghost toward your chin and then the line of your throat.

You don’t dare breathe.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly.

It’s such a stark contrast to his earlier words, so crude, that it leaves you light-headed.

You can smell him; over the lingering ashes of burnt-down bonfires, over the salt of the ocean, there’s the scent of his aftershave. Cinnamon and spice. You think you could get drunk on that smell.

“Hangman…” you whisper because you can’t think of something else to say for the life of you.

He shakes his head, tuts gently. “My name’s Jake.”

“Jake,” you repeat. It’s like you’re in a daze, dumb with the intensity of it all. If this night is giving you anything, it’s a severe case of whiplash.

He hums in response, eyelids going heavy. Lets his fingers trail from your throat, where your pulse is beating like a sledgehammer, down your chest, between your breasts, over the flimsy fabric of your dress. He pauses on your stomach, lets his fingers spread out like a starfish, and just watches for a moment as his hand moves with each breath you take.

When he speaks, his voice sounds almost pensive. “Has anybody ever made you come?”

The sound you make is much too close to a whimper for your own comfort. Involuntarily, your thighs clench together, and you realize faintly just how wet you really are, the skin just below the lines of your panties sticking together.

You don’t need to look at Hangman to know that he’s noticed your reaction.

“It… no,” you admit hesitantly. You’re going to spontaneously combust, you just know it. “Just… myself.”

He grins at that, but it’s not a mean expression. “So you touch yourself?”

It’s so hard to swallow. Even harder to talk, to find words, even to form a coherent thought.

Jake leans closer still, so close his breath traces across your face. “Answer me.”

“Sometimes.” Your voice has gone so quiet you’re sure he wouldn’t have heard you if he wasn’t standing so close to you. Like he wants to climb into your skin.

You’re becoming painfully aware of all the points where he isn’t touching you. A minuscule but safe distance between your hips, your faces, your chests. That arm curving around you, braced against the wall. No point of contact except for the large hand on your abdomen.

You shudder.

“What do you think about? When you touch yourself, what do you think about?”

The muscles in his arm flex, straining against the fabric of his uniform, veins protruding blue through the skin, and it shouldn’t be this hot, but it is. You’re on fire and he isn’t even touching you, not really, but you’ve never been so turned on in your life, wound so tightly, a kite dancing higher and higher into the sky.

You shake your head quickly, unsure if it’s supposed to be an answer or just a way to get rid of the fog that’s descended on you.

Jake’s hand wanders a little lower, almost imperceptibly, just about half an inch, but you think your heart almost fails you.

“I…” you swallow again. Your mouth is dry, and your palms are sweating. Your core pulses with the sort of desire that’s impossible to ignore. “I don’t know. I don’t…”

God, if only you could be casual about this sort of thing. You wish you could say something sexy, something teasing, something that would make Jake feel even a fraction of what he’s making you feel. But you’re just you. Inexperienced, unsure even of what you want.

You choke up, and, to your mortification, tears pool in your eyes again.

“Shh,” Jake immediately shushes you, and his face is almost tender. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll give you something to think about.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, blinking up at him.

And then it’s back, that signature Hangman smirk, the same one you’ve wanted to slap off his face so many times, only it’s making you weak in the knees now, makes your lips part, makes you wish he would just touch you already.

“I’m not going to kiss you tonight.”

It’s almost shameful how quickly you try to protest, really. If it hadn’t been for those five and a half Mojitos, you would have stuck your head into the sand right here.

Hangman laughs at you, the sound just a little mean. “You’re much too drunk, sweetheart.”

You suppose it doesn’t make much sense to argue. Now that you think about it, you really are drunk. The fuzzy, warm sort of drunk. Just on the right side of intoxicated, where everything feels packed in cotton, and nothing feels impossible.

Even that someone like Hangman might want to dirty talk to you behind the Hard Deck’s tool shed.

“Can you do something for me?” Jake asks.

You can just bite down on the anything that threatens to spill from your mouth the moment he’s uttered the question, and, god, what’s wrong with you? This is getting out of hand.

Dumbfounded, you nod silently.

He leans impossibly closer, his nose trailing along your jawline, and whispers, “The next time you touch yourself… When you’re alone, I want you to lie down on your bed. I want you to spread your legs, and I want you to touch your pretty little pussy for me.”

You clench your eyes shut, breath stuck somewhere in your throat, as Jake’s hand lifts from your stomach. He takes a fistful of your skirt and pulls it up, using his other hand to hold it away from your body. The cool breeze caresses your legs, but that’s not why you shiver.

His fingers slide along the inside of your thigh, from kneecap up to the very tops of them. You can’t breathe, can’t blink, can’t do anything but stand there and hope you won’t dissolve into a puddle.

“And when you fuck yourself,” he whispers, “I want you to think of me.”

And then he touches his fingers to your core, over the lace of your panties.

If you weren’t so far gone, you think you’d never forgive yourself for your reaction.

You all but squeak, back arching off the wall, pushing yourself into his palm, mouth dropping open as pure heat spreads through you, like an ache, like a tightening at your very center.

“Jesus,” Jake says, and his voice sounds breathless. “You’ve soaked these through, sweetheart.”

It’s the first indication that he’s affected by this, too, that you’re not the only one impacted, and somehow that’s enough to make you want him even more.

You wonder what it would be like to get him off. What he would look like, sound like. Taste like.

Your exhale is a tiny, shuddering thing.

“Can you do that for me?” he wants to know. “Touch yourself for me like I asked?”

“I…” You think you would have agreed if he had asked you to lasso him down the moon.

Anything you say, Hangman. Anything you want. Just keep touching me. Please.

“Yes,” you agree. “Yeah, I… okay.”

“Good girl,” he says. His lips press to the side of your throat just once, right where your pulse is pumping at a rapid pace.

And then he steps away, fingers gone from your panties, mouth gone from your neck.

The loss of him leaves you reeling, dizzy, plastered to the wall like roadkill.

Even Hangman looks a little disheveled, but it's minimal comfort.

Again, you feel on the verge of tears.

Hangman clears his throat and asks, “Do you have a ride home?”

It takes an uncomfortable amount of time for the question to even register. You just stare at him at first, blinking owlishly.

You barely even remember your own name. How are you supposed to answer this?

“I… Uber,” you say.

It’s not even a complete sentence, no verb at all, but it seems enough for Hangman.

He nods once. Then he takes a moment just to watch you.

Finally, he says, “I changed my mind about the dress.”

He takes a step back to admire you head to toe. As he looks at you, the torches reflect in his eyes until it looks like they’re gleaming. You’ve never felt so exposed in your life, and it makes you squirm.

You’re still so wet, wetter than you’ve ever been, and you’d do anything for him to touch you. Slide his fingers into you and fuck you right here, behind Penny’s bar, out on the beach where anyone might see. Think you might just die if he doesn’t.

Jake reaches once more for the skirt of your dress, but this time he doesn’t pull it up. Instead, he just lets his fingers dance through the folds once, the touch featherlight. Just a whisper of his digits across your thigh. You barely feel it.

You’re going to shake apart right here and now.

“I think this is my favorite after all,” he says, grins that Hangman grin, and then he’s gone.

You’re left leaning against the shed, breathless, panting, head and heart a mess. Alone, as you stare out at the white foam cresting on the waves, wondering what the fuck just happened.

read part ii

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