lilahlovesyou

Latest Posts by lilahlovesyou

“Out of your burrow.” The shy bunnygirl peers out of the mountain of blankets, her doe-eyed expression pleading at her owner to let her stay.

“Come on, out you go. My friend will be here soon.” More gentle coaxing, as the bunny slowly emerges from her nest. The older man bends over and picks her up off the floor, carrying the small naked figure into the living room. The girl’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and she buries her face in his neck. An almost inaudible whisper in his ear; “…can you breed me please?”

He rubs her back and soothes his anxious pet as he walks through the house. Depositing the girl onto the couch, she flops over and sticks her bum up into the air. Seeking comfort, the bunnygirl shows off her body. Cute pussy peeks through her thighs, just below the fuzzy tail plug in her behind. “…wan cum in me?” Her owner ignores her flirtations and brings her a snack. Handing a fresh, peeled carrot to the young girl he encourages her to eat.

“Don’t play with your food. You’ll need your energy for when my friend gets here.” The owner softly admonishes his pet, while she presses the carrot into her needy pussy. Those desperate, big eyes stare at him again. “…cock, pls?” The poor creature is in heat, unable to keep herself from desperately pleasuring her body.

After some more negotiation, the carrot is eaten while the man fingers the bunnygirl. A compromise, one she immediately regrets as he takes his hand away from her. She follows him around, hugging onto his leg, slowly humping him. “I wanna get bred… cum pls…” The girl whimpers. Her small hands paw at his pants, trying to tease him into cumming inside of her.

Knock, knock, knock. The bunny leaps up, cowering behind her owner. The unlocked door slides open, and his friend enters. She closes her eyes and tries to make herself as small as possible, terrified of strangers. The two friends greet each other, and the bunnygirl hears the voice of a woman. Sneaking a peek from behind his leg, she sees a tall woman about her owner’s age approach and give him a big hug.

He’s gonna cum inside her :( not bun… Disappointment is visible on the young girl’s face. “I have something to show you!” The woman chimes to the bunny’s owner, before heading back out to her car. His hand gently strokes the bunny’s hair. She trembles, overwhelmed by the interaction and her sex-crazed thoughts. More loud noises from the doorway. The woman has returned, dragging a leash behind her.

She leads in a young man, almost completely naked. Dog ears and tail adorn his lean body. The two pets’ eyes meet. He tugs against his leash, trying to get closer to her. “Heel, boy.” The woman commands. The puppyboy whimpers and kneels by her.

“Sorry, I don’t want him to attack her.”

“Oh, it’s fine. She’s not as fragile as she looks, trust me.”

“I’m going to let you off your leash. Be on your best behavior!”

The click of the leash being removed from the puppyboy’s collar, and the two owners sit down at the kitchen island to enjoy some coffee and catch up. The bunnygirl cowers in the corner, while the other pet slowly crawls over to her. Her knees up against her small chest, her hands cover her face. She can hear him getting closer.

The dogboy’s face is inches from hers, now. She can feel his breath. Tears run down her cheeks as he touches her thigh. His wet tongue kisses her neck, and she squirms. His fingers run over her naked body, and she pulls her hands away from her face to try and push him off. The young man kisses her. The girl is frozen. His face is wet from her tears.

Getting more excited by her body, the puppy gropes at her. The owners continue their conversation, laughing and chatting and ignoring their pets. The young man pushes the tiny bunnygirl to the ground, straddling her. She hears another clinking sound and sees what’s attached to his waist. A chastity belt. His cock is locked away. Confused feelings of relief and disappointment run through the panicked girl.

The boy whines, pressing his cage into the girl’s soft body. Still eager to play with her, he paws at her breasts and pushes her around the floor while she tries to squirm and escape. Her legs open for a moment, and he seizes his opportunity. Bringing his wet tongue to her bare pussy, the puppyboy starts to lick at the sensitive bunny. She lets out a loud squeak. Her owner takes a sip from his coffee.

The quivering pet pushes against the boy’s head, trying to get him off her. It’s useless, she’s small and frail and the puppy is much stronger than her. His hands force her thighs open, getting deeper and deeper inside. He sucks and slurps, dragging her closer to him each time she pushes away. The girl’s chirps get louder, begging him to stop. “Nooo~!!! Too sensitive…~ Too much... Stahhp!!!”

The bunny starts crying again, looking over to her owner. The pair is deep in their conversation. Sitting closer, her owner’s hand rubs the woman’s back. The puppy’s tongue makes tight circles around her clit while she watches her owner’s hand gently squeeze the woman’s ass. The bunny gasps as the intensity of his warm mouth starts to overwhelm her. “Stoppp! Nononono!” A flurry of tiny kicks bounce off his back. Her feet brace against his shoulders and she pushes away from him, scurrying off to hide behind the couch.

The girl curls up into a ball and cowers behind the furniture. Tears drip from her face as saliva and her cum drip from her pussy. She can hear him trotting closer to her. The bunny’s heart is pounding in her chest. Finding his prey, the puppy attacks her again. Rolling her over, the boy mounts her face, pushing the chastity belt against her cheeks. His fingers reach into her mouth, exposing her pink tongue. Through her blurry vision, she can see his hard cock painfully pressed against it’s cage. Precum dribbles through the metal. She tastes it.

“I hope you’re behaving yourselves back there!” The owners have moved to the couch. Peering over the back, the woman chastises her pet. “Naughty boy, be nice to that poor thing.” The bunny’s owner shakes his head. “It’s really fine. She’s just being dramatic.” The woman’s hand reaches into the older man’s shirt, rubbing his chest.

“Is it okay if I take off his muzzle? It’s been weeks - He’s all worked up.”

“Nooo! >.< …scary…~” The pet whimpers through the dogboy’s fingers.

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

She produces a key, and with a click the belt is removed. The puppyboy inhales deeply, the frenzied look of a hunter in his eyes. The girl can see his cock fully now. Not as big as her owner’s, but hard as rock. The boy’s balls are swollen and heavy after being denied for so long. The fresh air kisses the head of his cock and a thick string of cum leaks from the tip. It splatters on the bridge of her nose, kissing her blushed face with little droplets.

The bunny escapes again, bounding out from behind the couch. She only makes it to the middle of the living room before he catches her. Pouncing, the freed boy pins her to the carpet. “Nuhhh~ no! stopstopstopstop!!!”

His loaded balls smack into her sensitive clit. The eager puppy has buried his cock into her with one sudden movement. He pauses a moment, enjoying her warm, tight hole. Wiggling slightly to make sure every bit of him is inside her, he starts to fuck the tiny bunny. Pressing his entire weight onto her body, she can’t move at all. Her lame efforts to push him off only make him squish her more.

"No!~ Nuuuh!~ Stahp! No fuck! Only breed! Stop!!! ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚"

Smack. Smack. Smack. The young man doesn’t hold back. He needs the relief and fucks her with weeks of pent up sexual frustration. Her face is pushed into the ground, and she whines pathetically when he sinks his teeth into her shoulder. Smack. Smack. Smack. His rough pace is too much for her, and tears burst from her eyes again. Each touch of his heavy balls against her pussy sends shivers up her spine. The owners watch from the couch, the woman stroking his cock.

Smacksmacksmacksmack! Faster and faster, the bunny sobs and begs. "...too ruff! too ruff for bun!..." He doesn’t listen. She feels his muscles tighten. A warm, familiar feeling floods into her cunt. The puppy keeps thrusting. The slippery sensation of his cock becomes sticky.

The boy rolls her over onto her back again. She stares at his cock, slick with cum. Pushing her legs up to her chest, into a mating press, the puppyboy keeps fucking her. Her stunned expression looks at the wet mess of their parts. “…he cum sooo much…” The girl stops crying. Cum leaks from her as he pulls out and is pushed back in with the next forceful thrust. Sticky strings of semen connect their thighs. Her heartbeat slows, and her pupils dilate as she absorbs his cum.

The two pets look into each other’s eyes. Both share a dreamy, warm smile. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls herself up to kiss him. They embrace each other as he fucks more cum into her, while their owners start to make love on the couch. “…more breed?” The bunny pants. The puppy looks different, now. Handsome, roguish, charming. She starts to throw her hips up into his, needing more of him.

He cums again, she cums with him. Entirely filled with him, still more of the young man’s cum stuffs the little girl full. He cums again, she follows right behind him. The girl is docile now, her anxiety relieved by complete submission to the puppy’s forceful breeding. He cums again, the perfect sensation of a full pussy makes her cum, too.

An hour later, the leash clicks back onto his collar. A light tug from the older woman, and the boy is pulled from her. They try to hold onto each other, whimpering as they’re separated. The owners wish each other well, and the guests leave.

The bunnygirl kneels next to her owner. Between her legs is a puddle of the boy’s cum. She hugs the older man while he gently pats her head. Her face pushes into his thigh. She starts to tremble and shiver. Squeezing harder, her heartbeat increases. More cum leaks from her pussy, gone too soon. Panic starts to fill the nervous little girl again.

“…need more breeding… please…?”

Hi there! I'm a huge fan of yandere works and I came across your boss-stealing-your-dna scenario in the yandere tags. I'm honestly shocked it currently only has 2 notes! I feel like there should be more likes, this is the most unique and interesting scenario I've come across so far and I'm dying to know how you'll continue it (if you decide to). Is it based off of a show or something?

By the way, I think your writing is really good! I really like boss x employee stories, so it's really up my ally.

OMG IM SO SORRY I JUST SAW THIS😭😭 but tysm !! It was inspired by Black mirror !! The USSR episodes :) Tysm for the love i thought no one would even see it😭

Christine - A Yandere Short Story

Based on Christine by Stephen King After your boyfriend's death, you're eager to sell his vintage Mustang. The car reminds you far too much of him and worse than that, it feels oddly alive. The only problem? Your dead boyfriend isn't ready to let go. Tags: Male Yanderes x Fem Reader, Horror, Character Death, 12k words Taglist: @mel-vaz

When your boyfriend died, you and Christine were the only witnesses.

All through his funeral, you kept thinking of ways to get rid of her. You were being paranoid and you knew it - she couldn't speak even if she wanted to. But having her around put you on edge, made you grit your teeth until your jaw ached.

After the wake, you approached your boyfriend's parents and asked if you could have her. They were pale and shaken, reeling from the suddeness of death just as much as from grief. His father nodded like a sleep walker, his voice older than his years.

"He would have wanted you to have her. She's yours."

His mother squeezed your shoulder. "I can't imagine what you're going through, dear. Whatever his faults, my boy loved you. I know that."

You managed a smile, managed to thank them through the tears that were suddenly falling. But your mind was on Christine. Always on Christine.

You were the last to leave the funeral parlour. You tried to tell yourself it was a coincidence, but deep down you knew the truth. You were scared. Scared of Christine, scared of your too quiet townhouse, scared of the dreams that would come when you closed your eyes.

It was early evening and the streetlights were coming on in the narrow tree lined avenue outside the funeral parlour. When you stepped out, goosebumps crawled across your arms.

She was waiting for you.

Christine. Your boyfriend's 1969 Mustang, cherry red and entirely rebuilt.

She was directly under a streetlight and her paint gleamed. The light reflected off her windshield so you couldn't see inside, but for a second it seemed like someone was already sitting behind the wheel.

You squeezed your eyes shut. When you opened them, the shadow driver was gone.

Christine. For most of your relationship, you loved her just as much as your boyfriend did. She was a labour of love and you felt it every time you sat in her passenger seat.

But things were different now.

You walked towards her cautiously. It was ridiculous to be scared of a car, but you were.

When you opened the driver side door, you almost expected to see your boyfriend. Despite the funeral, the wake, the late morning call to please come and identify a body down at the morgue, you still expected to see him. Light green eyes looking up at you, half smile that was half teasing and half lecherous.

The seats were empty.

You slid behind the wheel, your breathing shaky. You almost never drove Christine. Not that your boyfriend didn't offer. It was just that you liked riding passenger - liked looking over and seeing your man with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, liked seeing the muscles flex in his forearm when he steered.

The car still smelled like him. That was the first thing you noticed. Despite being impounded for a week while the cops did forensics, despite the valet scrubbing and steaming the seats to get the blood out, it still smelled like him.

You rested your head against the steering wheel, closed your eyes and sobbed for the first time since the night you killed your boyfriend.

When you put Christine up for sale, the calls started coming in almost immediately. It wasn't surprising - she was in incredible shape, she ran like a dream, and her white leather upholstery was original.

At first, you thought you'd be able to sell her before the month was up. The buyers would look under the hood and whistle in admiration.

But something always changed when they took her for a test drive. You couldn't understand it - she would drive perfectly but by the time you got home, the buyers were almost always frowning at you, or worse - not looking at you at all.

No matter how fanatic they were at first, no one wanted Christine.

You dropped the price and then dropped it again, but still no takers. The car spent all winter in the garage. You'd turn her on to idle every few days, clean off any dust and check that the mice weren't nibbling at the wiring, but you never stuck around for long.

It hurt to leave her locked away - your boyfriend poured so much of himself into her - but it hurt even worse to drive her. Whenever you were behind the wheel, you could feel the gaping emptiness of the passenger seat, could still see the bloodstains.

It was on the first warm day of spring when someone finally bought her.

Colt Guilder called you when you were just about ready to give up on selling her. You were literally about to take down the ad when your phone rang. The voice on the other end was deep, with a slight southern drawl that immediately reminded you of your boyfriend.

"Can I come and take a look today? I wouldn't want to impose ma'am, but I'm in a hurry to see her before anyone else gets a chance to buy her."

Her. Even the older buyers didn't really call cars 'her' anymore.

"Sure. You can come by this afternoon."

You were sitting on the porch steps when he pulled up, a jug of iced tea and your novel abandoned next to you. He stepped out of his Jeep, a tall man in blue jeans and boots, and you felt your heart lurch. Something deep inside you told you that this was the man who would finally take her off your hands.

He smiled at you as he approached and for a second you wanted to warn him away. Wanted to tell him the truth about Christine.

"Howdy ma'am. I'm real happy you agreed to meet me so last minute."

You smiled at him and shook his hand and bit back the truth. Oh, how you would come to hate that decision.

When he pulled up, Colt wasn't expecting the Mustang's owner to be a pretty little thing in a sundress. He was a gentleman, his mama raised him right, but even he had trouble keeping his eyes on your face and not letting them wander lower.

His hand swallowed yours when he shook it and it was hard not to notice the softness of your skin. Whoever rebuilt the Mustang, it wasn't you. You had the hands of a lady, not a mechanic.

"The car is out back. Keys are waiting for you. She's been serviced pretty regularly and my... my boyfriend built her up himself."

You started for the garage and he fell into step behind you. You were so much shorter than him - it was kind of cute to see your head bobbing in front of him. Like a pixie in a sundress.

"How come your man ain't the one to sell it?"

He wasn't surprised you had a boyfriend. Hell, he'd have tried his luck if he could. No doubt other men had the same idea.

"He... he passed away a few moths ago."

He cringed. Nice going, Colt. Bringing up painful memories only three sentences into conversation. Must be a world record.

"I'm so sorry ma'am. I had no idea."

You shrugged. "It's fine."

He was about to say something else when Christine came into view. Her grille was a newly buffed silver and her deep red paint caught the spring sun.

He gave a low whistle. "Pictures don't do her justice."

You smiled at that, but edged out of the car's direct line of sight. Neither of you consciously noticed it, but you approached the car like you would an animal. Slightly from the side so it couldn't charge at you.

"Mind if I take a look under the hood?"

"Be my guest."

He popped the hood and let out another low whistle. Without even looking past the surface level stuff, it was clear your boyfriend knew how to build an engine. The Mustang looked almost new.

"How long did this take?"

You leaned against the garage door and crossed your arms.

"A long time. He bought her a few months after we started dating. She was gonna be scrapped - looked like a total rust bucket."

He raised his eyebrows. If that was true, the body restoration alone must have cost a fortune. Did you realise how valuable a vintage ride like this was worth?

"Y'know, just from looking under the hood, I can tell you could get at least three times as much as you're asking."

If his uncle heard him sabotaging himself like that, he'd have given Colt a whack on the head. Truth was, he wanted the car. Wanted her so bad he would have taken out three separate loans to afford her.

But he wasn't a monster. It wasn't fair to buy something so fine from a girl who might not understand its true worth.

You raised your brows, more surprised at his honesty than at his statement.

"I know she's worth more. But I'm in a hurry to get rid of her. And well..."

You looked away. "People find the car a bit strange."

It was his turn to be surprised. He couldn't see any red flags in her upkeep or her paintwork. Maybe it was a deeper issue.

You pushed yourself away from the wall and nodded at the door.

"Keys are waiting for you. Take her for a drive and decide for yourself."

The interior was just as well taken care of as he expected - a tough job when the upholstery was mostly white. The keys had a tag attached with a name engraved in metal.

"Christine?"

"It's what we call her. It was a joke at first but the name sort of stuck."

You slid into the passenger seat and tugged your seat belt across your chest. He glanced at you out the corner of his eye and -

'Silly thing, doesn't she know better than to get into a car with a stranger twice her size?'

He shook his head, like that could dislodge the idea. He wasn't that sort of man, wasn't some kind predator with a mind full of filth.

'It would be so easy. You're so much bigger than her, so much stronger. You want her. Why not just take what you want?'

Where the hell was this coming from? He might have a guilty thought every once in a while, but he was always quick to squash it down. It wasn't like him to think something so...forceful about a girl.

He turned the key and the engine roared to life. And it really was a roar. V8 engine growling so loud he could feel the vibration through the steering wheel.

Oh baby, he was sold on her right then and there. The devil himself couldn't have outbid him. What little boy didn't dream of a car like this? Didn't spend his childhood looking through magazines and brawling over matchbox versions?

The clutch was smooth as butter as he cruised down your driveway and turned onto the main road.

God, he wanted to gun it. Floor the gas and find out for himself just how powerful old school muscle was.

He looked over at you, about to ask if you knew exactly what your boyfriend did to the engine. You were looking out at the passing trees, your hair stirring in the slight breeze from his open window.

'She looks like she belongs here, with you.'

It was another foreign thought, something he wouldn't expect of himself. But it was true. The Mustang would have felt empty without you - in your sundress and white sneakers, you completed the picture. Your boyfriend must have rebuilt the car just for you, as a way to keep you next to him. Colt wasn't sure why he thought that, but somehow he knew it was true. Whoever your man was, he put so much of himself into this car that Colt almost felt like he was right next to the guy.

You turned to him, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

"What do you think?"

"She runs sweet as apple pie."

You felt your heart stutter. Your boyfriend used to say the exact same thing.

"You alright there sweetheart? You look a little pale."

"Sorry. Just a little car sick."

Car sick was right - you were sick to hell of this damn car and the way it played with your emotions.

"C'mon, I know a diner just off the highway. We can stop for some fresh air and a bite to eat. You'll feel better in no time."

You didn't have time to protest before he switched lanes and turned onto the highway.

The diner he took you to really was just off the highway, a retro looking spot railed off from a steep cliff.

"How did you know about this place?"

He shrugged. "I must have heard about it from someone."

Strange. Colt didn't think he'd ever seen the place before, much less heard about it. But when you looked at him with that slight hint of panic, that sudden fear, somehow he knew this was the place to bring you.

He climbed out and opened your door for you before you had a chance to do it yourself.

"You know this place?" he asked.

If anything, you looked even paler than before. "Yeah. My boyfriend and I used to come up here pretty often."

He frowned, annoyed at himself for somehow making this even worse. "We can go somewhere else if you want."

"No!" You took a deep breath. "No, this is fine. I just need a moment away from the car, that's all."

He led you to a picnic table near the edge of the cliff. Far below you, the main road clung to the cliffside and disappeared into the trees.

"You just sit pretty and I'll grab us some chow."

You smiled up at him. "Thanks Colt. Really. I know this is probably eating into your day."

He waved it away. "Trust me, this is a much better way to spend the weekend than what I had planned."

It was true. He'd wanted to see the car and somehow that turned into lunch with a pretty girl at a table with one hell of a view. Maybe Christine had some good luck about her. Maybe all of this was just meant to be.

When he stepped into the diner, he was greeted by jukebox country music and the smell of good, strong coffee. He didn't bother to look at the menu. Somehow, he knew exactly what to order.

"I'll have a banana spilt, some fries and a toasted sandwich." He smiled at the elderly waitress. "Please and thank you Agnes."

"Sure thing sugar."

He frowned. How the hell did he know the waitress's name?

Must have seen her name tag, right? That made sense. Must have been a half second, subconscious glance.

When she handed him his change, he dropped his eyes to her lapel. No name tag. No label. Not even a necklace with her initials on it.

It was a warm spring day but he still shivered. Something strange was going on.

No, don't be ridiculous. Agnes was a common name, a vintage diner kind of name. That was probably why he said it. His mind must have just made a lucky guess. There's no way he could know her name when he didn't even know about the diner until he pulled up.

Unless... it wasn't him that knew her name. Maybe it was someone else, something else speaking through him.

"C'mon Colt, don't be an idiot," he muttered to himself.

"You say something sugar?"

He jerked his head to the side, his heart lurching. Just the waitress, just Agnes, looking at him with raised brows.

"No ma'am. Just thinking out loud."

"Alrighty then. Here's your order. Be careful not to spill the chocolate sauce. It's hell to clean up."

"Yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am. Have a good day."

He was stupidly happy to step out of the restaurant. The place must have been getting to him. Why else was he suddenly so superstitious?

"You doing okay Colt?" you asked.

He grinned at you. "Just dandy sweetheart. I got you a banana split and some French fries."

"Oh! That's perfect, thank you."

See? Nothing strange at all. He had a sweet ride and a sweeter girl waiting for him. Why worry about some weird diner?

He sat down across from you and unwrapped his sandwich. Behind you, Christine looked at him with a shining chrome smile.

"Listen, you can get a whole lot more for a car that fine. But if you're willing to let her go for the price in the ad, I'll buy her today," he said.

You froze, a fry halfway to your mouth. He really wanted her? He wasn't coming up with some lame excuse or hurrying off with a mumbled apology?

"Done," you said, a bit too quickly.

You were finally getting rid of Christine. No more nightmares, no more tip toeing around the garage like you were scared she might notice you, no more unwanted memories every time you laid eyes on her.

You were burying your past like it should have been buried on the day of your boyfriend's funeral.

He offered you his hand and you shook it, a genuine smile on your face.

"She's all yours." And thank God for that.

Colt drove you home and followed you into the house to collect the car registration papers.

You frowned at your empty desk drawer. You could have sworn you left the documents right here...

You popped your head into the living room where Colt was waiting.

"Give me a second. I think I left them upstairs."

"Sure. I'm in no hurry."

He wandered around your living room while you were gone, too keyed up to sit still. It was a neat, modern room with art on the walls. The big bay windows opened onto the front yard and the driveway where Christine sat waiting for him.

Part of him still couldn't believe it. She really was his dream car. The sort of ride all his work buddies would be green with envy over.

He leaned against the windowsil and then quickly looked down when his hand brushed something metallic.

Picture frames, the small kind that usually sat on a desk. He picked one up, the frame cool against his skin. It was a picture of you and someone he guessed to be your boyfriend. Both of you were in formal wear - you in a deep red evening gown and him in a tailored tux. Christine was parked in the background, her red a compliment to your dress.

Your boyfriend was handsome in a rough cut sort of way, his hair swept back and a tattoo just peeking out of his shirt. He was looking directly at the camera while you looked up at him, his arm curled tightly around your waist.

Colt frowned. There was something about the man's expression... a kind of possessive meanness. He seemed the type of guy to start a fight and then finish it no matter what, a real tough customer.

And the way he held you... some might call it loving but Colt found it more proprietary than anything else.

'Mine. My girl, no matter what. Try and take her from me and I'll show you a world of hurt.'

Colt put the picture down with a frown and scanned the others. Out hiking on the mountains, at the beach, holding a huge bouquet while he kissed you. A perfect couple except... except for the way he looked at you. Sweet, yes. But somehow dangerous, in the way rattlesnakes and cougars were. Fine if they weren't disturbed, but tread on their territory and there'd be hell to pay.

He moved away when he heard you coming down the stairs. You were a little flushed, a little out of breath, but you grinned at him and waved a stack of papers.

"Finally found them! Just need to sign the change of ownership forms and she's all yours."

He watched you as you searched for a pen, your sundress swishing 'round your thighs. He didn't like your boyfriend - dead or not, he seemed like one mean bastard - but seeing you so happy, so flushed with life and hope and joy, Colt found he could almost understand the other man. If you were his girl, he'd hold you just as tight.

You finally found a pen and he scribbled his signature on the dotted line.

"Well, seems like you're the proud new owner of a 1969 Ford Mustang. Congratulations."

He carefully took the papers from you, his fingers brushing yours. "Real good doing business with you sweetheart."

You lead him out to the car, going through the list of things he'd need to do to properly register the car as his. Real cute of you, to think he didn't know it all already.

He slid into the driver's seat and when he touched the wheel, he felt that same sense of power. And under it, a strange feeling of being not quiet alone in the car.

You stood outside his window, running through a catalogue of spares and repairs that he might want to check out. If he had to guess, you seemed nervous.

He leaned back and smiled at you. "It's alright y/n. I ain't changing my mind. Deals done, remember?"

It was the first time using your name and it sent a small bolt of electricity jolting through him.

'Her name is mighty sweet, ain't it? Meant to be said oh so softly, meant to be savoured.'

You looked at him like you felt it too, your cheeks just a little warmer than before.

Oh Lord, what sort of bastard was he? Feeling this way about you when your boyfriend was in the ground for scarcely half a year? You were probably still mourning, still nursing your broken heart. He should be a gentleman and leave you alone, shouldn't take advantage of your vulnerability. He should be a good man.

'You'd be an idiot to let her go.'

The thought streaked through his mind. It almost didn't feel like his own idea. Wherever the thought came from, it wasn't wrong. He really would be an idiot to not ask you out when he had a chance. He got lucky with the car - prize piece like this would have been snatched up in a matter of hours. If he didn't ask you out, if he didn't push his luck for the second time, the same thing might happen with you.

"How 'bout I take you out to dinner later this week? As a thank you."

You looked unsure, your eyes jumping down to the car keys like you were expecting an objection.

"Please? I know Christine must mean a lot to you. I'd feel a whole lot better taking her off your hands if I could thank you properly."

You bit your lower lip and he found his eyes drawn to the sight of it. Please say yes please say-

"Yes, I think I'd like that. But no later than eight, okay?"

YES! He rubbed a palm across his jaw to hide his smile.

"I'll bring you home early, promise."

"I'll hold you to that, cowboy."

Oh god, he wanted to melt when you called him that. It was so silly - big guy like him getting butterflies over a sort-of kind-of date.

'Atta boy. You ain't gonna regret it.'

He was too distracted watching you walk away to realise the thought wasn't his own.

That night, you slept without dreaming. For the first time since your boyfriend's death, you didn't see his face when you closed your eyes.

You woke up the next morning expecting to be relieved. Christine was gone, wasn't that exactly what you wanted?

Yes, but...but what happens next? You weren't an idiot nor were you unduly superstitious, but Christine didn't feel like a normal car. Maybe that's what happens after a violent death - things change, the blood seeps through the fabric and poisons the aura, or the energy, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it.

You made yourself breakfast but couldn't eat more than a few bites.

Okay, try and be logical. It was probably just your guilt playing tricks on you. You loved Christine and you loved your boyfriend, so it was only natural that you'd feel terrible about selling her. That's all. Blood and death can't change the nature of an inanimate object, no matter how violent or grisly it might have been.

Right. Just your guilty conscience. No need to work yourself up.

Across town, Colt slept through his alarm. He was dreaming, a sweet little fantasy of cruising down the highway on a brilliant summer day. You were next to him, your sundress even shorter than before, smiling at him and running your hand up his thigh.

You were his girl. His and his alone. He could feel the certainty of it in every part of him. You loved him, you stood by him, you did everything you could to support him, you were his.

Christine purred through her gears and he pushed the gas a little more, eager to get home. He would show you exactly how much he appreciated you - inch by inch and kiss by kiss.

"I love you darlin'. I need you to know that," he said. His voice didn't sound like his own. It was raspier, with an edge of meanness that not even love could soften.

You looked at him, smiling all soft and sweet. "I know. I've always known."

Colt jerked awake, smiling and shivering at the same time. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, disoriented and feeling like a stranger in his own body.

"One hell of a dream," he muttered.

'Not a dream cowboy. A memory from someone long dead.'

He ignored the thought, his mind already focused on the day ahead. He'd driven Christine home yesterday, but left his Jeep parked outside your house. He could either get one of his buddies pick it up or take a taxi over and get it himself.

Was it even a choice? He wanted to see you again. If he had to pay an ungodly amount for an Uber, he would.

Should he call you before showing up at your door? What would be a good time to see you? He didn't want to show up too late and catch you in a rush to leave.

'She'll be awake by now. But she'll only leave for work after twelve.'

How did he know that? Did you mention it yesterday?

He climbed out of bed and half stumbled to the bathroom. As the steam clouded up the mirror, he thought of his dream. And what might have happened if he'd stayed asleep longer. Maybe your hand would wander further up his thigh, and then...

He lathered up his fist and took hold of himself. He was already hard from just the thought of you. Your sundress looked so damn flimsy. He could probably yank it off you with just one hand.

He groaned, his forehead pressed against the tile. Picturing your hand dwarfed by his when you shook on the sale; how soft your skin was, how good it would feel if you touched him just like this.

'Fucking yourself like a dog at the thought of her.'

He agreed. You really were turning him into a dog.

You were sitting in your living room, trying and failing to read your novel, when he knocked on your front window. You struggled to smooth down your hair while you scrambled for the door.

"Hi Colt! Came to pick up your Jeep?"

He was wearing blue jeans again today, with a tight wife beater that showed off arms thick with muscle.

"Yes ma'am. Thought I'd stop by and see if you needed anything."

That made you smile. How often does someone go out of their way to check up on a stranger?

"I don't think so. But I've got some fresh orange juice and donuts, if you'd like to come in."

He smiled at you and for a second his gaze dipped down past your chin. "There's nothing I'd like better."

He took up a lot of space at your kitchen table, but you found it comforting. The room felt too big without your boyfriend to fill it.

You flipped open the box of donuts and he picked out the mint chocolate one.

"Never really liked the mint ones," he told you, "But I've got an awful craving for one right now."

"Oh I never liked them much either. It was my boyfriend who was the die-hard mint fan."

He looked away from you, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "It must be hard for you. Losing him so suddenly."

"It was. It is. Everyone keeps telling me it gets easier, but it hasn't. Up until last night, I dreamt about him everynight."

"Dreamt of him?" he asked you suddenly, his eyes intense.

"Yep. Every single night. It was like I was reliving my memories again and again."

He looked a bit perturbed at your statement, but you put it down to him feeling awkward about the conversation. Death is never a fun or casual topic.

"So how's Christine treating you?"

"Like a dream. I was thinking of taking her down the coast next weekend. All open road and sea air." He paused, seeming to weigh something up in his mind. "Why don't you join me? The morning after I take you out to dinner. We can pack a picnic and have lunch at the cape."

"That sounds incredible." You looked down at your hands, slightly uneasy but not sure why. Your boyfriend spoke about doing that once. A mini road trip with the windows down and the sea breeze in your hair.

It's not that strange that Colt had the same idea, right? Everyone knew the coast road was a long, quiet stretch. Perfect for putting Christine to the test.

"You're gonna love it," he said. "I'll even make my world famous tiramisu."

You raised a brow. "You know how to make tiramisu?" Big guy like him didn't really seem the patisserie type. Did he have a cute apron with bows on it too?

He pointed his donut at you, blue eyes twinkling. "Not just any tiramisu. World famous."

You snorted out a laugh and for the first time in months, you kitchen felt like a happy place.

He dreamt about you again that night. Christine was parked in a dark corner on the edge of a cliffside hiking trail. He could hear waves crashing far below. It was nighttime, with the full moon outlining your face in silver and shadow.

He was in the driver's seat and you were straddling his lap. You were wearing a sweater and a cute pleated skirt that seemed oh so short with the way you leaned over him.

"You've been ignoring me," you accused him. You were pouting in an adorably petulant way. He looked at your lips - red and slightly swollen - and knew that he'd just been kissing you.

"I haven't been ignorin' you sugar. I've just been busy."

He spoke with that same raspy voice that somehow wasn't his.

"Too busy to say hello or drop by for dinner?"

You shifted in his lap and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning. Oh, you damn tease.

"I'm filthy and tired after work sweetheart. You wouldn't want me."

You frowned, going from slightly annoyed to full blown angry.

"I always want you, you idiot. I'm not scared of a few stains. I like it when you come home smelling like the workshop. I like it when you're dirty from work." You tugged at his collar. "I like you. Why don't you get that?"

'Because you're too good for me.' He almost said it. It was on the tip of his tongue and it was only some dull instinct that kept him quiet. How couldn't you see it? You were everything he wasn't. You were educated and kind and selfless. He was just some bastard from the wrong side of the tracks.

He wanted to impress you. He wanted to be worthy of you. Fixing up the Mustang was just the start of it. He didn't care that it took him all summer and pretty much all of his pay cheque to do. He wanted a ride that he would be proud to pick you up in.

And it still didn't feel like enough. Nothing ever felt like enough.

He looked away from you and stayed silent.

You sighed and brought your palms up to his cheeks, gently turned his face back to yours. "I like you. I'm dating you. I want to spend time with you, no matter how grouchy you are. Okay?"

He should be a gentleman and let you go, shouldn't take advantage of your kindness. He should be a good man.

"Okay," he said and leaned forward to kiss you.

He wasn't a good man. He wasn't a gentleman. He was going to hold onto you for as long as he could.

Colt woke up with a snarl, slamming his fist on his alarm so hard the clock face cracked.

"I didn't want it to end, goddammit."

He rubbed his hand over his face. The dream felt so real. He could feel the late fall chill, could smell your shampoo and taste your cherry lip gloss. He wanted to go right back to sleep and fall back into that wonderful fantasy.

He scowled and threw the covers off. Dreams could wait, work couldn't.

All through the day he was snappish and irritable. One of the apprentices messed up an order and he snarled at them to stop being so fucking useless and fix it. His coworkers shot each other looks behind his back. He was behaving entirely out of character but both him and his buddies were helpless to stop it. It was only when he got home at the end of his shift that he realised why.

He wanted to dream about you again.

There wasn't any guarantee that he would. Dreams weren't exactly scheduled network programming. But somehow he knew it would happen.

He ended up going to bed before eight, a world record for someone who usually only considered sleeping when it was well past midnight.

He was right. He did dream of you.

You were in a bikini this time, lounging on a lawn chair in the backyard. You had sunglasses on and there was a slight sheen of baby oil on your skin. Your phone was on shuffle and pop music was blaring from the speakers.

You weren't expecting him and he kept his steps real quiet as he approached you. He kept expecting you to hear him and shoot up, and he was slightly annoyed when you didn't. What if he was a serial killer or some sick pervert, sneaking up on you while you were so vulnerable? Did you have no spatial awareness?

He made it all the way to the back of your chair and you were still totally oblivious. There was a magazine and a glass of ice tea on a small table next to you. You were softly humming along to the music.

He took a minute to just admire you. Your body stretched out and entirely at his mercy. His girl, his gorgeous girl.

He leaned down until his lips were right next to your ear.

"Hey there sugar. You miss me?"

You shot up with a shriek, your sunglasses flying. You whirled on him, grabbing your magazine like thirty pages of glossy Cosmo was going to help you fight off an attacker.

Your eyes narrowed when you recognised him and you smacked his chest, hard.

"You asshole! You gave me a heart attack!"

He couldn't help but smirk at the sight of you so riled up.

"You're lucky it was me and not someone else. Not everyone has such noble intentions."

"Yeah right. Was it your noble intention to scare the living daylights out of me?"

He held up his palms in a placating gesture. "Just teachin' you a lesson sweetheart. I was standing there for a good few minutes and you didn't notice a damn thing."

He cast a critical eye across your backyard. "I reckon some high wooden fencing would do the trick. 'Bout seven feet high, sunken flowerbeds on either side like trenches to make it even harder to get a leg up."

"I don't want a fence."

He ignored you, already mentally calculating how much lumber he'd need. "A nice light coloured wood. Pine maybe. Will match your house much better."

You sat back down, the fight draining out of you as your adrenaline dissipated. "What are you doing here? Did you get off work early?"

He narrowed his eyes but you didn't seem to notice. "Why? Don't want me around?"

That shocked you enough that you twisted around in your chair to look at him.

"Of course I want you around! Don't ever imply otherwise. This is a lovely surprise." You paused. "Near heart attack aside of course."

It was funny how easily you could calm him down. One sentence was all it took to get him smiling again. He leaned forward and hooked one finger under the strap of your bikini top.

"I haven't seen this one before. New?"

You blushed and looked down. "Mm-hmm."

"It's cute. But..."

You glanced up at him, suddenly self conscious. "But what?"

He grinned wolfishly. "But...you would look so much better without it."

He tugged at the bow holding your top up. The strings unravelled and fell down your back. The bra cups started to slip down too, and his eyes were glued to their steady fall.

He was going to teach you a whole 'nother lesson about wearing such a skimpy outfit where anyone could see you. Show you exactly what sick, twisted bastards would do to your body. Teach you a lesson you won't forget, so maybe, just maybe... you'd learn to be more cautious around men like him.

Colt woke up with a hunger like death. His cock so hard it was actually throbbing. He didn't feel well rested, despite having slept more than he had in two weeks.

It played over and over again in his mind. The strings unravelling, your bikini top sliding off... Always stopping right at the good part, the part he most wanted to see.

He got ready for the day with a savage efficiency. Bolting back his protein shake without even tasting it. He didn't realise it, but he'd started counting down the days until he could see you again. Just two more days. Two more nights of dreams and then you'd be there in the flesh and he could finally - finally what? He shook his head to clear away the dirty thoughts that were crowding him.

He was being a real bastard. Thinking about you, dreaming about you, when he had no right to. You hadn't shown any romantic or physical interest in him. You were clearly still grieving your man. He needed to get himself under control - what you needed in your life was a friend, not another man to obsess over you.

He forced himself to take a cold shower. Forced himself to avoid thinking about you. And to especially avoid thinking about the you from his dream.

'Good luck with that buddy. I used to be so tired I was falling asleep on my feet and I still couldn't get her out of my head.'

Work was thankfully busy that day and he threw himself into it with every feverish ounce of energy he had. Whenever his thoughts wandered towards you, he would find something else to do. He didn't eat anything at all and he didn't even notice getting hungry. He took on an extra shift and finished long after the sun went down, his muscles a hurting mess and his head not much better.

Christine was the last car left in the parking lot, sitting under a streetlight like she was waiting for him. He found his steps unintentionally getting slower the closer he came to her.

In the dark and lonely emptiness of the parking lot, she didn't feel like a normal car. If anything, she seemed to be watching him. Her headlights like eyes and her grille a silvery gash of a smile.

If he had to guess, he'd say the car was almost unhappy with him.

"Because I'm thinking about her?" He asked as he climbed behind the wheel. Immediately, he felt stupid and superstitious for talking out loud.

'Because you aren't thinking about her.'

He'd driven Christine to work the last few days despite not wanting to cause unnecessary wear and tear. Being in the car, driving it, was still a thrill.

Not tonight though.

He felt on edge, wanting to get out as soon as possible. She purred to life with the same thrumming power as always but his throat was tight with a nervousness he couldn't explain.

The inside of the car was suffocatingly quiet. He turned on the radio and old school rock 'n roll poured out.

'Just the sort of thing her boyfriend used to listen to,' he thought to himself. And then he laughed a stuttering, barking sort of laugh because there was no logical way he could have known that.

'Take it easy big guy. You and I are just gonna cruise. That's all.'

A nice cruise. Yeah, that sounded good. Calm his nerves, get rid of the nameless dread that was building all day. He relaxed into his seat, the streetlights crawling past in a hypnotic line of bright and dark.

He didn't notice when the radio dial moved on its own and the station changed from rock 'n roll to country. The singer sounded awfully familiar. His voice a kind of husky rasp. He was singing about his girl, his pretty woman, and he was singing about the grave and he was singing about the dark that waited.

'Oh,' he thought to himself dully, 'That's the voice I keep hearing in my dreams.'

When he finally reached home, it was two in the morning and the petrol gauge showed an empty tank. He'd somehow driven enough to eat through a full tank of gas. A drive that should have taken twenty minutes took five hours.

He got out of the car on legs that felt numb and cold. He couldn't remember driving. He couldn't remember the strange music or the even stranger passenger that rode with him. In his mind, there existed the clear cut memory of leaving work and climbing into Christine. Then there was nothing but a long, grey blankness that was tinged with a muted terror.

He collapsed into bed still in his work clothes. By morning, his mind would have stitched over all those things too terrible to contemplate. He would wake up feeling groggy and confused, and probably put it down to the strain of a long day.

Colt slept after driving with the dead and didn't dream.

On the day before your date, he found an engagement ring under the passenger side carpet.

He had no reason to look there, no reason to pull the carpet up by its seams. But he did it anyway and his reward was a silver and diamond band with blood dried in the crevices. There was an engraving on the inside and he had to take it out into the sun to try and read it.

'Mine. Forever and always.'

He shivered despite standing in the bright midmorming sun. Most rings would say 'yours' instead of 'mine.' He had no doubt that the change was entirely intentional. Your boyfriend was staking his claim on you - not just with the ring but with the intention behind it.

He looked at the brownish red stains and knew in his heart they were blood. Your boyfriend's blood.

Colt didn't know how the man died, but looking at the ring, he felt sure that it was bloody and far from natural. How would a blood stained ring end up in Christine? If the guy had been in accident sure. But the car was in perfect condition. The ring shouldn't have been there.

Unless he was murdered. Soaked in blood and tossed around during the struggle, the ring probably got pushed under the seam of the carpet. It was a sealed off spot and even a forensics team might miss something that small.

It was an outlandish and macabre theory to be basing entirely off one mysterious engagement ring. If he stopped to think about it, he would no doubt be able to poke a dozen separate holes into his theory.

Somehow, he knew it was true. The same way he suddenly knew Christine wasn't just an ordinary car and that his dreams about you were far from natural.

He felt a queer prickling all across his nape. He wasn't the type to scare easily, but this... This frightened him. He didn't feel alone anymore. He felt like if he looked up at the rear view mirror, he'd see someone in the back seat. No, not just someone. He'd see the dead man who owned the car before him.

He'd see the man who wanted to marry you.

He sucked in a sharp breath and forced himself to let it out slowly. He wasn't a superstitious man. He didn't let fancies of ghosts and ghouls affect him. But even he couldn't deny the way he felt. His gut was telling him something was terribly, terribly wrong.

He climbed out of Christine like a man scared of waking a sleeping bear. He didn't even bother to grab the keys.

He couldn't explain any of it. Not the dreams, not the thoughts that felt like someone else, not the prickling certainty that a man died right where he'd been sitting.

He got into his his Jeep and pulled out of the driveway, his eyes on Christine the entire time. Like she'd somehow roar to life and slam into him.

He didn't know where he was driving to until he parked. A bar across town, a real rough spot that on most days even he wouldn't want to stop at. But today wasn't like most days.

The place was dark and the folk sitting around weren't exactly the friendly sort. He settled at the bar and ordered a tequila without really thinking about it.

Funny. He used to hate tequila.

It went down like fire, and he shuddered. He wanted to laugh. What else was a mam supposed to drink when the world didn't make a lick of sense anymore?

"Give me another one." His voice was raspier somehow. Even though that never happened when he drank vodka or whiskey.

There were mirrored shelves opposite him and he caught sight of his eyes. A pale green. He tossed back his second shot and tried to tell himself it was just a trick of the light.

He wasn't sure who to talk to. Not the Sheriff's Office. Yeah officer, there was a man murdered in my car and now I can't stop dreaming about his girlfriend didn't exactly scream unimpeachable sobriety.

And not the pastor either. Father, I'm being haunted by filthy thoughts and I'm not sure if they're my own. He doubted the old man at his mother's church was qualified to deal with that sort of thing.

But he couldn't keep quiet either. He had to tell someone about it. If they called him crazy at least it was an acknowledgement. At least it was better than being dead drunk and being scared of his own eyes in the mirror.

Who could possibly know anything about it? Oh. Of course.

He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and almost threw it across the room when it wouldn't turn on. He charged it every night, goddammit.

"There a pay phone somewhere 'round here?" he asked the bartender.

The man jerked his face at the side door that lead to the back parking lot. Colt stumbled out - swaying on his feet far worse than two drinks should warrant.

It was late afternoon. He shaded his eyes and tried looked at the sun like it was deliberately lying to him. He arrived at midday and he couldn't have been in there for more than twenty minutes. How the hell was it this late?

'Time moves differently when you're dead cowboy. You should know that by now.'

The payphone was in the shadow of the bar and he shivered when he stepped out of the sun. Wrong. It was all wrong and he didn't know how to fix it. Why was the voice still in his head when Christine was all the way across town? Why did he still feel life he wasn't quiet alone?

It was only when he had the receiver up against his ear that he realised he didn't know your number. Shit.

He leaned his forearm against the payphone and rested his forehead against it. Could he maybe get a taxi and show up at your house? He scoffed. Yeah, that would go well. Showing up dead drunk just to say he knew you liked short skirts in fall and that he dreamed of pulling off your bikini top. He'd be lucky if you only mildly tazed him.

Fuck. Okay. Home again. Sleep it off. Charge his phone. Call you in the morning and try not to sound too crazy. He could manage that.

He called the taxi company listed in the phone book. Half wondering if they were still in operation. When it finally connected, the call was thick with static.

"Yeah?" The man's voice was raspy and standoffish.

"Can I get a cab at Ronnie's on Westside?"

The man laughed. "Oh you must be a real tough customer to be drinking there. Didn't think you'd have the balls cowboy."

Colt wanted to cuss him out. What kind of fucker answers the phone and insults you less than two sentences in? He squeezed the receiver until he felt he could control his voice.

"Yeah. I'm a real mean guy. So can I get my cab or not?"

"Oh, I'll send you a ride alright." There was a mocking tilt to his voice. "Best fucking ride you'll ever take. Just sit pretty. You'll know when it's for you."

The skin on the back of his neck crawled. He hung up without another word.

The streetlights were coming on and the gold of sunset was giving way to the awful in-between greyness of twilight. He waited for his ride.

You came home to find flowers on your doorstep. A bouquet of white roses. You froze. There was only one man who sent you flowers and he was cold and dead for the better part of a year.

You picked the card up by the edge and flicked it open.

Hope you didn't forget our date. See you soon dollface.

-Colt

Oh. You laughed, ridiculously relieved. Of course.

Dinner tomorrow night with the cowboy. You took the roses inside and hunted around for a vase. Was it actually a date? He'd said it was a thank you dinner, but it wouldn't hurt to dress up a little. Do your makeup a bit fancy, maybe wear your new heels. It'd been months since you'd gone out, had a nice dinner with a friend. This could be good for you. Just one more step back into normalcy.

The clouds were starting to gather and as evening came on, they broke with a shudder of thunder.

You curled up on your couch, all the lights on. It was going to be a bad storm. The first really awful one in almost half a year. You tried not to, but it got you thinking about that night. The night your boyfriend proposed to you. The night you killed him.

You closed your eyes and tried not to see it, but the memories followed you even past the darkness. You couldn't run from them for long.

It was cold outside, rain drumming on Christine's roof. Sharp, constant. Your boyfriend was in the driver's seat, buckling his belt. A lazy, satisfied smirk on his face.

You liked it when he looked at you like that. Satisfied. Mellow. It never lasted long, but in the few minutes after fucking you, he would agree to just about anything.

"I'm drunk on you baby," he'd said once. "Heads all woozy. Would do anything for you. Fucking anything."

Christine's windows were all fogged up, and you traced little hearts on the glass. To be honest, you felt a little drunk on him too. Heart still pounding, head reeling. Cunt still fluttering and full. He was so good at reading you, at fucking you just how you needed it. No man before him could make you come so hard, or do it so easy.

"I got something to ask you, baby."

You turned to him, hand reaching out for his and pulling it into your lap.

"Yes?"

He rubbed a thumb across your knuckles. He wasn't looking at your face, just down at your interlinked hands.

"You're my girl, yeah?"

"Obviously. I love you."

"And you ain't going to leave me?"

"Never."

He sighed. Managed to raise his eyes to meet yours. You weren't used to seeing him nervous. Usually he'd just bull doze his way through a conversation, not stopping until he got what he wanted. This was...new. It made a whole new crop of butterflies start up in your stomach.

"Will you marry me?"

You froze. What? Where was this coming from? You loved him. You cared about him. But marriage? That was such a big step. Such a grown up thing.

"I've got money put away. And Christine. I can put a deposit down on a house by the end of the month. Can pay for a nice wedding too. All white and frilly, like you want."

"I..."

"You don't got to worry 'bout your student loans neither. We can pay 'em off a whole lot faster if we're together. You can even go back to school if you want. Get that second degree you're always talking about."

"I...can't."

You pulled your hands away from his. Looked away from him.

"I love you. I really do. But it's too...much. We're too young. I... I just don't want to rush into things and make a mistake."

He was quiet. Awfully, dangerously quiet. His hand was still in your lap and you could feel when he clenched it into a fist.

"Is there another man?"

"What?"

You whirled to face him, suddenly angry. How could he even suggest...

"I haven't touched another man since the day you asked me out."

He wasn't smiling anymore. His green eyes were narrowed, mean.

"Who are you fucking? Which bastard is it? Huh?"

"No one! There's no one else. I just don't want to get married and make a -"

"Mistake? You think I'm a fucking mistake?"

You flinched. His voice was even louder in the closeness of the car. It made your ears throb.

His fist uncurled and he grabbed your hand, hard. Yanked you towards him so your upper body was sprawled across the gear shift.

"Was it a mistake to fuck me? A mistake to say you loved me?"

"No! That's not what I-"

He cut you off with a hand around your throat.

"You want to leave me. That it? You're going to fucking leave me?"

You pulled at his fingers with your free hand but it was useless. His grip was getting tighter the angrier he got. Your head felt all swollen, your nose and throat burning.

"Please just -"

"No! No fucking please. No changing your mind at the last minute. You ain't gonna be my girl? Ain't gonna be my wife?"

He pulled you towards his face, his lips barely brushing yours.

"If you won't be mine, then you'll just have to fucking die. It's me or no one else, baby. I told you that, all those months ago."

You scrambled for some way to get loose, but you were in an awkward position and he had all the leverage.

"I fucking warned you. I told you that if you dated me you couldn't ever leave. I knew I was going to fall in love with you. Hell, I was half in love before you even said hello. I tried. But you just didn't listen, did you?"

Your hand brushed something cold and metallic in the centre console. His switch blade. He usually kept it in his back pocket to help with work. Oh, and he kept it sharp. You grabbed it, more on instinct than anything else.

Your head was pounding and your heartbeat was pulsing in your ears. But the rain was somehow worse. Falling so loud you thought you'd never get the sound out of your head.

You tried to plead with him again, reason, beg, whatever it took. But when you tried to speak he just closed his fist even tighter and your words died in your throat with a shudder.

Oh god, he was really going to do it. He's eyes were wild, mad with something beyond reason. He'd seen reason in the rearview mirror about a hundred miles ago and now he was headed straight down the highway of fucking insanity.

How? How could the man you loved be choking the breath out of you?

Because he loves you. Because he'd rather see you dead than lose you. Because you were too damn blind with love to notice how dangerous he is.

White starbursts bloomed across your vision. Little fireworks to celebrate your brain dying.

You stabbed him.

You didn't fully mean to. You were half mad with fear, half dead in his grip. Not sure what you were doing until you felt the blood.

The switchblade sunk straight into his neck.

You didn't even pull it out. Just left it there and scrambled back when his grip on you loosened, your chest heaving. You throat and eyes and nose all felt swollen. Your lungs burned like fire.

He reached up and touched his neck. Looked down at his fingers like he couldn't believe the blood was his.

You might have tried to save him then. Might have come to your senses and called the ambulance, might have stripped off your shirt and tried to stop the bleeding.

But a knife in his throat apparently wasn't enough to stop him. He looked at you and there wasn't anything rational left in him. He reached for you again, hands curled like claws. He was dying and all he wanted to do was take you with him.

You screamed. So loud that it made your own ears ring.

You grabbed the knife and pulled. You didn't realise it was acting like a stopper until his blood splashed on you. Hot, stinking of metal. It sprayed across your face, got into your mouth and nose, soaked the whole front of your shirt.

You scrambled for the door handle and fell backwards out of the Mustang. Landed on your ass and pushed yourself away.

He was halfway over the passenger seat by then, hands still reaching, mouth pulled into an ugly snarl.

You kicked the door shut.

It slammed with a bang and mercifully blocked him from view. Your turned onto your knees, pushed yourself to your feet and ran.

The rain was coming down so fast that it stung your skin. You didn't rightly know where you were going. Only that it was away.

You still don't know how you made it home. You were a twenty minute drive away and it was too dark to see more than three feet in front of you. Must have been luck. Must have been fate.

When you got home, you were shaking so hard you couldn't even open the door for a good five minutes.

You stripped off your clothes right there on the doorstep and threw them in the trash. Switch blade too. You don't know how you managed to hold onto it during that wild, reckless run.

You took a long shower. Sat under the hot water with your knees curled to your chest. Too scared to cry.

At some point, the better part of your brain must have taken over. You vaguely remember burning the bloodstained clothes. Remember taking a drive and throwing the bleached switchblade out the window.

And when the call came a few days later, to please come down and identify a body, you were calm enough to not give yourself away.

If it was anyone else, maybe the cops would have tried harder. But your boyfriend was a rough man from the rough side of town. They gave you looks of sympathy but shook their heads behind your back.

Guy like him had it coming.

When it was all said and done, you and Christine were the only ones who knew the truth.

Colt waited all evening for a cab that never came. And when the storm started, he was annoyed enough to consider driving home on his own. He'd only had two shots. And that was a few hours ago. He'd be fine. Folk got away with worse all the time.

He left the bar with his jacket over his head and his eyes darting down the road. The rain was sheeting and he had to scramble to make it to his Jeep without getting totally soaked.

Wet and hungry and still a little drunk, Christine didn't seem like quite so big an issue. He was just jumping at ghosts. Tequila got his thoughts all twisted up, that's all.

Driving was miserable. Even with his headlights on bright and his wipers cranked all the way up, he was having real trouble seeing the road. The yellow line was the only thing he could properly rely on.

When the headlights showed up behind him, it took him a while to notice them getting closer.

"Guy's got a death wish, driving so fast in this weather."

The driver behind him was gaining quickly. Colt expected them to try and overtake, but they didn't. Just got closer and closer. A car's length away. And then half. And then almost kissing his bumper.

"Why is this dude so up my ass?"

He hit the gas, but the guy behind him didn't care. Just picked up and kept coming. Revved it a little and Colt could hear the engine even through the rain. Some kind of muscle car. A loud, growling thing.

Almost like a...Mustang.

His whole back suddenly felt icy. It couldn't be. Christine was back home, keys still in the ignition. Even if someone did steal her, why the fuck would they track him down? Must be another muscle car, with some ego tripping asshole behind the wheel.

He told himself all that and more, but his foot pressed harder on the gas.

And still the Mustang kept coming.

The speedometer crept upwards. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty.

Too fast for the narrow roads, and sure as hell too fast for a rainy night like this one.

A curve was coming up soon, the road ringed off with guard rails. He could see the reflectors glinting orange at him. Shit.

He took it wide, drifting into the opposite lane. He could feel his tires slipping a little and he hit the breaks just enough to steady the Jeep.

The Mustang didn't have any trouble with the curve. Stayed in its lane and gained a little more speed, so that when they were straight again, its hood was in line with his trunk.

Good. Maybe now the fucker would finally overtake him.

He couldn't see the car clearly. The headlights were bouncing right off his side mirrors. He couldn't even make out the silhouette of the driver.

Screech.

The Mustang's hood scraped against the side of his Jeep. The whole car lurched to the side, tires slipping.

"Fuck!"

Colt gunned it again, trying to out race the mad man. But whoever was behind him had no intention of letting that happen. They kept pace with him, blocking him from getting back in his lane.

Lightning flashed and Colt looked in the mirror just in time to see the car properly.

The thunder was loud enough to drown out his scream.

The car trying to run him off the road was none other than the 1969 cherry red Mustang that should have been sitting in his yard. Maybe he could have accepted it as a coincidence. Someone else had the exact same car as him and just happened to be driving like an asshole. Maybe he could have accepted that.

But the car didn't have a driver.

He saw it clear as day. The lightning glared straight through all the windows and there wasn't a single person in that car.

Impossible. This can't be real. There's no fucking way.

He could almost hear the laugh.

'Do I got you scared cowboy?'

Colt didn't have time to answer. The road was merging into the cliffside, and the wall of rock kept him trapped. There were lights coming straight at him, the blaring of a horn as whoever it was tried to warn him.

He slammed hard on the brakes. Christine shot ahead and at the last second he managed to edge back into his lane. The headlights roared past, the huge semi exhaling a spray of water and smoke.

It would have flattened him, even in his Jeep.

Christine's tail lights were a pair of glaring red eyes in the rain, until suddenly they weren't. Gone.

Colt slowed the Jeep, parked on the shoulder.

The rain was drumming on the roof and his hands were shaking. He got out of the car, water soaking through his shirt almost immediately.

The paint on the back door was scratched off in huge swathes. The metal was dented.

He climbed back behind the wheel, mind teetering on the edge of something past sanity. The world wasn't sane anymore. Nothing was.

He heard the growl of the Mustang through the rain. No headlights this time, just the whine of tires on slick tar.

Where?! Where was she?!

Christine slammed into the Jeep head on. All Colt saw was her red face and silver smile in the glare of his headlights before his whole world was filled with the grinding of steel on steel. His head slammed backwards, the whole car shuddering.

The airbags came on, blinding him.

Christine didn't stop after hitting him. He yanked the hand break up but she kept pushing forward, edging his car closer and closer to the edge. He felt it when the guard rail scratched against his bumper.

An ugly scream of metal, but the rails held. Christine didn't seem to like that. She pulled back, her tires shrieking as she got ready to slam forward again.

Colt jumped just before she hit the Jeep. His seat belt was almost the death of him. It wouldn't release and he couldn't see the catch in the dark. He must have had at least one lucky star though, because the door wasn't too mangled and he managed to kick it open just in time.

He landed hard, on his hands and knees.

Metal shrieked. Christine slammed into the Jeep hard enough to send it through the rails. He turned just in time to see his car go tilting off the road and down into the dark.

For a second, he thought he might have made it. Maybe she didn't notice him. Maybe it was all over.

Christine pulled back and her headlights washed over him, still on his hands and knees. One of the lights was hanging loose from the crash, making her look lopsided. The rain was still coming down hard and the droplets were gold in the light between them.

She revved.

Colt scrambled to his feet and ran straight for the guard rail. He jumped.

It wasn't a sheer drop. It was instead a steep slope, thick with shale and slippery with water. His knees buckled under him and he ended up on his back, half rolling and half sliding down the embankment. His palms were bleeding and as he fell, the gravel lodged itself in his open skin.

He couldn't see where he was headed. Could only try and and protect his head and brace for impact.

His slide ended with a boulder. He slammed into it his ribs first. Heard a crack before all the air was knocked straight out of him.

He could see the headlights way up above him, cutting through the rain.

At least she can't follow me down here.

True. Christine couldn't follow him.

But that's when Colt saw him. The driver. Coming to stand in front of the headlights, the silhouette of a man.

The silhouette stepped through the gash in the railing left by the Jeep and dropped out of the light.

Colt knew he should run. He could hear the shale slipping as the other man came down. Controlled. Measured. Nothing like his own tumble.

But he couldn't move. Everything hurt. Breathing sent sharp spikes of pain all across his chest.

"Well, well cowboy. Look at you."

The voice was low and raspy, mean. He knew that voice. Had been hearing it in his head and in his dreams and was fool enough to think it was his own.

His eyes were getting used to the dark. He could just about see the stranger. Tall, wearing jeans and a leather jacket. There was dirt thick on his boots, in the folds of his clothes. Not the black shale of the slope, but a reddish clay.

Kind of like in the cemetery.

No, he realised as the stranger squated down in front of him. Exactly like the cemetery. It was grave dirt he was seeing.

He was looking at a dead man.

The stranger might have been handsome once, but now one cheek was filled with holes. Ugly, clustered together things that showed his teeth. His other cheek was a mass of white. Worms, tiny little worms wriggling in and out of his face.

Colt wanted to scream. And vomit. And then scream some more.

There was a dark hole in the stranger's neck and when he moved it oozed a sticky, thick kind of blood.

"You know why I'm here?"

Colt didn't really notice it at first, but his voice was different. Thicker somehow. Like his vocal cords were packed full of dirt and blood.

Colt coughed and his whole chest hurt so bad he thought he was dying. Something was definitely broken. He'd be lucky if there wasn't internal bleeding too.

"Let me guess. Came to punish me for my sins?"

The dead man laughed.

"Not yours, no. Don't give much of a damn about you. I'm here to get what's mine."

The pieces were clicking together in his head.

"Your girl."

"My girl," your boyfriend agreed.

He reached for him, the nails on his hand either blue or totally ripped off. His skin filled with holes that showed pale white tendons and ugly pink flesh.

That was when the adrenaline really kicked in. Colt shoved at the man with one hand and pushed himself up with the other. It was like touching a carcass at the butcher. Cold. Limp. Just a piece of meat. No human should ever have to feel a body in that state.

He made it to his knees before the bastard hit back. Your boyfriend kicked straight at his jaw and Colt's head flew backward, smashed into the rock behind him. He dropped back down like a stone.

"Why you gotta be so fucking difficult, hmm?"

Colt was too out of it to pull away. The man reached for him and the skin of his hand was crawling with bugs. He grabbed his collar and dragged him up.

"Just gonna go to sleep for a little while cowboy. Maybe you'll wake up. Maybe you won't. Either way, I've waited too fucking long to let this chance go."

The corpse kissed him. Or more accurately, pressed his open lips against his and breathed.

His lips were cold and stiff and utterly beyond human. The taste was rancid. Worse than the worst thing he'd ever had. Metallic like blood, sweet like rotted meat.

Colt fainted.

The rain drummed down. Christine sat on the roadside and waited, her hood and paintwork back to normal. In bed, you tossed and turned in the hands of a nightmare.

The thing that was Colt Guilder opened its eyes.

It was your phone that woke you up. Your ringtone blasting even through your dreams.

You fumbled for it, eyes squinted against the brightness.

"Hello?"

The call was thick with static. Still, you recognised the voice. Would know it even from beyond the grave.

"Hey beautiful. Did ya miss me?" 

Socially isolated boss who steals your dna and makes a digital copy of you for his own pleasure.

Your a hard working girl who just got hired at her new job at a gaming company, good hours, high pay. What more could you ask for? You find yourself adapting nicely, making friends, excelling at your position. The only problem is... your boss. Hes just always lurking. Always finding ways to interject awkwardly into conversations. Its hard not feel bad for the guy, hes rich but i guess money cant buy friends.

You try to make him feel welcome, like he can trust you, but god does he make it hard. The other day you were having a civil conversation, something about new softwares, not too personal. You look down and see his hard on?? Who gets hard talkimg about fucking computers?? Not even that hes just so condescending when you do get a bit personal. Making jokes about how you should be at home instead of a job like this or how you should work on your appearance for work. Its all just so weird.

But anyway, after finishing this long day of work you cant finish your sandwich and coffee and end up throwing it away in the small trash can on your desk, the custodian will deal with it. You clock out and say goodbye to your boss who seemed like he wasnt even working just lingering.

Little did you know, that the second you walked out that door he went straight to your trashcan, finding what he seemed to think was basically gold.

.

.

.

You open your eyes to a room??? This isnt your room. You dont know where you are and you certainly dont know why your wearing a pj set that isnt yours.

You get up, scared but also assessing the situation, your not hurt and you can move just fine. You tip toe out of the bedroom to the rest of the house and its.. gorgeous?? Like everything you would ever want it to be. You take the time to realize the bedroom was just as beautiful and the questions in your mind keep multiplying by the minute.

Suddenly the lights start flickering slowly and turn on almost all by themselves, as if the house was "powering on". You realize that suddenly someone is opening a door. Scared you duck behind a corner as this voice calls your name. It sounds familiar, but also not?? You peek out and you see your boss? But much more handsome, as if he had gone through some minor surgeries and an overrall glow up.

"Oh thank god, i was worried there was a glitch or something". What? He's talking nonsense as your scared because youve been fucking kidnapped. "Where am i, why did you bring me here" honestly very obvious questions on your part, but your scared and whos to blame you? He doesn't answer and just stares. Theres something insidious about the way he looks at you, something almost terrifyingly loving.

"Goodness, did you not read the note??" He pauses almost trying to properly align his words. "You... your not real". You scoff and almost giggle. Because what is this lunatic even talking about? Bitch of course im fucking real, but before you can reply he continues. "I took your dna. Your not actually here this is a digital copy of you.. and my god im so glad it worked this perfectly " i mean he must be absolutely insane.? Thats not possible and it cant be true you have all your memories, your emotions, your values, everything that makes you.. you.

Hes said enough. You make a mad dash for the front door, almost tripping down the stairs. It opens, relieved you run out the front porch only to be stopped? The second you reach the end point of the front yard.. its like.. a digital screen?? No. This cannot be real, this is a prank or a dream! Yes its just a crazy dream and your gonna wake up soon.

You blink and your infront of your boss again. No. This isnt happening to you, your too smart, too cautious, too-

"Its okay, you'll adjust. There's nowhere for you to go anyway"

And there isnt. Youve tried and tried, only to end up back in his arms. Your real self clueless of the hell happening to you

Guys this is the first time i try to write any type of imagine please be nice😣 also pls leave constructive criticism id love to know your thoughts and opinions!!

I come into the car wash for my job interview. I just need this job so that I can get enough money to pay my bills as a Uni student - and when the interviewer takes me behind the car wash and provides me with a sponge, bucket, brush and spray hose and tells me to wash his care to prove my aptitudes, I comply.

Washing, scrubbing, wiping - I do it all and pay no attention to how I let thick white soapy suds over my shirt nor how my interviewer now looks to how my tits swing beneath my neckline as I wipe the bumper, or how my ass stretches my trousers as I bend over to dunk the sponge again.

I'm only thrown off guard when you use the spray hose - a jet of cold water splashing my neck before the cold fluid envelopes my body, shocking me into freezing under the wash of coldness

then i look down. to my soaked shirt, plastered to my body and outlining my skin and dark bra, clearly showing my chest heave up and down with heavy breaths as I ask-"What the hell?!"

"How badly do you want the job?" "Oh yeah, you really want it?" "What, you're willing to beg for this job? Oh, that won't be necessary-" "Prove how much you want it. Get on the bumper and fuck yourself with the brush."

It's got to be a joke. It can't be serious.

I freeze - shocked - and I'm horrified as the interviewer reaches out to grab me, pushing my body against the bumper and bending me over like a convict - grunting into my ear as he says fine, not willing to cooperate, I'll show you how to do what you're told-

His hands rip my trousers down and I let out a cry of protest, though it falls on empty ears, as he clapped his hand against my ass firmly, leaving it stinging before I feel something hard and plastic breach my hole - something shoved up my pussy and making me cry and thrash under his grip, tears clouding my eyes as I fight to get out of this position.

"Won't fuck yourself with the brush, fine, I'll do it for you, you inconsiderate bitch - how's that feel - does it hurt? fucking good - d'you want to be a good little bitch and do it yourself now?"

I nod and babble as I feel you keep hammering the object into my hole, feeling your hands both grip my ass to lift me and place me on the bumper.

"Go on then. fuck yourself with it."

With cries and sniffs I grip the brush that projects from my pussy and pull the handle out of my, before letting out a cry at how pathetic I am to comply with these violent orders, as I plunge myself back down onto the brush - "pleasuring" myself for the interviewer who has sat himself in the front seat of the car to look at me through the windshield.

I lower my head in shame as I bring myself up and down on the brush, humiliated and horrified at what the fuck i'm doing, before looking back through to the interviewer through the windscreen and seeing that he's holding his phone up - recording me sheathing the callous object into my pussy and how I cry whilst I do it.

I try to cover my face - my red, crying, humiliated face - and that only makes the man get out of the car and pull me off of the bumper by my hair, holding it firmly at his hips so that I'm forced onto my knees, before he unbuckles his trousers and shoves his cock into my mouth - using the moisture from my cries to lubricate his cock as I'm forced to blowjob him, crying around his cock whilst he uses my hair to pull my mouth up and down his cock like a fleshlight for his pleasure.

but he doesn't cum down my throat, just before he cums he pulls me off of his cock and pushes me to the side so that he can point his cock and fire his cum over the windshield instead. And then turn to me.

"You're nearly hired. Last step of the interview is to take your shirt off, get some suds on your tits, and use them to wipe my cum from the windshield. Maybe then if you get me hard enough, I'll cum somewhere that won't leave as much of a mess."

Sitting at a bar but the only thing I can think about is how badly I want to go home and relentlessly tease a pretty girl. I would start soft, just tracing her folds with the tip of my tongue.

“I want you squirming and begging for more before I even think about doing anything else”

Finding her needy clit, I’d begin flicking my tongue at it relentlessly. Holding her thighs down as she’s tugging on my hair and squirming beneath me. Watching how she covers her gorgeous face all flustered, how her pretty hole is clenching around nothing, so desperate for mommy’s fingers to fill her up. How she’s having to bite back each moan and whimper to hide how needy and worked up she gets by simple teasing.

But Mommy knows that she’s a needy princess, who’s so easily affected by her touches. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to last long with all the teasing, I’d work my way down to her dripping hole. Just slowly sliding my fingers into her, curling up to hit that sweet spot that turns her into a gasping, moaning mess. I’ll keep going like that, slowly increasing my speed until she’s on the verge on cumming. Whines and cries echo through the room as I remove my fingers over and over again as she gets closer and closer. I want tears in her pretty, doe eyes as she’s whining

“M-mommy I can’t a-anymore”

“P-please slow down mommy”

All this pretty begging, only for mommy to tilt her head - forcing her to make eye contact and acknowledge what a submissive, vulnerable position she’s in and hush her with my fingers. I’d push my fingers into her drooling mouth to suck on, as I watch how her pretty tits bounce when I start to thrust my fingers faster. Seeing how her wetness drips everywhere and all over my hand would fuel my everlasting desires to turn her into my brainless mess. So perfect and needy for mommy

Just thinking about mindlessly being stroked and played with as we are talking. Using my body as a fidget toy.

Yapping non stop about something I seem really passionate about so of course that's when you decide to casually slip a hand down my pants.

"What next? Did I tell you to stop?"

Trying to keep my composure, thoughts constantly getting derailed and interrupted. With a desperate breath or biting of my lip.

"Come on, I'm listening. Don't you want me to hear your story?"

Taking this as an opportunity to find how many times you can interrupt me. Mindlessly edge me despite my pleas to cum. No baby, I just wanted to play with something in my hands. My story turning into more moans and whimpers than actual words but not stopping until I finish. Continuing when I finally utter my last word turning into fully desperate whines. But you're loving it, watching me twitch and squirm from the prolonged stimulation, you're not even stroking me anymore. I'm bucking my hips in desperation against your hand with my head resting on your shoulder, sounds of me being ruined right in your ears.

"You're such a needy little thing aren't you? Doing so well"

— 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 ; P.4

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘈𝘯 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺. 𝘖𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘈𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

Р.3 / Р.5

Days passed and it was those days that depression started to kick in. While you knew you struggled with basic anxiety and moments of sadness, what came the following days after the store incident felt otherworldly. And not in a good way.

Kieran was busier than normal. This said a lot because he was always busy, but now you were starting to notice minor details that worried you. Busted knuckles, a cracked lip, and a worsening mood. He was beyond stressed and you hadn't the faintest idea of why, but because of this, you've done your best to avoid him entirely.

You believed not talking to him as much as why you were depressed. Among all your other suspicions and worries, everything started to turn downhill when you picked up on the fact some of his clothes had specks of blood and his knuckles were busted. It was one of the few things you tried asking him about. While you avoided the arousing suspicion of cheating, your heart dropped thinking that he was doing something else like getting hurt somewhere. Whenever you asked why his hands were hurt, he brushed it off, said he had a moment of anger, and took it out on a wall.

You didn't believe him. He knew you didn't believe him too. However, you were running out of energy to continue asking and he was running out of energy to continue lying.

You were starting to question if something else was going on. His busted hands were odd but the way he was talking to you was even odder. He seemed paranoid about you going anywhere alone. A good example was that you tried driving to a doctor's appointment yesterday and he was adamant about driving you himself. He wasn't there to drive you. He stopped everything he was doing just to pick you up and take you himself.

Were you selfish for wanting him to worry about you? Yes, you were concerned for him, but there was this small spark of glee each time he rushed to take you places and to see if you were okay. He was finally paying attention to you, even if that attention stemmed from something else, even if you had that gut feeling he'd eventually lose interest and ignore you. What a horrible way to think. It wasn't like you didn't care about what he was going through, but his attention made you feel... better. But it also made you feel worse.

"Are you almost ready?"

He looked up when you peeked into the bedroom. He was in the middle of putting on his belt and he smiled ear to ear. Dark bags were under his eyes and the cut on his cheek from yesterday was slowly healing. He refused to tell you where he got it and each time you asked, he changed the subject entirely. You hated it when he did that. Kieran was good at making others unaware when he changed subjects, even you. You only realized until later that he did. By then, it was too late to ask again.

"Yes," he finished putting on his belt and then rolled up his sleeves, "do I look weird? You're staring at me again."

You couldn't help but smile. "You're handsome as always, I'm just worried about the cut on your cheek. Is it feeling better?"

"It's okay."

You opened your mouth to respond but Kieran was next to you in seconds. Ever since the ordeal with the two men outside the store, he's been extra touchy. And extra means extra. He would hold onto you for as long as he could before he was forced to let go or you moved him off you. It was as if he couldn't get enough. Your face burned when he twisted his head to the side and nipped at your ear, smiling against your skin.

"You're beautiful," he confessed, "it makes me want to keep you here with me. We could just skip this whole outing and cuddle on the couch, or we can take a nap in bed..."

As if that would work out. You were surprised he was heading out with you in the first place. Taking you to the doctor was one thing, but going out for hours was another. Whenever you told him that an old friend from high school wanted to meet up with you and chat, he didn't want you to go alone, even if it meant he'd likely miss his suspicious phone calls.

"We have to go. I already promised."

It was even more suspicious that he wanted to go with you to meet this old friend. Especially considering their track record of insults when they used to hang out together. You squinted at him.

"What?" he tilted his head.

"I'm surprised just you agreed to go. You've never liked Danny."

Daniel Evergrown, better known as "Danny", was a boy you went to high school with. He was the opposite of Kieran back then; straight A's, valedictorian, and a genius when it came down to business. He was your friend back in middle school when your parents wanted you to connect with other children. Particularly of higher status, which Danny was, with both of his parents being surgeons. He stayed your friend throughout your teen years. The two of you split after graduation like most friends did.

You never thought he'd reach out and ask for you to catch up with him. It was even more shocking that he invited you to meet up at a fancy restaurant. Even if he was raised in a rich household, he never enjoyed fancy places to eat. He always said that they made him sick to his stomach.

Kieran bared his teeth in a bright smile and chuckled. "I didn't like him in high school. That was a while ago. He probably has changed since then."

"You never told me why you disliked him, you know?"

He tilted his head and ran his hands up your back, trailing your spine with his fingers, then grabbing the back of your neck to scratch tenderly. His teeth nipped at your jaw when he leaned down. His breath was hot and needy, and he cradled the back of your head. "Hm... you couldn't realize he had a crush on you back then?"

A second passed before you busted out laughing. Everything about that was preposterous. Danny? Having a crush on you? That was impossible! He was so obsessed with his grades in school that you doubted he loved anything else. While his parents also forced him to have the best grades in school like yours did, he actually enjoyed learning, unlike you who hated it.

"No way he had a crush on me!"

"He did. It's not my fault that you're oblivious. You were oblivious to my crush on you for the longest time," he huffed with a small pout. "I gave you a kiss on the cheek once and you questioned me right after like I committed a crime."

"That's because you hated me!" you gaped, pointing at him, "you always used to do nice things and then prank me right after. You even made fun of my accent once and called me a leftover, moldy pizza box."

He scoffed. "That was a long time ago. I love your accent now."

"So you didn't like it at first?"

"Forgive me, Котик. I was a dumb teenager who hated anything American."

"You still hate many things Americans do," you rolled your eyes. "I could list a whole ton of them off the top of my head."

"Americans are very touchy and smiley with people they don't know. I only want you to touch me," he leaned in, "and smile at me, kiss me, and talk to me. Everyone else can go rot."

There were times when you swore everything was just in your head. Unlike the game you always played when he avoided eye contact, you didn't take three gulps of breath, you merely held it and stared at him. He looked like he could only lean on you. That was when you started to melt, when he took your breath away and made your heart flutter.

"You know, when you talk like that, you sound obsessed."

His eyes crinkled around the edges. "Can't I be?"

When he talked like this, it made you feel special. Wanted. Desired. Your throat swelled up and heat spread across your cheeks. Looking away, you cleared your throat. You never knew how to respond when he acted like this. It always left you speechless. He acted like this in high school too, muttering how you were the only person he ever wanted near him. That he was hooked on you like a drug.

"That's unhealthy thinking."

"But you like it," his throat rasped and you shivered when his hands raked down your sides to squeeze your waist again, "you're not good at hiding what you like, Котик."

"Oh shut up," you grumbled.

"Mm, kiss me and I might."

You didn't get a chance to respond before his lips smashed against yours. The breath that wasn't even in your lungs was knocked even farther away, your back arching into him while he pulled you closer. He couldn't keep his hands off of you. Your back, neck, arms, waist. He kissed you like he was starving. The heat under your cheeks worsened. By the time he pulled away, you felt dizzy.

His eyes sparkled. "You're not supposed to hold your breath, Котик.”

"I—no—shut it! We need to leave or we will be late."

He raised his hands in defense. "Yes, yes."

You hated it when he embarrassed you like that. Not that he tried to embarrass you on purpose, but he did like to tease you when he noticed you got shy. It was moments like that when you realized that you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you. Hooked on him like a drug you'd never be able to get rid of, that was why ever suspicion you had hurt so much. It made sense why you loved him so much. Even when things got hard, he was still your Kieran. You heated up at the thought.

You slipped from his grasp and scurried away. You grabbed your bag from the back of the couch in the living room and ran to the front door, listening to Kieran walk right after you. You wrapped your scarf around your neck.

"Want me to drive? Or you?" he asked.

"You."

He chuckled. He was a better driver than you even if you never wanted to admit it, plus if you had to be honest, you never enjoyed driving. As you two headed out to the car, you yelped when a hand smacked your ass. Whipping around seething, you hissed at him. Your face was even hotter than before.

"Kieran!"

He looked like a kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar. Grinning cheekily, he slipped into the driver's seat, giggling like a boy. Your heart swelled up and he turned on the radio. Paranoid or not about something, he looked to be in a good mood today. Maybe it was because he was going out with you, maybe he heard good news earlier in the day, you weren't entirely sure. But his giddy smile filled your heart with butterflies.

The heat was quickly turned on. You held your hands in front of the vents and hoped the air would melt away the cold bite in your fingers.

"Where are we meeting Danny at again?" he asked, glancing in the rearview mirror as he backed up.

"A restaurant called 'Papillon'. It's closer to the city."

Kieran raised an eyebrow. The whole reason you asked for him to dress up nicer was because it was a four-star restaurant, and while it didn't have a dress code, it was a fancy place. It's been a while since you wore a dress. You weren't fond of dresses, you were always forced to wear them as a kid, so you had a natural distaste for them now.

He was dressed in a simple white dress shirt and nice black pants. His shoes were shiny and his hair was let loose down his shoulders. His tattoos peeked out from his collar and sleeves. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and fixed the GPS, not brave enough in his memory to drive there on his own. He placed his other hand on your thigh when he was done.

It was refreshing that you weren't ignoring him anymore. It was even more refreshing to see him smiling so much, not stressed or horribly tired after he came home late. But of course, not ignoring him came with a price nowadays. You couldn't ask any questions because he might just ignore them. Not about his cuts, his job, his life. You ignored the bitter taste in your mouth.

"We have to be here in 30 minutes, right?"

"Yes, so there's no reason to rush. We have enough time," you nodded.

"Mmm."

You opened your mouth to say something. Anything to switch your mind off your depressing thoughts, but your prayers were heard. Not in a good way. You distracted by the radio, which was blasting the news, the news reporting sounding strangely serious for the middle of the day.

"Three people have been found deceased today on route nine. They were discovered at sunrise, around 7:00 AM, and their names are Rhonda Layne, Roman White, and Garret Wood. All of them are between the ages of 30 and 35."

"Holy hell," you mumbled.

Now you weren't usually interested in the news or gossip, but this was so sudden that it felt like a slap to the face. Route nine was surprisingly close to your house and a well populated road, not a place where you'd randomly find dead bodies strewn about. Maybe an accident, but found? Kieran glanced at the radio as well, pursing his lips in displeasure. He almost looked disgusted. You didn't blame him, hearing about three dead bodies being found didn't sit well with the mind or stomach, especially knowing how close it was to your house.

The newscaster continued to ramble on about the situation. You turned it up to listen.

"From what we have gathered from the police department, we have been told that this might as well be a murder case. No suspects have been taken into custody. If you or anyone you know has a tip on what happened, please call the number—"

"Murder? So like a serial killer?"

Bile gurgled in your gut. What if those tattooed men you met a couple days ago were the killers? What if someone else was? What if you got kidnapped and murdered that day just because you decided to walk at night? You weren't a strong person. If someone came after you with the intent to kill, you didn't think you'd make it out alive in any scenario. In fact, you'd probably rush your own death. You'd rather die immediately instead of a prolonged end.

Kieran's hand squeezed your thigh. His fingers kneaded into your flesh, massaging gently. Glancing over, you saw him watching you from the corner of his eye as he drove down the road. He looked worried.

"It'll be okay, Котик. The police department will take care of it and catch them," he rubbed circles on your skin. "They won't touch a single hair on your head, I swear it."

"I know. But like—I don't know, what if they hurt you?"

He blinked. "Me?"

"Sometimes you leave late," you swallowed the sudden dryness in the back of your throat, "what if they find you and hurt you? What if they kill you and dump—"

He smiled warmly. He squeezed your leg so tightly that you were sure that his hand would imprint there forever. It was some comfort for your pounding heart. He almost looked amused, but you shook the thought away, knowing that he didn't take joy from seeing you worried. You had to be seeing things. He was never the type to get amused when others were hurt. He was either indifferent or annoyed with the entire situation, sometimes disgusted.

"I won't get hurt, Котик."

"But you could.”

"Hmm," he paused, "then I'll start staying home more to be safe. I'm sure my clients will understand."

Your jaw almost dropped. Out of all the things he could have said, you didn't expect that. Your heart soared but you quickly tied it down. No, why should you be excited that he was forced to stay home because of some dangerous threat? Why were you excited for his freedom to be limited? Deep down, you knew why. If he was fine with staying home, then that meant it would be less likely he was cheating on you. It meant he wouldn't be meeting up with some woman named 'Sam'.

Maybe you were a bad person. Being grateful for the situation yet the whole situation was caused by three innocent people being found dead. Guilt swamped your head and you looked out the window at the houses and businesses you passed by. You were selfish, weren't you? Some pig that deserved to rot. Maybe your parents were right—

"(Y/N)?"

Your head snapped to look at him. He looked serious.

"You have that look on your face."

"What look?"

"Like you're ashamed of something."

Like being punched in the gut, your face twisted up, and you quickly looked away. There were some things about Kieran that you had a love/hate relationship with. His ability to read you was one of them. He always hit the nail straight on the head and he never pulled back his punches. You felt his eyes burning into the side of your head and he sighed.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked, his voice so gentle, you almost believed you were made out of glass. "You don't have to tell me, but I am here for you, Котик."

"...I just feel like a bad person sometimes."

His hand shifted and his fingers found yours, holding your hand tightly. When he spoke, he sounded pained, as if he was taking on all of your burdens onto his shoulders. "Do you think I would have fallen in love with a bad person?"

"Well, no--"

"So why do you think you're a bad person?" he took a deep breath. "Out of all the people in school, you were the only one who didn't bully or treat me differently because of where I came from. You were the only one who stood up for me when I was targeted by assholes. Every day, you worked so hard, and even when you had bad days, you never took it out on someone else."

Kieran sounded so sincere. He was devout as if he was speaking to a goddess, not just a random woman he decided to make his wife. Your throat closed up and he quickly brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles and mumbling sweetly against them.

"You feel like a bad person. That doesn't make you one."

You knew what he was saying. Emotions weren't a fact and they didn't make things true. As someone who was studying the brain and human behaviors just for your future job, you knew that you couldn't count your emotions as a judgment of your character. But that was hard. It was hard to like yourself when you had such... nasty selfish thoughts sometimes. You gnawed on your bottom lip and glanced at him.

"...thank you."

"Always, my Котик."

He switched the radio station to some light-hearted music right after. The hand that held yours only left when he had to turn, but quickly grabbed yours again. His pep talk did make you feel a little better but you weren't out of the woods entirely. Guilt continued to look over your shoulders with a suffocating glare, burning holes into the back of your head, staring down every selfish that you've ever had.

Just think about something else. That has to be easier than that.

You let your brain wander to more serious topics. There had been gang activity recently, right? At least that was what you heard recently. From the cashier lady mentioning kidnappings, and some people at the university talking about gangs, and then now there were the three murders; the idea didn't seem so far off.

It was even more odd when you thought about how Kieran has been coming home hurt. Now, you didn't expect him to be in a gang, you didn't think someone like him had enough 'teamwork' in him to do that. But what if he was in danger? Or stuck in something he didn't know how to get out of? What if he was being threatened by someone? You examined the cut on his cheek. It was healing but it was a little red around the edges, a little tender. It'd probably ache if you touched it. He didn't have a black eye so it wasn't like he got it from being punched.

It could have been an accident. Maybe I am overthinking it.

It was just odd to think about. All these started happening around the same time he started coming home with busted knuckles and cuts. You couldn't be the only person who thought that was odd, right? You chewed on the edge of your tongue and debated on egging on a conversation to see his reaction. But what if it backfired? You weren't sure what you'd do if you found out he was involved with something dangerous. Obviously, you'd confide in the police, that's a no-brainer.

Then there was the issue of if he was involved personally without being threatened. No, no. There was no possible way that he was involved like that. Kieran was violent at times, but he was only violent to people who deserved it, people who harmed you or others. He wouldn't go out of his way to do crime. He wouldn't do it even if it was in the way. He preferred peace over stupid chaos.

Clearing your throat, you decided to bring up a small conversation. Just to see his reaction. That was all.

"You know, now that I am thinking about it, what if it's a gang or something? A sweet cashier at the store mentioned kidnappings to me when I was leaving and others at Uni have talked about gangs. Plus three murders just found out of nowhere? Isn't that a little odd to you?"

He pulled down a highway that led straight to the city. He took a second before he responded. "I don't know, I haven't heard much about it. Though I can tell that you're worried about it."

"Well, I'm not worried, it's just..."

"It's okay to be interested in something. Especially since it happened close." Kieran let his arm rest in his lap and grabbed the steering wheel from below. The sigh that dragged from his lips was relaxed, his eyes focused ahead on the highway. "I'm just worried you'll get hooked on this and make yourself paranoid. You did that once with a crime documentary when we were dating in high school."

"I won't make myself paranoid!" you retorted, "plus that was a long time ago."

Kieran chuckled. "True."

"You just have to be cautious! It could be something worse than a gang."

He raised an eyebrow and glanced over. He looked skeptical, as if he was trying to read your mind and had a gut feeling whatever you were thinking of wasn't plausible at all. "And what's worse than a gang of criminals?"

"Uh, like, the mafia?"

"Mmm. You think there's a mafia family on the outskirts of the city where we live?" he asked. Turning the blinker on, he turned onto another road. "And that they killed three people and left their bodies on the side of the road?"

"I mean, it could happen!" you rebuked.

The car stopped at a red light, leaving him asking, "And you're thinking about the Italian mafia?"

"Well any type of mafia! Like the.. American mafia.. or something!"

Kieran looked at you like you grew two heads. "I think, Котик, you've been reading too many articles online. A gang would be more likely than the mafia. Wouldn't the mafia hide all evidence, not leave it out? Like the movies, you know."

Well, when he put it like that, you almost did sound crazy. The mafia sounded a lot more serious than gang rivalries or debts in your head. From all the movies you showed, the mafia always seemed clean and cut to the T with how they did things. Movies weren't real life but you knew that men with debt weren't the same as criminals who happened to be business men.

"The police will catch them," Kieran comforted, "I just pray you don't start playing detective. Gang or not, I don't want you getting too swamped up in something dangerous."

"Of course I won't. I'm not an idiot who wants to throw away their life."

The conversation didn't continue much after that. The air seemed awkward, but only for you, as he started humming and bobbing his head to the music as he drove. There was a small smile on his lips. Whatever he was thinking about, it wasn't about murder or gangs, because he looked so cheery that it almost reminded you of a giggly high schooler. There was no reason for you to ruin his bad mood. You trusted him enough to tell you if he was in something dangerous like that. Ha, how funny. You could trust him over that, but had a hard time trusting if he was cheating on you or not.

Why, didn't that say a lot about you, didn't it?

You leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes. The car was warm, the glass was cold, and his hand was perfect in yours. Danny would be shocked to hear that you married Kieran. None of your high school friends were invited to your wedding since it was strictly family and you doubted he heard about it, especially since he was away on the other side of the country when Kieran proposed. You couldn't wait to see his face.

There were some parts of you that wanted to dwell on the bad. Thinking about the good made you anxious, as if something bad would happen and ruin everything. You wanted to be prepared—but what would happen? The two of you were just going out to lunch to meet an old high school friend. Kieran's pep talk made you feel a little bit better about yourself too.

But should you feel better about yourself? That didn't change the selfish thoughts you had earlier. Feeling excited he'd stay home with you more just because something bad happened to other people. Of course, you weren't happy something bad happened to anyone, but you were crude enough to have a sliver of excitement in a bad situation.

Just don't think about it, you thought. Think about it later. Just enjoy your time now. Stop self sabotaging.

The GPS signaled for the car to turn left and beeped when it arrived at its destination. Luckily for you, it didn't seem to be packed with people, and you were glad that Danny scheduled for the meet up to be at a time that wasn't close to rush hour or after work hours.

The car pulled into the parking lot beside the restaurant. You glanced at the city line that wasn't far away, the skyscrapers stretching up to the clouds, and the distant plane that carved through the clouds. You popped out of the car and shut the door behind you. The restaurant you were going to was three stories tall, each floor with seating. There were a couple of people on the balconies eating and you debated on how insane they were to eat out in the middle of winter. At least it wasn't snowing today.

Anxiety started to jitter your bones and you already began to blame it on the cold. Every second was another second your brain would bounce between thoughts, not giving you enough chance to breathe. One moment you felt excited, then guilty, then worried, and now you were anxious. Why? You weren't anxious before? So why did you suddenly want to throw up?

Kieran stepped out of the car, locked it, and held out his hand. You noticed the healing scabs from his busted knuckles and the scratches over the top of his hand. Nonetheless, you took his hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. He noticed your anxiety and tilted his head. "Are you having mean thoughts again?"

"No, no, just... normal stuff."

His hand squeezed yours and pulled you into his embrace. He kissed the crown of your forehead and his breath tickled. In his normal fashion, he said, "I'll be with you. If you want to leave at any time, just tap my leg, mmkay?"

You nodded. Times lately hadn't been the greatest, but you were grateful for this one good day. For once in a long time, Kieran was in a good mood and all your worries seemed to fade away when he held you.

"Be nice to Danny," you teased, "we haven't seen him in ages."

Kieran shrugged with his signature, charming grin. You gave him a look and he snorted, saying, "I'll try my best."

You had a gut feeling that he wouldn't try his best. Not at all.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

LINKS:

— Discord Server

— Wattpad

— Quotev

[ Read P.5 Here ]

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

━ 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 : P.1

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺. 𝘎𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯… 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

P.2 / P.3

When you first saw him, you were left breathless.

That was years ago though, back when you were a teenager in high school who was only worried about the acne on your forehead and the 'F' you got in your math class. Now, you were preparing to head into college to become a psychiatrist.

You met Kieran as a freshman and started dating him months after. You weren't sure why you started dating him at first, you couldn't remember what he said that left your cheeks on fire, but the feeling next stopped.

Kieran grumbled curses under his breath as he heaved the last of the groceries through the door. His long black hair was messier than normal, tied into a low bun that curled strands around the nape of his neck. His tanned cheeks were red from the cold outside and a button on his shirt was popped open. Did he tousle a bear to get inside? He put the items on the counter and turned to face you.

"The groceries didn't want to come inside," he mumbled.

"You didn't give me a chance to help you carry them in."

His dark green eyes softened. He didn't look at anyone else the same way he did you. There was a time after you got married that you were afraid that he'd leave you because the two of you were yet to be intimate... but he didn't seem to care. You were glad he didn't care. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead.

There it was again. Breathless.

"But you've been working all day, Котик," he cooed, his Russian accent thick whenever he muttered the pet name he always used for you. "You deserve to rest."

All you wanted to do was melt into his arms. You couldn't deny that some part of you already was, sinking further into his embrace, eyes closed—but something was amiss.

Ever since high school, Kieran has been odd. He was a transfer student from London but he was born and raised in Russia, so he was always the popular kid in any class he was placed in. Even after he got in trouble multiple times for delinquent behavior. Sure, his behavior was better than what he was in high school and he was mature, but he was a lot more secretive now. So secretive that he refused to tell you where he went whenever he disappeared for "business trips" for days on end.

Now, you were a trusting wife, but you weren't naive. He worked as an editor for authors and yet he disappeared for days on end because of work? Even a baby could realize that was odd!

That wasn't the only thing though.

You've only been married to Kieran for six months but you were already starting to see signs that he wasn't entirely focused on the marriage anymore. Whenever his phone rang, he scrambled to pick it up before you had a chance to answer it for him. On the days you scheduled to go on dates together, he always arrived late with his clothes tousled about and his hair was undone. Late, late, late! He always seemed to be late for every activity the two of you scheduled together. Of course, he'd apologize over and over again, but the behavior never changed.

So maybe he did look at someone else the same way he did you. The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Is he cheating on me?

It was a thought you never thought you'd have with Kieran. Whenever the two of you were dating in high school, he was loyal to a fault. You couldn't erase the memory of whenever a girl started smack-talking you and he yanked her hard so hard that a chunk of hair came from the roots. Even now, looking at him and being held by him, the thought felt distant. But it was there. That gnawing worry got worse and worse each time he got a call, text message, or left the house.

Well, who'd he be cheating on you with? He refused to have female friends in school because he always claimed that you were the only "woman" he wanted in his life. Of course, you didn't care if he had female friends or not, but you doubted it was someone the two of you knew from high school.

Your jaw clenched. Maybe he's bothered I haven't been intimate with him and he's been going to see someone?

The bitter taste worsened. Making out and slight touches wasn't the same as sex, you knew that, which is why you were so nervous to do it, even if it was with him. He never rushed you and he hadn't ever made comments about it. You listened to the thudding of his heart against his chest and pursed your lips.

You couldn't bring yourself to ask him if he was cheating on you. What if he said yes? What if he wasn't and left you because he thought you were a psycho? What if he lied and continued to cheat? Your hands scrunched up the fabric of his shirt as you hugged him tighter. You didn't want your first love to cause you heartbreak by something as revolting as cheating.

A cold hand pressed against your cheek. Kieran tilted your head back and his eyes flickered across your face. His brow creased in worry.

"Are you okay?"

No, not really. I'm worried you might be cheating on me.

But you couldn't say that.

"Yeah! I'm fine," you beamed and pulled him closer to you. "I just missed you, that's all. It was your day off but you've been out doing errands since this morning. You first went to the pharmacy to get our medicine, then the bank, then to get groceries... aren't you tired?"

He didn't look convinced. Then again, he'd known you since you were fourteen years old, so he knew how to read you like a book. His green eyes darkened momentarily and his teeth nipped at his bottom lip. His fingers traced lines above your cheekbone, jaw, and the shell of your ear.

"I'm sorry. I should have spent more time with you today."

"No, Kieran, what are you even saying? Errands need to be run so I'm appreciative that you did them," your hands fiddled at the button that came undone on his shirt. "That can't stop me from missing you though. I just feel as if you've been..."

His fingers stopped. "What?"

You regretted saying anything at all. You should have just said you missed him after a long day and went on with it, dragged him to the couch, and asked him to watch a movie with you. Your hands pulled away from his shirt and you saw the way his body tensed up like a spring. It wasn't too late to change the conversation. Maybe lie to him and say it was just a joke, that you weren't really worried. No, no, that'd be an asshole thing to do to your spouse, to make them worry you for nothing.

"(Y/N)?"

He never says your name unless he's serious or mad. Your eyes dragged back up to meet his and his jaw was clenched. He didn't look mad, he looked worried. Almost like you just punched him in the gut and he was doing his best to stay upright.

Why did he look like that? Based on all your rushing thoughts, worried about the possibility of him cheating on you, you were the one who was struggling.

"...I just feel as if you have been distant lately," you confessed with a tight smile, "but it's okay. I know you've been busy with work and I've been busy with getting ready for my upcoming lectures next week. I'm probably just being clingy again."

He didn't say anything. You weren't sure if you were supposed to feel hurt that he said nothing or relieved, but you knew that he didn't buy a single thing you just said by the way he was looking at you. He wasn't moving from the position he had on you; hand on your cheek, tense jaw, stiff muscles, darkened gaze. He breathed slowly out through his nose and opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it.

You saw a flicker of something else in his eyes whenever he closed his mouth. Guilt.

Why does he feel guilty? you thought, dread creeping up your spine. Am I right? Is he cheating on me?

You blinked in surprise whenever he pulled you into him again. His nose nuzzled into your neck and you almost suffocated with how tight his arms wrapped around you. His lips pressed little kisses against your neck and he breathed in deeply. For a split second, you almost forgot what you were so nervous about, you almost let the worry of him cheating on you slip from your mind.

"Котик, I'm sorry you've felt so lonely. I'll be able to spend more time with you soon. It's just... work, it gets in the way of so much. But I swear, I'll be able to hang out with you tomorrow without doing anything. I promise, okay?" he let go and cupped your cheeks, "me and you can do whatever you want to do for tonight. A date? I'll do it. Go to bed early? As long as you're in my arms. Anything."

Lies were best told with a sweet tongue. You weren't even sure if he meant well by telling you that, not whenever this wasn't the first time he'd promised something like this. In the end, he always got a call which caused him to leave the house for a couple hours (or sometimes a couple of days). You were used to it by now, so you only forced a smile and nodded. His face lit up.

"We can go ahead and watch a movie now if you want?"

You blinked. Now? He usually put things off whenever it came down to sitting down and watching something. You refrained from glancing at the clock. You wanted to spend time with him but you were already fearful of how much time you could before he was called away or got distracted with something. You couldn't remember the last time you sat down and watched something with him. Though, you supposed it was better than him not being there.

"And what movie do you want to watch?"

He grinned. "I believe I said whatever you want. Maybe we can watch a horror movie? So I can..." he twirled you around and hugged you from behind, "wrap my arms around you like this and protect you from evil. Hm?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "That sounds just like an excuse to hold me."

"I'm your husband, I don't need an excuse for something like that," he kissed your cheek. "truthfully, I adore it whenever you depend on me. That includes each time there's a jumpscare and you almost shit your pants each time."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. I don't get that scared."

"You cried when we watched The Haunting of Hill House together."

"Okay, there's a difference between a demon that you can't fight and some serial killer breaking into your house! I'd rather take the serial killer. Plus, that was years ago when it first came out and it was a sad show."

You didn't miss the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Maybe the term 'odd' wasn't the best way to describe him with the way he has been acting recently. After the two of you graduated high school, he started to get touchy about certain topics about crime. He always had a fascination with crime back when he was a teenager in high school, but the topic suddenly became grim for him whenever he got older.

You weren't sure why. Honestly, you've never asked. The topic wasn't something you'd be able to bring up with ease, especially when he tried to change the topic each time someone wanted to talk about true crime or the news with him. You remembered that he was worried when he found out you were going to school to become a therapist... worried that you'd get stuck with a patient who did bad things.

You didn't even want to get into how paranoid he was about the police. That was a different topic entirely.

"I find something real to be much more terrifying than a fictional ghost," he murmured.

"But demons could be real!"

There was a long pause. You felt his muscles churn around you, squeezing you tighter, refusing to let you go and he mumbled seriously. "Promise me that if anyone broke into our house and you had to pick between going with them or a demon, you'd go with the demon."

"What are you on about?" you deadpanned, "I thought were talking about movies, and Kieran, I doubt a scenario like that would ever happen."

"Promise me, (Y/N). Demon or not,  you won't go with anyone who breaks into our house."

Your eyes narrowed. "Keiran, I don't have to promise you something that is common sense. I obviously won't be going with anyone who breaks into our house. You act like you think someone will."

He huffed and let go. The warmth of his embrace leaving left goosebumps all over your body. You didn't get a chance to say anything before he flashed a blinding smile, chuckling.

"I was just making sure. You've always been a daredevil, so I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't try and challenge anyone who barged into our house. I doubt anyone would break in anyway."

It was only natural that you didn't believe him. There were a lot of stories where people said that their partners changed after marriage, sometimes for the better or the worse, and you weren't sure if Kieran's change was good or bad. His paranoid nature only made it hard to believe that he wasn't cheating on you. He was clingy before he married you, but he was overly clingy and sweet now. Which was odd because he was often out of the house or on phone calls...

It was just, well, odd.

"Oh... okay then. Do you need help putting up the groceries before we watch a movie?"

"No need, Котик. You can prepare the movie for us to watch. Choose anything you want."

There was a game you played. Each time you noticed Kieran avoid looking you in the eye, you took three gulps of breath. It was mostly a game you played to calm yourself down from the rush of anxiety you felt each time he did. It left you wondering if you did something wrong, if you made him pissed and he didn't want to look at you anymore. Your lips curled into a frown.

He could just be watching a movie so I wouldn't complain about missing him.

You nodded silently and turned on your heel. It would be best to ignore that entire conversation happened. Worrying over his suspicious and paranoid behavior wouldn't change the fact that he was acting that way. You glanced at him one more time as he placed the milk into the fridge. Yeah. Don't worry about it. Just don't worry.

The living room was down the hallway to the left. The floorboards squealed at the weight and you sighed whenever you walked to the couch, picking up the remote and turning it on.  The two of you didn't have a lot of streaming services so almost everything you watched was on Netflix. Your fingers tapped around and you absentmindedly scrolled through the list of movies.

You were tempted to throw on a movie that you already watched. However, it was supposed to be time spent together and you knew he'd get bored if you clicked something that he had already watched. You clicked a random scary movie. The name was confusing and it looked like a found-footage aesthetic, something about the catacombs under Paris and the philosopher's stone.

"I'm sure he hasn't watched this..."

"Watched what?"

You jumped whenever he clamped a hand on your shoulder. Whipping around on the sofa, Kieran was leaning over the back with a sly smirk on his face.

"Already scared?" he chuckled, "I have a gut feeling you're going to be clinging to me throughout this entire movie."

You pursed your lips. He already got all the groceries done that fast? You knew that he didn't like to waste time but he was insanely fast doing that. He massaged your shoulders whenever he noticed the frown you had, his smile growing wider by the second. He jumped over the back of the couch effortlessly and plopped down right beside you.

"Why are you frowning, my sweet Котик?"

"You got done way too fast with putting the groceries away" you squinted. "It's not normal."

He inhaled. There was a rasp in the back of his throat whenever he leaned forward, his breath tickling your skin. The air was knocked from your lungs whenever his gaze flickered to your lips and back up to yours. "Would you believe me if I told you that I have been craving to be close to you? Especially to kiss you..."

Heat crept up the back of your neck. All the worries you had melted away whenever he pulled you closer to him and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He wasn't avoiding your eyes, now he was staring so intently that you were afraid that you were going to become a puddle of goo in his arms. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip.

"Mm, can I kiss you?"

"...do you have to ask?"

He chuckled breathlessly, "Yes. It's polite."

"But you're my husband."

"Yes, I am."

His lips smashed against yours. Anything you wanted to say was thrown out the window whenever his hands gripped your waist and yanked your body against his. His hand brushed up your spine, up your neck, brushing over your hair and going to cup your face. His lips were cold and his nose was too, breath smelling like the mint gum he always seemed to chew. The hint of his cologne tickled your nose.

Your hands ran up his arms and you tugged at the collar of his shirt. He was still a ruffled mess from when he came in from outside. His hair was a knotted mess that needed to be brushed out, but that didn't stop your hands from tangling in the strands and tugging at them. A groan tore through his lips.

"God, you're so fucking perfect," he whispered against your lips. "I don't want to stop kissing you now. Mmm, do we have to watch the movie? I want to give you more kisses."

You almost agreed. "...But the movie is already waiting to be played."

He licked his teeth and his hands ran up and down your back. He swallowed and you noticed the dip of his adam's apple, his eyes staring at your lips again. "Of course, we should watch the movie, but..."

"But what?"

"Can I kiss you even more after the movie?"

The fire in your cheeks felt like your skin was melting off. There were times when it felt like you were in high school again, getting all flustered because of his needy nature. Ever since you have known him he has always been the type to enjoy kisses. Even something as chaste as a peck on the forehead, he was a sucker for it. Whenever the two of you first started dating, he'd get so red each time you kissed his cheek, stammering over nothing and quickly kissing your cheek back and scurrying away.

Now look at him. He was pulling you in, begging for more, kissing you like you were his only source of oxygen. He even kissed you like that on your wedding day. His entire family was whooping and cheering after that, and your few family members who attended frowned. You remembered being embarrassed at the time... but you were glad that something like that didn't change.

"Very well. You can kiss me all you want after the movie. Don't try and sneak some in while we are watching, because then you won't focus on the movie at all," you mumbled.

"You're flustered so easily, Котик," he grinned. He leaned into the couch and placed his arm around the back, fiddling with your sleeve as he rested his cheek against your head. "But fineeee. I guess I'll obey your orders for now."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. It only took you a couple of seconds for you to get comfortable and curl into his side, shuffling to find the remote as he tugged a blanket over you both. You never got an answer on if he watched it before or not but by the way his eyes were glued to the screen whenever you clicked play, you assumed not.

Time became a blur. Now and again he'd comment on the movie or just something toward you, but his arm never moved from its spot behind you. He curled his legs up on the couch and mumbled complaints under his breath whenever he saw the characters do something stupid.

You started to forget your anxieties. Even just for a short while, it was nice to relax with him and to feel him close without having to worry about him leaving to go on some 'business trip'. You were focusing on him too much to even care about the movie. The way his lips formed a thin line whenever he was annoyed, his rapid blinking each time something shocking happened, bouncing his leg up and down.

It was impossible to not love him.

He noticed you staring. His cheeks turned a little pink. "What?"

"Nothing."

His ego would explode if you told him you were staring at him just because he was fun to watch. Hearing his endless teasing wasn't something you were in the mood to hear, so you just feigned looking back at the movie to watch it. His eyes burned into the side of your head for a second long before he looked back to the screen.

You glanced back at him. He was sucked into the TV again. He chewed on the edge of his knuckle and you let your eyes wander. You stared at the tattoos that peeked out from under his collar and sleeve. All those colorful tattoos were hidden away. He had some of them before you met him, which you always found surprising that he had tattoos at such a young age, but he just said "It ran in the family".

It was addicting to trace your fingers over them. Kieran liked laying around shirtless whenever it was summer. You always used to visit his old apartment to sit with him and let him read his books while you doodled on his arms and called them 'new tattoos' while you colored in his blank tattoos. Butterflies fluttered whenever you remembered the way he smiled at you each time you drew on him.

He had so many tattoos that you weren't sure how many he had. Some were in Russian, but a lot of them were creatures from folklore and mythology. Like Baba Yaga, who came from Slavic Folklore, which was tattooed on his right hip. You always used to doodle accessories onto her face.

"Котик, are you going to continue staring at me or are you going to watch the movie?"

You quickly avoided his gaze and looked at the TV. "I am watching the movie."

"Surreee."

Everything was fine for a while. A while, you said, because it didn't take long for all that built-up hope and affection to come back down from its high. Soon enough you'd be feeling the withdrawal. You were in the middle of watching the characters climb through a tunnel of bones whenever a phone started to ring loudly. It bounced off the walls and jarred Kieran out of his trance.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Your smile fell. Kieran cursed.

The arm slung around your shoulder tensed, his hand curling into a fist that turned his knuckles white. His jaw flexed, and the phone rang for a couple more seconds before he moved from the couch and grabbed his phone from the cushion.

It was bad luck. You were convinced that you were cursed with bad luck. A sour taste bubbled in your chest and coated your tongue. Biting at the inside of your cheek, you shut the TV off completely as that swell of expectation came back. The remote was tossed to the side and the blanket slipped to the floor.

You caught a glimpse of the phone screen before he answered it. UNKNOWN. Of course, it was another random number that he didn't have saved to his contacts. You clutched the blanket in your lap and a lump formed in your throat. Seriously? Why were you going to cry? You knew that he wouldn't be focused on you forever. It also wasn't like you knew he was cheating on you, you had no proof, it was just a suspicion. But that didn't stop the familiar sting of tears welling up behind your eyes.

You knew it was a lie whenever he promised to spend the rest of the day with you, you weren't sure why you let your hopes get up. But it still hurt.

He pressed the device to his ear and snapped.

"What?"

Just who was it that made him sound like that? You've never heard him sound so hateful, so nasty, to just some random caller on the phone. That meant he knew who was calling him even when the number popped up. The random person he didn't have saved in his phone. Someone he possibly didn't want to be linked to.

Thousands of questions tumbled through your mind. Kieran wasn't interested in men, so if he was cheating, it wasn't a man... unless he was interested in men and hasn't told you? He has a lot of male friends. No, no, having friends of any gender doesn't just mean that you'll sleep with them or have a second life with them behind your partner. So if it was a woman... where would he have met her? Maybe it was a client and he was editing her book?

He did read a lot of articles. There was always the possibility that it was a writer of those, right? Wait—

I'm not being a good wife right now, you thought. Your nails picked at your cuticles. I'm just assuming things without any proof. Am I being like one of those psychotic, obsessive wives? Is there something wrong with me? What if I'm the issue?

Your bottom lip wobbled. You clamped your teeth on it to keep Kieran from noticing.

He started to pace and ramble around the room in Russian. He didn't seem to be talking to anyone, mostly to himself in frustration, as his hand was placed on his hip and he cursed under his breath. There were many times in your life when you wished you knew Russian; when you first met him, to impress him, to have conversations with him, to learn his culture and language... now you were more concerned if he was frustrated about a girl or not.

The only Russian word you knew that he actively said around you was 'Котик', a Russian term of endearment meant for a lover which meant "kitten" or "kitty". You didn't need to jump leaps to guess what it meant even if it was a somewhat cheesy term to use (at least in your opinion), but you never argued, since he has called you it since the two of you were teenagers.

"I thought I told you to—"

Kieran cut himself off quickly whenever he realized you were still in the room with him. He dragged the phone away from his ear and his eyes snapped to you, his face falling into despair whenever he noticed the TV was off and you were staring up at him. Another broken promise. Another lie. Another phone call he just had to pick up, that he couldn't ignore for one night. Just how many more broken promises were you going to take before you finally asked him why he couldn't keep them?

Damn it. You really wanted to cry.

Even if it wasn't him cheating on you, even if it was work, some part of you wished that he included you in it as well. You were aware that you weren't supposed to be in every single part of his life. The two of you were supposed to be comfortable in the relationship, not joined at the hip breathing down each other's necks.

You just didn't get it. It wasn't like 'work' was going to straight up kill him if he didn't answer the phone for one night!

Kieran didn't know what to do. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at you with so many open emotions on his face that you couldn't read all of them. But he knew what he had done. He picked up the phone and that alone was enough to break a promise, even if he hadn't left the house. Yet. You knew how it worked—he always left the house after late phone calls like this. You were slowly starting to get used to the feeling of falling asleep without him there. And some mornings, he wasn't in bed either, only a note left on the counter with breakfast he made.

His shoulders sank. "Котик, I... uhm, I need to take this phone call real quick so I'm going to step into the other room, okay? I'll be right back though and me and you can finish the movie—"

Liar.

"Uhm... I think I'm just going to go to bed. I'm starting to feel tired anyway. Uh, make sure to lock the door behind you whenever you go out."

He always did. You weren't sure why you were reminding him.

Deep down, some part of you wanted him to feel guilty. It was that small whisper of hope that if he felt guilty then maybe he'd start changing things for the better, to start telling you why he was so secretive, and to start sleeping in your bed again. You missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. Sure, some nights he did fall asleep in your bed. But some nights weren't most nights, and most nights weren't every night.

I miss a man who's right in front of me.

His entire expression crumpled. He opened his mouth to say something but faltered, watching as you got up and threw the blanket the two of you were sharing back on the couch. Oh how badly he looked like he wanted to say something. And how badly you felt about yourself whenever you saw his expression, because seeing him feel guilty didn't bring satisfaction, it only made your heart hurt more.

"(Y/N), I—"

"It's okay," you flashed a smile, "I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

If he'd be there tomorrow morning.

You didn't give him a chance to respond before you turned on your heel and scurried to the bedroom. The house which you picked with him seven months ago now felt cold and lonely compared to the warm idea you had when you first saw it. Tears sprung forth whenever you closed the door behind you, choking into your elbow as you did your best to muffle the small sobs that let your lips. You couldn't hear him anymore or the muffled rambling over the phone.

The room was dark. The floorboards were ice cold and you didn't bother to brush your teeth, wash your face, or change into pajamas before you crawled under the covers and hid.

Emotions were a complicated thing. You hated how they felt and how it was so hard to understand them. All you wanted was for Kieran to come to you and have a conversation about what was going on, but now you were dreading that he would because you didn't want him to see that you were crying. He always got so panicked whenever you cried. Always brushing away your tears, cooing sweet things in your ear, kissing your face and neck anywhere he could.

Which made you wish he did see you cry.

See? Emotions were complicated.

You don't know how long you laid in bed. You only heard the whir and popping of heat rushing through the vents, warming up the room until you were toasty under the thick blankets. There were times when you swore you heard a shout from the other room, muffled and something you couldn't understand, but then it was gone. Possibly a figment of your imagination, maybe it was Kieran shouting over the phone.

Your day started with a good start. Then everything deescalated in a whirlwind of emotions that you didn't know how to control. All the suspicions you had about Kieran were becoming worse and worse.

If he is cheating on me, you thought. What would I do?

The idea of divorcing him left your heart aching. Ever since you started dating him, you've never wanted to leave him, but cheating would mean you'd have to. While you loved him, you didn't love him enough to stay if he was living some second life with another woman. You gnawed on the edge of your thumb and curled your legs up to your chest.

If you divorced him, you'd have to find somewhere cheap to stay where you could still go to college and not sleep in the streets. No way your parents would let you stay with them until you got back onto your feet, they didn't like you marrying Kieran in the first place because of his delinquent behavior in school and the fact he wasn't going to college. They'd probably tell you 'I told you so' and let you rot.

The part-time job you had now wasn't enough to live in a decent apartment. The two of you lived on the outskirts of the city,  you wouldn't be able to afford a good apartment in the city closest to campus so you would have to settle in one of the apartment complexes near the beat-down part of the city, where a lot of reports of trafficking and crime were made.

A shiver shot down your spine. While the apartments there weren't the cleanest or nicest, the issue of rampant crime was the most concerning. You'd have to buy a taser or pepper spray, something like that. Or learn martial arts? You'd have to find a teacher that wasn't expensive.

Why am I even thinking about this?

Guilt crashed into you like a barreling stampede of horses. Tears blurred your vision as you nuzzled into the pillow and whimpered, muttering soft apologies under your breath. You hated how your mind worked. One thought and you'd take it and run, not giving the chance for hope and optimism to spark. You had to remind yourself for the umpteenth time that you didn't have any proof that Kieran was cheating.

You were the bad one for treating him like he was whenever you didn't know. At least, that was what you believed. Other wives acted better than you. They trusted their partners, but here you were, already daydreaming about your life if Kieran was cheating on you. Just a was.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts.

The door creaked open and light poured into the dark. You stayed still under the blankets, face hidden away in the pillows to keep the sight of your tear-streaked face away from him. The floorboards creaked a little bit the bed shifted whenever you felt him sit down and lean across. His familiar touch grazed your cheek and traced the contours of your face. He sighed.

"Котик, are you awake?"

You didn't respond. Not this time.

He tugged the blankets down and there was another sigh. His fingers trailed farther downward and rubbed circles on your back and patterns that only he understood. He mumbled under his breath to himself. "She didn't change into something comfortable... not even the belt."

It took everything in your power to not move whenever his fingers fiddled with the metal clasp of your belt and he slipped them from the loops. He put the belt on the other side of the bed and the mattress shifted whenever he got closed, strands of his hair tickling your cheek whenever he leaned over. He pressed a kiss on your jaw.

"Ah fuck," he grumbled.

What is that supposed to mean?

Then there were more kisses; jaw, cheek, forehead, lips. He attacked you in kisses and every now and again he'd sigh and stop to trail his hands across your head or over your back. You could tell he refreshed his cologne. It was subtle but it was there, tickling your nose each time he moved to kiss another part of your face.

"Котик, if you're awake, I'll be back tomorrow evening and we can watch all the movies you want. I'm sorry I'm heading out again, but some people at work are being really stupid right now," he whispered against your ear. He kissed it tenderly. "I'll buy you your favorite ice cream on the way back home too. I know you'll be happy with that..."

There was a long pause. He didn't move.

"I love you."

Maybe he waited for you to respond, to say 'I love you' back, but you didn't. It wasn't that you didn't love him... god, the one reason why everything hurt so much was that you did, but you didn't dare to confess that you were pretending to sleep just to avoid talking to him. You didn't want Kieran to hear your voice cracking from crying. Especially since now, you knew he was leaving the house again.

You didn't believe him when he said it was work and you felt guilty that you didn't. He was an editor, he worked from home or his rented-out office, and it wasn't like he had people who worked underneath him.

"Котик, I'll make it up to you, I promise," he whispered.

He didn't say anything else except for a lingering kiss on your temple before he got off the bed. The weight of his body leaving felt more familiar than him being there. Kieran blew a breath and muttered something in Russian before he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him and you were left in the dark alone once more.

The emotions you felt earlier surged back up to the surface. Your nails bit into your palms and tears trickled down your cheeks and dropped onto the pillow. All you wanted was for him to get in bed with you, hold you, fall asleep, and still be there whenever you woke up the next morning.

So instead of facing them and bawling, you swallowed the lump in your throat and closed your eyes. Sleeping it off was better than facing it. Soon enough, you'd find out what he was hiding and what this "work" meant. Your small cries were muffled as you did your best to fall asleep before you got too heavy into your thoughts and cried even harder.

Luckily for you, sadness was exhausting, and you crashed before the clock hit midnight.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N ;

So you might have noticed the reader isn’t a Mary Sue or know it all. I tried to make her realistic, someone who’s insecure in her relationship, etc. So I hope that came across well. If you don’t like her, remember she’s human, she can change and develop in the story. She isn’t going to be perfect.

But anyway, did you enjoy this first chapter? You can also find it on my Wattpad and Quotev, which is listed on the top of my account. My discord server is also listed there! Remember to comment and heart if you enjoyed it.

[ Read P.2 ]

Me looking for yandere content the moment I step foot in any new fandom

New City, New Life

5k celebration ‘Choose your own adventure’ story

Wolf Hybrid x fem!reader— free use city, olfactophilia, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), marking, biting, knotting

You stop the moving truck just outside of your brand new house. Ducking your head you check it out through the window and nod appreciatively. It looked a lot better than it did online! Though for the surprisingly low price you got for an entire house you wouldn’t have complained about whatever it looked like. But you scored great for not viewing the house in person before buying it and moving to a whole other city you had never heard of let alone been to.

Was that pretty stupid of you? Sure! But you can’t exactly regret it when this is the outcome. And besides, you needed a change of pace from the monotony of your old life. You needed a new adventure. An unknown city, your own house, and a change in work was just the start, you were positive.

When that mysterious headhunter came to you a few months ago with the opportunity of a lifetime, it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was like something in the universe knew you were having a rough time and needed to leave. So you took the risk and packed up your entire life. It all happened so fast you didn’t even get the chance to do any of your own research on the neighborhood, the city, or your new job. All you had to go on was the brochures the headhunter sent.

Again, was it stupid? Nah, you’re sure it’ll all work out for the best.

But as you flip the latch and push up the tailgate to reveal the moving truck full of boxes that you alone have to move, you start to second guess your statement. You really should’ve hired that Minotaur Moving Company the headhunter suggested. You can handle this. You can totally… totally… hand this.

“Hey, neighbor!” A voice calls, startling you out your daunting thoughts.

You lean to look over the side of the truck and are instantly blown away by the sight in front of you. A sexy ass Wolf Hybrid walks down the sidewalk toward you. His muscles bulging and straining against his tight button up shirt. His slacks not hiding anything he’s got going on downstairs. The smirk on his face is absolutely panty-dropping and you feel yourself go weak in the knees from it. More than ready to drop down and him do whatever he wants to you.

“Moving in?” He asks instead of immediately taking you right then and then. For a second you’re disappointed before you realize this is the real world and people don’t have sex with people they’ve just met… right?

“Yeah, yeah. Gotta bring in all these boxes, gonna take so long,” you say, your voice sounding breathier than you meant it to.

The Wolf Hybrid’s eyes flash but before you can read the expression it’s gone and that friendly neighbor persona is back on. He looks into the truck and scoffs as if it’s nothing.

“Let me help you with that then!”

Before you can pretend to resist, claiming he doesn’t need to help before he insists in a way that would have your panties gushing, he swings himself up into the truck. The words immediately die on your tongue as you see him pick up a heavy box like it’s nothing. Oh, well I guess your panties are getting soaked either way.

You swear that the Wolf Hybrid can tell you’re already turned on as he inhales deeply just as he passes you. But thankfully he doesn’t say a thing and heads up your porch, waiting with a wagging tail for you to open up your house to him. You exchange polite greetings as you walk inside with him and get started.

The two of your work together pretty well. Walking back and forth between the truck and the house. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on him and the way he moves. And every time you look at him you catch him looking back, his heated gaze raking over your form.

The tension grows thicker with each box you both carry. While the Wolf Hybrid forces you to stay away from the heavy boxes, only allowing you to lift the light ones. It only serves to increase the tension and turn you on even more. Still, you both manage to work up quiet the sweat by the time the moving truck is almost empty.

You sigh heavily as you push yourself back up into the truck. Heading all the way down to the front to look for another box to carry in. Just as you reach down to pick up a box of throw pillows, two clawed hands dig into your plush waist and a sharp gasp falls past your lips. You freeze in place, questioning why your pussy clenches down around nothing.

“Think I’m finally gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, ‘k?” The Wolf Hybrid growls, his chest molding to your back. His snout nuzzles into your throat and down into your shirt. He inhales deeply, a rumble moving through his chest as your musk washes over him. “You’re finally ripe ‘nough f’me.”

With a quick jerk of his hands, he’s shucking off your pants. You jump a second later as his snout presses deeply against your slit, rubbing his nose back and forth, smelling all of you. You moan softly, your mind fading away before you can question what the hell is happening. This is what you wanted this whole time after all. Can’t complain now. And you surely won’t as his long prickly tongue joins in, lapping up the mess your slick left on your pussy.

“So fucking drenched for me already. I think you’ll fit in around here just fine,” he rasps as he latches onto your clit and gives it a teasing suck that has sparks shooting through your core.

You go to finally ask what he’s been on about, and why the fact that you’re a soaked mess for him would mean you’d fit in, but in a flash he’s standing up and kicking your legs out to spread for him. His fat tip pushes against your entrance and your jaw drops, tongue lolling out at his sheer girth. His cock splitting you open in two as he pushes his big cock all the way inside your desperate pussy.

“N-nngh! Fuuuck. So fucking tight for me. Glad I got to you first. With a pussy this good you’re gonna be busy in a city like this,” the Wolf Hybrid growls out, his claws digging into your waist.

You can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. But none of it matters anyway as he uses his grip and immediately starts spearing his shaft deep inside your sloppy cunt, over and over again. The only sound that registers now is your own moans as he fucks you brainless.

The truck shakes with the force of his thrusts and you hold onto the boxes in front of you for dear life as he takes you on a wild ride. His cock glides along your gummy walls, igniting your every nerve as he hits those spots inside you that have you seeing stars. Loud cries leave you but you can’t seem to give a fuck if anyone hears. They should hear how good you’re feeling right now.

“God, yes! Take it! Take my cock, darling. Gonna have to get used to this after all. And I’ll be more than happy to help you adjust.”

You cry out louder, your throat aching with the strength of the noises leaving you. You desperately try and rock back and meet his thrusts but the Wolf Hybrid snarls, his claws digging even deeper into your hips. He leans over you and his fangs are sinking into your flesh a moment later. Keeping you perfectly still for him as he slams his length into your depths, his tip kissing your womb with every thrust.

The onslaught of one sensation after the other has every single one of your atoms quivering with anticipation. Your toes curl as he reaches down, flicking your clit just right, and a second later you’re freezing up as your orgasm crashes through you.

Wolf Hybrid roars as your precious pussy clamps down on him. He continues to thrust into you, swinging his hips back and forcing his knot inside you with a slick pop. The sudden stretch prolongs your orgasm and makes you scream in delight. He cums not long after you, his knot expanding inside you as he pumps load after load of hot cum straight into your wrecked womb.

“If I hadn’t already said it, welcome to the neighborhood,” he says breathlessly in your ear.

After his knot had gone down, he slipped out of you and the two of you finished carrying the boxes in. Well, more like you laid on your couch while he carried the rest in because you couldn’t seem to walk for the life of you. He offered to stay, help you clean up and look after you till you could walk again, but you politely declined. You started your new job in the morning after all.

As you leave your house the next morning, body still a bit sore from the best fuck of your life, you realized you had a tiny issue. Your car was being driven down by a friend from your old city but it wasn’t here yet. You had to get to work somehow.

Looking off to the side you spot your neighbor in their driveway and your cheeks tinge pink. He was with a couple of his friends and it seemed like they were on their way somewhere. His friends appearing to be an Orc, a Naga, and another wolf. You could always ask them for a ride. Or maybe you shouldn’t bother your neighbor after what happened yesterday. You could always take the bus. Except… you have no idea where the station is. Well, you could always walk. Maybe stop for some coffee along the way.

HXH sketch dump

this is my fav anime of all time btw i forgor to post my drawings here

Thinking about the older creeps on here and on reddit asking me all sorts of gross things and getting off to it makes me sooo wet

She’s so relatable, I also alternate between wanting to be loved and then feeling annoyed by the attention.

New Moo Deng!

Need a man to look at me and say "cunt inspection whore, slide your panties down. And if you're even a little bit wet, I'm going to slam my cock into you until you scream. Understand?" I whimper and bend over, already knowing that just you saying cunt inspection made me a drippy wet mess. You don't even have to touch me to see how turned on I am. "Already baby? Aww, what a filthy little fucktoy. I didn't even have to do anything to you. Poor thing." I'm still bent over, trying not to moan as you talk down to me, when suddenly your dick is forced inside my hole, hard with no warning. You fuck me hard, deep, and fast. You grab me by the hair and straighten me up a little to push me against the wall, one hand harshly gripping my hip, and the one that was tangled in my hair slides down to caress my clit. You feel me shake. "Don't you fucking dare you cocksleeve. You don't cum until I tell you to." I whimper, trying not to orgasm, which is immediately made harder by being told I can't. You keep degrading me, calling me worthless, telling me my only purpose is to be a good little cum rag for anyone remotely interested in my body. Finally, after what feels like ages, you give the command: "cum on my cock you stupid fucking whore, and make it sound pretty for me." I gave in at whore, my body rocked with an intense orgasm, my moans so loud and passionate that you can't help but pump me full of your cum. We both stand there panting, your dick still twitching inside me.

"Now, fix your makeup and let's go to the club. No, you may not put your panties back on. Let's see if anyone notices shall we?"

AT LEAST LOOK AT ME WHEN YOU LIE

ᣞ ⊹ ݁ summary: your boyfriend suguru finds the best way to punish you !!

꒰ content: mean!sugu, fem!reader, pussyslapping, praise/degradiation, cum denial, feel like this whole thing is kinda a niche kink

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ notes: my ‘mean suguru’ drabble was based on this so if some stuff sounds familiar it’s cus i took this n drabble-fied it; also this is for the anon who asked for it <33 ALSO @d0nk3y-k0ng my new-found geto fixation is your fault <33

“Suguru, can you help me?…this thing is too heavy!” you called out, voice straining as you struggled to bring the giant cardboard box through the door. It was way too heavy for you, and of course the delivery people had quickly set it outside the door, escaping the potential work of having to bring it inside. Your boyfriend quickly rushed to your aid, grabbing the opposite side of the box. “I got it baby, where did you wanna put it again?” Suguru asked, setting the box against the wall and looking at you.

“I wanted to put it in the living room. That way it’ll be the most accessible.” You told him. You two hand just moved into your new place and decorating was the sole thing on your mind. You spent hours on pinterest, trying to find the perfect aesthetic for your new home. You valued your home,so much so that you started repeating all those cringey aphorisms whenever you were questioned about your new-found obsession.

“Home is where the heart is, sugu.” You told him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, but what does that anything to do with spending $100 on a house plant?” You let out a sheepish laugh. “Well…I can take care of the plant. Which takes heart…?” You murmured. It was an inane suggestion, which was appropriate for the circumstance of spending $100 on a plant. “Sounds a bunch of bullshit to me.” Your boyfriend told you. He was necessarily happy with all the money being spent on what seemed like superficial things, he seemed to be happy with the results of your decorating.

It took about 30 minutes to situate this new mirror, but for good reasons. It was big, like really big. Leaning, it was taller than you and almost as tall as your 6’3 boyfriend. It was wide as well, providing a perfect view of anyone who looked into it. It was a gorgeous peice of furniture. The frame was a creamy white, with ornate molding. There were carefully crafted swirls and curves on it, with tiny clay embellishment. It had looked like something out of a fairytale, like a mirror that could reveal the deepest desires of whoever dared look inside. It was perfect for your new house, the only thing that wasn’t so perfect was the extravagant price. Your jaw almost dropped when you saw the cost. No way in hell would Suguru let you buy it, no matter how much you beg or how many tears you spill.

So you searched for alternatives. Any sort of duplicate or listing on another site would be scouted out and search throughly before you succumb your wallet to $2,500. You must’ve been god-kissed that day, as the only cheaper listing was $1,700. Still, it wasn’t something you felt 100% sure about buying, but what other options were there? Suguru would be proud of you for finding a cheaper offering and thinking about a budget. So, you went ahead and bought it, feeling pretty proud of yourself for doing so. Did you tell Suguru about the purchase? no way. You’d only tell him if he asked, and you prayed with all your heart that he wouldn’t.

“Sooo…do you like it?” you asked him hopefully. Maybe he would say yes and then move on to something else, and not ask that dreadful question. Maybe, when you told him about the bargain you made, he’d be proud of you for your efforts. “Mhmmm, t’s real pretty.” He put his hand on his chin, as if thinking. “How much did we pay for this again?” Suguru asks, stepping back and giving it an appraisal.

Shit. It was silent for a good 10 seconds. You could feel the way your words dried up on your tongue and died, as if they were too scared to come up. He raised an eyebrow and asks again, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. “How much did we pay for this thing?” Stil not answer. He came up behind you, snaking one arm around your waist, while his open hand went to your chin. “Baby, you gon’ answer me?” His ghostly purple eyes searing yours through that cursed mirror.

…

“I-I just forgot to tell you-…!” you whined, legs buckling as you felt another sharp stinging sensation land on puffy clit.

“Oh, you did?” Suguru asked facetiously. You nod and cry as you feel another slap land on your clit. He then grabs your face with his hands, holding your cheeks between his slick-coated fingers. “At least look at me when you lie, baby.” He said as he guided your face in the mirror.

This was humiliating. He had you spread out on the floor, pussy glistening and your back pressed up against his chest. He had took upon himself to punish you, which subsequently turned into something lewd and twisted. Hence the being sprawled out, leggings and panties long discarded and receiving countless slaps on your cunt. It was painfully obvious that he was hard, feeling his length that was being squashed up against your ass. Your hair was messy and out of place, your skin sticky while drool and tears coated your chin. The worst part? He was doing this right infront of the new mirror and he wouldn’t even let you look away, so you were forced to fully embrace your current state.

“Please sugu. I didn’t mean too…just lemme cum please? You begged, your voice shaky and full of hiccups.

“Noo, only good girls get to cum .” He cooed, his finger playing with your little bundle of nerves. You’d been at this for about an hour now. He’d start to finger your cunt, and then he’d hit it as punishment. The closest you’ve been to finishing was the half-broken orgasm you’d stolen from his fingering, which in return you got another slap.

“Could’ve been done a long time ago. You’re making this so difficult for me baby.” He whispered in your ear, as if this hurt him more than it did you. “So now, are you gonna tell me the truth, or are you gonna keep lying to me? Cus’ trust me, I won’t hesitate to hit this pussy again” He threatened, the hand on your sticky clit moving even more slowly as an incentive.

You meant to shake your head, but when he swiftly plunged his fingers into your weeping cunt, the sloppy sounds of your slick, must’ve drowned out whatever of your senses was left. “y-yes…!”

You saw the gleam of that dangerous smile in the mirrors reflection. “I knew you would. Such a smart girl, yeah?”

Then your boyfriend laughed, a soft and smooth laugh that should not have gone down to your lower stomach with molten delicious heat. Could you blame yourself though? His fingers were pumping in-and-out of you with tantalizing proficiency, making your insides do somersaults. The way that syrupy-sweet praises dripped off his tongue alongside bitter jeers. Your brain was too far fucked out for so many conflicting emotions. “Go on now..say what you needa say to me.”

“m’ sorry for spending your money sugu! I shouldn’t have bought it, should’ve a-asked!” You confessed, buckling you hips in tandem with his fingers. “Ah ah…no moving.” He reprimanded, taking those fingers out and slapping your hole again. Your body jolted at the sudden sting and then slumped back against his chest.

“Look at you, all teary eyed and wet-pussied. You like this shit, don’t yeah?” He catchesized, with that stupid-stupid smirk on his face. “I bet you’re not sorry at all.”

“No-yes-no m’ sorry..! M’ really really sorry! ” You could barely understand what he was saying. Your pleasure was the only thing that mattered right now, all other senses finger-fucking out of you a long time ago. Geto loved you like this though. Fucked dumb and too far down the abyss of your own pleasure to think properly, all inhibitions lost. It was the easiest way to get an answer out of you.

“I think you bought this mirror just for yourself. Just so you could watch yourself get fucked? He guessed, dragging his hands across your quivering thighs. You hated how soft his voice sounded, especially when accusing you. whimpered as he did, wishing he’d just hurry and put you out of your misery. “N-no”

he frowned, stopping his hand in its tracks. He brought his lips close to shell of you ear, sending shivers down your spine and more wetness to your cunt. “Look at me, and don’t lie.”

You looked at him, straight through the mirror. “I promise, i didn't sugu. I just wanted our home to look nice!” you confessed, sniffling and squeezing your thighs together to create some sort of friction for your achey pussy.

Suguru felt his heart melt a little. You were so pitiful with your shaky mewls and whines . He couldn't help but feel a little bad for being so mean to his precious girl. He shouldn't punish you too hard, obviously you didn't know much better. “Aww..look at that face. How could I be so mean?” He told you, trailing that finger up on down your slit. He smiled at how you hips yet again bucked at his wandering digits. “So needy. Poor baby, drooling n’ crying just like this pussy. Guess I should give you what you want, yeah?”

“Mh! Yes sugu, please lemme cum now! I’m so sorry, won’t do this ever again.” You begged. At this point you were full on crying, all other senses overrides by your need to cum. His thick fingertip teased your sopping entrance, re-coating the fingers in cum.

He simply laughed, diving those fingers back into your pulsing heat. “Oh, I know baby. I know. Now watch me as I give this pussy just what she needs.”

AT LEAST LOOK AT ME WHEN YOU LIE

ᣞ ⊹ ݁ summary: your boyfriend suguru finds the best way to punish you !!

꒰ content: mean!sugu, fem!reader, pussyslapping, praise/degradiation, cum denial, feel like this whole thing is kinda a niche kink

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ notes: my ‘mean suguru’ drabble was based on this so if some stuff sounds familiar it’s cus i took this n drabble-fied it; also this is for the anon who asked for it <33 ALSO @d0nk3y-k0ng my new-found geto fixation is your fault <33

“Suguru, can you help me?…this thing is too heavy!” you called out, voice straining as you struggled to bring the giant cardboard box through the door. It was way too heavy for you, and of course the delivery people had quickly set it outside the door, escaping the potential work of having to bring it inside. Your boyfriend quickly rushed to your aid, grabbing the opposite side of the box. “I got it baby, where did you wanna put it again?” Suguru asked, setting the box against the wall and looking at you.

“I wanted to put it in the living room. That way it’ll be the most accessible.” You told him. You two hand just moved into your new place and decorating was the sole thing on your mind. You spent hours on pinterest, trying to find the perfect aesthetic for your new home. You valued your home,so much so that you started repeating all those cringey aphorisms whenever you were questioned about your new-found obsession.

“Home is where the heart is, sugu.” You told him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, but what does that anything to do with spending $100 on a house plant?” You let out a sheepish laugh. “Well…I can take care of the plant. Which takes heart…?” You murmured. It was an inane suggestion, which was appropriate for the circumstance of spending $100 on a plant. “Sounds a bunch of bullshit to me.” Your boyfriend told you. He was necessarily happy with all the money being spent on what seemed like superficial things, he seemed to be happy with the results of your decorating.

It took about 30 minutes to situate this new mirror, but for good reasons. It was big, like really big. Leaning, it was taller than you and almost as tall as your 6’3 boyfriend. It was wide as well, providing a perfect view of anyone who looked into it. It was a gorgeous peice of furniture. The frame was a creamy white, with ornate molding. There were carefully crafted swirls and curves on it, with tiny clay embellishment. It had looked like something out of a fairytale, like a mirror that could reveal the deepest desires of whoever dared look inside. It was perfect for your new house, the only thing that wasn’t so perfect was the extravagant price. Your jaw almost dropped when you saw the cost. No way in hell would Suguru let you buy it, no matter how much you beg or how many tears you spill.

So you searched for alternatives. Any sort of duplicate or listing on another site would be scouted out and search throughly before you succumb your wallet to $2,500. You must’ve been god-kissed that day, as the only cheaper listing was $1,700. Still, it wasn’t something you felt 100% sure about buying, but what other options were there? Suguru would be proud of you for finding a cheaper offering and thinking about a budget. So, you went ahead and bought it, feeling pretty proud of yourself for doing so. Did you tell Suguru about the purchase? no way. You’d only tell him if he asked, and you prayed with all your heart that he wouldn’t.

“Sooo…do you like it?” you asked him hopefully. Maybe he would say yes and then move on to something else, and not ask that dreadful question. Maybe, when you told him about the bargain you made, he’d be proud of you for your efforts. “Mhmmm, t’s real pretty.” He put his hand on his chin, as if thinking. “How much did we pay for this again?” Suguru asks, stepping back and giving it an appraisal.

Shit. It was silent for a good 10 seconds. You could feel the way your words dried up on your tongue and died, as if they were too scared to come up. He raised an eyebrow and asks again, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. “How much did we pay for this thing?” Stil not answer. He came up behind you, snaking one arm around your waist, while his open hand went to your chin. “Baby, you gon’ answer me?” His ghostly purple eyes searing yours through that cursed mirror.

…

“I-I just forgot to tell you-…!” you whined, legs buckling as you felt another sharp stinging sensation land on puffy clit.

“Oh, you did?” Suguru asked facetiously. You nod and cry as you feel another slap land on your clit. He then grabs your face with his hands, holding your cheeks between his slick-coated fingers. “At least look at me when you lie, baby.” He said as he guided your face in the mirror.

This was humiliating. He had you spread out on the floor, pussy glistening and your back pressed up against his chest. He had took upon himself to punish you, which subsequently turned into something lewd and twisted. Hence the being sprawled out, leggings and panties long discarded and receiving countless slaps on your cunt. It was painfully obvious that he was hard, feeling his length that was being squashed up against your ass. Your hair was messy and out of place, your skin sticky while drool and tears coated your chin. The worst part? He was doing this right infront of the new mirror and he wouldn’t even let you look away, so you were forced to fully embrace your current state.

“Please sugu. I didn’t mean too…just lemme cum please? You begged, your voice shaky and full of hiccups.

“Noo, only good girls get to cum .” He cooed, his finger playing with your little bundle of nerves. You’d been at this for about an hour now. He’d start to finger your cunt, and then he’d hit it as punishment. The closest you’ve been to finishing was the half-broken orgasm you’d stolen from his fingering, which in return you got another slap.

“Could’ve been done a long time ago. You’re making this so difficult for me baby.” He whispered in your ear, as if this hurt him more than it did you. “So now, are you gonna tell me the truth, or are you gonna keep lying to me? Cus’ trust me, I won’t hesitate to hit this pussy again” He threatened, the hand on your sticky clit moving even more slowly as an incentive.

You meant to shake your head, but when he swiftly plunged his fingers into your weeping cunt, the sloppy sounds of your slick, must’ve drowned out whatever of your senses was left. “y-yes…!”

You saw the gleam of that dangerous smile in the mirrors reflection. “I knew you would. Such a smart girl, yeah?”

Then your boyfriend laughed, a soft and smooth laugh that should not have gone down to your lower stomach with molten delicious heat. Could you blame yourself though? His fingers were pumping in-and-out of you with tantalizing proficiency, making your insides do somersaults. The way that syrupy-sweet praises dripped off his tongue alongside bitter jeers. Your brain was too far fucked out for so many conflicting emotions. “Go on now..say what you needa say to me.”

“m’ sorry for spending your money sugu! I shouldn’t have bought it, should’ve a-asked!” You confessed, buckling you hips in tandem with his fingers. “Ah ah…no moving.” He reprimanded, taking those fingers out and slapping your hole again. Your body jolted at the sudden sting and then slumped back against his chest.

“Look at you, all teary eyed and wet-pussied. You like this shit, don’t yeah?” He catchesized, with that stupid-stupid smirk on his face. “I bet you’re not sorry at all.”

“No-yes-no m’ sorry..! M’ really really sorry! ” You could barely understand what he was saying. Your pleasure was the only thing that mattered right now, all other senses finger-fucking out of you a long time ago. Geto loved you like this though. Fucked dumb and too far down the abyss of your own pleasure to think properly, all inhibitions lost. It was the easiest way to get an answer out of you.

“I think you bought this mirror just for yourself. Just so you could watch yourself get fucked? He guessed, dragging his hands across your quivering thighs. You hated how soft his voice sounded, especially when accusing you. whimpered as he did, wishing he’d just hurry and put you out of your misery. “N-no”

he frowned, stopping his hand in its tracks. He brought his lips close to shell of you ear, sending shivers down your spine and more wetness to your cunt. “Look at me, and don’t lie.”

You looked at him, straight through the mirror. “I promise, i didn't sugu. I just wanted our home to look nice!” you confessed, sniffling and squeezing your thighs together to create some sort of friction for your achey pussy.

Suguru felt his heart melt a little. You were so pitiful with your shaky mewls and whines . He couldn't help but feel a little bad for being so mean to his precious girl. He shouldn't punish you too hard, obviously you didn't know much better. “Aww..look at that face. How could I be so mean?” He told you, trailing that finger up on down your slit. He smiled at how you hips yet again bucked at his wandering digits. “So needy. Poor baby, drooling n’ crying just like this pussy. Guess I should give you what you want, yeah?”

“Mh! Yes sugu, please lemme cum now! I’m so sorry, won’t do this ever again.” You begged. At this point you were full on crying, all other senses overrides by your need to cum. His thick fingertip teased your sopping entrance, re-coating the fingers in cum.

He simply laughed, diving those fingers back into your pulsing heat. “Oh, I know baby. I know. Now watch me as I give this pussy just what she needs.”

Thinking I’m just having a really vivid wet dream until I wake up to a stranger roughly using my hole. Too needy n sleepy to care I just arch back into him practically r@ping myself on his c0ck. “I knew you were a little slut when I found your window unlocked. I bet you wanted this. Go ahead and cvm on my r@p!st c0ck, I won’t tell anyone”

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Aaaa! You survived your first day! And look at you- doing suuuuch a good job staying true to character. Nothing could go wrong… right?

Tag list for the series;

@bitternsweet @tonightwrites @confused-they @lanxianschoenheit @poptrim @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @anonymousdisco @forbidden-sunlight

Tag list closed! Stay tuned for part 3!

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Aaaa! You survived your first day! And look at you- doing suuuuch a good job staying true to character. Nothing could go wrong… right?

Tag list for the series;

@bitternsweet @tonightwrites @confused-they @lanxianschoenheit @poptrim @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @anonymousdisco @forbidden-sunlight

Tag list closed! Stay tuned for part 3!

Yandere! Husband who thinks of you every single moment of the day, spoils you rotten, makes sure you feel loved 24/7 with letters, gifts and his presence. Being married to you is a privilege and he makes sure he shows you that.

Who does the little things like making sure you never open any doors by yourself. “What the fuck do you think that ring of yours means? Get your hand off that handle!” proceeds to climb over the car to open the car door for you

who randomly squeezes your hands with a vulnerability you almost never see from him. muttering things such as, “i can’t even remember life before I met you.” or “i love you so much. leave me one day if you must, but know that i’ll never be the same without you.”

yandere! husband who always makes sure you take care of yourself, personally appointing days where you have to go the salon to get your hair or nails done. yandere! husband who always has a fun new date idea to keep things fresh in the relationship. yandere! husband who studies your body for hours on end so you’ll never have to look for satisfaction elsewhere.

so that you’ll never question why he’s changed so much. because he was never the man you married in the first place.

giving loan shark a blahaj plush

"What the hell is this?"

He's more baffled rather than annoyed, staring down at you with a confused frown.

"It's shark week", you state casually and factually.

"You interrupted my phone call for this?"

Just a moment ago he'd been furiously barking at the latest victim, threatening to rip them to shreds if they don't pay back the exorbitant loan.

You smile proudly and nod.

[More monster doodles]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' dispensary series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): you can't stop fucking your drug dealer with the big dick but you can't let your reputation be ruined by actually dating him—he'll just have to deal with it—or is it that he will end up dealing with you? ⋙ side effects (tw): cunnilingus, car sex, backshots, riding, dick sucking, sex for drugs, slut reader, reader being a huge bitch lmfao. slightly black girl coded but no descriptors. this is just p1 tw, p2 will have its own lol. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 3.9k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. had to split it up into two parts because i wanted to post on time for 420. barely made it lol!

Plug!Choso who you walked all the way across campus to meet, nervously waiting in the almost always empty parking garage underground level. You don’t even really smoke weed but sorority elections are coming up soon and if you can be the “cool one” to get everyone lit on 420 (as your last plug recently got busted) you could secure a lot more votes. Sure, you were going to an extreme length to win but the last 4 generations of your family have been president of this chapter at your university. You didn't think your mother would even let you back in the house this summer if you didn’t win. So reluctantly, here you are. 

Plug!Choso who when he finally pulls up intimidates you with his looks when he rolls down his window as he’s all dark hair, piercings and tattoos. You want to just do the transaction through the window but he tells you to “get in”. You were a new customer and he had to vet you first to make sure you “weren’t 12.”

Plug!Choso who laughs in your face when you angrily slam the door taking offense and yelling at him if he ‘that regardless of your baby face he was fucking blind if he really thought you looked like a 12 year old.’ You turn up your nose at him but quickly are made to feel like an idiot when he clarifies he meant 12 as in the cops. You blush even harder when he says ‘he’d never mistake anyone with tits like yours for being that young.’

Plug!Choso who you only end up hooking up with because your sorority sisters short changed you. How the hell were you supposed to know an ounce was $250!? You ask if he could let you have a deal at $150 as that's what your old dealer Mahito sold it for before he got busted.

“S’cause his shit was weak, princess. Shouldn’ve even been payin’ that much to be real with you. This is that dank shit and if you want it you gotta pay. I ain’t running a charity.”

You ask if you can pay via venmo, cash app, anything but Choso only takes cash.

Panicking as you did not have $100 extra bucks in cash it’s you who suggests if you could you pay it off in a different way. 

Plug!Choso isn’t one to get sexual favors for weed as he had bills to pay and a baby brother to take care of, but your cute prissy ass reminds him so much of girls from his high school. The ones who’d only ever looked at him back then with disdain. Who came from stable families, were spoiled rotten and thought anyone who didn’t live their perfect cookie cutter life was trash. Choso wasn’t a virgin but he’d lived a damn near celibate life for the last few years, he could use a little stress release from a lil’ snobby thing like you.

Plug!Choso who you only agreed to give a handjob to and you unbuckled the belt on his tattered black jeans as he sits back and lights a joint. You roll your eyes and steel your nerves with a breath as you pull down his boxers. However the sight of his freed cock immediately has your inner slut going crazy. 

How is it that you can’t fit your pink manicured nails completely around his thick shaft?  

Why did his dick have to be so pretty fully erect, red tip throbbing as he pusles in your hand when you tease his frenulum with the pad of your finger? 

And just what's gotten into you now? It's shameful how you're rubbing your thighs together just from seeing him throw his head back while biting his lip to keep from whimpering. You have his sculpted hard abs trembling from you flicking over the bent barbell of his prince albert piercing. 

The silver reflected even in the dim garage lighting as his thick pre collected in drops on the ball of the piercing before dribbling down your hand. You unconsciously wet your lips. You know you only said a hand job but you wanted a taste—badly.

It isn’t long before you are giving into your cravings and talking him fully into your mouth needing a taste of him and forcibly gagging around his girth curious to see how much his cock could have you choking. 

Plug!Choso’s eyes flew open and he almost dropped his joint once he felt the hot n’ slick wetness of your velvety tongue slurping up the pre leaking off his piercing and taking him fully into your throat until he was hitting tonsils. 

Yet it’s because you are the massive slut that you are, it’s an even shorter amount of time before you pop him out of your mouth, lift your skirt and slide your panties to the side in order to bounce on him raw in the driver's seat. He makes you cum so hard your squirt splashes to drench his pants and even hits his dashboard and steering wheel. He reluctantly has to lift you off him at the last minute so he doesn’t come inside, further soiling you and his car. Choso doesn’t mind though as seeing you getting that messy for him made him hard all over again— and he pulls you into the backseat for round 2 which consists of you face-down ass-up getting the backshots of your fucking life.

Plug!Choso who you quickly start secretly hooking up with on the regular. Seeing as everyone loves how hard his shit hits they send you more frequently to pick it up. You pretend like it's a minor inconvenience but your stomach clinches in anticipation thinking of his fat cock inside of you. Of course, you aren’t disclosing to your sorority sisters how his dick hits even harder than his than his weed. You shiver just thinking of it carving through your guts ruthlessly every time you fuck. 

Plug!Choso who you are now secretly texting ‘cowboy’ and ‘eggplant’ emoji whenever you want your doonies beat down— regardless if you are getting weed from him or not that day. However when you are sent to get weed from him, he isn’t even charging you any longer. He tells you to keep it and get a new full set. You always manage to fuck up your acrylics bad when you are with him. Not your fault he fucks you so good you are desperate in the moment to cling to him, the handles, the dashboard— whatever you could get your hands on to grip to keep from loosing your mind as you always end up fucked absolutely dumb. 

Plug!Choso who you end up low-key dating but you are still a huge bitch to him in public. Acting like you don't know who he is when you see him. Tsk, you were just begging for him this morning to meet you in the ‘usual spot’ in the near abandoned campus garage lot so he could fuck you. You treated him like he was dirt beneath your shoe whenever you’d see him even though you’d be crying on his cock beneath him just a few hours prior. Choso thinks it’s disrespectful and annoying as fuck but he just deals with it. It's not like he's caught feelings or anything yet.

Plug!Choso who puts up with your shitty attitude and being your dirty little secret as you are the best— and only pussy— he’s had in a while. Not to mention you are always super sweet to his brother Yuji, who adores you. Choso didn’t intend to ever have you meet him but he ended up having Yuji with him one day. He had to pick him up out of the blue as an emergency near the same time he was supposed to pick you up from the nail salon. 

Although you had even got a fresh wax at the salon and were ready to show it off, finding Yuji, all of 7 years old, in the backseat was an immediate buzz kill. Initially expecting Choso to tell you that’s his kid, a pang of guilt ran through you when he explained his little brother who he takes care of got sick at school and needed to be picked up right away. You weren’t answering his calls or texts and he didn’t want to leave you hanging without a ride. 

You don’t tell Choso you’ve silenced notifications from him (in case one of your sisters were to see his name popup). Instead, you offer to cook Yuji soup when you learn it's only Choso solely taking care of Yuji. Especially after Choso confesses he was just going to pick up a can of chicken noodle and some crackers from the store. 

Heart fluttering at how gentle you are with Yuji in contrast to your usual demanding and bitchy nature, Choso curses at himself that he might be falling in love with you. Although he is well aware his feelings would never be reciprocated by you. Nevertheless, as a ‘thank you’ for dinner, after putting Yuji to bed Choso eats you out for 2-hours straight on the sofa. You end up having to stuff your soggy panties in your mouth to keep your cries in and not wake up Yuji. The way Choso is sloppily munching on your pussy has you cumming deliciously back to back to back on his thick pliable tongue. 

Plug!Choso who after you end up fucking more at his house, a mile or so away from campus, rather than his car these days. In fact, it isn’t even all about sex anymore as you spend the majority of your time over there helping Yuji with his homework, baking cookies, playing games and movie nights with the two of them. 

Once Yuji would go to bed Choso would bring you to the basement to smoke you out before he fucked you out. It’s during one of these smoke sessions though you learn that Choso actually got a full ride scholarship to go to the same university you do now 5 years ago but one quarter into his first year his parents had both died in a tragic accident. Yuji was only 2 then and the thought of losing the only family he had left to foster care was not an option for Choso. When the time came he stepped up to the plate and didn’t think twice about dropping out. 

However fast food jobs and grocery store shifts weren’t cutting it. He’d have to spend nearly all day and night away from Yuji just to keep a roof over his head to afford his late-parent’s mortgage. Dealing, although dangerous, was the best option and being the actual genius Choso was, he was smart about it. More guilt fills you always assumed anyone slanging drugs on the street was a burnout who couldn’t cut the real responsibilities of life. Yet Choso already had way more responsibility than anyone his age should have had.

You had sorely misjudged him.

Plug!Choso who realizes sooner than you do the closer the two of you become the harder it is for you to juggle Sorority life and Choso and Yuji— it’s almost as if you are living a double life. Truthfully you are, in a way as you are always sneaking off. Choso wonders what lies you tell your sorority sisters to be gone most weeknight evenings and weekend mornings. The lies of ‘labs' or ‘volunteer work’ wouldn’t likely cut it much longer. When you’re not around, Choso reasons he should probably cut things off with you before the inevitable fall out happens. But he always reconsiders when Yuji kept consistently inquiring as to where his ‘pretty lady girlfriend is’.  

Choso doesn’t have the heart to tell Yuji you aren’t his girlfriend yet. 

Plug!Choso who starts inviting you to Yuji’s little league games on weekends once Yuji expresses with abundant enthusiasm he wants you to see him play! The little guy, who is not so little for his age, is actually pretty athletic. Adorably every home run he hits he always makes sure to wave to you and Choso in the stands. Grinning widely Yuji blushes at your praise and cheering for him, which makes you just want to cheer harder. Your high school cheerleading experience finally coming in handy again. You go so often that sometimes other parents mistake the two of you for Yuji’s mom and dad. You always hastily respond “I’m just a family friend!”

A family friend. Not Choso's girlfriend. 

Plug!Choso whose jaw clenches whenever this happens— not that you ever notice. What the fuck were you doing if you weren’t dating? Yet Choso knew he couldn’t be completely mad at you as even after 3 months he still hadn’t technically asked you to be his girlfriend. Still that fact angers Choso too as he knows he hasn’t because he fears— no he knows— you wouldn’t say yes. Choso picks you up and drops you off blocks away from campus. You also managed to deflect every suggestion for going out on an actual date night on the town when Yuji is over his friend's Megumi or Nobara houses. Also you sure as shit don’t invite him to the many greek life parties you attend (not that he even wanted to go— I mean he would for you. If you'd ask him). Hell, you don’t even follow him back on IG and he knows better than to like or comment on anything other than your stories which goes straight to your DMs. 

Plug!Choso knows you have a reputation to protect and how it would look for the tall n’ scary pierced n' tatted emo drug dealer to be the one by your side. Choso eventually resigns himself to live in the shadows of your life for now. Choso would just have to work harder to pay off the house so he could stop dealing and be someone you’d want to show off (even if deep down he feels he will never be good enough).

However this all comes to a boil a few weeks later the morning of the championship game for Yuji’s little league. As their star player Yuji was so excited to be in his first championship and made you pinky promise you would come. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo!” You lovingly beamed at him. 

But you lied.

You did miss it. 

Finals and the sorority election week had come up fast out of nowhere and hit you like a whirlwind. As a result you saw little of Choso and Yuji in the days leading up to it. Yet at the end of the week you emerged victorious, both in keeping up your 3.8 GPA and winning the election for sorority president. You were so ecstatic on both accounts that you partied hard the night before Yuji’s big game.

Coincidentally forgetting about it entirely as the next morning was the Annual Greek Council Brunch event to officially inaugurate all new Greek council members across all sororities and frats. As newly elected president and since your sorority was hosting this year it was your job to throw it. It was a huge event that even parents and chapter alumni attended. 

Plug!Choso who smoked 3 cigarettes as he waited for you for nearly 40 minutes before he knew he had to leave soon or he’d miss the start of the game too. Deciding to drive by your sorority as a last ditch effort Choso sees red when he spies you on the lawn giggling and flirting with the campus caterers as you direct them to the back of the house. You looked gorgeous, all dolled up, hair done and make-up flawless. The dress you wear looks expensive, something he might even be able to afford to buy you if he wasn’t making triple mortgage payments each month to cut the interest and pay off his home faster. However, he can't deny the baby blue checkered fabric looks great on you. A fact Choso notices the caterer douchebags didn’t miss either as they fall a few steps behind you to check out your plump ass and rib at each other.

Plug!Choso who knows the reasonable thing to do would be to just drive away and avoid any conflict. Although before his mind registers it his body is already flicking his cigarette butt out of the open car door before slamming it shut as he storms across the lawn of your sorority house. Reaching the back of the house Choso was taken back by how grand everything looked. A sea of pristine white tables adorned with arrays of bouquets, fine china and crystal glasses that sparkled divinely in the morning sun. The event was still in setup mode so more flowers, decorations and adornments were being brought in by the second by workers brushing past Choso like he wasn't even there.

In any other scenario a grand display of refinery such as this would have Choso feeling self-conscious and out of place. He is aware as good as anyone else how sorely his dark looks contrast with the peppy and airy vibes of greek life.

However, all that flees out of his mind as soon as he sees you near the DJ booth—now having the nerve to shamelessly flirt with him too. 

“Yo, princess.”

Plug!Choso who seems casual from his tone but the look on his face is anything but. You on the other hand looked as if you had seen a ghost as all the color drains from your face. 

“Choso!”

You squeaked out a greeting as your head whips around to see who all was around.

Phew! Thankfully it was mostly staff and the greek members who were helping with setup were still inside.

But what the fuck was Choso even doing here?

You started to get pissed as he knew better than to roll up on you like this and today of all days!? 

“Come on, let’s go, we're gonna be late.”

He grabs your arm which you quickly snatch back from him giving him an incredulous look as if he just sprouted two more heads.

“What the fuck Choso, you can’t just barge in here like this! Have you lost your mind?! What are you even doing here?!” 

You try to keep your voice hushed as you pull him to the side of the DJ booth trying not to draw attention. 

“Nah princess, the question is what the fuck are you doing here?”

Irritation was dripping from Choso’s words who clearly didn’t give a single fuck about how loud he was being or the boundaries you’d set around your school life and it made your blood boil. He knew this was a busy week for you and you wouldn’t be around as much, he couldn’t wait a few more days!?

What right did he have to be here right now?

Let alone be this upset with you? 

You roll your eyes as you scoff. 

“Well as I am the newly elected president of this sorority it's my job to throw this brunch! I’ve had a really long stressful week and this is a really big event for me. My first event even! I have so much–”

“—Fuck! Are you really this clueless?!”

Choso angrily snaps at you and you are visibly startled into silence as his interruption immediately shuts you up.

He’s towering over you now and you’ve never realized before just how much bigger than you he was. His personality was usually so chill and unassuming that it shrunk his overall presence.

Come to think of it you’ve never even seen him angry before, annoyed sure, but he was clearly mad mad now.

“I– Me– My— Goddamn it, do you really think of no one but yourself?!”

The DJ, who had been overhearing your conversation tries to butt-in to white knight for you but is quickly told off by Choso who tells him ‘walk the fuck on while he still had legs that could walk’. The advice which was expeditiously taken as the DJ quickly left the conversation just as fast as he’d entered it.

“Choso– what the—”

Choso doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off again.

Fed up with this, you and whatever twisted situationship you currently had— he needed to say his piece. 

“—I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour, princess. Does your self absorbed lil’ brain even remember why?”

Your own anger is quickly dissipating into confusion as you cannot fathom what in the hell Choso was even talking about. It takes you a few good moments but your eyes widen once you realize.

Oh shit…

“Umm…Y-Yuji’s big game, isn’t today– is it?”

You meekly asked but you already knew the answer. 

“Bingo, princess! You’d promised him you’d be there. Do you know how much he’s been looking forward to this? It’s all he’s been talking about. Do you know how crushed he’s going to be if you aren’t there?!”

Shit! Shit! Shit!

You knew balancing seeing Choso and Yuji with your increasingly demanding school life was starting to get more challenging but you didn’t realize you’d fuck up this badly.

You really didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, who at this point felt like your own little brother that you never had —but you’d be prepping for this sorority presidency nearly your entire life! 

Your parents were even coming to this! 

Shit, which reminds you Choso cannot be here when they show up. 

Plug!Choso who knows he’ll have to speed now when he leaves if he wants to make the first pitch of Yuji’s game and makes one last ditch effort to get you to attend, but of course it fails.

“Choso, I– I can’t. I want to... but you know how important this is to me. My family. They will be here soon too I—”

Choso tunes out the rest of your excuses as your mention of ‘my family’ had cut unintentionally deep.

You’d gotten so close to him and Yuji that you did feel like ‘their family’. But you weren’t and it was the foolish hope that you could one day become that Choso selfishly indulged in.

He could deal with the hurt, he was used to life shitting on him but it wasn’t fair to Yuji. 

“There he is! That’s him!”

The pussy ass DJ had gone and gotten back up as a group of frat guys in suits rushed over. The commotion was also drawing a few of your sorority sisters and you curse under your breath as a small crowd forms and all eyes draw to you.

“It’s okay guys, he’s clearly lost and is leaving now, right?”

Your voice is bitchy but your eyes are pleading with Choso.

You're pleading with Choso: Not to ruin the event.

Not to be angry with you.

And not to make this situation any worse than what it was. 

“Wait— this guy? He’s that burnout dealer, yeah?”

One of the frat guys chime-in and there's laughter and giggles around.

“Oh my god, it is! He's like so obsessed with her. I always see him creeping around.”

One of your sisters adds with a sneer.

“Not a stalker! Ew!” 

Another one adds.

“What does this weirdo even want with you!?”

More of your sisters chime in.

Choso doesn’t care though.

He only cares what you think. What you’re going to say.

Your phone dings and you look at it. Shit. Your parent’s just arrived on campus.

You didn’t want to do it this way but you had to end this now.

It was better this way. That’s what you would console yourself with later at least.

“Look—Choso was it? This is a private event and you need to leave.”

You turn to your sisters to explain further. “I tutor his little brother for my volunteer work and he somehow got the crazy idea that I was going to go to some little baseball game with them or whatever.”

You turn back to Choso.

“Well— as you can clearly see. I can’t go. I’m busy and like I said this is a private event so again, you need to leave, understood?”

You turn away not being able to stomach the look on his face like a coward and make up some excuse about checking on the ice sculpture which should have been already placed on one of the center banquet tables. 

You know he’s left from the jeers of ‘bye loser!’ ‘fuck outta here freak!’ echo out from the garden. 

This was for the best after all….

….right? PART 2

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ lol y/n is a huge bih who doesn't deserve our sweet baby. no worries though she is gonna learn her lesson good in part 2 where she finds out shit ain't so sweet lmfao. lmk if you wanna be tagged in comments/reblogs. eta— omg there were so many errors lmfao see this is what happens when i dont re-read my shit 50x before posting lol. i fixed it! sorry to anyone who read it before lol. ⋙ reblog to smoke on choso's joint but comments and likes are appreciated!

NSFW

Being a puppy hybrid means getting treated so tenderly and you’re able to get away with things because you’re so cute and just a pup!

But imagine getting into a relationship with another puppy hybrid that already knows all of the tricks you pull.

So now it’s a puppy off to see who gets spoiled more!

Some days you can’t help but coo over how cute your boyfriend is and let him cuddle and knead you as much as he wants. Other days he’s snuggling into you and feeding you treats because he can’t stand how adorable you are.

Battle of the puppies!

Or third option. Puppy gf, puppy bf, then wolf bf that watches over both of them to make sure they don’t get into trouble. Double puppy privilege!

Imagine they both want something and combine their powers.

Poor wolf bf…

Puppy bf is fucking your pretty mouth while wolf bf knots that fat pussy of yours. Puppy bf pouts up at wolf bf, lowering his fluffy ears and wagging his tail.

Wolf bf’s lip twitches and he pulls out, moving so puppy bf can have a turn with your pussy! When wolf bf is about to start fucking your throat, you also look up at him, softly pawing his thighs and nuzzling him.

Now he’s feeding you ice cream while puppy bf knots you. He just can’t resist his pups… you’re both too cute to say no to.

Puppy bf is just a little territorial over you, but again, wolf bf finds that cute. He could easily grab puppy bf by his tail and toss him aside, instead he watches as the smaller male mounts and mates with HIS mate. The way puppy bf bares his teeth that could never compare to wolf bf’s canines makes him laugh and ruffle his hair.

“Calm down, pup. She’s yours for now.”

He’s just a pup, wolf bf can’t be angry… except neither of you are ACTUAL puppies. You’re both full grown hybrids, just a different, smaller species.

And you both use it to your full advantage.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68

JJK Fics

18+

none of these fics belong to me!

masterlist of some of my favs!

Multi

get me up, let me down @cherikolya

Naughty girl @yujivrs

brat @roturo

pussy hungry men @fairyhub

fours a party @fairyhub 

Punishments @fairyhub 

you can take it @fairyhub

fooling around @fairy-hub

tied up @fairyhub

brat taming @kishibe-kisser

full nelson @7starlite7

with a brat like you @7starlite7

but i lasted ten rounds like a freak @satorena

passing out @nanaslutt

faking an orgasm @nanaslutt

birthday girl @sednas

kink hcs @sednas

gang fuck @ridingthatd

sex office @ridingthatd

with a brat like you @rhinestonz

hate sex @sanjithesimp

Fic @rinhaler

phone call @slvttyplum

open tour legs @painism

favorite position @taintedtort

thats a red flag baby @s0dium

Fic @teddybeartoji

brat tamers @satorusugurugurl

a good fucking @classyrbf

pornstar dream @fairy-angel222

helping a friend out @fairy-angel222

Fic @fairy-angel222

Fic @fairy-angel222  

double stuffed @ttsukiimi

scream no bologna @screampied

talkin body @screampied

stretch me out @screampied

freak like me @screampied

fuck me like you want me @screampied

cartwheel on the dick @screampied

runnin from it  @screampied

til you cry @k-buki

cha ching @anastasiabowe

dirty talk @romantichomicide95

pick up the phone @kyunzin

Fic @roseychains

pussy slapping @sttoru

one of your girls @bwere

call back later @toruslvt

pussy experiements @ridingthatd

Fic @suguann

care for you @tonycries

a picture lasts longer @tonycries

im addicted i admit it @tonycries

tough love @tonycries

never ever seen this before  @tonycries

till you drop @sugutiva

my boyfriends best friend @sickslimez

Rougher @kingkaizen

Breeding @kingkaizen

Louder @craisinsensation1029

Hungry @nkogneatho

Fic @tojiseviltwin

Fic @moechies

JJK Fics

18+

none of these fics belong to me!

masterlist of some of my favs!

Multi

get me up, let me down @cherikolya

Naughty girl @yujivrs

brat @roturo

pussy hungry men @fairyhub

fours a party @fairyhub 

Punishments @fairyhub 

you can take it @fairyhub

fooling around @fairy-hub

tied up @fairyhub

brat taming @kishibe-kisser

full nelson @7starlite7

with a brat like you @7starlite7

but i lasted ten rounds like a freak @satorena

passing out @nanaslutt

faking an orgasm @nanaslutt

birthday girl @sednas

kink hcs @sednas

gang fuck @ridingthatd

sex office @ridingthatd

with a brat like you @rhinestonz

hate sex @sanjithesimp

Fic @rinhaler

phone call @slvttyplum

open tour legs @painism

favorite position @taintedtort

thats a red flag baby @s0dium

Fic @teddybeartoji

brat tamers @satorusugurugurl

a good fucking @classyrbf

pornstar dream @fairy-angel222

helping a friend out @fairy-angel222

Fic @fairy-angel222

Fic @fairy-angel222  

double stuffed @ttsukiimi

scream no bologna @screampied

talkin body @screampied

stretch me out @screampied

freak like me @screampied

fuck me like you want me @screampied

cartwheel on the dick @screampied

runnin from it  @screampied

til you cry @k-buki

cha ching @anastasiabowe

dirty talk @romantichomicide95

pick up the phone @kyunzin

Fic @roseychains

pussy slapping @sttoru

one of your girls @bwere

call back later @toruslvt

pussy experiements @ridingthatd

Fic @suguann

care for you @tonycries

a picture lasts longer @tonycries

im addicted i admit it @tonycries

tough love @tonycries

never ever seen this before  @tonycries

till you drop @sugutiva

my boyfriends best friend @sickslimez

Rougher @kingkaizen

Breeding @kingkaizen

Louder @craisinsensation1029

Hungry @nkogneatho

Fic @tojiseviltwin

Fic @moechies