there was something so fucking thrilling about being with someone like me

unstable

broken

Surviving off pure spite, bad decisions, and whatever scraps of hope I could nick before the world tried to cave my skull in. I wasn’t soft. Wasn’t safe. Wasn’t the kind of person you brought home to meet your mum.

I was the bastard with too many scars, too much rage, and a mind that could go from laughing like a lunatic to smashing shit apart without warning.

And that was the fucking rush.

I didn't care gently

I didn't love gently

and I as sure as shit didn't fuck gently

I loved like a fucking car crash.

Fast. Violent. No brakes.

The kind of love that left teeth marks, bruises, broken furniture, and neighbours pretending they didn’t hear the chaos through paper-thin walls.

Because people like me didn’t do candlelit dinners and whispered sweet shit.

We did slammed doors. Fistfuls of shirts. Kisses that tasted like nicotine, whiskey, and poor impulse control.

I’d drag you into my madness with both hands and dare you to keep up.

And that was what she wanted, I knew it from the second my eyes landed on her, a top that showed her tits and then some, short low waisted shorts that made her legs look miles long and her peachy arse tight, and piercings, nose, belly button, tongue and fuck knows where else, and her face, jesus, she had the kind of face that said don’t fuck with me and full, plump lips that screamed fuck me, screamed at me to shove my dick down her throat and watch her watch me while she sucked on it

Shit, too many visuals, no need to get hard in the middle of the club

I’d learned how to clock people like me, blunt, crude people who wanted, needed what I needed, release, violence, lust, and she had that look in her eyes

So I approached her

walked over like I already belonged in her space.

No hesitation. No second thoughts. That kind of confidence that’s half real and half just me daring the world to call my bluff.

The club was too loud, too bright, too full of people pretending they weren’t lonely. Bass shaking the floor like it wanted to crack the building in half. Sweat, smoke, cheap perfume. The usual mess.

The bass punched through my ribs as I cut through the crowd, people splitting and reforming behind me like I’d never existed.

She noticed me before I even said a word.

Course she did.

You don’t look like that and not know the exact effect you’ve got on a room.

She didn’t smile. Not properly. Just a slow tilt of the head, eyes dragging over me like she was deciding whether I was worth the trouble or just another idiot with confidence and no follow-through.

I stopped close enough that she had to look up at me.

“Alright,” I said, like I already knew her.