#and then they all run away from her and call her a freak and a monster... im crying for her...

[nartml]

"You lot refuse to see the real complexity in him"

Uh, I actually think that his repressed gayness is exactly the complexity you're talking about.

You could be making a good point about the infantilization of grown men, but you've got the wires crossed.

His being gay wouldn't justify his actions, but it sure as hell would explain them a lot better than anything else could.

Either he's horribly written, or he's stone cold gay, because his behaviour (read: assholery) towards the women he dates doesn't make any particular sense otherwise.

Call me crazy, but when the one consistent aspect of this man's characterization is that he represses every single goddamn emotion known to man, it's not far-fetched to suggest that he's repressed his homosexuality too.

We know that his parents definitely weren't the nurturing, supporting kind, regardless of wanting the best for their kid.

He married the only woman he ever dated when he was barely an adult, because he got her pregnant and they both felt pressured to create some sort of family.

Automatically being robbed of the time and space to explore himself, he had to officially "man up" and provide for his family.

He was enlisted in the army, having to endure the horrors of war, knowing he had to come back home.

And, while I don't doubt he loves Shannon, I also don't think that a man desperately in love with his woman would enlist to return to active war zones, behind her back, in an attempt to run away from the weight of the responsibilities awaiting for him if he were to stay with her and have her back, like she wanted.

He was a shitty husband, which is understandable considering the circumstances, but still. Shitty.

He comes back, and he's barely touched Texan soil, before Shannon was the one leaving, but with no concrete intentions to return.

When Shannon did come back, instead of their relationship being rekindled, she was gonna divorce him because she recognized that they were so young back then, that they had to grow up too fast and missed out on, you guessed it, exploring their identities outside of the responsibilities they had to take care of.

This, of course, freaked Eddie out because, he interpreted that as her leaving again, which was not something he wanted Chris or himself to go through again.

But they barely had time to actually address any of this, because Shannon died then.

After that, he repressed all of his grief and anger once more, which blew up in his face. Again.

And this vicious cycle kept on going.

He represses everything he feels like it's his full-time occupation, and the bills are due and Chris is starving.

We, the audience, barely know Eddie's true nature as a person, because Eddie himself has no damn clue either.

Christopher is his number one priority, and he's an undeniably great father, but we've seen him repeatedly making decisions for Christopher's sake, never his own, especially when it comes to his love life.

But even his immense devotion to his kid can't outweigh his instinctive aversion to dating women. His inability to imagine a future with them? His attempts at dating, in order to give Chris a mother figure because he thinks it's what's best for him, but his ultimate inability to commit to an actual partnership with them or let them all the way in?

"Reservoirs of catholic guilt, ready to consume me"? "Dating feels like performing"?? Man had a goddamn panic attack so severe he thought he was dying when he imagined a future with his long-time girlfriend???

Come on now. It's not batshit to suggest that this guy doesn't like women like that.

And even if it turns out we're gaslighting ourselves, it still doesn't erase all the queercoded aspects of him.

We think Eddie is gay, because the alternative is that the writers actually did a horrible job writing him.

Yeah, maybe he's just an emotionally immature dickbag for no reason when it comes to relationships (bad writing+boring+lacks depth), or it's simply a symptom of the fact that I went to the land of homo, and all the sexuals knew him.

I'll be honest, as a queer mexican man the way y'all talk about Eddie Diaz really pisses me off. You lot refuse to the see real complexity in him and admit he has done a lot of shitty things.

I think you've created this story of what you want him to be in your head where he is an eternal victim despite being a grown man and it doesn't do the character any favors.

I think you love the surfice level exploration of "latino culture" (whatever the fuck that means) he represents because he is the epitomy of "the good latino" propagandist figure. The USA army veteran hero, the one who isn't misogynist because he grew up in the US, the one who is brave enough to detach from his overbearing parents, the skeptic who rejects and even mocks the esoteric parts of his family's culture. The one with aspirations to be a model citizen and a "hero" to his son. Throws a couple of spanish words here and there, looks kind of brown but white enough for most demographics to find him hot.

He is comfortable to you.

I think y'all cling until your last breath to the posibility of him being secretly gay because you think if he had internalized homophobia this whole time then you can justify everything.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Primal (Part 7)

Summary: Y/N and Tim are completely unaware of the danger they're in and Beau has no idea how to stop it...

Primal Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, violence, drugging, serial killers, death, kidnapping, smut (finally I know right?)

A/N: It's here! The big one! Please tell me what you think and enjoy!...

Beau POV

Lucy froze at the elevator, forcing me to come to a stop as I kept slapping the button down.

“Call her,” she said, getting out her own phone. I dialed fast on mine. Y/N’s phone rang and rang and rang against my ear as we waited for the elevator doors to slowly open, Springs and a few other marshals now joining us. They piled inside with us, my fingers crashing against the screen to redial.

“She’s not answering,” I growled, running a hand through my hair. Oh fuck. Fuck, this hadn’t happened again. I hadn’t-

“Oh my god Jenny!” Lucy said with a shriek, all four of us looking at her, pulling me from my thoughts. She frowned, gripping her phone hard, a dangerous look in her eye. “Beau got in an accident leaving the Marshals office and I don’t know what to do! Where are you? Can you come to the hospital? Or better yet, give Y/N a ride here?”

I raised my eyebrows, Lucy’s eyes narrowing as Jenny said something on the other end.

“You’re right, we shouldn’t panic her. She’s been through so much already. I just…” Lucy teared up despite the killer look, on her face. “Oh my god, I’m so scared Jenny.”

“Hoyt can’t kill them if she’s on the phone with your officer,” said Springs quietly into my ear. “Keep her talking Lucy.”

“Hoyt could have already killed them,” I muttered. Lucy’s face changed fast though, a strange smirk there before she was pulling the phone away. She tapped it on speaker, a loud huff followed by a whine.

“I told you,” Y/N panted from the other line, out of breath, another loud thud following along with a pained cry from Jenny. “I was going to kick your fucking ass until it was six feet under.” 

The thud cracked through the air, Jenny shouting. 

“She’s attacking me with a metal bat!” Jenny coughed, followed by another whip in the air and a scream. She whined, starting to cry, the bat scraping across the ground.

“You stabbed my brother. She killed him. She doesn’t get to walk away from that,” said Y/N, her voice eerily calm. Everyone in the elevator shared a glance, Springs looking at me with a simple nod. If Y/N killed Jenny, they’d cover it up for her, for Tim. But Y/N didn’t deserve to live with that nightmare for the rest of her life.

“Y/N! It’s me,” I said, nothing heard but Jenny’s cries on the other end. “Y/N, is Tim dead?”

“Bitch stabbed him in the gut,” she growled, the bat dragging along the ground, Jenny whimpering every time it sounded like it got closer to her. “He bled out in the basement. I can’t find a pulse. There’s so much damn blood, Beau.”

Springs was talking to another Marshal about getting an ambulance there but Y/N scoffed. 

“He’s already gone!” she laughed, a dark rough edge to her words that sent shivers down my spine. “...But I can make her regret being born.”

“No,” I snapped, everyone in the elevator tensing. “I don’t care if he doesn’t have a freaking pulse. Get him in a car and speed to a hospital.”

“Beau, he’s-”

“Omega!” A strange tingle traveled down my spine, Y/N breathing softly, hearing, feeling, the raw authority in my voice. “Do it. Now.”

“Yes, Alpha,” she mumbled, the bat clanking against the ground.

“We’ll have Marshals at the house in less than five,” mumbled Springs beside me.

“Make it faster than that.”

Fifteen minutes later, I rushed through a pair of double doors with Springs and Lucy. A nurse pointed us towards the back of the ER. It was easy to spot Y/N. She was covered head to toe in blood, her clothes soaked, staring blankly through a glass wall into a small room. 

“Y/N, how’s…” Lucy stopped talking as we saw the rapidly beeping monitors, someone hanging more bags of blood up on a hook. Lucy’s hands went to her face, my hand running through my hair. Y/N stood motionless, fury growing behind her wet eyes as Tim lay limp on a stretcher, blood squirting out of his abdomen the moment more blood went in him.

“They can’t stop the bleeding. They’ll pronounce him dead soon,” Y/N said quietly, hands fisting by her sides. Lucy stepped around her and I tried to grab Lucy. Y/N’s scent was all wrong. Violent. Rageful. She looked ready to clobber the next thing that touched her, no matter who it was.

“Biology,” Lucy said, looking at us both with wide eyes. “Biology!”

“Wilde, what the-” I started but she rushed inside the room, pushing a nurse out the way. I was halfway inside the room when she bent down, lips pressed against Tim’s neck. In a split second, his eyes flew open, heart rate soaring as Lucy bit into his bonding gland. “Lucy!”

“Security! Get her out of here!” shouted a doctor, Lucy punching someone as Tim’s vitals stabilized between his gasps for air, the bleeding in his gut coming to a stop. 

“She claimed him,” said Y/N, stepping forward into the room. I spun around as Lucy held up her bloody hands, walking out of the room before a pair of guards were on her and leading her down a hall. “Biology! Lucy! Holy shit!”

She looked back over her shoulder, giving Y/N a smirk. Meanwhile, I felt like the punchline of a bad joke. “Tell your brother I’ll talk to him later,” she said before she was led out of earshot.

“His stats are good,” said a nurse, the doctors in the room all grimacing. 

“Can someone please explain what the fuck just happened? He was dead!” I demanded. An older man in bloody green scrubs put his hands on his hips as Tim blinked rapidly, putting a hand to his chest.

“Bonding has a physical effect at the moment it occurs,” said the doctor, my face scrunched up. “Layman's terms, no pain, no injuries. Claiming someone who has mortal wounds will mostly heal those wounds instantly. It is highly, highly, highly discouraged as a medical practice and is highly illegal for non-consenting adults. This man’s rights were violated-”

“What do you mean doc?” breathed out Tim, his voice scratchy as he smiled. “That was my girl, Luce. My sister forgot to tell you about her I bet. We’re in love and all that shit.”

“She hit a doctor. Me,” he retorted, Tim shrugging. “Whatever. Finish examining him and then put him a room. I’m sure he’ll be ready to discharge in a few hours.”

“Love your bedside manner by the way, doc,” said Tim. Y/N brushed inside as the doctor left, quickly going to Tim’s head and leaning down close. “Why you crying, kiddo?”

“Cause I left you to die down there,” she whispered, shaking as I walked over, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “I-I thought y-you…you’re only alive cause of Beau, cause he made me bring you here even though…”

She looked down at herself and the dark crimson staining every inch of her skin. Tim shushed her, Y/N squeezing her eyes. He smiled and raised his arm, reaching out to graze her cheek where tears fell. “You did exactly what I told you. If something ever happened to me, you get yourself safe. I’m so proud of you for listening to me for once.”

“She may or may not have also beat the ever living shit out of Jenny Hoyt with a baseball bat,” I said. Tim grinned hard, Y/N squeezing his wrist.

“Don’t be happy about that, Timothy,” she whispered. “I lost it. I was going to kill her.”

“Huh. I feel kind of silly now for not always believing you. You really do love me.” Y/N’s chin quivered, nodding as Tim held her cheek. “Then stop crying loser cause I ain’t dead yet. I’m fucking amazing. Now, Beau’s going to take you back to our place so you can take a shower and calm down. Tell Lucy to find me some clean clothes and a brownie while you’re at it when she gets out of hospital jail.”

“Why d-don’t you h-hate me?” she cried, my arms holding her tighter, Tim frowning. “I left you.”

He shook his head, forcing himself to sit upright. He breathed deeply, cupping her cheek. “A lot of people have left me in my life. But you? You’re not one of them and this will be the last we ever discuss this. Even Sarah Connor couldn’t save everyone on her own.”

“Does this mean I get to be the Terminator?” I asked, Tim rolling his eyes. 

“Eh, still not a fan of the boyfriend,” he grinned.

“Said the president of my fan club” I said, Y/N’s body starting to un-tense, the heavy sobs turning to sniffles. I kissed the top of her head, Tim pinching her nose, making her hiccup.

“Loser,” she mumbled, Tim smiling. “You really feel okay?”

“Feels like a bad cramp but I’ll live. The bonding feels…” He struggled for the words, Y/N nodding. “Why’d Lucy do that for me? I only met her once.”

“Yeah, Y/N, why would someone claim someone they just met?” I teased, getting a gentle elbow to the ribs for it. “Maybe she felt sorry for your pathetic ass.”

“She’s a kind person,” Y/N said, running her hand through his hair. “Take it slow. Take her on a date when you’re up for it. You don’t have to commit to anything more than that right now.”

“Well tell her thank you for me. I’m sure I’ll see her soon.” I slowly turned Y/N, letting her give him a half hug before he was shooing her outside. We got no more than five steps down the hall before she dropped her head, shoulders shaking again.

“I know, I know,” I murmured, pulling her against my chest, her face burying into my jacket. “Before you start spiraling, I’m going to ask you something and I need an honest answer. Did you blame Tim for not protecting you when Hunter came at you? When he went primal and attacked you?”

“No, never,” she said, inhaling deeply. “But I’m scared of how far I went with Jenny, how far I would have went. Beau, I was going to kill her. My parents are evil. What if I am too?”

“Y/N, Jenny came to that house to kill you and Tim. A primal Alpha attacked the two of you. Let me repeat that. A primal Alpha attacked you. Even if you had killed her, no jury in the world would call what you did anything other than self-defense.” Her shoulders remained tense up though, her face hidden away. Okay, different tactic. “Do you know why Lucy called Jenny?”

“What does-”

“No, you don’t,” I said, pushing her body back, grasping her by the arms. “Hoyt is one of Teddy’s primal Alphas. I don’t know details, it’s in a book back at the Marshals office but she was just like Hunter. It is incredibly likely that she has hurt, has killed, before. You have no idea the kind of danger you were in. Hell, she could have called Teddy. The only reason you might be alive, you and Tim both, is because you weren’t going down without a fight. Breaking someone’s leg with a baseball bat does not make you evil. You know damn well Tim or I would have done much worse.”

She closed her eyes, offering a small nod of her head. “It’s…it’s just been a really long day.”

“Then let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

Y/N POV

“Knock knock.” You stood in your bathroom at the townhouse, bloody clothes in a pool by your feet. Beau popped his head inside, catching your gaze in the mirror. “Is it okay if I come in?”

You nodded, glancing down to your blood soaked bra and underwear. It’d long since dried but you couldn’t shake the feeling of hot, dark liquid seeping down your back and chest as you dragged Tim through your parents house into your car. 

“Tim’s quite lucky to have you,” Beau said quietly, moving around behind you to turn the shower on, testing the water for a moment. He shook his hand off, standing beside you with a sad smile. “You could think of today as the day he almost died. Or you can think of it as the day your stubborn as hell brother learned that there’s people in his world that’ll protect him too. For a man like him, I think that’s quite a comfort to him.”

“When does the wisdom thing kick in?” you said quietly, letting a tired smile onto your face.

“I’d say it’s age but therapy helps,” he said, taking you in. “I didn’t mean to come in and sneak a peak or anything. I just wanted to check on you since I hadn’t heard the shower yet.”

“Would you help me wash up?” He smiled, kissing your forehead. 

“I’ll be right there.” You stepped under the hot shower spray, watching from the other side of the glass as Beau undressed. He left the room, returning with a bag to toss both of your bloody clothes into. He disappeared with it, returning empty handed. You stepped further into the shower when he slid in behind you, your eyes drifting over your shoulder. 

His body was lean but somehow large and muscular at the same time. It felt like he dwarfed over you and you couldn’t help but turn to face him. He pulled you to his chest, his warm embrace steadying you. You looked up, Beau’s face full of kindness and then a light flush when your thigh grazed his cock. You both looked down, your eyes flickering wider for a split second.

“Everything’s bigger in Texas, eh?” He chuckled, resting his hands on the side of your face, tilting your head back slightly. 

“I’m sure it’ll fit,” he teased, flipping a cap on your shampoo. “Turn around for me, omega.”

Your heart fluttered, feet spinning so your back was to him. “Beau.”

“We’re not having sex right now,” he murmured, rubbing the cool liquid into your scalp. “Close your eyes.”

“You’re very naked and you kind of make my brain go haywire when you call me omega. It’s…” You inhaled sharply when he stepped closer, feeling him poke you in the back. 

“I thought we agreed to wait until we could go on a few dates,” he said, dragging the product through your strands. 

“Yeah but that was before you called me omega earlier and ordered me around and Tim almost died and it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to bark at you before. You were panicking and I didn’t know how to calm you down.”

“All I could think of was how it’d feel to have my Alpha finally have me completely which was the brain reset I needed.” You closed your eyes as he washed your hair thoroughly, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. “Why couldn’t I think clearly about getting Tim to help?”

“Because you’d just woken up from being knocked out cold to find him stabbed and you are a human being,” he said quietly. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“I know,” you sighed. Beau spinning you around to face him. He grabbed a bottle, letting the water get your hair while he washed your face and neck, scrubbing every inch. He worked quietly, turning you this way and that every so often as he made his way down your body. 

Slowly you relaxed and enjoyed the caress of his longer fingers over your curves. He wasn’t shy but it wasn’t exactly sensual either. No, this was more about helping you wash away the day and the last remnants of it. 

Finally, finally, the hot water was gone and the two of you were bundled up in towels, standing in your bedroom smelling squeaky clean. Beau pressed up behind you, leaning in and kissing over your bonding gland. Sparks shot up through you, his scent flooding your senses, easing away any lingering thoughts about Teddy or serial killers or baseball bats or Tim’s blood everywhere.

No, you wanted him. Needed him. You needed your Alpha tonight once and for all. 

“Do you want to mate, Beau?” you whispered, his lips hesitating only a split moment. A sting of rejection was ready to overcome you but his hands on your waist gave a firm squeeze before slipping the towel away from your body.

“Tell me what you need, Omega,” he murmured, your eyes fluttering closed, his hands stopping on your ribs, suddenly yanking you back against his chest. “What’s your instinct telling you?”

“I want to watch you,” you breathed, Beau nuzzling further into your neck. “Alpha, I need…”

“I’ll make it better,” he said softly. A moment later you were on the bed, sitting in Beau’s lap facing him, his mouth capturing yours in a teasingly slow kiss. You wanted more, wanted his knot, wanted him to bite you in your bonding gland all over again. He started to shush you when you whined, Beau slipping a finger down your chest and lower still. “Patience.”

“I’ve been patient for weeks. I want you.” He chuckled, resuming his slow kiss, teasing his finger up and down your skin but never dipping between your folds like you wanted. “Beau…”

“Trust me. I got you.”

So you did. You let him slowly torture you, warm your body from the inside out. It must have been an hour later before he finally was slipping inside you. You slid down on his length, arms wrapped around his shoulders. All the while he kept kissing you, nuzzling you, cuddling you. His thrusts were lazy and easy, nowhere near enough to get either of you off. But that was the point. Suddenly mating shifted and you weren’t there for the orgasm or the knotting. All you wanted was him. His heat. His musky scent. The way his body all around yours made you relax.

There was no end in sight. You weren’t sure you’d ever just…played in bed like this before. He was so present, so into you, your mind was spinning. You were just so…happy. Without a word to each other, your hips started to move a little faster, a little more in time, rocking back and forth on a slow build up. God you were so fucking hot, in desperate need of more of him. The friction grew more, Beau’s grip tightening. So much faster, hotter. It felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Beau turned your cheek to face him, both of you beyond words, panting hard as you rode him, your bodies flush and pressed tight to one another. You were close, both oh so close. His knot slipped inside you once more and didn’t come out, your jaw dropping. Beau leaned in, snapping his hips hard and you saw stars. 

You screamed into his shoulder as he bit your bonding gland again, hips moving of this own accord. He growled, forcing you both through it as he came, your own teeth gently biting down on his skin. Not enough to break but he’d be bearing a mark for a few days.

Finally, you were both shaking, Beau’s lips pulled away from soothing your sore bond. You watched one another with hazy eyes, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. He carefully laid you both down on your sides, your bodies intertwined, Beau letting you use his arm as a pillow.

“I do good?” he whispered so quietly you barely heard. You grinned, kissing his cheek. “Rest now, Omega. You earned it.”

Beau POV

“Arlen,” said Tim as I slipped out of Y/N’s bedroom. I gave him a nod from where he sat at a kitchen counter, eating a taco out of an unlabeled container. “Want some? Lucy got me way too much.”

“I haven’t eaten all day,” I said, sliding onto the lone stool beside him, digging into a bean burrito. “Where is Wilde anyways?” 

“She was headed back to her parents place. By the time we got it all sorted about the claiming me thing dealt with, I was ready for discharge. She drove me to a pharmacy, got me some antibiotics, picked up an assload of Mexican food and then dropped me off here.” He took a big bite, chewing for a few moments before swallowing. “Well, she walked me up to the door, told me to shower, eat, and go to bed.”

“She coming back in the morning?”

“Well her flight back to Helena is tomorrow early so I told her I was fine and we’d figure out the whole claiming thing in Montana.” He made a face and I grinned.

“How’d that work out telling the new mate all that?”

He shrugged, a smile in it. “She cancelled her flight, told me I was a moron and said she would be by in the morning with food and to help pack and that we would be travelling back to Helena together where upon which I will rest or she’ll allow Y/N to beat my ass with a baseball bat.” 

“Wow.”

He took another bite, cocking his head. “Yeah. I may be wrong but I’m pretty sure Lucy’s my true mate.”

I choked on the burrito in my mouth, Tim patting my back hard until I could swallow it down. I shook my head, Tim reaching for a quesadilla slice. “I’m sorry, did you just say Lucy Wilde is your true mate? No offense but you don’t give off hopeless romantic vibes.”

“First off, I am an amazing boyfriend, Arlen. Just ask Y/N and she’ll tell you how romantic I am with my women. Second, I mean, yeah, they say you don’t know until you do the deed but yeah, pretty sure it’s her. She’s just like…you know?” I stared at him, Tim rolling his eyes. “What? You get so tired of looking at ugly in the mirror all the time Beau you can’t help but look at this? I mean Y/N finds your face not revolting but I’ve always questioned that girl’s vision-”

“You don’t believe in true mates,” I interrupted, pointing a burrito at him. “You told Y/N they were stupid and-”

“And you know what?” he said, turning his body to face mine. “Lucy didn’t hesitate. In that warehouse in Montana? She didn’t hesitate. When you guys realized Jenny was on team evil? She didn’t hesitate. When I was about to die in that hospital room? She didn’t hesitate. Why the hell would a nice, normal, beautiful woman like that want a middle aged, in desperate need of therapy, guy like me? Because she’s my true mate. There’s no other explanation. I mean, you and Y/N didn’t hesitate to do shit for each other either.””

“Okay,” I said, taking a large bite. “Maybe that’s why Lucy did all of it. Or maybe she’s just a good person and sees behind this layer of asshole tough guy to the real you.” 

“That’s a dumb theory.” 

“You’re dumb,” I shot back, Tim’s nose twitching up, his eyes narrowing.

“You and Y/N mated mated, didn’t you.” I shrugged, wolfing down a steak taco in two bites. “I’ve always hated all her boyfriends. She has a bad habit of dating morons.”

“You calling me a moron?” I asked, finishing off my burrito. He grazed his knuckles over his healing bonding gland, biting his bottom lip.

“...Do you know after doing it? Are you her true mate?” he asked quietly. I sighed, wiping off my hands.

“I am her Alpha and she is my omega. She’s my girlfriend and she can break up with me tomorrow if that suits her. True mates? All I know is I was mated once before and I loved that woman. Part of me will always love her. But Y/N fills in a gap I didn’t know I had. I don’t know what being with your true mate feels like, but I do know what it’s like to be with Y/N. Today was an awful day and I was terrified when I realized Hoyt was with the two of you. But Y/N made my soul lighter today and I don’t think anyone else could have done that.” He watched me carefully, waiting for my smirk. “...And you don’t know for sure until you have a rut same time she has a heat but I’ll just say I have high hopes for us.”

“I felt lighter too after Lucy bit me,” he mumbled.

“I could tell. You didn’t look constipated for once.” He punched me in the arm, dodging when I went to smack the back of his head. 

“Behave boys,” a tired voice came from behind us. Y/N wrapped her arms around my chest, hugging my back tight, her head resting gently on my shoulder. “You got Maria’s and didn’t tell me?”

“Cause you always hog the birria,” Tim said as Y/N used one hand to slide over to my plate and pick up a taco. “Oh, let your man eat in peace.”

“Alright,” she sighed, setting the taco down. She kissed my cheek and turned, a quick grin on her face before she snatched the taco straight off Tim’s plate and dashed to the other side of the kitchen, shoving the whole thing in her face in one bite. 

“You proud of yourself?” Tim deadpanned, Y/N nodding as she struggled to chew. She put a hand over her mouth, Tim rolling his eyes as I gave him the one from my plate. “I don’t want your pity taco, Arlen.”

“Don’t you?” I asked as he was already taking a bite. “That’s what I thought.”

“You better have good Mexican in Bumfuck, Montana,” he said with his mouth full.

“It’s the capital of the state, moron,” shot back Y/N, Tim flipping her the bird. 

“Glad to see you two back to your usual selves,” I said, patting my lap. Y/N padded over, slipping up onto my thigh. A sleepy smile formed on her lips, my arm around her waist keeping her secure. She smelled tense though, her arms loosely wrapping around my shoulders. “You okay, ‘mega?”

She shrugged. “I’m kind of scared Teddy will come after us. Lucy killed Hunter. Jenny’s going to jail because I caught her. We fucked up his protegés and we know he knows how to make more. Beau, I can’t let Emily get hurt because of me.” 

“Sweetheart,” I said softly, her head laying on my shoulder again, eyes closing tight. “None of this is your fault.”

“But he’ll come after her. He will and I won’t let Emily pay the price for me,” she said, my own eyes closing, tucking her under my chin. She wasn’t wrong. A man who killed and tortured omegas for fun wasn’t about to let us go live in peace.

“I’ll watch Emily,” said Tim. I lifted my head the same time Y/N did, both of us turning to look at Tim. He wiped off his hands, tossing his napkin down. “I’m not working right now and I need to do something besides sit on my ass in Montana. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Tim, who knows if we ever find Teddy,” I said, shaking my head. “You just spent the past year protecting Y/N. I’m not making you do that to my daughter too.”

“You’re not making me do anything,” he said, pausing a beat, glancing at Y/N. “You two can pretend you’re just dating all you want but I see you. At the hospital. When Beau got shot in that warehouse. He’s your soulmate and your his. I’d bet my left nut you’re true mates. Someday you’ll make it official but until then, I am going to protect my un-official niece.”

“Tim, you’re not a human meat shield. Your life matters,” Y/N snapped, her whole body rigid against mine. I could feel the wave of anger pouring off of her, a harsh argument ready to unfurl past those soft lips. Tim only smiled at her though, putting a hand on her cheek and kissing her forehead. “Don’t do that. I’m trying to have a serious conversation about how you always think you’re expendable.”

“Of course my life matters. But I will go Ellen Ripley on anyone who messes with my family and that’s not just you anymore. Okay?” Y/N tucked her chin down, nodding against my shoulder. She was still, Tim smiling before he looked up at me. 

“She fall asleep?” I whispered, Tim nodding. “How’d she do that so fast?”

“Oh buddy,” he chuckled, raising his eyebrows. “You guys just mated for the first time, right? Surprised she woke up at all. Probably smelled you and conked back out.”

“She’s not wrong about Teddy.” He hummed, getting up with a wince, tossing the trash into a bag. “You don’t have to be Emily’s bodyguard. I have officers I can assign. I’m sure you want to get settled into your guys new place, figure things out with Lucy, look at jobs.”

“Beau.” He popped a pill from a prescription bottle into his mouth and swallowed, leaning against the counter top when he finished. “Before this sleep medication kicks in and knocks me out for the next eight hours, let me make this clear. I’m doing this because I want to. Okay?”

“Okay,” I relented. I secured Y/N, soft snores escaping her as I rose. I took a step away from the kitchen, Tim tidying up before going to a closed door nearby. “Barclay.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you sooner. The only reason we’re all alive is because of how smart and strong Y/N is and I know that you are a big part of that. I appreciate that Emily will have an uncle nearby that will show her those things too.” Tim looked away, taking deep breaths. “Y/N’s right you know. Your life matters and I hope you do all of that with Lucy and us.”

“Y/N said I have to go to Thanksgiving at your parents,” he said quietly, not quite looking at me. 

“Yup. Offer’s extended to Lucy as well now naturally. Talk it over with her in the morning with her parents.”

“I uh, think we’ll be taking it slow so probably won’t have her there.” I hummed, adjusting Y/N in my arms. 

“Well…get in bed before you pass out too. Night.”

“Night,” he said quietly. I carried Y/N back to her bedroom, tucking her under the covers. 

“I’ll be right back, omega,” I murmured, kissing her once. She nuzzled into it before curling into a ball, mouth slack jawed. “God, you’re adorable.”

I made sure to turn down the heat in the room and headed out to the kitchen, gathering up the trash and bringing it outside to toss in their bin. Back inside, I locked the door, frowning at it. A door Teddy very likely had a key to. I sighed, looking around and spotting a light gray hoodie on the hook by the door. I pulled it on, surprised by the softness of the fleece inside, a definite upgrade from Tim’s basic white cotton tee and blue flannel pajama pants I had on. 

I sent a quick text off to Springs, getting a response that they’d have a two man unit outside within thirty to keep watch for the night. Really I just wanted to crawl into bed with Y/N and burrow my face in my omega’s scent but I’d wait. Tim and Y/N hadn’t packed up anything as of yet it seemed. Blankets were tossed over the back of the couch. Books were on the coffee table. A calendar was still hung to January in the kitchen, scribbles on there about Tim having a intramural hockey game and Y/N going to a play on a Saturday night.

My ears preened when I heard a sharp hiss coming from nearby. Quietly, I cracked the door to Tim’s mostly dark room, a dim light on coming from his dresser in the corner. His back was to me but he wasn’t asleep just yet, his breathing too ragged for that. It felt too cool in his room and I grabbed the large fuzzy gray blanket from the couch, ducking into his room.

“I’m fine, Arlen,” he grumbled. I tossed the blanket over top of him, tucking it in. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I got shot three weeks ago, remember? I know sleeping hurts sometimes,” I said, taking a pillow from the other side of the bed and propping it behind his back. He breathed out slowly, his scent less strained. “Better?”

“Yes, now leave.” I held up my hands, turning his heat on. “Wait.”

I stood by the door, waiting for him to continue. “Teddy might show up tonight.”

“Already on it.” 

“Oh. Good. Well aren’t you supposed to be cuddling my sister or some shit then?”

“Such a romantic,” I chuckled. “Goodnight, old man.”

“Night, shit head.” I shut the door softly and then grabbed a notepad, making quick lists for packing tomorrow while I waited for Springs team to show up. It took longer than I wanted to but eventually they were posted outside and I felt comfortable heading to bed. Y/N was warm under the sheets, her body tucking against mine perfectly as I caught a glimpse of the clock showing it was just after midnight.

Things weren’t suddenly perfect. Teddy was still out there. My officers back home were going to feel bad about not knowing about Hoyt. Pop especially would take it hard. There was a risk Teddy would try to attack Tim and turn him again. A chance he’d go after Lucy and Y/N and Emily. Oh god, Emily was going to hate me all over again for having Tim stick with her all the time. 

And here I thought last year with that glamping mess and Emily’s kidnapping would be the worst thing we went through.

Y/N shifted in her sleep, a soothing calming spark rushing down my spine. I breathed deeply, closing my eyes. Maybe things were screwed up. Maybe they always would be. 

But at least I wasn’t doing it alone anymore. 

___________

A/N: Part 8 coming soon!

[ellswritings]

In My Corner

(Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3), (Part 4), (Part 5), Part 6

Phil Brooks/CM Punk x reader

Colby Lopez/Seth Rollins x reader

TW: Regular wrestling violence and Colby being hella cheeky at the end.

Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling, @scream4mami, @mandmilovehim

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Ay yo sis, where you at?

Y/N smiles to herself at Jonathan’s message to her. She had been running a tad behind all morning and her entire schedule had been thrown off. She’s walking into the Resch Center in Green Bay Wisconsin, a duffel bag with her gear slung over her shoulder. She wasn’t late by any stretch of the means, she’s twenty minutes early actually, but on Y/N time, that’s considered late.

The boys are used to her arriving a solid forty five minutes or so before they even get there. So the fact she’s showing up later than them had alarm bells blaring in their heads.

Y/N sent him a teasing message in response, swinging the back door to the arena open as she starts her journey through the hallways to go and change in the Bloodline locker room. That’s one thing she’ll always be grateful for in being a member of the Bloodline. Having their own space away from everyone else is a Godsend.

Throwing the door to their locker room open, she’s met with three heads turning simultaneously in her direction. There’s a brief pause as Joe, Jonathan, and Joseph stare at her blankly. Y/N stares back, looking between all three of them when Jonathan throws his hands up.

“Well God damn, took you long enough,” he chastised playfully. “Took yo sweet ass time didn’t you?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, throwing a loose towel from her bag at him. “Shut up. I’m literally still early.”

“Nah, this is late for you,” Joseph shakes his head. “Got us all worried you were dead in a ditch or sum.”

She finally throws her duffel down on an empty bench, turning on her heels to face them. She crosses her arms over her chest with a scoff, “Have you both always been this over dramatic? Or did I miss the memo?”

That’s when Joe wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a tight squeeze. “They were just worried ‘bout you, that’s all,” he tells her before kissing the side of her head. “You’re usually the one on our asses to get here so it threw ‘em for a loop. I told ‘em you were fine, but they wanted to see for themselves.”

Y/N tried her hardest to look annoyed, but knowing how protective all of them are over her, it made her heart swell. She rolls her eyes before walking away from Joe and over to the other two. She looks between them, “You can stand down now,” she teases, playfully treating them as dogs. “I’m safe and I'm here.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow to say something snarky, but it dies on his tongue when she pulls him and Joseph in for a hug. He hates that she has that effect. Literally just hugging her released whatever anxiety he had about her being late. Even Trinity would think they were psycho’s for freaking out the way they did. But they can’t help it. There’s a routine, and when that gets thrown off, things feel weird.

Y/N pulls back, moving back to her bag to start getting herself ready. “Have they brought the call sheet by yet?” She asks, briefly looking back before pulling out her gear.

“Paul went to go get it a few minutes ago,” Joe answers. “He should be back in a few.”

“I’m pretty sure we go out first though,” Jon comments. “Thas what they made it seem like when they sent the rough copies of the script.”

“Then we got a backstage segment after that, right?” Y/N asks. “Before you and Randy go out for the main event?”

“Yeah,” Jon nods. “That sounds right.”

Right on cue, Paul Heyman knocks twice before entering the locker room. He notices Y/N, smiling at the woman with a respectful nod. He says nothing about her being later than usual which she appreciates. At least one member here doesn’t feel the need to be an overbearing big brother.

“Good, you’re all here,” he says, papers ruffling in his hands as he shuts the door behind him. It closes with a soft click and they all watch the Wiseman expectantly. Y/N always found it interesting how it always felt like they were still in Kayfabe even when they weren’t live. Paul just always had that way of keeping them in character just by being around.

“I have the updated call sheets, but there have been some additions that involve you all,” he starts handing out each seat the all the members of the faction. Y/N reaches into her bag, pulling out her reading glasses and putting them on. She hears Jon and Joseph snicker from their spot which causes her to throw a pen at them.

She glares, “Y’all better shut up before I break your fingers. You’ll be walking around with two hands full of finger splints and then my glasses won’t be so funny anymore.”

That quiets them up, making Joe start laughing as well. There’s that sharp tongue he loved having around. He knew that if anything were to happen to him, she’d be around to help carry his legacy. To take care of his family. That’s why he wants her here. Why no matter how many times creative tried to change things, he wouldn’t let them take her.

Y/N pauses as she sees her own name on the call sheet, “Wait, I have a match tonight?” She asks, confused. “I thought I was just here for the segments.”

“Apparently since you were a part of Bianca’s group at WarGames, they thought it would up the stakes if you and Bayley were to have a match,” Paul explains with a sympathetic tone of voice. “I know you just competed on Raw, but having all this drama will increase the ratings and keep your name trending online and with the fans.”

“Do they want us to just improvise the whole thing?” Y/N asks confused. “Pam and I haven’t gone over anything for a match since WarGames.”

“We’ve still got about three hours before the arena even opens,” Paul assured her. “They said you guys can use it for as long as you need to work something out. It won’t be for the championship. It’s just something to add to make it more personal. Possibly setting up for a championship match down the line, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“So now I’m having a feud with Nia and Bayley?” Y/N laughs slightly. “Seems like they don’t know what to do with me.”

“I’m sure it’ll intertwine eventually. They’ll let us know the full picture when the time comes. They always do,” Paul nods before looking at the boys. “Other than that, everything else stayed the same. We go out first, do the whole family spiel before getting interrupted. Then the backstage segment where there’s a little tiff between us, and then Jimmy’s match with Randy as the main event. Which we will, of course, run interference along with Knight who will come out in defense of Randy.”

A small grin flickers across Y/N’s face at the mention of Shaun. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her pseudo brother’s, all of them making eye contact before Jonathan decides to voice what they’re all thinking.

Hey caught the flicker of her smile like a hawk locking onto prey.

“Oh nah, nah, hold up—what was that?” he pointed at her like she’d just committed a crime. “That little cheese grin right there. I seen that.”

Y/N didn’t even look up from adjusting the wrist tape she was digging out of her bag. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” he said, grinning as he leaned back dramatically like he was trying to catch her in the act again. “That was yo flirty smile. You heard his name and your mouth forgot how to stay neutral.”

Joseph let out a low whistle. “She was tryna hide it, too. Nah, sis—you was smilin’ hard like you knew somethin’ we don’t.”

Joe raised an eyebrow, arms folded over his chest as he side-eyed her from his corner. “Mmhmm.”

Y/N snorted, tossing a roll of tape at Jon’s chest, which he caught with a laugh.

“Y’all are doing way too much,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I smiled because I like working with him. He’s funny. He sells my shit like it hurts. And he’s fun to mess with out there. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Jon echoed, clearly not buying it as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “That grin looked like you got caught dreamin’ ‘bout him bringin’ you flowers or some shit.”

Y/N gave him the flattest look she could muster. “I’m gonna knock all your braids loose if you don’t shut up.”

Joseph leaned in closer with a teasing smirk. “Bet if Colby was here, he’d have clocked that smile before you even knew it was on your face.”

Joe cut in with a low chuckle. “Yeah he would’ve,” he agrees. “Then he would’ve went out and clocked Shaun.”

“For real,” Joseph added, nodding. “Man would’ve seen that look and gone, ‘Yeah, I’ma go handle somethin’ real quick.’”

Y/N threw her hands in the air. “Colby is not like that.”

“For you?” all three of them said in sync.

Joe was still calm about it, like he was stating a fact. “Nah, Y/N/N, Colby different ‘bout you. We all see it. Has been since the first day you joined the Shield.”

Jon snickered. “He be actin’ chill but the second somebody even breathes too close to you? He’s got that ‘feral dog’ look on his face.”

Joseph leaned back, nodding solemnly. “He’d catch a charge for you.”

Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re all absolutely ridiculous.”

“That’s what family is, girl,” Jon grinned, clapping her shoulder as he passed by. “Annoying as hell but built in protection.”

Joe chuckled under his breath and stood up to grab his hoodie, nodding toward the hallway. “C’mon. Let’s get ready before they come looking for us.”

“Makeup better be on time today,” Joseph muttered as he gathered his gloves and pads.

“Better not be tryna take out my braids,” Jon said, brushing his hair out of his face with exaggerated flair. “They did that last time, I was lookin’ like a bootleg Usher all night.”

Y/N laughed as she headed toward the partition to change into her gear, shaking her head as their voices started to trail off down the hall. But before she could slip into the curtained corner, Paul Heyman’s voice stopped her like a soft echo down a long tunnel.

“Y/N.”

She turned, tugging on her shirt as she faced him. “What’s up, Paul?”

“I won’t keep you long,” Paul said, voice low and almost conspiratorial. “I just wanted to say something before the chaos begins.”

She nodded, curious.

“You’ve always had an instinct most people spend their entire careers trying to fake,” Paul said, folding his hands in front of him. “When you're out there — whether you’re speaking, reacting, wrestling — there’s a presence that can’t be taught. It’s like watching lightning remember it’s thunder.”

Y/N blinked. “Thanks… I think?”

Paul offered a tight-lipped smile. “It’s a compliment, believe me. But what you choose to do with that… that’s what separates good from legendary.”

There was something in his eyes — a flicker of calculation beneath the reverence. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“I just hope,” he continued, “that when the time comes to make decisions for you, and not just for the family… you’ll remember what I said.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly. “Paul, are you trying to Jedi mind trick me right now?”

He chuckled under his breath. “Not at all. I’m simply planting a seed. It’s up to you if you want it to grow.”

With that, he gave her a small nod and stepped away, disappearing down the corridor with his ever-present papers in hand.

Y/N stood there for a beat longer, the quiet echo of his words lingering in her ears. She didn’t know what he meant exactly. But something about it made her spine straighten.

Shrugging it off, she grabbed her phone, shot Pam a text to meet her at the ring, and rolled her neck to shake off the weirdness.

She had a match to make up. And one too many protective brothers to make fun of later.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Pam tied her hair back as she stepped through the ropes, clapping her hands once before stretching her shoulders out.

Both her and Y/N are decked out in their gear for the night. They both decided it would be best if they just got fully ready since planning out their match would probably take up most of their time.

Y/N cracks her knuckles before shaking her limbs out. She bounces back and forth on her feet to keep herself limber so they’re ready for the elaborate sequence of moves they’ll no doubt chain together.

“I can’t believe they handed us this match today,” P huffs, walking closer to her opponent.

Y/N stood in the corner, one foot on the bottom rope as she adjusted her wrist tape. “Yeah. Paul dropped it on me this morning like it was a coffee order.”

Pam scoffed. “And they want us to make it mean something?”

“Apparently. Supposed to feed into a future feud I guess. I’m assuming it’ll be between you, Nia, and I at some point for the title.”

There was a pause, and then they both cracked a grin.

“So…” Pam started, hopping in place, “we’re giving ‘I hate your guts, but I also respect your ring work’?”

Y/N nodded once, stepping toward center ring. “Exactly. We’re keeping it stiff, a little ugly. Like the heat’s been brewing since WarGames. It’ll be after you interfere with Michin and Zelina’s tag match so it’s okay if it looks a little rough.”

“Cool. You want me to jump you before the bell?”

“That’s a given,” Y/N said. “Fans love when you get under my skin. Let’s milk that.”

“Alright.” Pam tilted her head. “Want me to work your leg early? Make it look like I’m trying to take your speed away?”

Y/N considered, then nodded. “Yeah. And I’ll sell it hard at first, limp through the middle, then shake it off toward the end like adrenaline’s kicking in.”

Pam grinned. “We always do dumb shit for the pop.”

“It’s tradition,” Y/N said, her tone dry. “Let’s throw in a fake finish—me hitting the knee strike, you kick out at two and a half.”

“Oh, they’re gonna eat that up.”

They walked through the first few sequences, calling it as they went. Fast and fluid. A little aggressive in motion, but controlled. They knew each other’s rhythms too well to mess up.

“I’ll throw you into the corner,” Y/N said, “but you reverse, hit the running knee, and I collapse in the ropes like I’m out cold.”

“Then I’ll pull you up by your gear and start talking shit in your face.”

Y/N smirked. “Good. Keep it loud enough that the crowd gets mad for me.”

“Always.”

The door to the side entrance creaked open, followed by the familiar click of boots on concrete.

Neither woman looked—yet.

Then Pam muttered under her breath, “Don’t look now, but Loverboy’s here.”

Y/N glanced sideways. Shaun stood near the barricade, arms crossed, a bottle of water in his hand. He didn’t say anything. Just watched with that half-smirk he wore like it was tailored for his face.

Y/N rolled her eyes and kept moving. “Ignore him. He probably just got lost looking for catering.”

Pam laughed. “Uh-huh. And just happened to wander into your rehearsal?”

They ran a strike exchange—Y/N blocking a punch, spinning into a forearm that tapped Pam just enough to make her stumble.

Pam exaggerated the bump, flopping on the mat with a groan. “Damn. You really are annoyed.”

“You talk a lot of shit as Bayley,” Y/N called down to her, loud enough for Shaun to hear. “I’m just trying to get in character.”

Pam snorted, sitting up. “Sure you are.”

Y/N turned toward Shaun then, finally acknowledging him. “You lost, Ricker?”

He leaned on the apron, casual. “Nah. Heard there was a clinic happening in here. Thought I’d audit.”

“You taking notes?”

“Always.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but turns back to Pam. The two of them run through a couple more sequences, before deciding where the end of the match should be. The result is supposed to end in a win on Y/N’s part so they decided she could hit whatever big move she wanted to end the match.

Pam rolled her shoulders as they circled again. “Let’s run the finish one more time. Clean this time.”

Y/N nodded. “Set me up off the ropes, I’ll reverse into the spin kick, fake the stumble—then boom, finisher.”

“Cool. Let’s make it snug. People should gasp when you hit it.”

Pam charged, Y/N ducked under, hit the ropes, rebounded—Pam caught her in a short-arm clothesline attempt, but Y/N twisted under, landed behind, and—

BAM.

That signature snap echoed through the empty arena as Y/N’s finisher — a modified elevated facebuster with a back hook leg sweep — drove Pam clean into the mat.

A beat of silence followed.

Then Pam groaned, still face-down. “Goddamn, I bet that looked sick.”

Y/N grinned and helped her up. “You sold the hell out of it. If we nail the setup with the crowd hot, they’ll lose it.”

Pam pulled her into a quick hug. “You got a name for that move yet?”

“I call it Lights Out.”

Pam smirked. “Fitting. ‘Cause I saw none of that coming.”

They both laughed as they stepped through the ropes and hopped down to the floor. Pam grabbed a towel, tossing one to Y/N who caught it and wiped her face.

“That’s it then?” Pam asked. “We got it down?”

Y/N nodded. “We’re locked in. Good timing too—my lungs were about to give out.”

Pam chuckled and patted her shoulder. “You killed it. You always do.”

She headed off toward her locker, but before Y/N could follow, a voice called out behind her.

“Yo.”

She turned to see Shaun still leaning on the barricade, still watching like he owned the air around him.

“You ain’t even gonna say goodbye?”

Y/N cocked her head. “You were lurking like a weirdo the whole time and now you wanna talk?”

Shaun smirked, walking toward the ring. “Just waitin’ for your little girlboss moment to wrap. Didn’t wanna steal your spotlight.”

“Oh, how noble of you,” she said, grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip. “You here to give me notes?”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “Just came to confirm what I already knew.”

“And what’s that?”

He stepped in close enough for her to hear the subtle drawl drop in his voice. “That you’re a damn weapon in that ring.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Because I hit Pam with a move I invented two weeks ago?”

“No,” he said. “Because you smile after.”

She let out a quiet scoff. “Maybe I just like hurting people.”

“Even better.”

They locked eyes for a long second. It wasn’t a stare-down. It wasn’t flirtatious in a cheesy way either. It was that weird, magnetic tension that didn’t need words to thrum in the air.

“You always this nosy?” she asked, lifting one brow as she stepped back a bit.

Shaun tilted his head. “Only when it’s worth it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Well keep hovering and your pretty face might end up on the business end of a fist.”

“I know, I know…” he says with a smug grin. “Your little boyfriend would be on my ass if he caught me talkin’ to you like this.” His laugh echoed behind her. “I gotta admit though, he’s got good taste. I’d fight for it too.”

Y/N couldn’t stop smiling, “He’s not my boyfriend,” she clarifies.

Shaun quirks a brow, “Does he know that?”

Y/N stares at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes flicker over his face before she reaches up, dusting off fake particles from his shirt. Shaun watches her, his pupils dilating as she playfully grazes his chest.

She loves her games.

And almost like she never even came up to him, Y/N takes a step back and turns. “I’ll talk to you later, Shaun.”

She made her way back toward the Bloodline’s locker room, towel slung over her shoulder, adrenaline still humming low in her veins. She wasn’t about to entertain Knight — not seriously.

But that look in his eye?

Yeah. It made things interesting.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Standing in Gorilla, Y/N sucks in a deep breath as she finishes getting herself into character. Joe, Joseph, and Jonathan are standing a few steps ahead of her with Paul flanking Roman’s side. Her title is slung over her shoulder, having always carried it on her own. Normally Roman has Paul carrying his, but Y/N never wanted anyone else to hold it besides her. She earned it, so she bears the weight of it.

She listens as the crowd screams at the top of their lungs for the intro to the show. They are officially live in Wisconsin. The sound guy nods over to the Bloodline as he hits Roman’s entrance music.

The pop is insane. It always is in every city, especially when Roman opens up the show. It’s rare, but it happens sometimes. Since his most recent issue is with Randy Orton, there’s going to be a lot of different things Roman does to keep the story interesting.

As soon as they walk out from backstage, they are met with thousands of one’s held up in the air, along with a handful of boos. The entire stadium is on their feet, acknowledging their Tribal Chief. Y/S/N smirks confidently as the group strides up to the ring, a certain cockiness glowing from within all of them.

However, as Y/S/N glances to the side, she notices a little girl in the front row with her father. She has her exact championship draped over her shoulder and her hair is styled in the exact same way Y/N usually does hers. Her heart warms when she notices the girl is completely decked out in her merch.

It’s moments like this that make it hard to stay in character. If she wasn’t with the rest of the Bloodline, she would not have hesitated to reach out and take a picture with that little girl. Y/S/N watches as she takes her title off with a small glint of hope in her eyes, and she holds it out into the walkway with a sharpie in her hand.

Y/N can feel herself slipping out of Y/S/N’s mindset. But seeing this young girl look so hopeful, she couldn’t crush that for her. So as the boys stop mid-walkway to raise their own fingers up before the pyro goes off, Y/N stops in front of the young girl.

She grabs the sharpie, quickly popping the top off to sign the title. The girl gasps loudly, clearly not having expected her favorite wrestler to stop. Even her father looks shocked. As a character, Y/S/N doesn’t do this often, but she could make an exception.

Y/N winks, patting the title, “Looks good on you. Don’t let anyone take it from you, okay? You fight for it.”

She nods rapidly, “I will! Just like you!”

Y/N gives her a nod of respect, fighting off the smile that threatens to spread across her lips. She simply turns her nose back up in the air and joins the rest of her faction as they continue down the ramp.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… special counsel, the Wiseman Paul Heyman, Solo Sikoa, Jimmy Uso, and the Undisputed WWE Universal men and women’s Champions… Y/S/N and Roman Reigns!!!”

Roman rubs his hands together as Y/N keeps that smug expression she wears so well. She hoists her title up further on her shoulder, not bothering to look at any more audience members. She can’t afford another break in character. She does have a reputation to protect.

Despite the amount of people reaching out to get so much as a high five, no one from the Bloodline gives in. Once they reach the outside of the ring, Paul does his signature bow for Roman as the rest of them climb in behind him. Y/N follows directly behind her Tribal Chief, followed by Jimmy and then Solo.

They can barely hear the commentary team as Y/N and Roman take one step forward, raising their titles in the air as the pyro goes off again. His music slowly dies off and that’s when they hear the mix of boos and cheers more clearly. There’s a couple of “Yeets” thrown around in there, the crowd showing their undying love for Jey Uso, who Y/N could not be happier for.

Solo stands stoically, Y/N in between him and Roman while Jimmy is on Roman’s other side with Paul next to him. The Head of the Table glances around the packed stadium, a slight look of disdain on his face as sounds of disapproval are thrown their way.

One of the stagehands had handed Paul a microphone. He waits patiently for Roman to ask for it. The Reigning champion sticks his hand out and Paul wastes no time in handing it to him, shouting his own praises about his Tribal Chief.

There’s a brief pause before he raises the microphone to his lips, “Green Bay!” He screams, exciting the audience with his booming voice. “Acknowledge me,” he demands.

The crowd raises their fingers in the air, Jimmy, Solo, and Y/S/N doing the same. Roman soaks in the reaction before walking over to the left side of the ring, “Alright, alright… Shut your mouths now.”

The crowd reacts negatively, their voices drowning out any coherent thought. Roman smirks, “I wouldn’t have had to done that if you woulda kept the boos down.”

The crowd replies by booing louder. Roman simply laughs mockingly, Jimmy and Solo mean mugging the audience. Y/S/N tilts her head, glancing around with a small chuckle. “Come on,” Roman coaxes, “It’s the Christmas season. It’s the holiday’s, man. I’m here to celebrate.” That earns a more positive reaction. Everyone loves Christmas. “It’s promotion season, y’all!”

Jimmy nods excitedly, Y/S/N’s eyes never leaving Roman’s figure as he continues pacing. She tilts her head, wondering who exactly he could be promoting. Of course, Y/N read the script so she knows what’s coming, but Y/S/N has no idea.

Roman continues, “Because I’m a good boss. I’m a fair Tribal Chief. When someone’s doing good, we let ‘em know.”

Jimmy smiles widely, more than confident he’s the one about to receive his older cousin’s praise. Y/S/N furrows her eyebrows, hip jutting out to the side. Solo stands at attention like he always does, ready to do whatever Roman commands him to do.

“Then when somebody’s doing bad. We smash ‘em. But that’s not tonight, y’know what I mean?” He chuckles as some people cheer at his words. “So tonight it’s about one man. This man has bent over backwards. He sacrificed everything you can imagine over the past year or so. This man understands what representing our family means. This man understands what it’s like to keep this family at the top of the mountain.”

That’s when the “WHAT” chants begin. Y/S/N frowns at Roman’s monologue. Not that she desired or needed Roman’s validation to know her worth, but it would’ve been nice to get some recognition for what she’s done for the family too. The camera zooms in on her face, catching her confusion and frustration. That’s definitely going to be analyzed all over the internet later.

Which means she did her job perfectly.

“And God forbid, if anything happens to me, this is the man that’s going to step up. He’s the next in line.” Roman turns as if he’s going to talk to Jimmy. There’s a pause and the audience immediately takes that as an opportunity to start chanting for the Viper.

Roman’s face falls, his anger growing. “No, this ain’t for Randy Orton.” He says disgustedly. “No. Hell no! This man is going to be responsible for this Bloodline. This is the next Tribal Heir. The next Tribal Chief.”

Jimmy starts taking off his jacket, getting ready to be inaugurated as the next in line. Y/S/N hopes that for his sake that Roman is actually talking about him. “Jimmy!” Roman calls to his cousin, the man taking a step forward to stand next to the current Chief. “Join me in congratulating your brother.”

Y/S/N closes her eyes, exhaling dramatically. Jimmy’s smile is immediately wiped off his face as Roman rips away all his hopes of being the next face of the Bloodline.

“Solo.”

Y/S/N steps aside as Roman goes to hug his younger cousin. She walks over to Jimmy who is very clearly trying to hide how angry and lost he is about why he wasn’t the one chosen. Y/S/N places a hand on his arm as she watches on with her own opinions written very clearly on her face.

This was wrong.

And the audience could see that clearly on the other two Bloodline members. The seeds of destruction were officially being sewed between them. The rift was forming right in front of the audience’s eyes. The fallout of the Bloodline was officially underway.

“And so now you see–”

Suddenly Roman is cut off with the music to “Voices.” All of their heads turn towards the entrance way to the ramp and out comes Randy Orton himself. He’s very clearly on a mission, his face only expressing his own self-assurance. His top half is adorned with his own merch t-shirt, the white fabric clinging to his muscles like a second skin. His black pants doing the same for his legs, his ginormous thighs practically bulging out of them. He puts a hand up to his ears, encouraging the audience to sing louder for him.

He menacingly walks towards the ring, taking a microphone of his own. Y/S/N stands beside Roman, the rest of the Bloodline getting into formation behind them. Y/S/N’s championship glistens under the light as it sits front and center with her. Randy looks on at the group of five as the audience continues to chant his name.

“For eighteen months, I have been thinking about this moment right here. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do. I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to say.” He takes a few steps, gesturing with his hands before turning back to them. “But you know what, Roman? The only thing I really need to say to you…” He grows closer and closer, showing how he truly is not intimidated in the slightest. “Is that I’m coming for ya.”

Roman narrows his eyes, but there is a brief flicker of concern that crosses him. He shakes his head in disbelief, not believing that anyone could dethrone him.

“You took eighteen months from me. So I am going to take everything away from you. And I don’t care which one of your family members, or little goons I have to go through to get the job done. The fact of the matter is this Big Dog.”

Y/S/N’s eyes widen at the mention of Roman’s old persona from their Shield days. Roman clearly picked up on it as well, his lip twitching in irritation as all those memories came flooding back.

“It starts tonight. It ends at the Royal Rumble. Because I am challenging you, Roman Reigns, for the WWE Championship!” Randy declares with a finality that would make it hard for even the best of lawyers to argue with him.

The crowd cheers loudly, chanting his name in agreement. They want the Viper to be the one holding the title. Randy encourages them to continue chanting for him, but Roman won’t go down without a fight.

“By the sound of the fans, it sounds like you deserve it,” Roman says. The crowd shouts in agreement. “But hold on, hold on. What’d you say, eighteen months you’ve been thinking about this?” Randy nods as Roman shrugs, “Well, I haven’t thought about you at all.” He and Paul Heyman laugh at the fact. “You’ve been gone for eighteen months, you haven’t done anything to earn this opportunity. Therefore, you don’t deserve this opportunity. Therefore, you can go to the back of the line where you belong.”

Roman shakes his head when he hears everyone being unhappy with his response. “Listen, this is crazy. You just– Everybody wants to get down with the Tribal Chief, and they think they’re just going to show up and get the opportunity. That’s not how it works. No, no. So why don’t you go ahead and do what you do?” He takes a mocking step toward Randy, “Tap into that big dumb head of yours. And why don’t you listen to those voices that are going off?” His tone is so condescending that Y/S/N was surprised Randy hadn’t tried to RKO him at this point.

“It ain’t 2007 anymore. I’m levels above you and everybody else,” Roman states confidently as Paul holds up his title proudly. “Those voices in your head, they’re telling you right now, ‘get out of the ring, Randy. Run. Leave this man alone. Do not disrespect your Tribal Chief.’ Listen to them.” Roman advises. “Because if you have a match with me, it ain’t going to be an eighteen month vacation. Understand me? It’s just retirement. You ain’t ever coming back.”

Randy shakes his head, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He leans on the ropes, “You know what? You know what? Maybe you’re right. You know, I’m looking into the eyes of the Tribal Chief, and I can see that you have changed. For the better. For the better you have evolved, for the better you are no longer just a historical champion. You, sir, are a legend.”

Roman nods, his own smirk forming. But Y/S/N could sense the “but” coming in that statement from a mile away, especially when Randy started smiling. “Now, I’ve changed too. I’ve changed too. I have evolved. But the one thing Randy Orton will always and forever be…” his eyes darken menacingly as he leans into the mic, “is a legend killer.”

Roman clenched his fists tightly as the crowd becomes louder, all in support of Randy. The two men stare at each other, the tension increasing with every passing second. Y/N waits for her cue, and when she sees Randy’s eyes flicker towards her for a brief second, she readies herself.

The Viper jumps forward, pouncing to try and RKO Roman, but Y/S/N intercepts it. She quickly gets in the middle, pushing Randy away as Roman stumbles backwards. The latter falls down at the edge of the ring, Randy smirking at Y/SN as he crouches down.

Randy stays crouched for a beat longer, eyes flicking up toward Y/S/N with a knowing smirk.

“And speaking of legends…” Randy stands tall again, casually adjusting the mic in his hand. “I gotta say, Chief—” he says the title like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, “—you might be holding that men’s title hostage, but at least somebody in this little family knows how to defend one.”

That gets a reaction.

The crowd pops—a mix of laughter, surprise, and full-throated support for Y/S/N.

Roman’s head slowly turns toward her. That trademark tick in his jaw twitches. Paul Heyman immediately shifts his weight, almost stepping forward like he’s about to speak, but thinks better of it.

Y/S/N’s expression doesn’t change. Still smug. Still composed. But her posture stiffens just slightly as Randy keeps going.

“Yeah, I said it,” he nods toward the audience, “She shows up. She fights. She defends her title.” He glances back at Roman. “You? You show up twice a month to breathe into a microphone and call it domination.”

The crowd starts chanting again—louder this time.

“Y/S/N! Y/S/N! Y/S/N!”

She glances to the left, then right, barely acknowledging it. She doesn’t need to. The reaction speaks volumes. Even Solo blinks at the sudden shift, while Jimmy casts a sidelong glance toward Roman like he’s unsure whether to smirk or keep it pushing.

Roman lowers his mic slowly. His nostrils flare. Y/S/N doesn’t meet his gaze, instead staring dead ahead at Randy.

“You don’t like that, do you?” Randy says, taking a step closer to the ropes, eyes on Roman but nodding toward her. “That the fans are chanting her name instead of yours?”

Roman moves like he’s about to speak—but Randy cuts him off again.

“It’s gotta burn a little, knowing your own right hand woman’s got more respect in her pinky finger than you got left in your entire reign.”

The crowd goes nuts. Jimmy tries to mask a grin behind his hand. Solo stays unreadable. Paul looks like he’s about to pass out.

Y/S/N remains still, jaw tight, the only movement coming from her thumb lightly tapping the plate of her championship belt like a tick—a small tell.

“And you know, you say you haven’t been thinking about me, man. Maybe you should start thinking about me.” He looks off to the side, placing a finger to his temple. “Hold on, I’m getting something right now from the voices in my head.” He nods, mumbling to himself to really emphasize his point. “You know what they say, you know what they’re telling me? The voices just told me that Roman, you might have just crapped your pants.”

Y/N forces herself to bite the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing. She didn’t remember reading that in the script, but it works. It takes everything in her not to react to the man. Randy notices her holding back a smirk and it only eggs him on more.

“And there’s one more thing that they also said, and I’ll leave you with this.” He turns, face completely stoic as he deadpans.

“Daddy’s back.”

The crowd goes wild as Randy exits the ring, leaving the Bloodline completely shaken in the ring. Roman grabs his title from Paul, raising it in the air as he continues screaming at Randy’s retreating figure. Y/S/N stays glued to her spot, not knowing how to react or what to say to The Viper’s words. She didn’t know how to bring Roman down from the cliff he was about to jump off of. And the hardest part about all of this is that—

Randy wasn’t wrong.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N leaned back against one of the catering tables, one hip propped as she stabbed another piece of watermelon with a plastic fork. She wasn’t really hungry, but pretending to be occupied was better than awkwardly lurking near the men’s locker room door like an overeager rookie.

Her title belt rested on the table beside her plate, gleaming under the harsh backstage lights. Every few seconds, she’d glance at the digital clock above the catering line. Joe had told her ten minutes before the backstage segment needed to be filmed, but she’d learned by now that Joe’s ten minutes could mean twenty if Paul Heyman got going.

She took another slow bite of watermelon, eyes drifting to one of the nearby monitors playing a highlight reel of the night so far. Her own face flickered across the screen for half a second — that trademark smug expression locked firmly in place — and she huffed out a humorless laugh.

“You know,” came a dry, familiar voice from behind her, “if you stare at yourself on that screen any longer, you’re gonna fall in love with your own reflection.”

She didn’t have to look to know it was Kevin Steen — or, as the WWE Universe insisted on calling him, Kevin Owens. She did turn, though, just in time to catch him nudging her belt aside so he could set down his steaming cup of coffee.

“Kevin.” She gave him a lazy grin, fork still dangling between her fingers. “You’re here to ruin my snack break?”

“I’m here because catering has the only halfway decent coffee in this building,” he said, then tilted his head down at her plate. “Also, what’s with you and melon lately? Didn’t you used to survive on protein shakes and bad catering pasta?”

She shrugged, popping another piece in her mouth. “Trying to be healthy. Champion’s diet. You wouldn’t understand.”

He raised an eyebrow, then gestured dramatically at his bandaged hand. “Oh yeah? ‘Cause this right here is peak physical conditioning.”

She laughed softly, reaching out to flick the edge of his brace with her finger. “How’s the hand, genius?”

Kevin grimaced but didn’t move his hand away. “Hurts like hell. Doc says I shouldn’t be punching people yet. So naturally, tonight I’m going to punch Austin Theory as many times as possible.”

Y/N barked out a laugh, loud enough that a couple of crew members looked over. She didn’t care. She needed this — this small bubble of normalcy.

“I swear, your brain cells are still somewhere on vacation with Rami.”

“Hey now, don’t bring Rami into this. I have one working hand, that’s all I need to powerbomb that twerp back into 2022.”

She snorted. “You better be careful, or Joe’s gonna think you’re aiming for his next challenger spot after Orton.”

Kevin gave her a pointed look, then glanced at the belt beside her. “Yeah? Well, maybe I should just come for yours instead. You defend it more than he does, anyway. At least I’d get to actually wrestle.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the crooked smile tugging at her lips. “Please. You couldn’t handle this gold, Steen. Too heavy for your glass bones and paper skin.”

“Oh wow, that’s rich coming from you. It’s a miracle you even have muscles since all you eat anymore is apparently fruit.” He chastises teasingly before pointing his good finger at her. “You know, you’re lucky I like you. And that you’re about to babysit SmackDown’s royal family. Otherwise I’d challenge you right now — injured hand and all.”

She leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “You know what? I’d still beat you. One-handed Kevin Owens versus fully-functioning me? No contest.”

Kevin looked offended for all of half a second before he burst out laughing. It echoed through catering, a bright sound against the hum of backstage chaos.

He nudged her shoulder lightly with his good arm. “Seriously though… you good? I know you got that segment coming up. I can’t imagine what they’ve got to say. Especially after Randy went off script.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to the hallway leading to the locker room. She felt the smile soften, just a fraction.

“I’m good. For now. Just gotta go play loyal soldier a little longer.”

Kevin sipped his coffee, eyeing her the way only a real friend does. “Well. If you ever get tired of the Tribal Drama, you know where to find me. We can start our own Bloodline. Only rules are: no crowns, no finger-pointing, and mandatory snacks.”

She laughed again, then bumped her title belt against his hip playfully. “Deal. Now go tape up that sad excuse for a hand before you get embarrassed by Theory.”

Kevin raised his coffee in a mock salute. “Yes, Your Majesty. Reign responsibly.”

She watched him go, the grin lingering even as she turned back to the clock. Ten more minutes, maybe fifteen now. Then back into the wolf’s den — but at least she’d had this.

A small reminder that somewhere between all the lies and the gold and the Bloodline… she was still Y/N. And that was enough.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N stands next to Solo, leaning against the counter behind them as Joe and Jon take up the couch, Heyman on a chair behind the couch. A few crew members circle around them as they prepare for the next segment. Y/N runs over her lines in her head, slightly altering ones she doesn’t like as much. Creative wouldn’t mind. She’s always been good at improvising to make it better.

One of the camera guys throws his hand up, indicating to them they have five seconds before they start recording. Y/N zones in, her hand lazily placed on the title that’s sitting next to her on the table.

That’s when the countdown hits zero and they start.

“Tonight was supposed to be a celebration,” Roman grumbles to his family, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Heyman listens to him intently, Solo standing there quietly as he usually does, and Jimmy slightly squirming in his spot. He’s still bothered by the fact Solo was picked over him, but he’s not going to outrightly say it.

“Randy Orton completely ruined this. Completely ruined Solo’s moment.” He runs a hand over his beard before looking at Jimmy, “You saw it, right?”

Jimmy scoffs quietly, nodding. “Yeah, I saw.” He bobs his head side to side with that signature Uso attitude.

However, if Roman sees it, he doesn’t say anything, too obsessed with the drama Randy created. “Someone’s got to… someone’s got to shut his mouth,” he growls lowly. “The things he said to me… He needs to be silenced.”

Jimmy sits up, “Listen Uce, I can silence Randy Orton, but it sounds like a job for the uh–” he sends a petty look up to his younger brother, “Tribal heir.” He emphasizes the last word dramatically, over pronouncing every syllable.

Once again, Y/N’s in danger of breaking. She’s really off her game tonight. Or maybe Jon’s delivery was just too funny to ignore.

Roman looks at Jimmy with a bewildered expression, “You kidding me? It’s promotion season. If you’re able to handle Randy Orton alone, just imagine what’s in store for you. Get anything? You understand?”

That little teaser didn’t get past Jimmy. Suddenly his posture is a bit straighter, and he’s a little more willing to fight Randy. Anyone could see he’s still irritated about Roman’s choices, but he couldn’t deny. The thought of earning his cousin’s respect was hard to pass up. He smiles like a kid in a candy store, his excitement becoming harder to contain. Before he knows it the forbidden phrase in the Bloodline locker room escapes him.

“Yeet.”

It almost feels like everything stops. Y/S/N’s eyes widen, Solo glances at his brother, and even Paul freezes. Roman’s head turns impossibly slow towards Jimmy. His eyes narrow in an intimidating fashion, almost daring Jim to say that again.

Jimmy watches in fear for a moment, swallowing thickly. “…No yeet.” He mumbles, almost like an apology.

Roman’s eyes stay locked on Jimmy for a long, suffocating second, then he lets out a breath that’s more growl than exhale. He pushes to his feet in that deliberate, powerful way he always does when he wants the whole room to feel his authority.

“Come on,” he orders, voice low but sharp enough to cut the tension. He jerks his chin at Solo and Paul. “We’re done here. Let’s let Mr. Yeet man Junior here figure out his match with Randy.”

Heyman nearly trips over his own feet gathering Roman’s title and the mic, murmuring anxious agreements as he follows. Solo doesn’t say a word — just pushes off the counter and stalks after his cousin, stone-faced, massive presence trailing behind Roman’s.

Jimmy doesn’t move. He watches them leave, lips pressed into a thin, bitter line. He barely notices when Y/N crosses the space and drops into the seat next to him, close enough that her knee bumps his thigh.

For a moment, neither says anything. The hum of backstage dies down as it just becomes the two of them. No pressure from Roman, no lingering Paul, no hard stare from Solo… Just them.

Y/N nudges him gently with her elbow. “Hey.”

Jimmy glances at her, eyes tired despite the forced smirk tugging at his mouth. “Hey, Queenie.”

She rolls her eyes at the nickname but doesn’t correct him this time. Instead, she studies him for a heartbeat — the restless bounce of his knee, the way he keeps cracking his knuckles like he wants to punch something but knows he shouldn’t.

“You know,” she says, her voice softer than the usual cocky edge she uses for the cameras, “for what it’s worth… I think you deserve it.”

Jimmy’s brow furrows. “Deserve what?”

“The spot. The title. The… whatever Roman keeps calling it this month. ‘Heir.’” She mimics Roman’s dramatic emphasis, earning a breathy half-laugh from him. “You deserve it just as much as Solo. If not more.”

Jimmy scoffs, shaking his head, but it’s not dismissive — more like he’s trying to swallow something sharp. “Nah. Nah, Solo’s the good soldier, right? Stands there, doesn’t talk back, does whatever big bro says. I open my mouth too much, make too many jokes. That’s not ‘heir’ material.”

Y/N leans in, catching his eyes so he can’t look away. “Yeah, well, maybe the real problem is that you care. You feel all this more than they do. You bleed for it. You’ve been fighting for this family since day one. That doesn’t make you weak, J. It makes you stronger than any of them.”

He exhales through his nose, a shaky chuckle bubbling up. “You sound sappy as hell, y’know that?”

Her lips twitch into a small grin. “Yeah, well maybe it’s just because this sap and I both see you clearer than you see yourself.”

Jimmy falls quiet, staring at the floor like he’s looking through it. Then the frustration leaks out — raw and honest, no camera to posture for.

“I don’t mind doin’ the dirty work. I don’t mind takin’ hits for him, for Solo, for any of ‘em. But damn, just once… just once I wish it was me. Not the one left behind. Not the joke. Not the one they send to lose so Solo can look good. And, you know I don’t say nothin’. I keep my mouth shut and just keep grindin’. But I’m tired of it. I’m tired of bein’ overlooked all the time.”

Y/N’s hand finds his, squeezing tight enough that he actually looks up. “Jim, you are the heart of this family. Without you, Roman’s just a king talking to an empty throne. You hear me? They can’t crown an heir if there’s no kingdom left to stand on. And you keep this standing.”

Jimmy blinks a few times, then laughs softly, rough with emotion. “Yeah? And what about you, huh? He shoulda just left it all to you. At least you show up. You hold your gold. You do the work. I’d get it if it was you. Hell, I’d follow you.”

She laughs then, nudging him again. “You do follow me. Every time we get booked together, you stand right behind me doing dumb dances.”

“Damn right,” Jimmy says, grinning wide enough to chase away the gloom for a second. “Ain’t nobody better than you, sis.”

She squeezes his hand again, then bumps her shoulder to his. “Right back at you, Uso.”

For a moment they just sit there — two soldiers in the same war, finding the only comfort they can in each other.

Then the red light on the camera goes dark with a click, and the crew chief calls out, “Cut! That’s it, good work, guys!”

Jimmy lets out a long breath and slumps back against the couch dramatically. Y/N hops up, extends a hand to him.

“C’mon. Handshake time.”

Jimmy snorts but takes her hand. They slip into that little secret routine she and Jon made up forever ago — a quick slap, a twist, a finger-gun point, and a goofy snap at the end. It’s so dumb but it never fails to make both of them grin.

“Not bad tonight, huh?” Jimmy says, pushing himself up.

“You killed it, J. Seriously. They’re gonna eat that promo up.”

He throws an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a quick squeeze. “Next time, you and me, no Solo. We run the whole damn show.”

She smirks, tilting her head to bump his temple. “Bet. Now let’s go find you somethin’ to eat before you start getting grumpy. Last thing I need is a hangry Jon.”

Jimmy laughs, warm and unburdened for just a second, as they head down the hall together — two rebels, still holding the Bloodline together whether Roman knew it or not.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N’s still dragging her boots one step at a time, half-delirious from adrenaline and half-annoyed at the sting in her shoulder, when the backstage curtain drops behind her. The roar of the crowd spills through for one last echo before Gorilla swallows it back up, leaving just the hum of crew radios and distant PA chatter.

She huffs out a breath, wipes the sweat sticking her hair to her neck, and lets the heavy championship belt drop against her thigh with a dull thud. If her legs could file for divorce, they would’ve done it halfway through that last superplex from Bayley.

The match went just as planned. There was only one little snag with Y/N’s landing during the superplex, but other than that, the crowd ate up their last minute match. The feud and tension is growing, both of their names already trending on X as mentioned by one of the sound guys when she was walking back.

She’s halfway to the locker room when a high, bright squeal of, “There she is!” nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

Bianca barrels straight into her, hugging her around the shoulders — uncaring of the sweat. Trinity follows right behind, looping her arms around both of them, trapping Y/N in a sticky, giggling sandwich of glitter and hairspray.

“I literally hate you both,” Y/N deadpans, squeezing them back anyway. “I’m ninety percent sweat and forty percent shoulder pain. Do not touch me—”

Bianca just flicks her ear. “Stop complaining, you show-off. That crowd lost their damn minds! Did you hear them? ‘This is awesome!’ Girl, YOU are awesome!”

Trinity snorts, leaning back just enough to look her up and down. “You look like you fought a bear and won. You good?”

“Barely,” Y/N grumbles. She adjusts the title on her shoulder, tilting her head side to side to pop the ache out. “And if either of you are about to pull out a phone, the answer is no. I’m not doing one of your TikToks tonight. My knee still hasn’t recovered from that TikTok you made me do before Mania.”

Bianca clutches her chest dramatically. “Wow. No faith in us. We just wanted to talk. Right, Trin?”

“Totally,” Trinity agrees far too quickly. “Let’s just… stand here. And talk. While we find good lighting.”

Y/N squints at both of them. “…Why are you dragging me towards the catering sign?”

Bianca pats her cheek like a baby. “Shhh. Don’t worry about it.”

By the time Y/N realizes she’s been bamboozled, Bianca’s plopped her bag on a production crate and is propping her phone up against a water bottle to keep it steady. She even checks the camera angle, licking her thumb to wipe a smudge off the lens. Trinity does a quick spin in the overhead light, making sure her braids catch the shine.

“Okay, scoot back—” Bianca shoves Y/N by the hips until she’s standing dead center in front of the phone. “Perfect. We’re doing the Barbie mashup dance.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Trinity singsongs. She does a few warmup hip rolls. “Come on, you know the first part already. Arms up, hips left, then pop-pop—”

“I just survived Bayley’s discount Mortal Kombat finisher and you want me to pop-pop?” Y/N points to her knee accusingly. “This knee hates y’all.”

Bianca pinches her cheek again. “She’ll live. Now smile — we’re all pink, we’re all pretty, we’re all unstoppable.”

Trinity slides next to her, flicks her hair over her shoulder like a true hype woman, and cues up the audio: that mix of “I’m a Barbie girl” with the dramatic beat drop that blew up on everyone’s FYP over the last few months.

Bianca counts them in under her breath: “Five, six, seven, eight—”

Y/N tries not to look like she’s dying while matching their snappy arm flicks and hip dips, but she can’t help it — halfway through, Trinity spins the wrong way and nearly whacks Bianca in the boob, and Y/N loses it, wheezing out a snort loud enough to echo off the catering sign.

“Stay on beat!” Bianca yells mid-spin, even though she’s laughing too hard to catch the next step herself.

“I’m TRYING!” Trinity shrieks. “I got long legs, B!”

Y/N holds her stomach, breathless, but somehow still manages the final pose: one hip out, both arms thrown up like a pageant queen. The audio fades out just in time for a new voice to chime in, low and amused behind them.

“Seriously?”

All three women turn. Shaun’s leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, smirk so smug it practically has its own zip code. He cocks a brow at Y/N first, then at the phone.

“You roped her into this again?” he asks Bianca, tone flat but his eyes giving him away.

Bianca points at Y/N immediately. “Don’t look at me. She did the dance better than both of us. Go on then, Big Man — get in here, let’s see what you got.”

Shaun scoffs. “You don’t want that smoke.”

Trinity bounces over, grabs his wrist, and yanks him next to Y/N before he can flee. “Too late. Camera’s still rolling. Impress us.”

Y/N wipes sweat off her forehead, giggling. “If you break your hip doing this, I’m not helping you up.”

Shaun gives her a side-eye — then without warning, he matches their pose, counts himself in, and hits every step of the Barbie mashup with obnoxiously precise pops and a final hip roll that would make Trinity cry tears of joy.

The squeal that leaves Bianca’s mouth is unholy. “STOP IT. You practice this at home!”

Shaun just shrugs, trying not to smile but failing miserably. “Gotta stay young somehow.”

When they hit the final pose again — all four hands up, giggling and half-bent over from laughing — Trinity lunges for Bianca’s phone and yells, “Posting that NOW! And tag me first, you petty cow!”

Bianca’s cackling too hard to argue, half-hugging Y/N with one arm and fanning her face with the other. “This is gonna break the internet, I swear—”

Y/N leans her head back against Shaun’s shoulder, eyes closed but grinning so wide it almost hurts.

“I hate you all. And I love you all. Now someone buy me a damn Gatorade before my knee files a restraining order.”

Shaun hums, arms still around her shoulders. “Only if you promise to teach me that other dance you said was too ‘Gen Z’ for me.”

Bianca screams, “OH, he wants the Renegade next! Say less!”

Y/N just groans dramatically, but her laugh gives her away.

And for a minute — despite all the chaos waiting outside catering — everything is bright, stupid, pink, and perfect.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

The night had gone by relatively fast. Y/N leans against one of the production crates, chuckling quietly at something Joseph said as Jon exits from Gorilla to meet Randy Orton at the ring. It’s main event time. The two of them continue snickering to themselves, earning pointed looks from some of the crew for being too loud.

“Stop,” Y/N playfully scolds, smacking Joseph’s chest. “I already have to pee and you’re making it worse.”

Joseph scrunches his nose, pushing her back. “Girl get outta here,” he waves her off. “You shoulda went before we had to get ready.”

“I didn’t have to go then,” Y/N fires back, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Then suck it up,” he sasses. “I ain’t about to get in trouble ‘cause yo ass couldn’t hold it.”

“I wouldn’t be struggling if you’d stop making me laugh,” she scolds through gritted teeth.

“Why am I being told you guys are causin’ issues,” Joe’s voice catches their attention as he strolls up to them. His voice sounds serious, but the smirk on his face gives away his playfulness.

“It ain’t me, man,” Joseph says, defending himself. “Thas on her. She’s bein’ all loud and shit.”

Y/N scoffs, “Me?!” She exclaims rather loudly, seemingly forgetting where she’s at.

That was enough to warrant a “shh” from one of the nearby producers. Joseph slaps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from cackling at Y/N getting in trouble. Joe simply smiles, laughing softly as he shakes his head.

“I hate both of you,” Y/N grumbles, crossing her arms as she turns away from them. Her eyes move towards the monitor, flinching as Jimmy hits the mat hard. But she won’t look back at the two men behind her, giving them the cold shoulder for making fun of her.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N/N,” Joe placed his hands on her shoulder, squeezing her softly. “We’re just playin’.”

“Shh,” she barely throws a glance his way, finger pressed to her lips. “I’m trying to watch the show. Don’t wanna be a ‘distraction,’” she makes air quotations with her fingers.

“Damn,” Joseph’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “She petty petty.”

Y/N keeps her arms stubbornly folded, jaw set like she’s made of granite, but Joe’s thumbs gently kneading at her shoulders makes her resolve flicker. He leans closer to her ear just to poke at the bear some more.

“You gon’ ignore your Tribal Chief now?” he teases low, a grin tucked behind his tone.

She elbows him back lightly, not moving her eyes from the monitor where Jimmy crawls toward the ropes. “Chief my ass. According to you, Solo’s the real chief—”

“Hey!” Joseph barks out a laugh at her mutiny, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth again to hide how loud it is. “Nah, you heard that Joe? She said you washed.”

Joe gives him a look like keep talking if you wanna run laps tomorrow. Then he flicks Y/N’s earring just to be annoying.

“Watch your mouth, lil girl,” Joe warns, but his grin is all affection.

“I’d say make me,” Y/N sasses, finally glancing up at him with a sugary sweet smile that means trouble. “But you’d cry if you tried.”

Joseph wheezes so loud the poor sound tech behind him actually flinches. “Man, y’all gon’ get us fired—” he barely gets out before a new voice interrupts him.

Shaun slides right up behind Y/N, winding one big arm casually around her waist like it’s second nature. He tugs her back against him, chin hooking over her shoulder as if he owns the real estate there.

“Who’s getting fired?” Shaun hums. “Not my girl, I hope.”

Joe’s brow arches high enough to hit the ceiling rig. He flicks his eyes pointedly from Shaun’s hand on Y/N’s hip to Y/N’s face — then lifts his chin slightly, the silent Colby gonna love this message clear as day.

Y/N sees it. She sees it and purposefully ignores it, leaning back against Shaun with a smug little hum. “Hi, trouble,” she says instead, voice dripping sugar.

Joseph’s practically doubled over, muffling his cackles into the back of his wrist. “Oh, nah, she playin’ with her life for real!”

Joe just clicks his tongue once, a subtle warning, but before he can say more the unmistakable pulse of Solo’s entrance music shakes the Gorilla curtain. Joseph instantly straightens up, rolling his neck like he’s prepping for war. He flicks Y/N’s nose on his way past. “Hold ya man back if he starts swingin’, aight?”

Y/N flips him off sweetly, then watches him stalk out to the arena, his silent enforcer mode flipped on the moment he passes through the curtain.

Y/N stands planted by the monitor, Shaun’s arm draped low on her hip. He leans in close, murmuring in her ear, voice warm and amused as they watch Joseph on the screen.

“You think he’s really got Orton rattled?” Shaun drawls, teeth grazing her earlobe for just a second — enough to earn him a sharp elbow in his ribs.

“Behave,” she warns, but she’s fighting a smile.

“Oh, I’ll behave…” His palm slides lower. “…after I handle Solo out there.”

Before she can roll her eyes, the arena explodes again: Shaun’s music crashes through the curtain next — the crowd roaring for LA Knight. He grins, all wolfish mischief, and plants a quick, cocky kiss just under her ear.

“Watch me, sweetheart.”

He slips away before she can swat him — bursting through the curtain to that trademark YEAH! chant that rocks the rafters. Y/N presses her fingertips to where his mouth just was, heat blooming in her chest even as she tries to focus on the monitor.

She doesn’t get long.

“Go,” Joe’s voice rumbles behind her — a warning and an order. “Don’t let him have all the spotlight. Go remind him whose ring it is.”

And just like that — her theme hits.

The pop is violent. People don’t just cheer — they scream.

Shaun’s head whips around halfway down the ramp. He should be locked on Solo — but the second her music cuts through the chaos, his whole demeanor shifts. A cocky grin splits his face, and he stops dead mid-stride, eyes locked on Gorilla.

Y/N stalks out like she owns the place — shoulders back, eyes gleaming, fury in every step. The audience catches on instantly: something is about to happen.

On commentary, Wade Barrett barks, “WHAT?! The champ’s coming out here now?!”

Knight keeps his eyes on her — Solo forgotten — anyone looking at him would assume that the only person who mattered in this arena to him, was her.

Y/N stops just feet away, the ramp sizzling with tension. The audience howls. Phones shoot up in every direction, capturing the shot: Knight and the champion nose-to-nose, teeth bared, neither blinking.

Cole on commentary nearly blows a gasket: “Look at this face-off! LA Knight’s not even paying attention to Solo — he’s obsessed with Y/N!”

Shaun drops his chin until his mouth hovers just over her ear, voice pitched low for only her:

“Hit me first. Do it. I know you want to.”

Her hand fists in his vest — every ounce of her fighting the urge to slam him right there on the ramp.

Behind them, Orton’s eyes narrow. He clocks the distraction instantly. A predatory grin curls at the corner of his mouth — and with Knight too busy sizing up Y/N, Randy lashes out, planting Jimmy with a vicious RKO out of nowhere.

The ref’s hand slaps three.

Randy Orton has stolen it.

Y/S/N and Knight’s head spin towards the ring as Jimmy rolls over to the side, his head still spinning. After a moment, Knight starts chuckling, the sound low and filthy as he glances back to her to see the shocked expression on her face.

That moment between them is now burned in neon; the Megastar and Women’s Universal Champion standing nose to nose, the internet already losing its mind as pictures from various angles are posted.

LA goes to take another step in her direction, almost like he can’t help himself. Just as Solo struggles to get back up to his feet in order to protect Y/S/N, she shoves Knight backwards roughly. The entire arena explodes as she starts screaming at Knight for causing a big enough distraction.

Knight simply starts screaming back, the two of them so engrossed in yelling at each other that he is completely blindsided when Roman comes bolting down the ramp, knocking him onto the floor with a seething blow.

He falls, limbs sprawled out all over the ramp before he reaches up to clutch the back of his head. The arena is earth-shatteringly loud. Roman’s eyes meet Randy’s in the ring, the Viper falling to the floor, slapping the mat how he always does when he’s daring an opponent to come at him.

There’s no hesitation in Roman’s stride as he continues his way to the ring. Y/S/N darts quickly behind him, her shorter legs having to do much more just to keep up with her Tribal Chief. Both of them slide into the ring with practiced ease, Roman popping up to immediately go after Randy.

Y/S/N on the other hand, runs over to Jimmy who’s sitting in the corner of the ring. She quietly asks if he’s okay, to which he responds with a nod of his head. She helps him to his feet as Solo climbs into the ring now, going after Randy to help Roman.

Solo tries to hit Randy with a Samoan Spike, Roman holding him down. But that’s when Knight charges into the squared circle, taking Solo out from behind. With that, Y/S/N and Jimmy are on their feet.

Y/S/N immediately goes after LA, the two of them facing off once again. Just as he’s about to open his mouth, she spins on her heel, lifting her other leg up in the air to deliver a gnarly roundhouse kick to the side of his head. Jimmy follows it up with a super kick to his gut before shoving him down into the corner and delivering lefts and rights straight from hell.

“Jimmy Uso and Y/S/N just completely scrambled the brain of LA Knight! What is happening?!”

“I’ll tell you what’s happening, Cole. The number’s game always seems to catch up to any opponent of the Bloodline,” Wade voices. “And despite the Megastar and Randy Orton being as tough as they are, they’re no match for this faction.”

Just as Roman is about to deliver the final blow to Randy, a familiar beat drops . Blue lights flicker all over the arena and Y/S/N freezes in place. Her eyes flicker all around, trying to get a visual on the superstar none of them were expecting.

AJ Styles.

The place goes white hot. Suddenly, AJ jumps out from the WWE universe and is up on the top rope of the ring in a flash. He springboards off the top rope and drills Roman with a Phenomenal Forearm that flips the Tribal Chief inside out.

Pandemonium. The Bloodline scrambles out of the ring, dragging Jimmy between them as they stagger up the ramp — Solo snarling over his shoulder, Roman clutching his ribs, Y/N fuming but forced to retreat beside them.

Left in the ring: Styles, Orton, and Knight — battered, cocky, victorious for tonight.

But AJ doesn’t smile long. He spins on Knight, hoists him — and plants him with a Styles Clash dead center.

Michael practically screams: “AJ Styles just laid out LA Knight! Nobody is safe tonight!”

AJ stands tall for half a heartbeat, glaring down at the wreckage — then stalks out through the crowd again, leaving Knight to groan on the canvas under the strobing lights.

Meanwhile, at the top of the ramp, Y/N lifts her title defiantly — eyes locked on Knight, who’s already pushing up on bloody elbows to grin back at her.

The second the cameras cut, the chaos doesn’t stop — not really. Crew members hurry to break down barricades while agents clap each other’s shoulders, buzzing about the segment’s heat.

Roman wipes sweat from his brow, Jimmy leaning heavy on his shoulder while Solo trails a few steps behind, seething about Styles’ return. Y/S/N moves right in the middle of them — all business, but her grin betrays her pride.

As soon as they cross Gorilla, a ripple of laughter and congratulatory shouts breaks out. Road agents, creative, a few producers swarm them — praising the brawl, the surprise pop, the viral moment brewing online already.

AJ is there, bouncing on his toes with that old swagger, exchanging quick hugs with staff who can’t believe he’s back. Y/N pushes through the clutter first — not bothering with words as she wraps him in a tight hug.

“Welcome home, old man,” she teases against his shoulder.

He chuckles, squeezing her tighter. “Don’t ‘old man’ me, kid. You’re the one out here stealin’ everybody’s thunder.”

She pulls back with a wink. “Somebody’s gotta keep you humble.”

AJ laughs, swatting the back of her head gently before drifting to talk with Randy. Speaking of — Orton materializes behind Y/N, running a hand over the top of his head and tapping her shoulder. She spins around, instantly high-fiving him so hard their palms crack.

“That kick looked like it’d break my jaw,” Randy says, that signature glint of mischief in his eyes.

Y/N shrugs, “It was just a good sell,” she tells him. “I’m sure it would feel like a butterfly kiss to you.”

He laughs — actually laughs — before clapping her on the back and stalking off to find a trainer.

A heartbeat later, she feels the familiar brush of fingers on her wrist. She doesn’t even have to turn. Shaun’s there, sweat glistening on his hairline, a crooked grin carved across his mouth.

“Hell of a show out there, champ.”

She rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the small smile that slips out as they high five — except he doesn’t let go. Instead, his bigger hand slides down to clasp hers properly, fingers weaving through hers, palm to palm.

For a breath, it’s warm. Dangerous. Just enough space between them to remind her how easy it would be to close it.

“Shaun…” she warns softly, eyes flicking toward the Bloodline boys a few feet away — Solo watching, Joe stone-faced as always.

He raises their joined hands, brushing a teasing kiss to her knuckles. “I know. I know.” He lets her go, reluctantly. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’, though. Gotta keep my hat in the ring somehow, right?”

She shakes her head, cheeks flushing despite herself. “Idiot.”

“What can I say? You bring it out in me,” he fires back, voice lower, softer — the tease masking something else neither of them can afford to say.

Before she can respond, he tips an invisible hat and strolls off — drawing a few catcalls from the crew that she pointedly ignores. With that, she spins back to where Joseph’s perched on a crate, arms crossed, expression thunderous. Jon is sprawled beside him, selling his neck but managing a grin when she leans down to peck his cheek.

“Good job tonight, Uso,” she murmurs, ruffling his sweaty hair.

Jon hums, voice scratchy. “Better job distractin’ Knight, sis.”

She laughs, flicking his forehead. “Shut up.”

Joe catches her eye then — a rare, softened look from the Tribal Chief himself. He nods once. No words needed. She nods back.

With a final squeeze to Jon’s shoulder, she straightens, hoisting her bag from the bench.

“Alright boys, I’m headed back to the hotel before y’all drag me into more chaos. Don’t wait up, and don’t break anything.”

Jonathan throws her a weak two-finger salute. Joseph just grunts — which, for him, might as well be I’ll kill anyone who messes with you. Joe watches her go, that silent understanding lingering: she’s family, by choice and by bloodline.

As she slips through the curtain toward the exit, the chaos of the arena fades behind her — but that buzz, that tension, the sparks she left with Knight? That’s gonna burn all the way to the next show.

✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*

Y/N sinks back against the headboard, hair damp and towel slung around her shoulders, phone propped between her knee and the comforter. Her room still smells faintly like the hotel shampoo — lavender and whatever promises “luxury” — but right now, all she cares about is the way her phone vibrates in her palm.

Colbs 🔥

FaceTime Incoming…

A soft groan escapes her, but she’s already smiling when she swipes to answer. Colby’s grin greets her first — smug, insufferably handsome, hair still wet from his own shower and brushing his bare shoulders.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to stop body-slamming the entire men’s division and answer my call.”

Y/N rolls her eyes dramatically. “I was showering, big shot. Some of us like to wash off other people’s sweat before bedtime.”

“Oh, you showered, huh?” His eyebrows wiggle, voice dropping into that teasing rasp that never fails to send goosebumps up her spine. “I’m gonna need proof, sweetheart.”

She gasps, feigning horror, tugging the towel tighter around herself. “Colby Lopez! There are children in this hotel.”

He barks out a laugh, leaning back in his chair — the familiar walls of his hotel room behind him. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Speaking of children… you and Knight? That tension tonight?” He whistles low. “You gonna tell me how far that’s gonna go, or do I gotta fly in and mark my territory?”

Her head falls back against the headboard as she laughs, covering her burning cheeks with one hand. “Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.”

He hums, predatory. “And you’re deflecting.”

“I’m working, dummy. Using what I got to help the Bloodline stay on top. That’s all.”

“Oh, I know.” His voice curls around the word like velvet. “Doesn’t mean I like watchin’ another man look at you like that. He’d risk it all if you crooked a finger.”

She giggles, pressing her fingertips to her warm cheek. “Shaun’s harmless. He knows better.”

Colby lifts a brow, teasing and sharp. “Mmm. Does he? Pretty sure he was about two seconds away from bending you backwards on the ramp. Should I have come down there and reminded him who you come cryin’ to when it’s late?”

Her eyes narrow, playful but suspicious. “Whoa, whoa — what is up with you tonight? You’re being way too bold. Usually you’re just all shy and cute about it, now you’re actin’ like I’m yours to claim or something.”

Colby’s grin softens but turns wicked at the edges. He scratches his jaw, then leans closer to the camera, voice so low she can feel it in her belly. “Maybe watchin’ that pretty face stand nose to nose with someone who isn’t me lit a little fire under my ass. You think I wanna see him stand that close to what’s mine? Nah. So now I gotta make sure you remember.”

Y/N chokes on a laugh, a little squeal slipping out. “You’re ridiculous. ‘What’s mine’? Colby, we’re not even—”

“Not yet.” He cuts her off, pointing at her through the screen, eyes burning with that quiet confidence that always makes her weak. “But keep teasing me, sweetheart. See how long I stay polite about it.”

She shoves her AirPod deeper with an embarrassed squeak. “God, you’re so annoying tonight—”

“You love it,” he fires back without missing a beat, voice back to a low purr. “You love me flustered and when I remind you I could break Knight in half if I wanted to.”

Y/N shakes her head, biting her bottom lip as she snuggles deeper under the covers. Colby watches, his eyes scanning over what he can see slowly. He grins wolfishly, voice dropping until it’s all soft gravel. “Go on. Deny it. Tell me who you think about when you can’t sleep.”

Her mouth falls open — and no sound comes out except a small, traitorous laugh. She hides behind her palm. “I’m gonna hang up if you don’t knock this shit off.”

“No you won’t.” He wiggles his eyebrows, then pretends to pout. “But seriously, when are we makin’ this official? You know I don’t share well.”

She sticks out her tongue. “You want me? Come earn me, Lopez.”

“Oh, I plan to, don’t you worry.” His grin turns downright sinful. “And when I do? There’s not a man alive gonna get that close to you again, mark my words.”

Her pulse does an embarrassing somersault in her chest, her face splitting into the widest grin she’s worn all day. “You talk too much.”

“And you think too loud.” He points at her through the screen. “Bet you’re picturing me right now, huh?”

She runs a hand over her face with an indignant squeak. “Okay, enough of you!” She taps her phone to escape to TikTok, needing a distraction before her body combusts from how hot her face feels.

Colby’s voice floats through her speaker. “Don’t run from me now—”

She freezes. Right there on her feed is the TikTok — the TikTok — the one Bianca posted earlier. The Barbie mashup. Her, B, Trinity… and Knight popping up at the end, all stupid grin and cocky shoulders. It’s got millions of views already.

She snorts, reading the comments out loud.

@WWEQueenEnergy: the Bloodline’s real threat is her fine self lmaoooo

@ItsWrestleTea: tell me Knight didn’t wanna risk it all when she showed up 😂🔥

@wrestleMOM69: she ain’t even that good, why she everywhere now? 🙄

@RomanAndSoloFan: stay mad, she EATS every time.

Colby barks out a laugh. “Oh send that to me right now. I’m about to go tag him in a ‘stay away from my girl’ meme, watch me.”

She shoves her face into her pillow, muffling her scream. “You’re so embarrassing! And technically I’m not even ‘your girl.’”

He tsks. “Maybe not right now. Just give me a minute though. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

She shakes her head, warmth pooling in her stomach at the way he says her nickname. Swiping back to Instagram for distraction, she starts mindlessly tapping through stories — Bianca reposting the TikTok, Trinity reposting it with sparkles… then— She goes still.

A black screen. Just one photo. Her match with Bayley, mid-finisher. Sharp. Crisp. Untagged.

@CMPunk.

Colby’s voice cuts into her stunned silence. “Hello? Trouble? You get shy on me all of a sudden?”

She can’t help it — a small, soft smile curls on her lips. Her heartbeat does that annoying skip again. He still watches. Despite everything. Despite the fights. Despite how strongly they dislike each other now, he still watches her.

That’s something she always wondered when he left. He always told her that no matter what, no matter how mad he ever got at her, he would never stop watching her. Said the way she moved in the ring was unlike anything he’d ever seen. That kind of talent couldn’t be ignored. And now seeing that, maybe that was a sign that despite his loathing towards her now, he still kept his word.

“It’s nothing,” she breathes, warmth flooding her tone even if she tries to swallow it. “Just… the internet being the internet, you know?”

Colby hums, suspicious but soft. “Mmhm. You keep secrets from me, I’m gonna come find you myself. You know I know what hotel you’re staying in, right?”

She laughs, her eyes still locked on the story that shouldn’t make her feel anything — but absolutely does. “Goodnight, Colby.”

“Dream about me.”

“I always do.” And she ends the call, alone in her hotel bed — her phone glowing in her palm — heartbeat thrumming with a thousand feelings she’s not ready to unpack just yet.

[janeya]

"she appeared in this world without a head. so, she didn't wanna scare us, so she found a doll and she ripped the doll's head off. and put it on her own head so she wouldn't scare us."

[vitaaeris]

I don’t know in which kind of reality people like y’all live, but in the the year I’ve been in TROP fandom I’ve seen nothing but Galadriel/Sauron fans complaining about the treatment of her character within season two. She has been bashed around by every male around her, forced to blame herself for having valid feelings towards the only person who didn’t actively try to shun her down and exile her to Valinor against her will, all the while cutting her from her canonical arc in Eregion where she was supposed to confront Annatar herself. You know who I haven’t seen complain at all whatsoever? Lore bros. They all agree this season was better, the season that removed every single female character role and sidelined them all completely to the men around them. While Disa was always a side character, Miriel, Nori and Poppy’s arcs have been absolutely slaughtered. You know who also cheered at the resolution of season 2? Oh yes, the so called “Celeborn fans”. You complain on how they gave Galadriel’s FOTR speech to Sauron — and while I do agree it can be criticized as a choice (despite being just an obvious attempt to reference LOTR) not only you’re actively ignoring how they repeated MULTIPLE TIMES Sauron did nothing but pull those words out of her, that desire for power is entirely hers and she admits it VERBALLY. Oh but no, you also actively ignore that the choice of becoming the so called “lady of light” was FORCED upon her. They belittled and bashed her for having those selfish desires, she didn’t make any of these introspection on her own will. For the love of God, they swapped her into all creamy and Madonna like clothes while she was UNCONSCIOUS. THAT IS TOO TAKING HER AGENCY AWAY. But we don’t care when it feeds the dutiful blessed wife bullshit don’t we? The “Celeborn fans” LOVE that the Mormons spent a year treating Galadriel like devil incarnate for having darkness and conflicting feelings of her own. They LOVE that she was bashed into being the “Lady of Light”. They all are there on twitter hoping Galadriel spends season 3 running away from the conflict to instead finding her husband, because wanting her cut as main protagonist and from the main plot of the story is incredibly feminist and not rooted in misogynistic ideals at all. It is “Celeborn fans” who keep on posting on TikTok how Galadriel, and I quote: “needs to be lady of light already, and having Celeborn and becoming a mother will help her in that” because god forbid she faces the villain of the story like all the men around her—NO! Let’s have her pregnant and giving birth in the midst of a war. Let’s bring up her malewife of a husband to attempt to tame her even though Tolkien never once dreamed of giving such role to that poor dude. Oh but Galadriel shouldn’t have a sword, Galadriel shouldn’t fight, Galadriel shouldn’t confront Sauron, Galadriel is emotionally cheating on Celeborn, Galadriel is a wh0re, Galadriel/Sauron fans (all women mind you) are all twisted p0rn - freaks (spectacular feminism there) and go on, this is all shit I’ve seen lore bros and these so called “Celeborn fans” (they don’t exist, none of these people actually care about Celeborn’s character) say.

Having the main female protagonist’s darkness being explored though the main antagonist is a narrative tool old as time, it’s basic gothic literature and women have every right to enjoy such themes as we are constantly bashed for not performing to evangelical ideals and standards.

There is a very good chance the Mormons will use Galadriel status as mother and married woman against her, just as they used everything against her in season two already, and people have every goddamn right to worry as there is enough precedents for this to get incredibly fucking bad. And yes, both Celebrian and Celeborn should have been in the show from day one, so that the former could have been explored as a character on her own (and her dynamic with Elrond) while the latter could have had an arc and exist without depending on Galadriel—and she would have been allowed to do her own introspection just as she does in canon. But no, none of it happen, Celebrian won’t exist as a person in the show, and people only want Celeborn back to spit on saurondriel fans, not because anyone gives a flying fuck about his character.

And mind you, season two is like this because Amazon shat their pants at the response of season one and their answer was to appease to lore bros. Mirdania is all that was left of Galadriel’s canon arc in Eregion, and the result was abhorrent.

You on the other hand need to pipe down instead of jumping on a completely valid and well needed analysis in how misogynistic both fandom and show have been. Attacking people assuming shit about them and their opinions while knowing NOTHING about them is incredibly childish and ignorant. You having a personal vendetta against a fictional ship is not our problem—especially when the post had nothing to do with ships to begin with—, so perhaps keep your hands for yourself instead of pointing a gun to the first person that ends up in your feed.

Post Scriptum

Miss me with the “toxic ships bla bla” bullshit, this is fiction, nobody gives an actual fuck. Galadriel isn’t gonna come to your house and give you a cookie for protecting her from big bad boy Sauron by attacking random girls on the internet. Get a goddamn job.

Misogyny disguised as an appeal to canonicity

I've seen many excuses in my life for excluding women from narratives. The latest? "Canonicity". This is how some fans — in their eagerness to appear cultured, demanding, or simply "protectors of the work" — hide a latent and ancient misogyny, painted in the colours of textual purism. The Rings of Power series, which dared to make Galadriel a warrior, complex, fierce and, above all, a protagonist, has become the target of the revisionist movement that calls for fidelity to the books only when it comes to men.

It's symptomatic. When we talk about bringing Celeborn into the series, we're talking about "fixing" Galadriel, it's not about deepening a relationship or enriching the world. It's about control. This cursed verb appears in whispers and between the lines of posts and videos: "Galadriel needs to be controlled", "she needs balance", "Celeborn will bring sobriety". And when they talk about balance, what they mean is: she needs to be pruned. Because an angry woman, wounded by pain, brave enough to defy Sauron himself, seems to bother more than the Dark Lord himself.

These criticisms are not innocent. They are symptomatic of a culture that only tolerates women when they are silent, when they are supporting actors, when they love and die for men — never for themselves. And that, for me, is at the heart of this disguised misogyny.

You want "canonicity" so much, but you forget the women who are part of the canon and are solemnly ignored.

Let's talk about Inzilbêth. She is the mother of Pharazôn, the man who defines the last and most tragic days of Númenor. But she's not just any mother. She is a descendant of the Faithful — of those who resist corruption. In a world where Pharazôn represents the pride and arrogance of the Númenorians, Inzilbêth could be a character of dramatic depth: a mother torn between love for her son and horror at the path he is following. She could be the voice of the past, of the ancient faith, of the warning against worshipping the Valar and Sauron himself. But she isn't even mentioned in the debates.

Erendis, Tar-Aldarion's wife, is another powerful figure who lies forgotten in the corners of the Unfinished Tales. She is an abandoned woman, scorned by a man whose nautical ambition speaks louder than any affection. Her story is a cruel mirror of what happens to many women in the stories of men: they are loved while they serve their plot, discarded when they claim their own space. And even though Erendis' timeline predates the events of The Rings of Power, she could be mentioned — as a symbol of the price Númenor has already exacted from its women. A legend told in the courts. A warning whispered on the island's street corners.

And if they really want to keep their feet in the "canon", why don't they talk about Lúthien? The woman who faced Morgoth himself. Who, together with Huan, the dog of Valinor, defeated Sauron. It's not fanfic: it's in the Silmarillion. But female figures are only remembered in fanart or in niche discussions, never clamoured for with the same force as Gil-Galad, Elendil, Isildur, Glorfindel, Anárion, Celebrimbor or even Celeborn. The logic is simple: when the past is male, it's glory. When it's female, it's forgotten myth.

And I'm not saying that the series is immune to criticism. It's far from it. It has problems with pace, the construction of certain arcs, and dialogue that sometimes sounds forced. But it's curious — or rather, revealing — that the most virulent criticism is directed at Galadriel. Not at Sauron, with his still nebulous motivations. Not the aesthetic choice of Númenor or the lack of exploration of certain cultures. Galadriel has become the scapegoat for a wounded masculinity.

The misogyny that hangs over these reviews is not just about what they say, but about what they choose not to say. I never see posts calling for more women in the series. Tolkien's world has incredible and fascinating women. They exist, they have always existed. The problem is that many of you never look at them with the same fervour as you do the warriors.

So, enough. No more pretending that this is about being faithful to the books. If it were, many of you would be asking for Inzilbêth, Erendis, Lúthien, Aredhel, Nienor, Berúthiel, Nimloth, Idril Celebrindal, Andreth, Thuringwethil. But no. You're asking Celeborn to silence Galadriel. You're asking for silence disguised as tradition. And that, my dear, is not Tolkien. That's misogyny.

It's not wrong to want to be faithful to the original material. But it's cowardly to use this as an excuse to erase female voices that were already there — in tales, appendices, half-forgotten stories. The series has a chance to do what many books, series and films have failed to do: give space to women as agents of their own history, and not just as a silent chorus for the tragedies of men.

I want female characters. May they come, with armour or without. With wisdom, pain, fury, tenderness or glory. But let them come.

I want to see Lúthien. I want to see Inzilbêth. I want to see Berúthiel. I want to see the women that Tolkien wrote about and that fandom insists on forgetting and erasing. Because, honestly, there's nothing more "canonical" than the pain, strength and light of these women.

It's time to put aside this lazy and selective reading of Tolkien. Middle-earth is too vast a world to fit only the mould of heroes in armour and beards. It has also been shaped by women — wise, brave, charming and tragic. They have names. They have a voice. They have history. And they deserve to be told and seen.

If The Rings of Power really wants to honour Middle-earth, it shouldn't bend the knee to misogynistic clamour disguised as purism. It should dig deeper, listen to the echoes of those women who are repeatedly forgotten — and let them shine through at last. Because fidelity to Tolkien's work doesn't lie in preserving the fragile masculinity of the fans. It's in recognising the complexity of what Tolkien built — including, above all, the female characters that many insist on ignoring.

And if that bothers you, perhaps the problem was never with the series.

@spatortlove @ffaleruv

[fangel]

harvest of purity — sunghoon [ 박성훈 ]

pairing ⦂ sunghoon ⨯ fem. reader

synopsis ⦂ au in which an innocent, shy, and faithful sunghoon takes a summer job as a farmhand. he’s never indulged on his desires until the farmer’s daughter shows him a taste of sin. although riddled with guilt, he cannot deny or escape the new rousing feelings that impurify him. especially when she's set on ruining him every chance she gets.

genre ⦂ smut, slow burn romance, strangers to lovers word count ⦂ 29k tags ⦂ fluff and angst, repressed desires, innocence loss, guilt and shame, exploring relationships, falling in love, southern gothic vibes, summer au, clingy down bad sunghoon, ‘mean’ morally gray reader, both are weirdo loser freaks content advisory ⦂ mdni ! dark-ish content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content in four scenes: handjob, oral (m. rec.), dry humping, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, virginity loss, corruption!kink, degradation!kink, praise!kink, switch!hoon, he whines whimpers and cries; religious themes, concepts, corruption, and criticism; manipulation, animal death, blood, intense scenes, abusive parenting, gun mention and use

note ⦂ poured my heart out. i hope you love it as much as i do. dedicated to my other evil, off-putting, and/or weird girls┊reblogs and feedback encouraged ⇀ playlist ⸝⸝ masterlist 🌾

　You’re not sure what life in your small town was like before you were born. You can imagine it’s not too different from what it is now though. The thing about old country towns is they never seem to change. Open fields and miles of farmland. Two gas stations, one grocery store, a few family owned vegetable stands or in-home produce product shops. Only one notable neighborhood where the majority of the townspeople lived if not hidden somewhere else in the countryside. And too many churches to keep track of if the abandoned ones were included in the count. 

You like to think your parents were happy before you too. Hopeful and optimistic when offered to take over your uncle’s farm. Excited for the next step in their relationship after their marriage. They were the ideal family dream coming to life: high school lovers, engaged after graduation, married, a career handed to them through family with a large property of land and lovely farmhouse. All that was left was to grow that family. To have children to not only help tend the fields and animals but run around barefoot, all smiles, and wide eyed. 

You were positive that it was something they wanted. 

But life couldn’t have been that easy for them; it would’ve been too gratuitous of a blessing.

The day you were born, your father knew there was something greatly wrong with you. He claimed that on the day you ripped your mother open, screaming and crying, that God spoke to him for the first time. He called it divine intervention. Believing the birth of your soul was a red-herring of all that was set to come but God would show him the light, the truth: that you were nothing short of evil and needed saving. 

That year on the farm there was nothing but death. It only furthered your father’s harsh thinking of you. The crops and produce either died or rotted before it had the chance to grow or ripe. The animals were dropping dead from unknown illnesses. Every female livestock that gave birth passed in doing so. Barely any profits were made that year. Taxes were rising and so were the prices of nearly everything. It was a huge toll for your family, especially when raising their first child. Before you were even conscious of the situation everything was already deemed your fault. 

Through the harrowing struggle, your father’s optimism turned to resentment. He claimed that bringing you to the farm was not like bringing a daughter home, but a corrosive parasite. He believed that you were the reason for the life being sucked away from their perfect farm life. So, he turned to the only thing that he could trust to save the family from your curse: God. Begging and pleading through prayers every morning and night to the sky for a better season. 

He studied religion here and there before taking over his brother-in-law's farm but with the farm failing for the first time, he took a change of career paths. He was already well known among the locals, close with the church goers in the community. And somewhere along the way, he managed to start preaching himself. Nearly every christian in your town moved churches to follow where he went. Like sheep to a shepherd. 

If only they knew what you did, what he was truly like behind the closed doors of your home. How his devotion was turning to violence. Day by day, becoming uglier. 

While your father busied himself with his new found family, often away from home on the farm, the crops and animals began to thrive again. Slowly but surely, growing and regaining health. He would say it’s God’s doing, a small taste of His salvation. 

Your early years were mostly troubled by the relationship of your parents. Too young to fully understand their disputes, drawing at the kitchen table with their yelling sounding the house. It was always about you, that much you knew. Because you watch and you listen. Quick to learn that they tried for another child but never had any success. They wanted someone else to be their baby. Something that felt more like a blessing than you. Your father constantly spitting in your mother’s face that you were the rot to the fruit of her womb. And then he would always end up leaving by slamming the door and your mother would always join you at the table with tears and a bottle of wine. You always just watched, listening in silence. Perhaps just born resilient.

Growing up was different for you compared to most of the kids in your town. You never had the opportunity to make many friends being homeschooled. The only time that was spent around others your age was kindergarten. Kindergarten was short lived because of your behavior; the teachers at school were concerned about you. How you were mean, rough, and sinister with your actions towards others. Picking on the kids you were simply interested in because of how different from you they were. Drawing pictures of gutted cattle or dead, half developed baby chicks still in their shell and giving them as gifts to the teachers. Sharing to classmates the cruelty of farm life and why it was pretty with a smile. 

Your father loved to find out about this, you could see it in his eyes. The way they were wicked and screamed I told you so to your mother. You didn’t understand why it was bad or caused trouble. You were only having fun for the first time. The way the kids ran away crying or the teachers wore faces of shocked horror, it made your insides light up in joy. A new feeling—a sense of excitement. You didn’t know it was sick. And of course, it was taken from you. You were removed from school and your mother became your teacher. Your classmates became stuffed animals and the real ones in the barns. It was hard for you to find that joy you briefly felt with others. 

Sometimes you had a glimpse of it again when your father would punish you. But even that you grew sick of. The mess, the stench of it all. Sticky and red, worse in the heat of summer. He drilled the sick moto for his actions into your head, “I know no punishment, only mercy.”

Father took you both to church more often after that. He had a false image to uphold afterall, one of a happy, God loving family. In his ego he had to prove that his preaching and prayers could fix you, save you. But that was only admitted at home, loud and scary to your mother. Your poor mother, weak and defensive of you, eventually waved her white flag. You wished she kept fighting for you and that she wouldn’t begin to see you the way your father did. 

Childhood and adolescence was a string of questions about yourself. Never quite finding out what made you so bad to be seen as devilish when all you thought of yourself was curious. Perhaps just unlucky to be correlated with negative happenings on and off the farm, always gone without a chance of understanding. Despite it all, you knew well enough the way your parents talked and looked at you was without unconditional love. 

On your 17th birthday, the family dynamic made the biggest shift to be experienced. 

At this age, you had such a strong sense of independence and with the lack of parental guidance and monitoring, you would leave town when you could. Ride your bike down the long road to the bus stop at the center of town and take the bus into the city over. Your mother was generous with allowance and you saved your money well, only spending it on books or trips to the movie theater. A form of escape that allowed you to learn more about the world and all the things your parents tried to keep hidden from you. A way to learn how to be human. 

So when your father was tearing your room apart in search of the same gift he re-gifts you every year, he found some things that made his stomach churn. Every year for your birthday he rewrapped the same, first ever, bible he’d given you. Funny enough that he gave you anything at all considering he never even referred to it as your day, only his day of revelation. And to his disgust, on his sacred day, he found books and journals of explicitly detailed copulation and debauchery. 

He almost fainted. Stumbling over his own feet, hands shaking as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words on the pages. That was the only time you smiled on that day. Just for a second. And then a glimpse of hell broke loose. 

In a rage, he destroyed everything. Your mother stood next to you in tears, telling him to stop and stop. Her hands covered her face but she saw everything through her fingers. You only watched in silence, hands balled in fists by your side. A silent hatred and anger coursed in you. He called you names that no man of God should, especially to his own daughter. 

“You’re a disgraceful deviant of Satan! I should’ve known. My own day of revelation is a curse!” You watched him rip pages apart, his voice booming through the house. “Years spent praying for you and this is how you turn out?! Succumbing to nothing but a dreaming whore?!”

A part of you liked his mean words. It was so rare for him to use such colorful language. 

You knew what would come next. He was going to have you ‘cleansed’. Something he always did when he discovered something new and sacrilegious of you. 

But it didn’t come. Because there was no dying, old sheep on the farm at the time. He did make a promise to not forget though. A promise to have you washed in sacrificial, blessed blood on a day you least expected. 

Your father left after that, leaving you and your mother behind. He moved to the city to continue his preaching at a larger church. He became known as the closest reverend to God for miles and miles. Lost in his ways, he only made visits when he needed to sort things out for the business of the farm.

You were content with his departure, yet couldn’t quite understand why your mother missed him. As far as you’ve seen, he was never kind towards either of you. 

　But now, it’s several years later. And although you’re free of your father’s heavy presence and homilies, he still makes his trips to the farm. You can feel the air change whenever he does, as if you’ve gained a sixth sense for his coming. Naturally intuitive to things having spent your childhood walking on eggshells in your own home. 

And today, the air feels particularly chill for summer. The breeze sweeps in through your open window. The forecast called for nothing but sunshine all week, yet there’s an angry, dark cloud hanging over your farm. A foreboding feeling shivers through you, and you know he’s going to fulfill his promise today. You sigh and slide out of bed. “Let’s get this over with.”

You spend the morning doing your usual routine. Brushing teeth, washing your face, then dressing in farm work attire. Your breakfast consists of tea and your mothers homemade strawberry scone. Next is tending to the animals. Your mother usually takes care of the crops and gardening. It’s a quiet and early morning, as most are. The both of you keep to yourselves, just doing what needs to be done day by day. 

The sound of a car is heard coming down to the long dirt road and you know who it is by the sound. It’s a fancier vehicle than the one he left this property with years ago. A meaner part of you likes to think his greedy hands got into that mega church’s donations but you’re too self aware of the successful farm your family owns. 

Your father parks in front of the house and your mother is quick to rush over to him, presumably with many questions: How have you been? Are you hungry? Thirsty? What brings you here so early in the month? 

You roll your eyes at her desperation to cling onto the relationship that clearly ended when you were a child. 

You place a hand on your hip, leaning your weight to the side that isn’t carrying the heavy bucket of chicken feed. Walking away from the coops and back towards the shed by the house, you make eye contact with your father despite only taking a glance. 

He watches you with narrow eyes from the lowered window of the car he’s still sitting in, very much not listening to a word your mother is saying. 

He calls your name before you can open the shed. Spinning on the heels of your boots, you turn around with raised brows of questioning. 

He mouths the words sacrificial tree as he exits the car. Your mother sees this. She wears pained disappointment as she scurries away. Presumably to the barn where the sheeps and lambs are kept. She might as well be a sheep too, you think. 

The bucket slips from your fingers and drops to the patchy dirt grass by your feet with a thud, spilling over in a mess that will be cleaned later. 

You don’t bother giving him a nod of understanding. You just turn around and begin your walk to the tree line where the man made path is. Knowing it would take some time for his preparations, you walk to the lake that’s hidden behind the farmland. 

It’s a brief walk through your familiar woods. Once at the short wooden dock, you sit down at the end, taking in the gloomy summer scenery. A light fog hugs over the water. You bring your knees to your chest, in your sitting position, and hug yourself the same way. 

This is your favorite place out of all the land your family owns. It’s serene, mostly. Always quiet. You’re the only one who comes here. And it’s nice to swim with when the weather warrants it. There’s a feeling here that’s hard to feel anywhere else you find yourself. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like with someone else, but you doubt it would be as nice. Trouble has a way of following you, it seems. You frown at the thought. 

It’s silent like this for a few minutes, just you trying to find a sense of calmness before the impending chastisement. Then you hear some rustling of leaves, heavy footsteps following. You don’t turn around yet, you only wait for the call of your name. Your time of tranquility is too brief. You sigh before giving yourself a squeezing hug. 

“It’s time,” the reverend calls out loudly, “quickly now, we have new farmhands arriving soon.” The sound of his feet walking away is when you stand. You wave a goodbye to the foggy lake before parting ways. Your feet move unconsciously, taking to where your body knows to go. 

Leaves crinkle underneath your boots and twigs snap. The trees’ branches sway in the gentle morning breezes that pass. 

In the mix of the small forest, man made crosses of sticks or plywood are spaciously scattered. Like a graveyard to all your bad doings. Most small but one large. Old rotted wood that stands crooked and begging to fall over right next to the largest, strongest tree. Your eyes, that are trained to ground, move upwards the cross and then to the tree. Your father stands there with a large knife in hand. Your mother waits cautiously not too far away. Her demeanor is frightful as if this is the first time. Coward.

An old sheep hangs by its hind legs from a sturdy tree branch. Unmoving and defenseless. Big beady, dumb eyes look in all directions but you. You think it must feel the same guilt as yourself, sorry that its life purpose is to embarrass you, make you hate what you are. 

“God told me to make a sacrifice to prove my faith. He guides my hand in washing your soul clean of sin. So here I am with our blessed, dying lamb.” He’s said this every time. His voice is always miserably rehearsed and preacher-esque. 

You thought long ago that this was their, the lambs, only use on the farm. It’s a shame. All that devotion has made him so ugly and violent. 

You make small steps closer to the lamb. It’s whining in bleat baas and mehs. Does it know what’s happening? Is it scared? You like the lambs, sheeps. Pure white, soft, and docile. They never fight back. They just take it. I doubt they need restraints. You could hold them above me just the same and they’d never resist. 

“Move faster, for the love of God. Yeah, stand right there underneath like you know how to.” He instructs you, annoyed. His patience running thin as the distant sounds of a truck makes way down the dirt road to the farm property. 

“Okay…” You don’t fight him, with arms crossed behind your back and a hand squeezing around your own wrist, you move closer. Maybe you’re a lamb too. 

Maybe all your father really was is the executioner. 

He raises the knife as he begins to speak, it slides over its cotton, white throat but does not cut, “Revelation 7:13-17 Then he told me, ‘These are those who come from the great tribulation, and they’ve washed their robes, scrubbed them clean in the blood of the Lamb. That’s why they’re standing before God’s Throne. They serve him day and night in his Temple. The One on the Throne will pitch his tent there for them: no more hunger, no more thirst, no more scorching heat. The Lamb on the Throne will shepherd them, will lead them to spring waters of Life. And God will wipe every last tear from their eyes.’” He slits its throat in a quick, harsh movement. The blood spills just as fast, squirting spurts of red before it comes pouring down onto you. “Face up,” you obey even though it brings you rage, “it ought to cleanse those unholy thoughts I know that are still in there.” 

Head raised to the sky with eyes and mouth squeezed shut, you let it consume you. Warm, thick and wet washes down from your head onto your clothes then down to your feet. The smell of animal, metallic iron covers you. It’s sticking to your hair, eyebrows and lashes. You can already feel your clothes clinging to your skin in the dirtiest ways. 

You stand there, drenching in the its blood. Your father speaks again, firm and slow, “Say it with me now, ‘I know no punishment, only mercy.’” All you feel is the animal’s rain of life flooding you.

You open your mouth to speak but are quick to spit and cough out the blood that manages to get into your mouth. Smack. 

“I don’t have time for this,” his voice sounds like an echo, your head is ringing from the harsh swing of his hand. The skin of your cheek stings. He hits like a bitch, you think. “Say it with me now, dammit!” You can feel him wipe his bloodied hand on the side of your shirt. 

You step back from under the red shower. “I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your words align with his in the perfect paced harmony you’re trained to do so. Enunciated, slow and strong, through gritted teeth.

There’s a beat of silence before the sound of your parents footsteps walking away. 

Standing there in red, yet to open your eyes, you breathe out a shaky sigh of defeat. It sounds more like a growl. With the mostly clean hands you kept safely behind you, you bring them up to wipe the blood from your face. You don’t dare to look at the dead animal in front of you. Being covered in it is enough alone to make you feel sick. 

You think of going back to the lake, jumping in and letting the blood wash off you there, but knowing you’d either walk back with further drenched clothes or naked didn’t seem like options you wanted to deal with either. So you just head back to the house. It’s a slower walk than need be, but you just felt like avoiding the eyes of the newcomers, hoping they’d be off in the fields or in a barn by the time you walk through. You feel numb. 

You’re wrong though, by the time you’re passing the barns and coops, the group of new farmhands are already lined up outside the horses’ stable. Your mother is talking to them, although not all are paying attention. Only a few pairs of wide eyes follow you. Catching the sight of you must really shock them but you can’t blame them. Something about this makes you excited. You stop in your tracks and look around to see if your father’s car is gone. It is. The realization feels like a wave of relief and it suddenly feels brighter outside already. 

You take a glance down to your disheveled appearance. Shirt, pants, and boots painted like the barns. You look back to the group, brushing the soiled hair back from your face. Some pieces stay stuck, in the early stages of drying against your skin.

It’s safe to have a little fun. 

You begin a slow walk over to the group. You take a headcount and there’s five of them. Two younger men, closer to your age. The other three look a bit older, not by much but definitely older. Your mother is yet to turn around from whatever rundown she’s giving them. Too dense to even recognize that now none of them were paying any attention to her. 

You creep up beside her and open with, “Hello,” your voice is louder than even you’ve heard it be in a long time. It’s nice to be heard, noticed. You usually avoided the farmhands, but this summer was going to be different. You decided this on the walk over. 

Being cooped up on the farm for so long made you different, it’s obvious to anybody. Not properly socialized in your developmental years caused you to be an anomaly to the ones who did come across you. Enigmatic from far away and up close. Now isn’t the greatest example though, the situation is too clear as to why. 

Your mother turns to you, gasping and jumping back slightly in the shock of your gross state and sudden introduction. “My goodness, girl, whatta ya doin’ here like this?” Her voice is hushed, clearly unsettled with the situation. 

They all just stare at you, open mouthed and bewildered. You take the time to get a good look at each of them up close. Your eyes follow their faces individually down the line. And then they stop. 

At the end of the line is a man more beautiful than the ones you’ve seen in the movies. You feel stuck in time, left with parted lips, staring at the man before you. And far too intently for your character. He stands tall, sharp, pale, and elegant. What is a boy like this doing here? He averts his eyes from you, clearly uncomfortable by what’s before him. He looks uneasy, shifting his weight foot to foot with his hands behind his back. His pretty eyes glance around from you to your mother to the other men and the ground. He simply doesn’t know what to do with himself. You find it dangerously darling of him. 

You don’t even realize the small smile that takes your lips. You step closer to him and he steps back, now looking at you with wide eyes of small fear. You extend your hand to him, it’s coated in drying blood. He gulps and the sight, his adam’s apple bobbing in such a biteable neck stirs something in you. This will be far more fun than you intended. 

You say your name softly for introduction and step a little closer, “Nice to meet you," you feign cuteness as much as you can, looking up at him through your blood clumped lashes. It’s clear to everyone there is something off; there’s little to no real emotion behind your voice and face. 

Your mother eyes you suspiciously as you corner the handsome man, but she says nothing. Sometimes she fears you too. 

He looks from your eyes to your hand, having an internal battle with himself on what to do, “Ah, I am Sunghoon... Nice to meet you too.” His politeness must be stronger than his frighteness, because he takes his hand in yours and shakes it gently. His hand is large in yours, nearly covering it entirely. You squeeze it hard, your eyes never leaving his, trapping him in the scene. 

He wants to look away, to hide somewhere. The way his skin crawls tells him he’s a prey already in the mouth of a predator. And you know he’s nervous under your intense gaze because your hand feels like a lamb is still bleeding above you. His palms are sweating, and it’s nowhere near hot enough for that yet. Your smile grows to a smirk. 

Although you’re wearing the lamb, having Sunghoon’s hand in yours made you feel like a wolf. 

　Sunghoon’s first day of his summer job starts off duller than he imagined. The sun isn’t out this morning and it only intensifies his anxiousness, as if the grey skies reflect his inner emotions. He’s already new to the area, away from home and staying in an apartment not far from his college in the city. A private, christian school that he studied hard to get into with his friend. He wishes his best friend and roommate, Jake, was joining him in this job, but Jake already had plans to teach at a summer soccer camp for kids through their school. 

He found this opportunity through the college church they attend together. A reverend from another church in the city came to visit one Sunday, handing out flyers to the young men in hopes of finding farm help. The pay is good and the bus fairs to the small town over where the farm’s located is covered. He’s never done work like it before, nevertheless was he going to let a simple offer pass him up. 

Things are going smoothly to start, being told how to care for, clean, and feed the animals to crop preservation. Everyone would have their own specific roles on the farm. Sunghoon was assigned the easier of the tasks, either feeding animals or watering and fertilizing the vegetables and fruits crops. He learns there are already regular farm workers that would come throughout the week to collect produce, material, and use the machinery for the more laborious work. And if she wasn't around when needed then they could ask any of the regular employees for assistance or find her at the house. 

As the farm owner is about to give details on the horses’ maintenance, a girl saunters in. And the anxious feelings become of Sunghoon all over again. His eyes are wide, taking in her appearance. The smell of the farm dissipates and putrid copper takes over. The worst part is how calm she appears, and the fact that she’s unbothered with all that she wears. 

He thinks his brain short circuits, everything seeming muffled and unreal. He doesn’t even realize he introduced himself or touched her. It all was too quick and unfamiliar for him to grasp. 

He watches as she walks away, back to the house that sits slightly over the hills and valleys of the property. His expression is blank, blinking slowly at the strange girl then down to his hand that’s stained red too. 

“Don’t pay her no mind,” the woman speaks up, she sounds as if she’s warning them. “Just get yer work done and when everyone’s finished y’all can head back home. I won’t ask too much of ya in yer first month here, alright? That might be a different story later.” She tries to end the statements in humor with her forced laugh. 

Sunghoon nods but his eyes don’t leave his dirty hand. The other men nod along too and give their ‘yes, ma’ams’ in return. 

The woman continues walking them around the farm, listing rules and guidelines they must follow, along with advice and tips for the work they’ll be doing. 

The day flows as easy as it can for Sunghoon. He doesn’t talk much with the other farmhands. He also doesn’t know them well enough to be comfortable in their conversations, so he just exists in awkward silence, sometimes reacting. While they can joke around and find fun in the work, his mind keeps wandering off to the girl from earlier, to you. How your empty eyes held onto his and small hand even tighter. He thinks the palm of his hand still burns from the interaction. 

Around the afternoon time, Sunghoon and the guys are sitting around a picnic table near the house. The sun is beating down on them all now while they chug down water and eat their lunch. The owner was kind enough to provide their refreshments and meals. They were all thankful. 

She adds that there’s a small lodge up the dirt road. It’s a little old but homey and has space with two spare bedrooms if they need to wash up or rest at any time. It was originally built for the farm workers that worked late and needed a place to stay if need be. 

Once done, the boys stand up and talk about what they have left to do. The next bus back to the city isn’t running for another two hours so they speak of taking some leisure time and exploring the farm property. Meanwhile Sunghoon is still sitting, watching them huddled in conversation. He wipes some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as they begin walking towards the fields.

Sunghoon, taking what the farm owner had mentioned previously, decides that he’d like to stay inside to get away from the beating sun for a while. So he gathers his trash to throw away in the bin by the road near the house’s mailbox and begins his walk to the lodge. 

Once inside he takes in the rustic, outdated furniture. It’s a little dusty and the floorboards creak beneath his feet but he finds it somewhat comforting. The living space has two couches by an old stone fireplace, a center table with board games and cards, a kitchenette, and a large dining table with enough space to seat six people. 

The decor is very farmers-life-esque. From a cow print rug in the small kitchen area to the antlers mounted on the wall near the dining table. There’s scenic southern paintings hung up along with antique crosses and prints of bible verses, all adoring the faded and peeling floral wallpaper. Above the fireplace hangs a painting depicting Jesus healing a blind man. 

He walks down the only short hall in the lodge to find the two spare bedrooms the woman had mentioned along with a bathroom. He takes this time to wash his hands thoroughly and splash some cold water on his face. With his hands resting on the sink, he stares at himself in the mirror. The cold drops of water slip down his face, jaw, and back into the sink. 

In his mind he’s questioning whether or not he’s sure of this job. It’s all too different from what he knows and he can’t help but feel out of place here. With a sigh, he drops his head and watches the water slip down the sink. 

He jumps slightly at the sudden sound of the front door opening and closing, not expecting the others to join him here quite yet. No noise follows the action for a moment, not even footsteps. Then there’s the sound of a click, like the door is being locked. He straightens his posture and peaks out the bathroom door, listening for their voices or any sound other than silence. It offers nothing to him so he begins to feel tense. 

“Hello?” Sunghoon calls out skittishly, but there’s no response. His heart rate picks up a little and he starts to think the boys are trying to pull some sort of childish prank on him. He leaves the room and makes slow steps down the hallway to the main area of the lodging house. 

As he rounds the corner he doesn’t find any of the boys there though, he just sees you. His heart jumps at the realization. Sitting on the couch, in overall shorts and nothing else. Bare legs crossed and hands against the couch by your sides as you watch him peer around the corner with apprehension. You’re  just sitting there, leaning forward and waiting for him to come find you. 

Cowardly, Sunghoon makes a half turn. He presses his back against the wall of the hallway as if he could hide away or disappear into it. He even closes his eyes, thinking of a quick prayer to save him from this circumstance. 

“Are you pretending to be shy or are you really this cute?” Your voice is teasing, and he can hear the wicked smile in it without seeing. 

Feeling caught, he just sighs and slowly makes his way to the living area. He tries not to look at you, thinking you are too revealing. So he looks everywhere else and then to large windows that give view to the farm; none of the guys are in sight. Most likely somewhere goofing off. All he can see is the fields and farm buildings standing large in the distance. 

He doesn’t move and speaks softly, “I should probably go find the others-”

You speak before he can finish his attempt of an excuse, “Come sit with me.” You pat the space on the couch next to yourself. Your voice sounds welcoming but he knows there’s an undertone of mischief. 

He makes a quick glance to you and sucks in a breath at the view of your body that’s exposed from your overalls. The glimpse of the curve of your breast disappearing under the denim already makes him feel like he’s seen too much of you. And he has. He’s never seen such bare skin on a girl and he’s never been alone in a room with one either. 

“Come sit with me, now.” You’re more stern this time, demanding in a gentle way. Your hand makes small movements, soothing over the material of the couch like you’re warming the space for him. 

He visibly swallows as he makes his hesitant steps over to you. His heart is racing and with every beat there is a question of his strength. He sits down on the same sofa but not directly next to you like you want. You smirk nonetheless and turn to face him, sitting with your legs criss-cross now. 

With your elbows to your knees you hold your head in your hands, watching the side of his face. You’re again realizing how sculpted his features are. Dark thick hair on his head, eyebrows and lashes too. An array of moles sprinkle his pale face. A sharp nose that sits above pink, full lips. You wonder if he knows of his own beauty. It’s fascinating to see such a person like him in front of you. 

He’s sitting with perfect posture, not relaxing into the couch. Alert like a deer that’s waiting for too sudden of movement to pounce away. His eyes just watch the table, reading through the names of the board games that lay there as a way of distracting himself. He’s awkward. 

“Uhm… d-does your family own this farm?” he tries for small talk to break the silence. His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth as he makes one quick look over to you. Luckily your overalls sit high up or he’d have a full view of your chest. He can’t help but think of the fact and it makes him shift uncomfortably. 

“Do I make you nervous?” you question, seriously so. Brows pulled tight in a furrow with a straight face. You lean in even closer to him, watching for every change on his face. 

“Yes,” his response is honestly quick and ends with a tight lip, like he’s holding his breath. He is yet to comprehend what is happening, still in a whirlwind of thoughts of what could—will—happen. 

“Why?” Your head tilts slightly to the side, it makes him think of his roommate briefly. And man does he wish he were here to ease the tension. 

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s never been in such close proximity with a girl alone before, so he just clears his throat and remains quiet after doing so. 

Curiously, you bring a hand up with a pointed finger and brush the tip of it over the mole on the side of his nose. He jolts back at the sudden touch, his cheeks flushing a warm pink. His eyes now watch you with gentle confusion. He touches the same spot you did with a trembling hand. 

“You have a constellation on your face. So many moles… Do you have a girlfriend?” 

His face burns a little more, both from the observation and the question. He shakes his head, sitting himself further into the couch and further away from you. He can’t quite understand the situation. Are you messing with him? You seem too serious for such. Maybe you’re just weird like he initially thought. Either way he can feel his faith slipping; he is cupping holy water in hands during an earthquake. 

“Did I do somethin’ wrong? Am I not pretty?” You pout to be playful with him, acting as if his actions are offending you. He takes it literally though. 

“No!” his hands rest on his knees and he holds them hard, trying to find stability despite sitting down. “Y-you are… pretty,” his words grow quieter, like he’s sharing a secret. “I just don’t know you or why you want to talk to me.” 

“Hm.” You lean your head back against the couch. With your eyes still on his face, you speak just as quietly, “I’m still trying to figure that out too.” After some beats of muted air you speak up again, but with more presence, “You came to work here. Why?” 

“A man was handing out flyer ads at the church. I wanted a summer job.” 

Is he always this direct and boring? And church, of fucking course. You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the back cushion and even closer to the man. Your knees touch the side of his body and his thigh. He looks like he’s trying to control his breathing, to feign lack of disturbance, but his face says everything you need to know. 

You place a hand on his thigh and his whole body stiffens at the action. Your smirk to yourself. It’s only resting there on the top of his jeans. “You act like a girl has never touched you before.” You give him a soft squeeze and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Well? Has a girl ever touched you?” 

He shakes his head quickly, “No,” he breaks, feeling overwhelmed and wrong, “and I don’t think you should be. It’s against the churches values-”

“At your age you still follow the rules?” Your hand slides lower and back up his thigh, it’s a slow and teasing motion. There’s enjoyment in how scared he’s becoming. 

Sunghoon knows that this is only going to lead him down a path he swore to God not to take. And if his parents were to know that in his first year away from home in the summer since college was locked in a lodge with a promiscuous girl he’d have it handed to him. The thought of their wrath makes him shiver all the more. 

“I just don’t want to sin.” His eyes close and he bites down onto his lip again. He no longer cares if a stranger sees him as a loser or prude. His virtue is being tested in real time, and he’s feared facing this battle many times in the night because even in his dreams he loses. 

“I’m only touching you. How is it a sin?” The tone of your voice changes, it’s soft like the hand that moves closer to in between his thighs. Your fingertips press into his clothed skin here and there, curiously feeling him up. You just try to get a reaction out of him. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach that you don’t recognize; it’s faintly familiar. 

“Your hand isn’t supposed to be… there.” He makes a strained sound, something like a low whine, as your hand ghosts over his cock. 

You look down to your movements for the first time and realize he’s sporting a half chub. You snicker quietly, cupping him in your palm. “Then why are you getting hard, Sunghoon? Do you like the way I’m touching you? I bet you’ve thought about doing this before too.” 

He makes another noise, a whimper. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes and accept what’s happening. He also can���t find it in himself to stop you, or get up and leave. This wasn’t just a struggle with evil’s temptation but his own biological nature. Something yet to be explored, something that’s been scratching at his ribcage for years to be fed. 

There’s too much he can’t admit in this moment. Starting with how he enjoys the sound of your voice, the slight accent and dialect difference he picks up. How the way his name leaves your lips makes him want to crumble like a burning church. And how he silently likes the fact he can’t control the way his body is reacting to your hands on him. 

It’s all wrong, wrong, wrong. And he is weak.

“Answer me, Sunghoon.” Your hand presses down on him, feeling the growing hardness under your palm. You give him a small squeeze, massaging over the bulge. To your surprise he feels big. Your eyebrows quirk at this and then you look back to his face. A single tear runs down his face and you find satisfaction in it. “Lying is a sin too,” you remind him. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hands fist the couch cushions at his sides. He grips the material so tight that his knuckles turn pink through the pale of his skin. His chest rises and falls through slow and deep breaths. 

“You shouldn’t feel sorry for something that makes you feel good.” You palm over him a few more times, drawing out little moans and whimpers from him. He’s struggling to sit still. You can even feel him try not to push his hips back up into you; if only he would admit that he wants it. He’s practically pulsing beneath you, like there’s never been such a rush of blood to his cock in his life. You sigh dramatically and pull your hand away from him, sitting back to give him space. “That’s too bad. A good dog will always be loyal, huh?”

His eyes shoot open when he feels your hand is gone. He looks at you desperately with wet eyes, a small pout to his lips. You make him feel sick for wanting to ask why you stopped, or if he did something bad for you to take away his short-lived pleasure. 

You smirk at his expression, so pitifully beautiful with want. “Have you ever touched yourself?” you ask, placing your hand over his that hasn’t let go of the couch. It takes you back when he flips his hand around to hold onto yours, clingy and wretched. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. Repulsed, you react quickly and take your hand away from him at his impulsive intimacy. It makes him frown with a meek whimper. 

He shakes his head slowly, looking down to his lap. “I can’t.” He knows he’s not allowed to. His father was adamant through his puberty that he mustn’t succumb to his body’s natural taste for sin. He was told that sometimes the devil had a funny way of sneaking into a man’s mind. That Satan would haunt boys in their sleep to wake them up with guilt of uncontrollable lust to be like him. 

“But you like when I do it, right?” You rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. His eyes look from your face to the thin opening of your overalls where your chest can be seen from the angle. He bites down hard and nods slowly. You coo, moving your hand back to his still hard, clothed cock. “I can make it go away if you want. You want that?” 

He’s battling all the repressed things he’s been too afraid to explore; fearful of the swing of his parents belt he felt once long ago after being caught in a misunderstanding. In spite of it, he nods again. “It hurts.. Please, help me.” His voice is so quiet. Even he doesn’t want to hear his own pathetic begging. 

Your fingers find the zipper of his jeans then you tug it down slowly as you stare at him. “You have to pull them down for me, okay? I can’t help you with just this.”

Sunghoon freezes for a second knowing he has control over being the one to take out his own cock. Yet apprehension leaves in a breath. Then he’s pulling the clothing down to his knees with frantic haste. You didn’t expect him to take everything off so fast but there’s a sense of pride in how eager you’ve made him become in such a short time. 

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. His cock is as beautiful as him. Pale and raging pink, crying at the tip much like his eyes. He’s also big, bigger than you knew dicks could be. You thought they’d be ugly, gross and worm-like. But his is clean and pretty. It’s your first time seeing one in person; you wouldn’t let him know that. 

You take him bare in your hands, feeling him like a foreign object. More curious of his body than in his pleasure in the moment. His body tenses then relaxes against the couch. A shaky, breathy moan leaves his lips. His eyes flutter at the contact of skin. 

You squeeze him, making his moan weakly again. It’s heavy in your hand. Truly just a stick of warm flesh. A part of you wants to squeeze him as hard as you can just to see if it can break, but you withhold on hurting him for now. Not wanting to scare him too much in hopes of exploring him further through the summer. 

Your hand wraps around the length as much as it can, pads of fingertips brushing over every vein and curve as you slowly move your hand up and down. When your thumb circles around his tip and flicks the leaking hole, his body lurches forward with a loud cry of a moan from him. You wonder if he’ll cum in the next few seconds of simply touching him. 

“I think you’re a slut for a little pleasure, Sunghoon.” You use your palm to gather his precum, circling over the tip to smear the thick cream around. Then you drag it back down himself, wetting his cock in his own prerelease. It slides easier now, your hand. You move faster, jerking him off in lazy, inexperienced motions. Not that he would know anyways. “You gave into lust so easily, didn’t you? Must’ve wanted this for so long. Your body’s nasty, eager for it.”

In his ears, you make the nasty words sound delicious. And he wants to devour more and more, like the starved man he is. His hips snap up into your hard, sudden and rough. You wrap your free arm over his shoulders, a hand sneaking up into his hair to tug aggressively on the thick dark locks. You’re pulling his head back, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t be a whore. I’m helping you. I didn’t say fuck my hand.” 

“Ahsh- I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he whines, tears burning his eyes, “it, it f-feels good. I feel so good.” His head falls to lean against yours, face burying into your hair. His head makes little shakes as he begins to cry, telling himself no, no. 

“Shut up...” You don’t like how close he is to you. You only like doing so to tease him, but when he does it, it makes you feel a fiery anger in your chest and belly. Uncomfortable. Smothering.

Your hand works in sloppy motions. Pumping his pulsing cock to reach his orgasm. At the tip your wrist makes flicks with your thumb, working him up further and further. 

He stutters out incoherent apologies into your hair throughout his sobs of wanton, whimpering moans. Everything about his body is sensitive to the new sensations. He can’t help but move his hips up into your hand, humping the small fist that’s fucking down onto him. 

Confused by the warm, tight feeling flexing of his abdomen he whines against you, “I can’t- I can’t take it. My body feels weird now. Mmph, ‘m sorry. I don’t know what’s h-happening.” His body feels volcanic, ready to burst. 

You continue your movements, jerking his reflexing length until he’s cumming into your hand. It’s a heavy load of thick, creamy mess. His voice is too close to your ear as he moans a drawn out needy sound. Your face remains plain while you pump him until he’s milked dry. His body flinches and curls into yours through the aftershocks, clearly overstimulated and over-sensitive. His arms snake around your waist to pull you against him.  

You stare down at your hand that was earlier covered in the blood of a lamb and now the cum of a virgin. It looks like fucking snot, you realize with repulse. Without thinking you bring your hand up and lick the strange release. Your face scowls at the unknown taste so you just wipe the rest on your overalls. “You are disgusting,” you mutter. 

Sunghoon remains silent aside from his sniffles, eyes peeking through his bangs to watch what you’re doing. He still hasn’t stopped clinging to your side, as if you could save him from his first lustful sin. 

You push yourself up and off the couch, his body slightly falls to the side where he was leaning on you but he catches himself. He watches you with sad, scared eyes. You stare blankly in return then look out the window to see the group of men walking around the picnic table they ate at earlier. 

“Farmhands will be leaving soon. Clean yourself up in the bathroom.” You don’t spare him another look, you just walk to the front door, unlock it, and leave. You ignore the way he looked like a sad abandoned puppy. Something about it angered you in the same way he was being clingy. 

You walk back to your house with a slight skip to your steps. As you step through your front door, you’re about to head upstairs to your room but stop in your tracks because your mother speaks.

“Hate him all ya want,” your mothers words slur, she speaks slowly and tired-like, “but he was a good man. He used to love me… And then you came along.” You turn to the living room on your left where your mother lays on the couch, wine glass in hand and eyes heavy lidded. “I know what yer capable of. I’ve seen the things ya do on this farm, in this home.. When ya think no one is watching.. He just might be right about you.” You glare at her now. “There is something evil in ya, child. Leave that boy outta yer wickedness.” 

Her wine glass falls to the floor from her fingers and she groans, turning to her side. You stare at her for a moment before walking up to your room. 

Meanwhile Sunghoon spends his next 20 minutes in a spiral of guilt and shame. He cleans himself up in the restroom like you told him to. Then waits, watching outside the window for when the boys are gathered around the truck they drove in from the bus stop to leave in. It was hard for him to get the tears to end. He fell right into sin’s lustful trap and it made him feel so- No, it only made him feel hurt. Stupid. Bad. 

On his bus ride back into the city he prays. Sitting in back, alone with his indignity, and head bowed low so no one could see his red rimmed, glossy eyes. Time goes by so fast that he nearly misses his stop to get off. 

He ignores his roommate when he’s home. Jake, excited and curious of Sunghoon’s first day, is left cold. Sunghoon showers for longer than usual. He scrubs so harshly at his skin he turns red; unable to feel clean no matter how much he washes. He doesn’t eat dinner because he feels he doesn’t deserve to. He gets into bed earlier than most days too. He tries to sleep but the day haunts him, keeping him awake. 

He’s up all night in tears, face in his pillow with the blanket thrown over his head, trying to hide from He who watches. The begs of forgiveness seem endless. 

“Dear God,” he whimpers, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He doesn’t sleep much that night because he can’t find it in himself to stop humping into his mattress in hopes to chase and achieve the feeling you gave him earlier. His hips rock his aching hard cock into the bed, anguished yet titillated. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me. I’m so sorry.” He continues to cry, drowning in his pillow, knowing he will do it again. 

　The next day on the farm is an early morning for everyone. Sunghoon sits quietly in the truck with the other summer volunteer farmharms. They talk amongst each other about the day’s schedule of duties and tasks. He struggles to keep his eyes open, head leaning against the window despite its bumps from the uneven dirt road. He thought about calling it quits on the whole job after yesterday, but couldn’t bring himself to. It’s for selfish reasons too. The ones that deepen his guilt. 

The arrival to the farm is quicker than anticipated. Sunghoon forces himself to be more alert and awake, starting to pick up on the conversations between the others as he exits the parked truck. 

“Do you think it’s still hanging there?” One says. “The lamb of slaughter?” Another dumbly asks with a snort. “Well yeah, dipshit. You guys think that girl did it? She was weird as hell.” A third voice chimes in, “Being covered in blood and then leaving a dead animal hanging from a tree is creepy as fuck. The lady was right, stay the hell away from her.” He laughs. The others walk away in continuous chatter, leaving Sunghoon by the truck. 

Sunghoon is confused by this conversation and deeply disturbed. He doesn’t follow or press them with questions though. But it will give him much to think about for the day. He’s so exhausted from the lack of sleep, he wonders if he even heard them all correctly at all. Yeah, your whole introduction was strange but killing an animal and acting like nothing happened and then toying with him on the same day? Was all that really something a girl like you would do? He can’t say for sure because he doesn’t know you. 

He goes about his morning tasks lazily. His mind is too busy with the thoughts of you. He thinks of when or if he’ll see you today. You haven’t shown around the farm all day. It’s only an hour before noon, he tries to rationalize with himself. He still ponders throughout his work. What time will you come? Will you mysteriously show up like yesterday? Will you touch him again? Will you let him feel good? Is he forgivable or going to burn in hell for wanting more?

He shakes his head to rid it of the thoughts. Perhaps he’s too hopeful. After lunch time he goes back to the farmers lodge to take a nap. At least that’s the realistic excuse he used. He struggles to even fall asleep because he’s so anxious about listening for any sound of you possibly coming back here. 

His eyes, sullen and tired, just can’t stay open after half an hour of waiting. So eventually he does fall asleep. You never show up. When he wakes up from his long needed nap he somehow feels worse knowing you didn’t visit than he did committing his first sin. 

The following day of work is a repeat. He doesn’t see you at all yet you occupy all of his thoughts. He thinks badly of himself for many reasons. 

　On the fourth day, you finally decide it’s time to check up on the poor boy. You watched Sunghoon mope around the farm for two days and it was cute at first but you’re getting bored again. You did like how his eyes were always searching around, hopeful that every sound he heard from behind or around corners was you. Knowing you had such an effect on him made you wonder how much more you could do to him. 

From the window of your room, you watch when they all arrive. Your mother greets them like she does in the mornings and gives them all tasks that need to be completed for the day. It’s Thursday which means she’ll be out for a few hours to go into town and sort out business for products: cow and goat milk processing for cheeses and soaps. At least you assume considering you overheard her phone call about such the day prior. 

You spend the morning around the house, reading and snacking on fruits, waiting for your mother to leave so you can proceed with your plan. There was some effort into your appearance today. You wear a spaghetti strapped white babydoll dress, lined at the bottom with sewn embroideries. It’s simple and flows nicely above your knees when you walk. You hate it because it alludes to soft purity but at least it feels good to dress light in the summer heat. And it might make you all the more approachable to feeble Sunghoon. 

After about an hour, your mother finally leaves. You give it about 10 minutes before you’re shoving on your boots and leaving the house. Some of the blood from earlier in the week still stains the brown leather; you did clean them off but clearly not to the best extent. You’re okay with that though, it seems prettier this way to you. 

Looking and walking around the property, you see the scattered farmhands busy with different things. The sun isn’t kind today, it’s piercing in brightness and temperature. The sweat begins to seep from your pores in a matter of minutes, making you feel sticky. You run a hand through your tangled hair, fingers getting caught in unbrushed knots that you yank through anyways. You don’t see Sunghoon anywhere that’s directly under the sun. You continue to search around the farm, gaining a few cautious looks from the other workers. As you walk past their gazes you wear a wry smile with a tilt to your head. They look away quickly after being caught staring. 

Some wandering in and out of the different barns and coops are done. He wasn’t in any of them though.  You greet the animals you pass by and give pats to some of the cows. “Have you guys seen him nearby? I’m not a fan of hide and seek.” You mumble to one of the goats, scratching lightly beneath its chin while it chews away at grains and hay. It maas in return. You pull your hand back out from the stable then leave to continue the manhunt. 

It’s when you’re walking by the horses’ stables that you see they’ve already been cared for, telling you that someone was here already. You glance to the smaller shed nearby, having a suspicious inkling that it's where Sunghoon is. You walk to the shed and see yourself inside. And he is. He has his back turned to you, standing at a work bench table and cleaning something off. 

You walk up behind him, the sound of your footsteps being dulled by the scattered hay on the wooden floors; he doesn’t notice that you entered the space, clearly lost in his own thoughts. You tap his shoulder which makes him spin around in surprise, dropping the brushes he was cleaning. 

Sunghoon’s eyes are wide at the sight of you standing so close to him. You can tell he’s lost sleep by the dark circles around his eyes and how his complexion is impossibly paler. His mouth is stuttering to find words, opening and closing. 

You step closer to him and he steps back, his backside now pressing against the table. It wobbles on the uneven wooden stilts that hold it up. Reflexively, his hands reach back to hold onto the table, but he’s using it for his own stability. You simply stand there in between his legs, staring up at his face and taking in all the details that differ from the last time you saw him. He swallows, quietly watching your face in return. 

“I haven’t seen you around.” Sunghoon speaks first, his voice a soft surrender. You feel his breath on your face. 

“I know. I saw you though. You missed me.” You state bluntly, taking note of the little fangs he has for teeth. He probably bites good, you think, licking the back of your own teeth. 

“If you saw me then why didn’t you…” he trails off into a quiet again, closing his eyes for a moment with a sigh. “I wouldn’t call it that.” His eyes open again as he feels your hands on his chest, sliding up his white tank and underneath the sleeves of his denim jacket to his shoulders. He bites down, suddenly stiff. 

Ignoring his response you continue, “How can you wear this when it’s so warm out?” Your hands slide over his shoulders and down his toned arms, the jacket slips down to reveal the toned limbs. Your eyebrows raise at the sight yet your face remains relatively blank. “You’ve got muscle. Good for farm work.” Small hands continue to run over the smooth milk-like skin, learning every curve of his lean built physique. It’s not sexual, just exploratory. 

Sunghoon sucks in a breath, watching you inspect him. He begins to feel flustered, relishing in the contact of skin on his. You notice his tense body and ask him if it’s okay, to which replies a raspy stutter, “Y-yeah.” Your hands slide down his arms and back up to his shoulders. Then down his chest and body to stop at the waistline of his jeans. He has a nice body; he must be athletic. You don’t care to ask in what ways. Your fingers dip into his jeans just slightly to pull him in closer to you, he gasps, his growing cock pressing against your stomach. 

“Sunghoon,” You ridicule him, tsking under your breath at the pressure you feel of his arousal. “Already?” You look up at him but he can’t meet your eyes, feeling embarrassed. You play with the waistline, your fingertips running back and forth between the denim and his skin. “Is this sinning?” It’s a soft question yet mocking. He only shakes his head, nervously gnawing at his bottom lip. “Do you want to?” He whimpers, slowly nodding his head. You take your hands off him, crossing your arms. “You have to tell me. Look at me and tell me.” 

He looks back at you dispirited. He knows that you know what he wants. And here you are making him admit it outloud, both to you and God. “Please.” He begs quietly, hoping it only reaches your ears and not the sky’s. “I want you.” 

There’s that feeling again. The lit match that falls from your throat to the gasoline of your stomach that erupts in flames. Fire to your abdomen and loins; it’s an angry feeling, sparked by his honest admit of want, and for you specifically. You watch him with narrowed eyes while mumbling, “you revolt me.” 

He doesn’t reply to your venomous insult. It stings to hear the degrading words in both his heart and pants; he thinks himself disgraceful too. 

You drop to your knees, hands finding place back on his jeans to undo his zipper. He stares down at you in bated breath, hands still gripping tight on the table behind him. His are pulled down slowly, purposely so. You watch him writher, body and face. “Did you do it again?” you question, looking up at him from below. He would never avow to how the sight of you on your knees alone makes him ache all the more. 

He wants to tear his eyes away from you but he can’t. The image of you in your white dress on the ground before him needs to be burned into his memory. He stutters a mumble of words but you don’t catch anything, if he even said a coherent response at all. You ask again, pinching his thigh. He tries to hum over the strained noise in the back of his throat, “Yes.. I mean no! B-but I didn’t touch myself.”

You try not to giggle, biting the inside of your cheek. Knowing he wanted to feel that way again but couldn’t on his own gave you a funny sense of power over him. One of your hands traces the outline of his hard cock through his boxer briefs. “You make a mess?” He shivers at the feeling of your breath on his suffocating length. He breathes out a ‘no’ while you lick a strip over the material. “Why not? I showed you how.”

He moans softly, trying not to let his hips chase after the feeling that he’s been after for days. “You know I can’t,” he exhales. You roll your eyes, mouthing and licking at him languidly. Your hands are still half tugging at the material that keeps him hidden. A faint pool of precum quickly stains his boxers. 

“Sunghoon,” you look up at him with your chin resting on the bulge. He swallows hard, acknowledging you with a hum. “You will never be free from it. The sin I let you taste will forever linger on the tip of your tongue, begging and licking to taste more in crave. No holy blessed water can possibly cleanse you even if you drown in it.” 

His bottom lip pouts out with a little droning whine. He should defend himself, say that his faith is stronger than he is and that his soul is saveable by mercy. But a part of him also feels that doesn’t want to be. His eyes begin to well with tears. 

“Not even a god could make you pure again,” you give him a small smile and pat his naked thigh before pulling down his underwear. His cock now free slaps his stomach to which he breathes out heavily. You grab him with both hands, giving him one last look before taking the leaking head into your mouth. Hands working on him steadily. 

“T-that’s dirty!” he leans forward with a low sounding moan, his hands on your head and in your hair. Your eyes go wide at this. “Why would you put that in your mouth?!” he gasps, the warm wetness around his tip making him dizzy. “This is so vulgar, oh God, forgive me.” he cries, not pulling your mouth off of him but holding you there. 

You circle your tongue around the tip and over his leaking slit, licking the beads of precum that leak out. It makes your grimace before you lean back, a wet pop as your mouth leaves. “Enough of your penitence, and take your hands off me.” It sounds like a warning to which he complies without question, only a hushed apology. He’s the one who wants to be touched anyways, not you. 

You take him into your mouth again, your lips wrap around him in a painful stretch to accommodate his size. He sits heavy on your tongue that lays flat underneath, doing what you can with it. Your hands at the base work around him, jerking and squeezing him like you did before. You weren’t really sure what you were doing, mainly just mocking the actions you read about in books. It seems to be working for Sunghoon regardless because he can barely hold himself together. Whining and whimpering through fat tears, whole body shuddering from the overwhelming wet heat of your mouth. 

His jaw goes slack, mouth hung open only to elicit a breathless moan. His head rolls back on his neck and his eyes flutter to a close. The feeling of your mouth wrapping around him is hot heaven. His body trembles with the new, sweeping sensation. Stomach already tight with contracting muscles. He thinks he could pass out. 

Watching his face, him, discover and feel pleasurable sin is slightly euphoric to you. You’ve seen it in movies and read of it in books, but it was something you never quite fully explored yourself. There’s been a few instances that you did touch yourself; it always felt empty or like something was always missing. There’s little to no excitement when doing it alone in shameful hiding. Witnessing, causing such debauchery is different somehow. Safer in ways you didn’t dwell in thought on. You do wish he would stop crying about it, you find it pathetic of him in a provoked way. 

Involuntarily, he thrusts himself down your throat with a guttural groan. You gag and cough around him, tears sting your eyes that make you squeeze them shut—refusing to let a single one dare to escape. Now it felt like a challenge. One to which you wouldn’t back down in fear of looking weak. 

Your hands hold his thighs roughly, bruisingly so if you had the strength. You move his body in a small back and forth motion, encouraging him to continue his movements. You’re looking up at him with glazed over eyes and a slight nod. He chokes a sob at the sight, you on your knees not to pray but to devour him.

“Ah, I- I’m sorry. Your mouth is so wet, so warm.” He starts off with shallow thrusts, dragging his cock along your wet muscle. His hips stutter while his world seems to be crashing down. “This is so dirty. You look so dirty. And—ngh—it’s.. it’s so good. It’s so good,” he babbles, pushing himself as far down into your mouth as he can. His tip kisses the back of your throat making you gag around him. Your nails digging into the flesh of his strong legs. He can’t stop moaning and whimpering, becoming a slave to pleasure. 

He watches your face. Hollowed cheeks sucking and swallowing around him, the tightness of your throat around him hugging and contracting through chokes that reverberate your body to his cock. The spit that leaks from your lips and all over him is obscene, such a sinful mess. He so badly wants to grab your head and force himself down further, but his nails dig into the wood of the table instead. 

“Hm, I can’t—” he moans your name, thrusting rougher now. His whole body crumbling in on itself, chasing the feeling of release. 

Then there’s the sound of footsteps and a few voices that follow. Sunghoon sucks in a deep breath, taking a fist to his mouth to bite down onto. He looks at you in fear because of the proximity of the other farmhands right outside. This only makes you smirk around him, a glint of evil in your eyes. He shakes his head hurriedly, stopping his movements—as if that would make you both disappear. 

You push yourself off his cock, licking over your cracked and saliva covered lips. You bring a finger to your lips and shush him. “Be quiet or they’ll find out what a nasty whore you are. Unless you want that.” Your voice is quiet and raspy from the abuse of him fucking himself down your throat. You stare into his eyes intently before taking him back in. He glances from you to the door of the shed, his body shaking. 

You slurp and suck him up, purposely loud and sloppy. A hand jerking off the base that doesn’t quite fit in your mouth. He cries quietly with his mouth open, meek and desperate sounds escape that he can’t withhold. “Please…” He’s whimpering, begging for something that he doesn’t know the context of. 

“Do you think the extra feed is in this one?” A voice questions, the door being opened just a crack. 

Sunghoon quickly tries to bend down for his jeans but you slap his hand away, pushing him back into the table. You grip his thighs and force yourself to take all of him down. You gag around him, eyes never leaving his panicky and fucked out face. His face silently begs for you that enough is enough but you don’t stop, because a part of you knows he doesn’t want you to either. 

“It doesn’t hurt to check, does it?” The other replies with a light chuckle. “Could take a break for some shade too while we’re at it.” The door opens slowly with an agonizing creak, sunlight barely pouring. 

Each passing second feels like an eternity to him. The door is still only cracked, not enough for them to see inside but it’s cutting it close. His cock twitches at the thought of being caught with his dick down the throat of the farmer’s daughter. A blazing adrenaline rushes through him. 

Sunghoon can’t bear it any longer. His hands find purchase on the back of your head, pushing himself completely into your mouth. His hips stutter with a whimper on his lips as the hot cum pours down your throat. “Ah, sh- ngh!” You smack at his legs for him to release the hold, choking for air to breathe. You instinctively swallow around him, consuming his load of sin.  

“You dumbass! The horses are already fed, let’s just go for a water break.” The door slams back on itself to a close. Their footsteps can be heard walking away. 

Sunghoon breathes heavily, letting go of you. His body instantly relaxing back with his elbows on the table to support him. Meanwhile you fall onto your ass, a hand around your throat while you gasp for air through rough coughs. “What the fuck did I say about putting your hands on me?” You rasp before coughing again. The taste of him sits on the back of your tongue no matter how much you swallow. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “we shouldn’t get caught.” He pulls his pants and boxers back up then extends a hand to you, an offering to help you stand back up. 

You scoff, ignoring his hand and stand up on your own. You brush the dirt and stray strands of hay from your knees. “Whatever. We both got what we wanted.” You start to turn for the door to leave the shed with the thought of brushing your teeth in mind. 

Sunghoon, confused as to what you could’ve gotten out of helping him, just reaches for your hand. He grabs you and pulls you back to look at him. His eyes are sad, maybe even a little afraid by your haste to leave. “Y-you’re just going to leave me again?” He sounds broken by the fact. 

“What?” You can’t help but breathe a laugh, “Did you expect me to do more?” You ask with raised brows. 

“No! No, not like that.. But..” He swallows his pride, “I- I don’t know. Just don’t leave yet. Please.” 

You blink at him, scanning his features like a robot in calculation. The pleading of his expression and his words aggravate you. A fiery burning to your insides and the skin that he touches, that he reached for. You look down to his tight grip on your hand before yanking it away. You don’t say anything more, and neither does he. He wipes his eyes from whatever salty wetness is still there. 

A moment of silence solidifies your decision. You beckon him to follow you out and he does. 

For the rest of his work day you remain. You try not to think about why. But subconsciously you know it’s because for the first time someone willingly wants to be by your side. At first you imagine it’s because of what you’ve done for him—gave him what any man desires: pleasure. A man falling into temptation is far too easy. 

Though he doesn’t ask for more and he doesn’t bring it up. Almost like it never happened. 

It seems like he really just wants to be around you. There’s little said between each other. It’s just idle farm work with company. And it’s more peaceful than you expected it to be. He didn’t touch you, question you, or do much at all to bother you in general. 

Sometimes he stares at you, but you do the same to him. He even gives a sheepish smile when he catches you; it doesn’t get returned. That doesn’t bother him though. He thinks you look beautiful on the farm in your dress with dirt covered hands and hair messy from the wind. He hopes to tell you that one day but for now he stays shy, still weary and afraid. 

The sun shines relentlessly unless a cloud mercifully passes by. The breeze is rare yet kind. The animals make their sounds to sing a collective song. The trees and crops sway like waving hands of hellos and goodbyes, depending on where you’re headed to or from. It’s not so bad. 

　Two weeks go by. Time flies by for both you and Sunghoon. He comes to work during the week, and he spends his weekends missing you. He doesn’t know what you two are to each other, and he’s too scared to ask. There’s definitely been changes to the dynamic, however. Subtly so. You still don’t smile, or let him touch you. You roll your eyes and insult him if he’s too emotional. But you’re there. 

Certainly not everyday, but most, you spend his work days with him. It’s easier to be around one another. There can be small talk, usually about the farm or the weather. Still much to be learned about on a personal level, but he’s fine with the pace of the relationship (outside of the unholy acts that are committed). Sometimes you even end up helping him. Or at least he thinks of it that way. In reality you don’t like how he does things and take over to do it yourself. 

You still tease him in your cruel ways. Always ending with him in a mess because he’s easily worked up by your handsy curiosity. He caves into you every time because he can’t fight the divinity that you show him. 

There are other times where you confuse him. You suggest a water break knowing he’d gone hours without hydration under the summer heat. You insist on having him take a break under a roof away from the sun when his skin gets too sweaty or red. Which is followed by a reminder that sunscreen is important if he wishes to keep his milky complexion. It’s critical statements that you provide him, but he can’t help to think it’s a weird way of showing you care. 

Sure, it could be seen as you selfishly saying these things because it’s what you want for yourself, but in the back of his mind he’s very aware of how you watch and cater to him. It makes his heart jump every time and butterflies swarm his stomach. He can’t help it. The little things, the small acts of kindness—that you might not even intend—make him delusionally overthink. 

On the third weekend since starting his summer job, Jake can’t help all the questions he’s been building up and dying to ask. Jake doesn’t understand what Sunghoon has been going through, especially when his moods change so drastically. At first, Sunghoon was self isolating and pouty, clearly in his own head and sulking. But then he would come home from work beaming with an afterglow to his aura. And then on the weekends he was back to his reclusive, depressed state. 

Sick of being left out of Sunghoon’s inner turmoil, Jake finally pesters his friend. 

“When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Jake stands in the doorway of Sunghoon’s room, staring at his friend who’s laying face down in his bed. 

“I don’t know…” Sunghoon’s words are muffled in his pillow. 

Jake walks in with a sigh and sits at the end of the bed. He playfully slaps Sunghoon’s leg. “Dude, just tell me. You’re obviously going through something. You know I can keep a secret. I won’t judge.” 

Sunghoon rolls over on his back, his hands clasped together over his stomach as he stares up to the ceiling. He confides in Jake, telling his story from the beginning of when he first met you. He stutters over his words when he admits to the sinful acts he partook in with you. He tells Jake of his guilty conscience and how he enjoyed indulging in the feelings. Then he tells Jake about how he simply likes your company even without the sexual circumstances involved. How he’s mystified by your complex personality and only wishes to know you more. However, he does leave out the viciousness of your nature, since a part of him doesn’t quite believe in it. 

“It seems like you’re starting to develop a crush.” Jake laughs lightly, “And if it’s about religion, don’t overthink it too much. Nobody dies completely pure.” He reassures him. “You should show her more of you. That you like her too.” 

Sunghoon groans and covers his face at the terrifying suggestion. If only you were that easy to approach in such a vulnerable way. “I guess… I’ll consider it.” 

The next day is Sunday. Jake and Sunghoon attend church as normal. Sunghoon participates less in his prayers and songs than usual. His mind is too preoccupied with all he has going on in life. He feels guilt and frustration. 

Sunghoon, lost in his own world, fails to realize that his best friend—Jake—battles something similar internally. 

You’re never as alone as you think you are if you take a better look around. Everyone is riddled with their own self disgust, guilt, or shame. How else would the churches be so full? 

　Entering the fourth week of summer should feel easier than it does for Sunghoon. The work seems to be picking up regarding responsibilities. The weather is only becoming less forgivable. The peak is yet to hit, but that only means the seasonal storms are right around the corner. More care is needed in the fields and barns in terms of protection in case of unpredictable weather. 

Aside from the work, Sunghoon is anxious because of you. He hasn’t seen you yet today and he feels nervous about it. Perhaps he has grown too clingy, finding close comfort in knowing you’re there with him on the farm. There’s a sense of safety when you’re in the line of sight; you make things easier for him and he enjoys the presence. 

While he’s watering plants and checking the sprinklings through the fields, an older man approaches him. It’s a familiar face that he’s seen around a few times over the past month. The man waves with a smile and Sunghoon does the same. 

“It’s amazing what you’ve done, boy.” The man begins, Sunghoon questions where he’s going with the start because he’s just an extra hand of help and doesn’t feel he’s accomplished or improved the farm in drastic ways. “I’ve worked here, hm, well I’ll be damned! Nearly 15 years! And I’ve never once seen that farm girl talk to anyone. Much less spend time.” the man chuckles. 

“Oh!” Sunghoon blushes and hopes it’s only mistaken as feverish from the summer. He smiles small and stares down to the bundle of plants he brought with him to the farm today. He feels special knowing this much of you. “She’s something…” 

“Sometimes I’d see her talk to herself and the animals.” The man pulls out a cigarette and lighter to smoke. “She’d walk around aimlessly like a ghost. Used to scare the hell outta me.” As he laughs, smoke escapes his lungs. He wheezes a little before continuing, “But now she follows and watches you like she’s worshipin’. If only she did the same with her daddy. Although with a face like yours, I can’t blame the girl.” 

“Pardon? What do you mean by that?” Sunghoon, bemused, watches the man smoke and laugh between weak coughs. “She has a dad?” His last question is overroad by the man who speaks over him. 

“You keep up your work, kid. I outta get back to mines too.” And then he’s walking away with a low chuckle, shaking his head to himself. 

Sunghoon’s aware of your mother. He always thought it was just the two of you running things. He’s never once seen a man, your father, leave the house or so much so be around it. This gives him more to think about, especially on the fact that he still doesn't know much about you at all. You’re still an enigma to him, but he wants everything. 

By the afternoon when all the guys are finishing up their break, you finally come out of the house. With the sound of the front door opening, Sunghoon is quick to straighten his posture and find your eyes. You’re already looking at him, watching him and his surroundings with no expression. His cheeks burn and he can’t help the smile forming on his lips. 

Two and a half days without seeing you feels like so much longer. 

He stands up from the picnic table, grabbing his newspaper wrapped bundle of greenery and shyly hiding it behind his back. He walks over to you, tripping over his feet as he approaches the porch steps to the house. You stand there in front of the door but at the top of the few stairs, arms crossed and amused. 

He’s diffident, arms behind him and modestly attempting to hide how nervous he feels on the inside. His stomach is doing flips, his heart racing. On top of already sweating. He feels like he could throw up his lunch right in front of your feet. He swallows thickly before slowly bringing his hands out in front of himself. 

“I,” he clears his throat, “ehem, I got these for you.” With outstretched arms, the bundle of flowers shake in his trembling hands. He suddenly feels he’s too nervous to even meet your eyes, so he watches the chipped paint wood of the front porch steps. 

You just stand there, watching him with wide eyes and your heart in your throat. Your mouth is lost for words, glancing around at the few farmhands who haven’t left yet and are staring at Sunghoon’s exchange in a similar bewilderment. Some are trying to keep themselves from bursting out into laughter.

“Are you some kind of stupid?” You whisper harshly for only him to hear, snatching the flowers out of his hands. “Why the hell would you do this?” Your words like your tone are mean, but in your chest there’s a raging pounding. It’s a seething raw emotion that doesn’t know how to be dealt with. You’ve only just stepped out of the house and your body feels like it’s inside a furnace. 

Sunghoon’s head shoots back up to look at you, his face and heart drop. “I-I’ve never had a girlfriend before so I wasn’t sure what to do.. This is what boyfriends do, right?” He takes a hand to scratch at the back of his head. Inner turmoil takes over and he thinks he’s fucked up. He bites at his lip, doing his best not to instantly cry in regret. 

You notice this and sigh, irritated. You look from the neatly wrapped white roses and tulips and back to Sunghoon. “So you are stupid,” you mumble before taking your own bottom lip between your teeth. A part of you wants to sneer, but you spin on your heels to hide the warmth that floods your face in substitution. “I’m throwing them away,” you announce, opening the door and walking back inside your house. 

Sunghoon, broken, just drops his head and turns back. A few of the farmhands are snickering from not too far away, chattering among each other and eyeing Sunghoon. He wishes God would smite him on the spot from the humiliation. 

Wanting to avoid everything for a little while, he thinks of heading to the lodge to lay down in hiding. But before he can walk away, the front door of your house swings open once more. He glances back at you, meeting your eyes like he always seems to do. 

“Done for the day already?” You call over to him, now leaning over the banister of the porch with crossed arms. 

Sunghoon, unable to refute you, offers a weak smile and shakes his head. “No.” 

He walks back over to you and you meet him halfway. You don’t say anything else. You don’t bring up the fact that he had bought you flowers or confused the odd relationship you share for dating. It’s cute in all its blind innocence, but that just goes to show you that you have more work to do with him. 

You don’t think of messing with him today. He’s distinctly grown too clingy with how much time you’ve spent with him. Yet you can’t ignore him either. The two of you carry out the rest of the day’s farm work in silence. The inner fury you feel with him doesn’t seem to go away, despite how he hasn’t said much or even brushed skin with you. 

You don’t know how you’re remaining pacific by his side. The rampaging of your heart strings tug like a screaming instrument just from being next to him. How he can keep walking tall, stare at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, or even smile at you is beyond what you know is capable of humans. Men like him only existed in books and movies. You wonder if he’s perhaps playing a game like you.

By the time he’s in the truck to go back to town to catch a bus into the city, you’re sitting at the lake dock. Criss crossed legs, a bouncing knee, and fingernails being ripped at by your teeth. You stare blankly at the water, hoping for that sense of serenity to encapsulate you. It never seems to come. It just feels cold.

So you decide on punishing him for making you feel this way. 

You don’t leave your house for the next three days. You don’t make yourself known, heard or seen. However, you’re peeking out every window of your house to get any chance of a view of him. You hate yourself for being so curious of him in the first place. What was supposed to be good fun has only left you feeling angry. Taking his innocence was never going to heal you, or even make him like yourself. In fact, it’s making you sicker.

And on the night of the fourth Thursday, you’re laying in bed staring at your ceiling. A stuffed animal is hugged tightly to your chest. You can’t sleep and you can’t stop thinking about someone for the first time in your life. No amount of tossing and turning, counting sheep, or button presses to your distorted singing, stuffed bear made it easier. 

Somehow, you ended up punishing yourself. You always had a knack for that, historically, but this time felt different. It actually kind of hurt. Being alone came naturally to you, but tonight it hits you just how lonely you’ve always been. 

　Friday, the farmhands are huddled on the front porch of your house. All the animals are safely away in their designated homes thanks to their help. It started to storm in a heavy downpour only minutes ago. What started out as a dark gray gloom and windy rain quickly turned into an early flooded property, illuminated by strikes of flashing lightning and roaring thunder. 

You stand dry under the protection of the porch roof by the front door. Watching and listening to your mother suggest the shaking cold, soaked men take shelter in the lodge until the sky lets up so they can head home. 

Sunghoon hasn’t spared a look to you all day, but you know that he feels his eyes on you. It’s in the way he shifts awkwardly amongst the men that ignore him. How his eyes are trained low and unfocused yet always trying to move in your direction. His wet hair falls over his face, concealing his emotions you wish to dissect. He comes off as stoic but you know he wears his heart on his sleeve; how his body language speaks volumes. 

Your mother pushes past you to get back inside, saying she’ll check the basement for a spare heater that the boys could use at the lodge. There’s something in you that makes you move without thinking. Suddenly a hand is tugging at the bottom of Sunghoon’s damp jacket for his attention. The material is too thin for this weather and the thought of him becoming sick crosses your mind. 

“It’s warmer here,” your words, for once, came out soft. Too much so, being lost in the cracking sound of thunder. He looks at you through his bangs. The wave of alleviation from whatever he was dealing with is palpable. His eyes and body almost look relaxed. You tug him towards you once more, insinuating that he follows you. 

He does. Like whatever subconscious emotion made you approach him also made him follow you in. As he steps in, he notices the indistinguishable vibes of the farmer’s lodge. It’s updated and cleaner, but similar in aesthetics. A shotgun sits leaning up against the wall by the front door. His brows furrow and eyes narrow. “Those aren’t safe to have lying around…” he mumbles. 

You tug him towards the staircase to walk up, “It’s protection. Only my mother and I are here,” is mumbled back as you lead him up the wooden, creaking stairs. Your feet move light and quick, like a mouse in a home not theirs. If your mother saw you, there would be unnecessary consequences. And the possibility of your father’s involvement would only worsen such. 

Sunghoon cautiously steps into your bedroom, his body tenses at the sound of you shutting and locking the door. He feels on edge, wrapping his arms around his shivering body and soaked clothes. You move around him to sit on your bed, telling him to remove his sopping attire. He does so with shaking hands, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He shyly looks around the room while using his hands to cover his manhoon. 

His eyes scan over you, sitting quietly on your bed with a look of contemplation that stares past him. A wooden cross hangs on the wall above your bed, the dark wood matches the decadent bed frame. The nightstand nearby has a pile of books and journals with a low light lamp and unlit candle. 

The large window has sheer white curtains drawn open and a vase on the windowsill. A glass vase filled with the flowers he gave you earlier in the week. His heart aches at the sight of the still healthy white roses and tulips, and a smile graces his lips. You liar! You kept them! Is what runs through his thoughts. 

Without Sunghoon realizing, you got up to grab a towel and drape over the back of his shoulders. He’s taken aback by your ghost-like actions, but offers you a small smile of appreciation. “Thanks…” 

You nod for response and glance from him to the vase of flowers he was lost in thought over. You didn’t have it in to explain yourself, mostly because you didn’t understand why you had done so either. 

He dries himself off and finds a place to sit at the end of your bed. You’re on the other end with your back pressed to the headboard, watching him, counting every mole you can find on his pale canvas. The stuffed animal you sleep with is being mindlessly fumbled around in your hands. 

Sunghoon turns to face you directly, he reaches a hand out, eyes shifting from your face and the winged bear. You shoot him a mean look at first, only holding it closer to yourself before your face softens to slowly extend it out to him. 

He takes it with careful hands and looks down to inspect the old toy. Its cream colored fur is dirtied and matted with age. The holographic satin wings on the back have loose stitching and its halo is crooked. Across the chest of the bear reads ‘Jesus Loves Me’ but it’s obvious the sewn name Jesus has been ripped away at. One paw has a red heart embroidered saying ‘press me’. His thumb brushes over the button heart before pressing down. The bear sings in a distorted happy voice the lullaby of Jesus loves me. 

“His name is Saint Michael,” you say quietly and he almost doesn’t catch it. Sunghoon can only breathe a laugh because he finds the dichotomy cute. You almost laugh too, but bite your tongue and look back to your empty hands. You don’t know it but he can see you try to fight your little smile. To him, this moment means more than anything; he’s starting to see you’re more tender than you realize. It brings him a sense of surety in knowing that he can break you like you to do him. 

Silly as it may seem for a troubled girl, the bear was the only comfort you had throughout childhood. There was no kindness from your father, no solace from your mother, no guide in knowing life or love. But there was Saint Michael, the stuffed angel bear; he may not have defended you in battle but he hugged you back, and that was enough to cherish him like a deity. 

Sunghoon crawls across the bed and sits himself next to you, too close for your liking, but you don’t push him away. He hands the stuffie back to you and you place it on the nightstand to face away from you. You lower yourself in the bed, shuffling under the covers of the blanket and he does the same. His skin naked bare yearns for more warmth, yours specifically. 

You feel him turn on his side next to you, pressing up against you despite there being enough space on the bed. His movements are awkward and nervous like he is. You feel a certain pressure against your thigh that isn’t his bones or limbs. You spare him a glance, he doesn’t know if it’s a warning or dare. 

“...Have I ruined you?” You wonder aloud, looking back to the ceiling. 

“No,” he answers quickly, shaking his head against your shoulder. The way he’s missed you in his desire to touch you, hands tingling with want to snake around your waist and pull you in tight. “I think I just want you all the time now. I can’t help it, m’sorry.” He sounds ashamed in his soft mumbles. 

“I’ll only keep stripping all that purity from you. Once it’s mine it’ll remain mine, you know that right?” You look back at him before brushing some of his drying hair from his eyes. He tries to lean up into the touch but your hand is taken back. “And I will pretend it’s healing all that’s missing from me. Do you really want to be mine, Sunghoon?” Your words are so gentle yet laced with threat. 

“Yes,” he exhales, “I want to be yours. Let me be yours please.” It’s hushed, a secret prayer with hope. His hips push further into the skin of your leg, where the hip meets the thigh. He wouldn’t mind going to Hell if it meant more time with you. 

“You beg like a needy barn animal in heat.” You use a hand to cup his face, he sighs into the hold as he eyes flutter to a close. You push your leg in between his, terribly close to his exposed and vibrating body. “So hump me like one.” 

“W-what?” he stutters out before licking over his lips, his thighs squeezing around the plush of yours now trapped in his. His eyes already wet with desperate want, staring back at yours.

“Do it. Like it’s mating season and you want to claim me before anyone else.” 

A cracked voice whine falls from his lips and he begins to roll his growing bulge against you. You watch as he sucks in breaths between quiet breathy moans. His pink, plump lips pursing and falling open. His eyes try to stay on your face, how close you are to him, but they fall shut sometimes in his basking of rapture. It’s a slutty sight of a faith-sickened boy. 

He loves the little to no proximity that there is. His hands find place on your waist, and he’s aware of how that makes you feel, but he can’t stop it. He wants more and more of you. His hands slide up under your shirt, the feeling on your bare skin in his hands makes his body shudder. Untouched, warm flesh for his large hands to explore and learn every curve of. 

Even you stiffen at his exploration, holding in your breath as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe. Your shirt lifts up more with his hands and the exposure is daunting like you’re revealing your insides. 

The pit of your stomach lights up and you're frozen under his clutch. The pads of his fingers hold you so tight as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. His cock is raging and you can feel every pulse of blood that his heart beat floods to. He’s humping into you desperately, chasing the euphoria that he could never find on his own. Such a delicate, shy boy now driven by lust and longing. 

“You’re pathetic and disgusting. You’re practically fucking me through our clothes,” you murmur while you try to push his hands down off you, but his grip won’t let up. Instead his nails dig further into you, a barely sounding broken noise escapes you from the pain. This makes his body collapse further into you, his head dropping between your shoulder and neck. His movements are sloppy and rushed. 

“N-no, I’m still good. You make me feel good, I am so good,” he whines, tears beginning to fall from his eyes to your shoulder. You try to imagine his holy water is washing you clean but it only singes. 

“Tell me that only I make you feel good, that you’re only good for me.” 

“Only you—can only be you to make me good,” he cries against your warmth, rocking himself into you roughly. His leaking cock begins to twitch against you and his hips won’t quit their stuttered jerks. 

You hum lightly and run a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He looks up at you with those desperate, wet, dark eyes and you can’t help but acknowledge how pretty he is like this. His puffy cheeks are flushed pink as the tip of his nose. “Only for me,” you mumble.

“Yes, thank you, I am yours. Yes.” His breaths are jagged and heavy. There’s a coiling in his abdomen that feels borderline explosive. You were right, he craves this feeling. It’s surreal to him how he’s gone so long without it. His arms wrap around you completely now, holding you down while his body rolls on top of yours, situated between your legs. His heart hammers against your chest; he wants to mold into you, to become a singular rot. 

You squeak a gasp, being caged down by him. Your heart beats with the same veracity. One of your arms wraps around his waist to hold his back while the other holds the back of his head that hasn’t left the safety of your neck. He continuously sobs through meek moans. His hair tickles your skin like sparks while his lips brush over your jaw and neck making the tingle feel like crackling flames. 

Under his weight you feel yourself slipping in both confidence and dominance, your body wanting to sink down in submission from the unknown comfort of his control. Your heart aches and you feel something you’ve never felt before. You think you’re scared of it, yet your body pulls him closer. Hand in his hair, tugging with fearful aggression. Nails piercing the skin of his shoulder blade. You’re pliant under his heavy thrusts and sounds of sin. 

The rain pours harder outside with whips of harsh winds smacking the window. It’s almost like God’s wrath is screaming to be seen, to shout that He is watching. 

Sunghoon’s hard cock is relentless against your core. The rough grind of him is stimulating in ways   you’ve never felt before, your body sensitive and starving for more. You squeeze your eyes shut and moan within your closed mouth, hating yourself for feeling this way because it was never supposed to be about you. You are betraying yourself more than your fathers.

The sounds you try to withhold make Sunghoon weaker. He feels uncontrollable, only becoming needier and hungrier with his movements, “I can’t stop. I can’t stop.” He whines, begging for you to vocalize how you feel it too. 

You feel like you’re breaking underneath him, and it feels shameful. Like every harsh word your father ever spat at you was true now that you’re a part of the experience and not just the cause. Everything is too much. It takes every ounce of strength you have to turn both of your bodies over. Now sitting up on top of his lap, you can finally breathe again, sighing in relief. He whimpers at the distance between you both but also from the view of you. 

He moans your name softly as he grips your hips, pushing himself up into your clothed pussy like he’s fucking you. Your hands push down on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes with a plain expression and contrasting sharp eyes, grinding your hips back down on top of him. It’s hard to ignore the way it makes you feel, watching him fall apart beneath you as his pulsing cock fucks against you, but you manage. 

“Cum for me,” you demand quietly, “make a mess and imagine it’s inside me.” 

“Holy fu—ngh,” his entire body spasms and shudders with a low groan falling from his open lips. His movements slow down only to become lazier and uncoordinated. You can feel the warm wetness he spills soak through your thin pajama shorts and underwear. 

“You’re right. You are good for me,” you coo softly, cupping his face and using your thumbs to wipe away the tears. Your hips circle and swivel slowly on him until his quivering cock finishes cumming. 

Sunghoon has a sparkle to his wet eyes. The way the gentle praise left your lips makes him melt, and he can’t stop the flickering glance between your eyes and lips. He breathes heavily through his post clarity. Still he basks in your touch with a hopeful look in his eyes. His tongue slides over his lips before he’s leaning up towards your face, hands affixed to your waist to pull you closer to him. 

This makes a wave of panic wash over you, knowing what he wants to do. You shake your head no and pull yourself away, slipping off of his lap only to turn away from him. 

“None of that. It’s not what-” 

And then there’s a press of lips to your cheek. Your face burns as if a hot coal was what kissed your face. Your eyes go wide, turning to see the boy sitting up next to you. He only wears a shy smile as he sees your reaction.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a week now,” he admits with a small laugh. “Not exactly there but that’s fine. I wish you would let me help you feel good too.” he whispers, looking back to the windowsill where the gifted flowers stood in their vase with the raging storm as their backdrop. 

“That’s dumb and I don’t need to,” you reply, still watching him stare forward. Your chest feels painful; it’s an ache like shattered glass trying to piece together in the wrong ways. Stabbing but trying.

“I think you deserve to,” he argues. “But I understand if it’s not what you want. I was really touchy and I shouldn’t have been because you don’t seem like it. I was too caught up in the moment.” His mind goes to the mess he’s still sitting in and he feels self-conscious all over again. “Is it embarrassing how much I need you?”

You blink at him, swallowing the words that were never going to come out because you didn’t even know what they should or would be. So you settle with a simple, “No.”

You think it would kill you to admit how much you actually always wished to be wanted, needed, or loved. A bigger part of you didn’t think you were worthy of it, let alone capable. The world had such a way of saying otherwise. Until it brought Sunghoon to you; the boy who showed you feelings and experiences you never thought possible. 

As if he could read your mind, he asks, “Why did you choose me out of everyone?” He falls back onto the bed, laying down and pulling the blanket over himself. 

“I think you reminded me of a lamb.” 

“Pardon?” His brows furrow. 

You lay back down next to him, facing him like he is to you. “Pretty, white, and docile. You were so nervous when I first saw you—sometimes you still are.” You even laugh a little. “When you shook my hand I knew I could do anything to you because you’d let me.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” He smiles wide, scooting closer to you. 

You scoff with an eye roll, leaning further away from him. “Oh shut up, you’ve seen a mirror.” 

And then it’s his turn to laugh a little. He looks at you like you’re the reason the sun rises and falls. It kind of hurts you to see him like this because it reminds you of your initial rotten intentions and how they’re dissipating the more you’re with him. 

Time passes faster than the two of you realize. There’s light banter and easy conversations. You learn more about Sunghoon. Where he goes to school, what he studies, and who his friends are. He tells you of the sports he used to do and what he does in free time with his best friend. The more you learn about him, the more you understand his naivety and how despite what you’ve done, he won’t change. There’s something lovely about it. 

You don’t have much to share about your life the way he does, at least not in the same light. But you show him your favorite books, drawings you made over the years, and share the stories of movies you found interesting. He savors the moment of you simply confiding, enjoying the more he can know about you. 

The storm passes later in the evening. So caught up in borrowing time, the rain has slowed down to a simple pitter patter. The clouds dispersed and the setting sun only came through to say goodbye to the day. 

The sound of the truck that the farmhands use to take back to town is heard roaring to life, signalling you and Sunghoon that it’s safe and time to head out. 

Sunghoon jumps out of bed but by the time he’s shoving himself into his still damp jeans and looking out the window, the truck is already speeding down the dirt, now mud riddled road. 

“They just left without me,” he breathes out. “I’m used to them leaving me out, but t-this is.. How am I going to get home?” He looks back to you with sad eyes, not the light they had earlier. He’s not shocked by their actions, but he is disappointed. A hand runs through his hair in his stress. 

“Should I kill them?” Your question is brazen, body and voice eerily still in your seriousness. 

“W-what?!” he whispers in shock, freezing for a moment. 

“I’m joking.” You sit up and watch Sunghoon resume getting dressed. “I think you should head back to the lodge for the night. There’s a washer and dryer for your clothes. And spare food for dinner too.” 

Sunghoon nods slightly, “your jokes are weird, but okay.” He looks like he’s thinking of something, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in thought before speaking again. “Can you stay with me for the night at least?” he asks shyly. 

“No,” comes out quicker than you intended. “...But I guess I can walk with you there.” 

He nods again but now with his signature small dimpled smile. You almost forgot about being angry at the other farmhands for taking it away. 

You have to make sure the coast is clear before leaving the house. You tiptoe down the halls and stairs, weary of where your mother is inside the house. To your luck, she’s in her usual state. She’s passed out on the couch with two empty bottles of wine on the floor. The television volume is low, playing a rerun of the reverend’s sermon; the devil himself of your childhood, preaching about how he lost his child to the otherside. 

With a finger to your lips, you silently signal for Sunghoon to be quiet and to follow you out. 

Once safely out of the front door, you take his hand in yours and start running for the lodge. The tall boy is behind you, so you don’t get to see the bright smile on his lips or in his eyes as you run through the light run towards the lodge. 

Now standing in the front doorway of the farmer’s lodge, wet from the sky all over again and still hand in hand, Sunghoon bravely speaks up.

“I don’t like it when you disappear on me,” he breathes out shakily, honestly. “Nobody else sees me like you do,” he squeezes your hand tighter in his, feeling you begin to pull away. “Come with me into the city tomorrow. We can- I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure I want more time with you.” 

His eye contact is unwavering, begging. Both of his strong hands hold onto yours. You glance from your hand then back to his pleading expression. He will always remain so sweet, no matter what you do to him. 

“I felt less lonely before I met you,” you confess, eyes unblinking as you stare up at him for a long pause. “I’ll meet you here in the morning.” 

In only seconds, he’s pulling you into a hug. His arms wrap around you so tightly as he holds you to his chest. You go stiff in his arms, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. What feels suffocating at first turns into a warmth you’ve become all too familiar with, and it was never anger. The indignation you always wear is just a hand me down from your parents; it doesn’t fit you right even though it’s comfortable. 

With a shaky exhale, you wrap your arms around him too. The hug surrounds you like a blanket of unknown comfort. Your ear pressed to his chest listens to the sound of his racing heart. You can feel the pound throughout his entire body too. Every emotion held within is trying and fighting to be seen. It’s still so cold from the rain but he feels contrast, only warm. His lips press a kiss to the top of your head, making your body burn even more and your hold all the tighter. 

　True to your word, you meet Sunghoon at the farmer’s lodge the next morning. He seems happier than usual. Very giddy to be spending a weekend day with you without work in the way. No distractions or excuses to leave. Just the two of you and a new day with zero obligations.

Because you had a spare bike, you both are able to peddle towards town to the bus stop together. Having made these frequent trips alone, you’re familiar with the owner of the gas station at the stop. He’s a deaf older man, and it surprises Sunghoon that you know how to sign and ask him to hold onto the bikes until you’re back. You tell Sunghoon that you learned some basics from reading a book you bought a long time ago. 

Stunned, Sunghoon realizes that you went out of your way to do so for one man who watches your bike while you endure solo trips. You, the odd girl who was mean and sinful, used your money and learned a language for one man who did a simple favor. He’s learning more to admire you for by the day, and it’s crazy to him how you don’t see your own charm. 

Sunghoon pays your bus fares even though you insisted on being capable of doing so yourself. Sat in the middle of the bus that’s only barely half filled, he asks if there’s anything you’d like to do for the day while in the city. Nobody has ever asked you such an effortless thing, and you like it more than you imagined. Just uncomplicated curiosity of your wishes. 

“The book store. The small yellow one on main street. Maybe see a movie if anything is worth seeing.” You shrug, spewing out the usual things you do. Looking around the taken bus seats, you notice some familiar faces. 

“That sounds nice,” he smiles, “our first real date! I think there’s a cafe near that book store too. Do you like coffee?” 

Your cheeks burn as you stare at him in bewilderment, “you think we’re going on a date?!” 

“Of course we are,” he laughs like it’s obvious and wraps an arm around your shoulder, looking out of the window. All that the town can offer him other than you passes by. “I’m a fan of americanos. You seem like you’d take your coffee black.” 

“I don’t even like coffee,” you mumble, turning your attention out of the window as well. “Tea is nice though.” You add in, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Hm. I can see that too,” he hums as he pulls you closer into his side. 

So much can change in such little time. You’ve experienced this many times in one life. How one day can open a new door to a path otherwise not taken. Showing Sunghoon more of you has made him bloom into a larger ray of light. He seems more comfortable, and now you’ve become the awkward one. 

The ride to the city doesn’t normally take this long, or at least you don’t think it does. Every second with him by your side makes the experience feel brand new. The theme of time being unreal is common with him, you’ve discovered. It’s when you’re in the bookstore and see a holiday sale that you realize it’s not even June anymore. 

While Sunghoon looks for books for his upcoming college semester, you find yourself in genre sections you never really cared for before. The dark and racy ones were fun to bring home, sure. But innocent, cliche romance was always something cringey to you. Now if you change your perspective to that of research then it’s less daunting, right? Perhaps you’d make sense of all the things you’re discovering about yourself and him. Yeah, that’s convincing enough. 

He teases you at the checkout counter when he sees what you picked out. Your face flushes in embarrassment and you can’t even bite back at him or defend your choices. So you smack him with the book on the way out while he laughs and makes jokes that aren’t very funny. 

The two of you do manage to catch a movie. You honestly didn’t care to see one, but having to sit silently in a theater for at least an hour and half seemed like enough time for him to, hopefully, forget and drop the whole book situation. It’s a summer slasher film. A group of teens go camping and the plot is very ‘who done it’ style. Overall, it’s a fun choice. You have your turn to laugh and joke when Sunghoon gets jumpy or scared. 

After the movie, you both end up at the cafe Sunghoon mentioned while on the bus. There was something painfully intimate about everything today. But especially sitting down to eat with him. Not even your mother could meet you at the table anymore. 

“You seem softer today,” Sunghoon states, setting his half-drunk coffee down. “Almost nervous. Is it because we’re out together for our first date? Or just the people in general?” 

You raise a brow at his brazen curiosity and observation. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” you play with your fork to move around the barely touched food in front of you. “Or maybe it’s a bit of both.” 

“If you come to the city enough to know sign language for the man who watches your bike, do you like it better than the countryside?” 

“Don’t know. I’m used to the quiet life, but leaving it behind and pretending it’s not there is nice too.” 

“What keeps you there?” 

“The scenery. The air. The lake. Being friends with the animals.” You look up from the plate to Sunghoon who is watching you like a lecture: attentive and learning. “I’m not very good with people, so I think it suits me alright.” 

“You’re good with me though,” he argues softly.

“No, not really. I wish I was more like everyone else,” you inhale deeply as your eyes wander around the bustling cafe. There’s a choir of laughter, conversations, and social dynamics you would have to study to master. “If I were a good person, everything would be easier.” 

“...but I like you as you are,” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear, watching you shift in your seat. He doesn’t think you’re not a good person, and it hurts that you see yourself as such. 

As Sunghoon speaks, there’s a chime that follows as the front door of the cafe is swung open. A disheveled man stumbles inside, heavy feet stomping the tile floor to attempt to stabilize his disorientation. The man burps obnoxiously loud, and many eyes find him with the grand entrance. 

He scratches at his lengthy, unkept beard as he looks around. When his sunken eyes find you sitting at the table nearby his eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open. His hand shakes with a pointed finger in your direction, “y-you! The girl from the reverend’s sermon!” He’s loud, capturing the attention of everyone now. His sloppy movements make way towards you and Sunghoon; you feel everything within you freeze, and your heart knocks at your chest fast and hard with anxiety.  

He slams his hands on the table, causing your plates and drinks to rattle. He reeks badly of alcohol and his crazed eyes never leave yours. You swallow thickly, fight or flight mode still trying to understand the situation before you. Meanwhile Sunghoon, worried and confused, slowly begins to stand up and grab your bags. 

But you, you’re frozen staring at the messy man who talks of your greatest hate. Your hands tremble on the table. 

“I thought the reverend made you up for stories, but my God! You’re the real living thing just like the pictures; his only sin,” he laughs boisterously in your face and you try not to gag. “I saw him a little whiles earlier, ya know,” his voice goes quieter, it’s taunting even. You wish to remain calm but your eyes tremble and a frown takes your face. “I should go find him and tell him you’re here. He really-”

Sunghoon takes your hand, practically dragging you away from the table. You almost fall from your seat, like a baby deer just learning to walk, there’s little strength to your legs. 

“It’s not too late! You can be on the right side of things!” his voice ricochets off the walls of the now quiet cafe. “If I can be saved by his preaching, so can you! Look at me!” His mad laughter follows you and Sunghoon outside. 

Sunghoon watches you stand on uneasy feet, zoned out staring at the sidewalk. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together that the drunken man was talking about your father. Your father being a reverend who’s not in the picture gave him much to wonder about, but now isn’t the time. He just wanted to get you somewhere away from this memory. 

He crouches down in front of you. You slowly blink back to reality, now looking down at his back. You don’t want to speak so you poke his shoulder in questioning.

“Hop on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“What if I’m heavy?” you look at the bags he’s already holding, feeling that you too are a burdened weight he doesn’t need to hold. 

“I’ve got good muscles, remember? Good for farm work,” he’s patient and calm with you while his eyes watch the man from outside the glass cafe windows. “Come on, baby.”

Without thinking, you end up on his back. He carries you on his back, strong arms holding your legs while yours are loosely around his neck. Your insides are a flared up hurricane but at least that allows your body to forget the empty ache you left at the cafe. With your chin hooked over his shoulder, you watch the many people and downtown stores that pass by.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly know where he’s walking, but thinks it’s best to end the day here and return you to the bus stop. He’s never seen that look on your face before—the one you had when the man was loud in your face. He didn’t like it, and he’s sure you hated it. You looked intimidated, or afraid. 

“Would you kill him for me?” you watch the side of his face, “the reverend, I mean.” 

He stops in his tracks and turns his head to look back at you, “w-what? I can’t kill someone… and you should joke like that.” he panics, looking around to see if someone was listening to the wild conversation and request.

“Yeah, I know. I’m fucking with you,” you look away to hide your smirk, “and only half joking.”

“Did you believe him before?” He starts walking again, but this time at a slower pace knowing the bus stop isn’t too far now. 

“Who? My dad or Our Father?” There’s a use of air quotes at the end of your question. 

“Both?” his head tilts. 

“Neither,” you confirm. There’s a pause for thought and Sunghoon waits for you to further explain. “My relationship with both is too similar. They’ve both known me my whole life, right? Seen all of my wrong doings and in return shown wrath through unnecessary punishments called forgiveness. In what good world is tolerance violent?”

“What do you mean? What did he do?”

“Sometimes, after my mother set the table for dinner, he would knock my plate to the floor. Tell me to eat off the ground like the animal I was or starve.” Sunghoon frowns at this, coming to a slow stop when he sees the bus shelter bench. “Sometimes I had days and nights locked in the barns, but he switched it up to the basement when I was too close with the animals.” You laugh a little, but he senses the pain behind it. “I watched him kill the animals, too, only to smother me in their blood. Beatings were rare, but I think only because he despised the thought of even touching me.”

Sunghoon slowly sets you down to the ground and breathes out your name safely, taking your hands into his. He looks at you with sorrow, like he was the one who endured it with you. 

“God’s orders, am I right? My father, the church goers, speak of God like they’ve seen his face and heard his voice, but they haven’t. I would’ve by now too.” 

If He was really in everything, all around, why did He always turn a blind eye? Why does He pretend to not know you? It only made it harder to believe in—something that would bring you here, torture you then watch you suffer for not living how it pleases. God wants to be believed in, but so do you. Only you would never beg for compassion. 

Sunghoon squeezes your hands in his, “I don’t think you should stay there. You never deserved that… even if you’re volatile and strange… because you’re also kind and caring. It’s why I like you. It’s their fault for not seeing that,” he reassures. “I haven’t been through what you have, and I can’t understand. I-I mean I can try to, ya know… it’s not like I’d leave if I didn’t.” His words begin to stumble nervously, not confident in its sympathy reaching you where needed.

You laugh nervously, trying to tug your hands away from his grip that doesn’t let up. “Okay sure whatever, this is really embarrassing now…” You swallow hard and find difficulty in meeting his eyes. 

That’s all that matters, what he said to you, but you didn’t have it in you to say it. He already knows it though, smiling small and holding your hands still. Without words or excessive displays he can still see it in your eyes, the subtle comfort of acceptance. 

He could never blame you for your nature. He sees your anger as you just trying to be strong all while being sad. Whether you are his lover or executioner, he would accept you as you are every time with open arms, receiving hands. Even more readily, now.

　Even more time has passed since knowing Sunghoon. Summer has never flown by so fast. The calendar doesn’t exist to you anymore. It’s only the days you see him and the days that you don’t. The season will be wrapping up in the next few weeks, but only for him. He has to return to his regular scheduled routine of pursuing education while you will stay here, on the farm. It’s rare for you to feel this emotion: fear. You are scared of losing him. And the concept is something you do your best to avoid thinking about because it makes your skin itch with anxiety. It crawls over you like something that needs to be cut out. 

And then an idea hits you. Something far more deep-seated than everything else you’ve done with Sunghoon that would solidify that this summer is real and yours. Something that will always stay; a reminder that good things are possible despite how the world has made you. 

It’s a damn near perfect day. The sun is so bright, and only peers down onto you both through the gaps of the trees. It’s just warm enough. Just quiet enough aside from the sound of Sunghoon’s gentle breathing and natural composition of the nature that surrounds. Rustling of leaves, chirps of birds, and scurrying of whatever life that wishes to not be seen. 

You both sit criss cross at the wooden dock by the lake, simply enjoying the scenery and all it has to offer. His large knee is affixed to yours. If this was early June, you would have moved away. But now it’s a week into August and you wouldn’t have it anywhere else. Just like you always imagined, and secretly wanted, the view is nicer with someone else. 

He didn’t bother asking why you never brought him here before, or why it is that you chose to now. He’s just happy that you decided to at all. 

You slip a hand into your boot and pull out a pocket knife. You flick it open and do a brief inspection of the cleaned blade. The sun glints off the metal as you turn it. 

“Sunghoon, do you trust me?” 

His eyes flicker from your blank face to the blade. He nods slowly with a swallow, “of course.” There’s a subtle apprehension to him. You hand him the small blade and leave your palm facing up, open to him. 

“Cut a diagonal line down my hand,” you point and draw a line down the middle of your palm. 

“Huh, seriously?” he takes the blade confused and concerned with what you’re asking of him. “Why? I can’t hurt you.”

“Do it. Don’t think of it as hurting me, but still do it deep enough to leave a scar.” 

He struggles to understand the situation, but you’re so serious and clearly waiting for him to do as you asked. He exhales deeply, taking your hand in his while the other holds the knife just above the bared skin. Hesitant and slow, the tip of the knife pressed down into your flesh. You wince a little, which makes him pause. You nod, encouraging him to continue and he does despite hating the act. He slices the palm of your hand open just as you wanted. You hate blood, but it’s not so bad when caused by him.

“Shit, it stings,” you swallow through the pain. The feel of open flesh burning and stinging. “Your turn,” you exhale while taking the knife back with your free, unharmed hand. 

“My turn,” he agrees as if all logic has left him and readily displays his palm to you. Deep down, he feels guilty for hurting you, so to make it even he wants to feel the same.

Just as hesitant and careful, you create a matching wound in his hand. A deep enough, bleeding, lesion in his left hand to match  your right one. He cringes at the sight and the pain before looking back to your face. Your expression is so soft yet attentive, almost awestruck. 

“Even when you hurt me you’re gentle,” he remarks, watching you in amazement with a meek smile. 

“I am not gentle. I have sullied you,” you remind him, your eyes attempt to glare but they’re too bright in his. 

“In the softest way, why?” His voice is delicate and still like the lake that sits before you. You blink slowly at him because there are no words to be found. He continues, “I never thought of you as a bad person,” he pauses as you drop the red stained knife, unsure if he should continue at first but does regardless. “And, uhm, I’ve thought a lot about this summer. What I've learned from you. Purity is constructive—like something made to bring shame.” You don’t move, watching him. “I don’t have to be clean to be good…and your hands never made me dirty. Because they never were either.” 

Like an excavator to your tall, strong built walls Sunghoon has knocked your shield down. The facade of your character is breaking down, crumbling into the broken pieces that made it. A single tear escapes your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s rare for you to cry and you’re disgusted with the reality as to why it’s now that you break. Simply falling apart from kind words. 

You try to use everything in you to ignore the heat in your body, to show the anger you think you’re feeling inside. So your eyes remain sharp and strong, boring into his, as they still water. You swallow the dry lump in your throat and without a word, you take his hand into yours to join in a mix of blood. 

At first, you had one goal; one similar to murder. The sparkle he had in his eyes, you wanted to eat—to make them empty—and see the world ugly and godless like you. Yet somehow, somewhere along the way, his eyes shone even brighter. You only wanted to take and take of the innocent boy, but in this moment you realize, maybe I just wanted to give him some of me. 

You wipe the wet drop away from your face with haste, pretending as if it was never there. Whatever blood oath you’re making with Sunghoon allows you to feel something indescribable. You don’t know if it’s deserved, but you smile anyways. Because the indescribable feeling feels like it’s an unknown, unspoken promise. 

He’s seen you smile before with insidious malice, but this time, for the first time, you are really smiling. It’s a raw expression of surfacing emotions, and he returns the emotion like the sun. He thought of you beautiful before but with your brightness finally peering through your clouds, he believes you to be heaven sent. A part of him always wanted to see you cry—usually it was him with tears in his eyes; which is funny, because he wasn’t much of a cryer himself. You just had that way of breaking him down. He knows now he does for you too. And he can tell that you’re probably the type of person who needs to cry the most. 

His hand squeezes yours tighter, a grip so loving, as you bind in one. Neither of your eyes or smiles leave each other until the bleeding stops. 

　A week later, Sunghoon asks you on a date. The summer fair is in town. It’s something like a festival where all the locals from towns around the city come to visit and join in on festivities from carnival games, rides, food, and uncommon entertainments. You think of being mean, denying him the acceptance of the date, but you have always wanted to go. So you said yes without your words: took his scarred hand in yours and nodded. 

The evening sky is a watercolor of warm tones as the sun begins to lay down for the night. The bright lights of the fair illuminate the large open field turned carnival. There’s a sea of people here tonight, and although it makes you nervous inside, having Sunghoon by your side makes the ordeal easier to handle. 

The line for the ticket booth is lengthy but it passes by. You approach the booth, standing a little behind Sunghoon who takes out his wallet to buy your entrance wristband passes and tickets. You look around at the many people: families, friends, and couples, all immersed in their own experience as the music and sounds blend in the background of conversations. 

“Oh wow! You’re really handsome,” the girl at the ticket booth gawks at Sunghoon. She straightens her posture and fixes her hair from her face, “one ticke-?”

Catching this, you step forward and snatch Sunghoon’s wallet from his hands, “he already knows that. Do your job or I’ll feed you to pigs.” You slap the cash amount for what you need down onto the table top with a straight face and mean eyes. 

Her eyes go wide and she hushes an apology, quickly giving you both wristbands and tickets for the evening. She even threw in extra tickets as you stared her down. 

Sunghoon watches you with a flushed face, even the tips of his ears burn red at your jealous threat. You both walk off into the fair, a sheepish smile on his face as he leads you through the crowd with an arm wrapped around your back and hand to your waist. 

“Was that one of your jokes too?” he grins down at you.

“Nope,” you glance at him with a small smile. You weren’t sure what came over you in the moment, but it was something internally deep, and territorial. An innate reaction to someone trying to appeal to something that belongs to you. It felt ugly and you didn’t like it. 

The idea that he could possibly be taken from you was a phenomenon you’ve thought of for a while now. Knowing he has an existing life outside you, outside of this summer, that he would return you made you sick. You’re far from perfect, or the right thing for him, and he could find a safer option if he ever pleased. Pushing the thoughts away is harder than you imagine, so you cling to his side even more. 

You and Sunghoon use up your spare tickets for carnival games. You toss rings around bottles, shoot water guns into the mouth of a clown frame, and throw darts at balloons. The both of you aren’t very skilled at any of the games, but it's fun enough to enjoy the time without winning a prize to show for it. 

Eventually, Sunghoon does find frustration within the ‘rigged’ set up of the games. He even pulls out his wallet for cash when the tickets are gone. You’re surprised at how competitive he is; his determined nature is something that stirs your insides around. You don’t know if you’ve ever smiled so much in your life. 

After 3 rounds of throwing a ball to knock over a moving target, he does manage to win. Going 3 for 3 and not missing a single shot. The excitement you feel when he succeeds takes over and you’re proud, doing little jumps in place and clapping your hands together. 

“You did it! You won!” you exclaim, hugging onto his side. 

He can only smile down at your joyfulness. A fire burns in his heart and he hugs you back, kissing your forehead. “All for you. Which prize do you want?” 

“It’s yours, you should pick it,” you blush, elbowing his side with a shy smile while your eyes keep looking up to the stuffed white lamb with a lace ribbon around its neck and a cushion gold bell adoring the throat. 

Of course, that’s the prize he ends up choosing. It might not be Saint Michael the stuffed bear, but it’s something far happier, cleaner, and softer. 

The stuffed animal never leaves your hold throughout the rest of the evening. It rides the many rides you and Sunghoon do. And sits at the picnic table with you both as you share fair snacks. Popcorn and cotton candy was never so sweet for either of you. Like contentment melting on your tongues. 

Cliche as ever, Sunghoon wants to end the night there with a round on the ferris wheel. The line moves quickly and when it’s your turn to step into the carriage, he takes your hand and sits you down the seat next to him. 

It moves slowly and rocks back and forth with shaky movements that have you gripping the side handles. With an arm around your shoulder, he holds you close to him. The array of flickering colorful lights and people below you feels almost magical. 

Taking your eyes from the heightened difference between you and the ground, you look back to the boy beside you who is already looking at you. The reflection of rainbow luminescence glistens in his eyes. It’s even prettier than the view from the top of the little world you’re in. You give him a shy smile, finding it impossible to look away. 

He says your name in a whisper, taking your chin between your fingers. “Thank you for choosing to let me in.” 

Confused and wide eyed, you watch him lean into your face. You gasp when his lips meet yours before returning the notion. With eyes closed, you melt into his kiss. It’s sweet as all the things you’ve experienced today because of him. 

It’s also as clumsy and messy as a kiss can be for two people who’ve never done so before. However, human nature and desire take over and ease the rest for you both. Lips move over another in a gentle waltz, careful and slow. 

And as if the situation couldn’t get anymore cliche, fireworks light up the sky. At first you thought it was just your imagination and all the books you’ve read flooding your consciousness, but the booming sounds and cheers of the crowd are too loud to not be real. 

You pull away from him first, and he’s already wearing a shit eating grin so wide that you can’t help but roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile back at him. Your face burns in both embarrassment and adrenaline from the kiss. 

After that, you don’t leave the city like you should. The bus takes you both back downtown but neither you or Sunghoon feel it’s time for goodbye. So, for the first time, he takes you back to his apartment. You’ve never been to anybody else's home before, and it’s nerve wracking to say the least. The complex is large and somewhat modern, housing many of the second and third year private college students.

When you step inside, it’s quite plain but at least clean. You’re immediately greeted by a boy shorter than Sunghoon. He has a big mouth smile and shining dark eyes. His hair is shaggy but it suits him. He’s practically bouncing on his toes. You shift yourself behind Sunghoon and hold onto his shirt, hiding slightly from the excited puppy-like roommate. 

“How did it go? Oh, and nice to finally meet you,” he rambles out quickly, “I’m Jake. The best friend and roommate. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He shoots Sunghoon a wink before grinning back at you. He extends a hand for you to shake but you don’t reach out. Something about his eyes doesn’t sit right with you. 

“She’s shy,” Sunghoon laughs a little as he guides you past Jake and towards his room. “It was fun though. I recommend going before it’s gone.”

“Ah, you got yourself a nice little angel, huh?” Jake leans over the kitchen island, watching you both. His smile falters. “I’ll have one of my own some day.” For some reason, you think of him as a secret pervert.

Sunghoon laughs his comment off and tells Jake goodnight before showing you to his room. His room is neat and as simple as a college boy’s room can be. A bed, desk, dresser, closet, and bathroom. One poster of a musician you’ve never listened to and a window with unopened blinds. 

You sit yourself at the end of his bed and he sits down next to you. There’s some awkward silence as you look around, unsure of what you’re supposed to do. He feels similarly to your internal dilemma. 

“I-I’ve never had-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. Of course he’s never had a girl over. And of course you’ve never been over to a boys house. 

“Are you tired?” he asks, and you lie by nodding your head. So you both get ready for bed. He gives you a shirt to borrow for bed that change into in his bathroom while he changes into sweats and a t-shirt in his room. 

In minutes you’re both laying in his bed under the covers and staring up at his ceiling in the dark room. Not a word is said as you both lay there wide awake and untouching. But you know he’s wanting to by the way his body is shifting and turning, inching closer with every minute movement. 

And before you know it, although expected, his body is nestled closely to yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into an embrace. For the most part, he usually does keep his space. Knowing how you are when it comes to physical touch that feels too sudden or invading. But with barriers breaking down more over time, he thinks you’re learning to handle the comfort better. 

“I thought you were tired?” he mumbles, head on your shoulder. His hands trace up and down your arms that are wrapped around yourself like a guard. 

“I lied,” you whisper. Your eyes can’t look at him yet, so they remain aimless to the ceiling. Some moonlight slips through his cracked window blinds, giving you enough view of the spinning ceiling fan. 

“I had fun today. Mostly because you did. I like seeing you happy,” he smiles after kissing your shoulder that’s exposed in the neckline of his shirt too big for you. “And… I liked when you kissed me back,” his voice is quiet and shy-like. 

“Do you want to do it again?” Your eyes shift to him and you can barely see the warm flush to his cheeks. He’s cute. 

Taken aback at first, he just blinks at you with a parted mouth. Then he nods his head slowly, licking over his lips. 

You turn over onto your side to face him and his hands don’t leave your waist. Unsure of what to do with your own, you wrap them around his neck. Good thing they sit behind him and it’s dark in the room because it would kill you for him to notice the slight tremor in your fingers. 

With a scarily racing heart and stiff, trembling body you surge forward to kiss him. His lips are quick to capture yours. Soft and pillow-like, they mold into yours in waves. What starts off as clumsy and unskilled turns into hunger. Something desperate and needy. His grip feels bruising to your hips but in a nice way. In a way you want it to hurt more. 

His nails digging further into your flesh to keep you impossibly close make your lips gasp, or maybe it’s the lack of air, or just both. And instinctively his tongue is licking its way past your lips and into your mouth. He kisses you like he’s starved for it. His wet tongue drags over yours, and your teeth, then as far as it can inside of you. He whimpers, pressing his already hard cock to you as he licks and kisses you open. 

Your stomach has never burned this way before, and you feel the hot sensation all over then down to your core that aches like it’s hungry too. You feel disgusted by yourself but can’t fight the hum you make as you devour him right back. You’re getting wetter every second he’s in your mouth. 

This time, he pulls away first. Panting for air and staring at you with glazed over dark eyes. He licks over his wet lips again, savoring the taste of you on himself. He bites down onto it and a part of you wishes it was you he sunk his teeth in. 

“Can I do what I did last time?” he breathes out, his hips involuntarily jerking up against you at the thought alone. 

While trying to act like you’re not catching your breath too, you say quietly, “do whatever you want.” 

He kisses you again but with more desperation. You try to do the same but you can feel your heart and your head preparing for battle. The way he’s feeling you up and grinding himself on you is in no way unwanted, and that’s part of the reason you’re struggling to maintain presence. 

It’s so much happening so quickly, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t imagine this happening eventually. Sex was inevitable. The way his body yearns to be one with yours makes you feel special almost. He’s already engraved into you but in his mind he has to be inside of you and it hurts so badly how you think the same. 

But is the last thing that keeps him pure really yours to take? You’ve stripped so much away from him for all the wrong reasons before and now it feels strange. You are no good and that’s all he is. 

The only thing keeping you here, in the moment, is him. His exploratory and gentle yet rough hands, his body grinding into you, his lips that can’t leave yours or your skin for even a second, and the weak wanting sounds that leave them. 

“I need more, please. I want- I need to feel good with you. Please,” he’s whining into your ear. Then pressing kisses along your jaw and neck that are all so tender, slow, and deliberate. Large hands caress you like you’re breakable, as if not already just a body of fragmented pieces made whole and called a person. 

Your still shaking hand reaches down between your two bodies and slips past his sweats. He had the nerve to go commando and you wish you could tease him, but you can’t. You’re lucky you’re even here right now and breathing his air. Your hand wraps around his aching length and gives him a few tugs to which he’s quick to moan. He kicks off his sweatpants while you bring him closer to you. The plush of your thighs trap him; he whimpers against the soft heat of your flesh. 

Your hips grind up into him once, showing him what he should do too. He’s slow to start, rocking himself between your thighs. Slutty and hopeless sounds leave him in a string of his want. His leaking hard cock is so close to your core. Only the thin layer of your underwear keeps him from feeling your clear need for him too. 

Wrapped in each other's arms, you bury your head to his shoulder. You can feel the pulse of his aching desire rubbing and grinding against you. It makes you shiver in sensitivity and cower further into his neck. You don’t bite down onto your lip, but his neck. There’s a sting to your eyes because you hate it—the wet warmth that pools out of you. Your sin sticks to your underwear and your skin like the red raining life of all the animals you made leave the earth; your haunting subconscious correlates with your growing pleasure. 

You know you’re not religious yet every time Sunghoon touches you there’s a divinity to it and it makes your hands want to join in prayer to thank the universe for sending someone like him to you. Because his hands roam your body as if they have in every world; as if there is not one timeline where you have not been made for him. Like you were carved from his rib every time. 

Your body smolders in that angry way it always did whenever Sunghoon got too close to you. Whenever his words were too kind, his touch too gentle, or god forbid when he just smiled at you. That fire is just the divine nature of your relationship, lighting up everywhere he touches and leaving flames in the wake. You thought it was your body rejecting his purity, but you were only denying the likeness. He made you feel good. And in the most ironic way possible. You just didn’t think you deserved it. 

Yet an anguished moan leaves you, rumbling against his skin as you bite down harder. Regardless of it all, he is yours right now. 

The feeling of your sinking teeth in him, the sounds you’re now making, and the damp heat between your legs he can’t stop chasing all makes his head spin. He bites down onto you just the same and it only makes you moan louder. 

“Please,” he’s whining again through the bite. His voice a needy tremble while his hips stutter and thrust between your legs that only squeeze tighter together. The way the fat of your legs hug his raging cock through his desperate grinds makes him chase more and more for that feeling he just can’t seem to reach. The crying tip kisses and pushes up then past your leaking folds every time. It drives you both insane. 

If your body is the fiery lake of creation's deepest pit, then he is the cleanest ocean of earth’s highest point. If anyone could extinguish you, and possibly make you feel whole, it was Sunghoon. 

This is the most horrifying reality you’ve come face to face with. Not just intimacy, but a stronger driving emotion. You have to open yourself, rip open your chest and bare your beating heart in all its naked vulnerability. Let it scream out I like being with you. You have allowed this person into your world that nobody else has dared to step foot in. To see you in such ugly ways yet still extend their arms for you. It’s a terrifying level of closeness that you’ve never once experienced and you don’t know what to do with. You’re beyond perplexed by what he’s done to you, in both terror and awe.  

You pull back from Sunghoon and he pauses everything for a moment to look at you, noticing your wet eyes. Before he can ask what’s wrong you reach down and slip off your underwear. You shift your body and maneuver him as best you can until he’s on top of you. Rattled with concealed embarrassment you remove his shirt and toss it somewhere to the floor, and he does the same. 

You take a deep breath and reach back down to his cock, lining it up with your pussy. You blink and swallow away all the things trying to stop you from allowing yourself him. Pliant beneath him, you grab his shoulders and pull him down to you for a quick kiss. Foreheads now pressed together with lips ghosting over the others, you tell him, “I hate you.” 

Sunghoon only smiles down at you before kissing you once more. With his arms caged around you, he slowly pushes himself forward. The fat tip of his cock fails to go through you, only sliding up and past the wet folds. He whines feeling the warm slick coat the head; his entire body shudders. He nearly cums from that alone. 

He looks at you confused, and nod once while trying to shift your hips around for a better angle. It’s not like you to be so quiet during things like this. It only tells him that for once, you’re nervous about new things the way he was. 

So he tries again, this time a little rougher. He thrusts his hips forward, the tip pushing past the tight walls but still barely in. You whimper at the intrusion and the feeling of you being stretched open. Your hands squeeze hold onto his biceps for purchase. 

The tight sensation of your pussy squeezing his tip feels otherworldly to him. He can’t help but need to sink deeper into you. His cock pushes in further at an agonizing pace until he’s as deep as he can possibly go. His arms shake while he tries to maintain his strength and keep himself from collapsing onto you completely. The wet walls that surround him flutter and try to pull him further inside, making him feel lightheaded. His moans are so needy it’s almost like he’s crying from the feeling. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” you whimper. Having Sunghoon completely inside of you feels so full. You’re stuffed with him and it hurts so good. “You gotta move, Hoon. Feels like you’re splitting me open.”

“You're so tight, mm.” His hips stutter from your words alone and he whimpers again. He pulls himself out halfway while your gummy walls kiss around him in an attempt to suck him back to be filled again. He begins to rock himself in and out of you. It’s inexperienced and awkward, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Doing what feels best for him and what seems to be the best for you too. 

“I hate you. I fucking hate you,” you whisper harshly, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. It all burns while feeling like heaven. Never have you been so full, held so gently, or seen than this summer. You bite back the breaking moans and whimpers. You claw at his skin. You even begin to cry when your hips can’t stop chasing his thrusts. 

“I love you too,” he whispers back. A kiss is pressed to your forehead as his cock pistons you. Sunghoon is smart enough to know you’re a liar. Your mean words that used to hurt him, he now understands. You’re not really a bad person. And you don’t hate him. You were just really damaged and if he’s damned for trying to heal that then he’s fine with that too. 

“I mean it,” your body shudders, feeling his tip pound so far and deep in places inside you that you didn’t know reachable. His fat cock drags out and forces through your tight hole, making you cream all over him more and more. The sounds that leave your body, the sounds your bodies are making, it’s so obscene. Fighting off the disgust and focusing on how he makes you feel is war. It’s so hard for you to win. 

“No you don’t,” he shifts himself to sit on his knees, taking your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He leans forward and kisses both of your cheeks before fucking himself into you again, only harder and faster than before. 

“Ngh,” you moan again through broken sobs, blinking away the tears as you stare up at him. “I’m t-trying to.” 

“I know, baby.” he mumbles before capturing your wobbling lips into a searing kiss. “It’s okay, haah, don’t cry. You’re good. You’re so good for me,” he says against your wet lips. You can only sniffle and try to turn your head away from him in your embarrassment. “No, no.” he takes your chin with his thumb and finger, forcing you to look back at him. His thrusts never letting up during his care. “Look at me. You’re so good to me.” He reminds you over and over. “We’re so good together. I’m yours. you’re mine.” 

“Say it again,” you sniffle through little sounds of sin. Your hand finds a place on his cheek, and your thumb rubs over his lips that wear a smile. 

“You’re so good, good for me. We are so good together. I am yours. And you are mine,” he says softly. His eyes are so filled with love, and if you could see your reflection in his then you would know yours are too. “Say you’re good, baby, it’s okay.”

“I’m good,” you sob through your whimpers, “I’m yours.”

To Sunghoon, the idea of sex was always sacred. Something that’s only done and shared between lovers bound by marriage of the church. But now, he thinks differently. He knows that there is no shame in him loving you now or years later. And he was more than happy to make love to you all night until you believed it too. 

　Perhaps there was a thing such as divine intervention and if God’s timing was alway right, he knew how to be evil with it too. Because the next day, when Sunghoon takes you home, he’s met with your maker. 

Your mother, aware of the frequent trips you’ve been making and how close you’ve grown to the summer farmhand boy, is quick to make a call to your father the night you don’t return home. It wasn’t necessarily because she cared for your well being. You’re more than capable of handling yourself. But it was an excuse to try and get him to come back. Only it doesn’t go how she wanted.

When you see the reverend’s car parked in front of your house, your heart drops. Sunghoon picks up on your tension, He sees how you go blank at the sight and slowly turn back into the empty girl he met months ago. He tries to hold your hand but your fingers can’t move, can’t return the embrace. 

When the reverend walks out of the house with his infamous weapon of sacrificial forgiveness, you know what to do. Your body moves on its own, leaving Sunghoon to reach out for you that walks towards the woods. He goes to follow you and the desolate man that stalks behind, but your mother stops him. She’s hysterical as she drags him towards your house saying, “it’s going to be okay.” But she’s crying. 

Once out of their sight, the reverend takes you by the hair. He yanks your head around, pulling you towards that cursed tree. He’s uncharacteristically rough and your scalp screams for a release but you don’t show it. You don’t even look at the man. Not even when he’s tossing your body to the ground. 

“So you’re whoring around with my employees now, huh? Was ruining this farm not enough for you?” His words mean nothing to you. You dust off the dirt and go to stand again, but he kicks you back down. You tsk under your breath as he speaks again, “I’ve seen all the things you’ve done. Seen you leave my barns with red hands and smile. Cut heads off chickens like an anatomy project. Is he next? That church boy?” 

Now you look up to glare at him. Seeing the reverend was aggravating enough, but to say something about Sunghoon was infuriating to you. “I am not a killer. You are! And those animals were already dead.” You spit at his black leather church shoes. 

“Oh, you disgusting little devient,” he laughs lowly, untying the rope from the tree. “Your cruelty shouldn’t bring you joy. Sick and twisted, I should’ve dealt with you sooner regardless of what your drunk bitch mother protested. I can save the boy when you’re gone.” 

“What?” you shuffle backwards from him, angry and confused as he stalks closer to you until you’re backed against the tree. “All those things I did was because of you. Your righteousness made me rotten!” Your hands shake, gripping at the dirt ground for anything to make the fear stop. You glance up to the empty tree branch then the rope in his hands. Where is the lamb? You think briefly before it hits you. “You’re crazy,” you whisper, “I will not be your martyr… not now what I’m finally-”

“Condemn me to Hell for all I care,” he crouches down in front of you, “This is the last time I’ll be a killer.” He throws the rope to your lap and tells you to tether yourself. 

“Why do you hate me?” The words scratch at your throat. When you were younger, you did want the reverend to hate you. It was when he noticed you most, and it’s all you really knew. But now you’re older, and his disdain never made sense. 

You can’t bring yourself to move even if you wanted to. Was this His plan? To allow you one good thing in life before ending it? Was ruining Sunghoon your final sin? 

The rope shakes with your fingers as you stare down at it. The twine of the rope burns over the palm of your hand where Sunghoon carved his promise. Your throat feels dry, tight and suffocating; choking on everything you’ve ever done. And your eyes still puffy from the night before well with tears all over again. 

“I just do,” he thinks of slicing your neck open right there. So fuck tying you down, you were always secretly another lamb anyways. He raises his knife and the metal sits cold under your chin as he lifts your head up to look back at him. 

“Okay…” you swallow. 

Your eyes squeeze shut and so does your mouth, as you raise your head to the sky with an exposed throat. Why isn’t this easy? Unlike the animals, you do know what’s coming. And it’s scary. Scary not because of death, but because you aren’t ready. You haven’t told Sunghoon goodbye or that you love him back. And the thought of him finding something in this world to hate, is such an ugly feeling to die with. 

And then there’s a loud noise. A booming bang, followed by unsteady feet falling back and the ground rumbling with a thud. 

You open your eyes and your father is on his back clutching his abdomen. He coughs and gasps before raising his hand. It’s dripping in deep red. And you can’t help but smile with tears in your eyes as you exhale a jagged breath.

You turn your head and Sunghoon stands there with the shotgun in hand, open mouthed and wide eyed. 

“Sunghoon!” you scramble to your feet and run over to him, taking the gun from his hands as he’s frozen in shock. 

“H-he was going to- he was about to hurt you. I had to-!” he stutters, his eyes already crying and hands shaking, still feeling the weight and recoil of the gun. 

“It’s okay,” you coo softly. “Just- go back to the house and I’ll be right there, okay?” You rush out. Still in shock and dazed, he blindly trusts you and does as you say. 

When he’s no longer close by, you walk over to the reverend with a blank face. You stare down at him as he tries to crawl away, dirty and bleeding. The smile you make doesn’t reach your eyes. 

You point the gun back down at him, and place your foot over the shot wound Sunghoon created. The man gasps and tries to swat at your leg but you only press the gun further into his face, making him surrender. 

“Divine intervention, huh? Say it with me now. I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your voice is quiet, calm, and mocking of his tone. With the barrel to his forehead, you watch him writhe in pain and cough up a little blood. 

“Go to Hell,” he spits his words like venom. 

“If you say it, I’ll let you live. But if you show your face to me or Sunghoon again, I’ll shoot you right between the eyes.” Your foot presses down harder. You can feel that angry little girl inside of you jumping with joy.. Knowing his God demands to be bled for, and making him know the sacrificial suffering, well it feels good to say the least. “Say it. With me. Now.” Each word pronounced with the growing applied pressure to his shot wound. And then he begs for forgiveness. He’s never seen you smile the way you did when he was below you with those words. Empty eyes were never so alive for him either. He cries and chants ‘I know no punishment, only mercy’ over and over. It was like the most beautiful hymn.

　There wasn’t much to be said about that day. Sunghoon and you just pretend you shared a nightmare. Neither of you talked about it. It was just another thing that tied you together. 

Sitting there in the peak of summer’s heat. A day before Sunghoon returns to college classes. Birds chirp. The leaves of the tall trees thistle in the light breezes that pass by. Sunghoon sits criss crossed and while you have your feet hanging off the edge of the dock, kicking in the water. 

“I’m sorry,” you break the silence. Shocked, he looks over to you. He never would have expected you to apologize for anything. “I was selfish when I approached you. I wanted to take all that goodness out of you and keep it for myself. I thought I wanted to hurt you, but after sharing all this time with you, I realized I was wrong. It’s weird to say it out loud,” you laugh small, awkward, “but I really am sorry. I love you more than even I know.” You stare down to your feet in the water that has gone still. A tear falls from your eye, and down to your cheek. 

“I know. I love you too,” he wraps an arm around your waist. “But now the same sins bind us.” You hiccup silently and turn to look up at him. “Harvest all of my purity, farmer’s daughter.” 

For the first time, you really laugh. It’s bright and loud like the big smile he’s seeing for the first time on his favorite face. It’s morning sunlight that whispers through trees to kiss the forest floor. Birds that sing songs of hope to awake life into a new day. Nostalgic, expansive days of childhood where the concept of time doesn’t exist. To him, you look like the epitome of summer; he doesn’t want this season to end. 

You were never the lamb. Or the wolf. Not an animal at all. Nothing like the ones you grew up with. You were just a girl, scared and alone. But not anymore. Because it’s your last day on this farm, and tomorrow is the first with only Sunghoon. 

“Your humor is poetry.” you continue to laugh until tears prick your eyes all over again. You love it. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny.” he looks away shyly, blushing. It only makes your giggle more, but you stop to press a kiss to his cheek. He blushes harder. 

“I’ll keep doing it, harvesting all of your purity, for as long as you’re good.” you say with a smile. 

“Do you promise? I am always good, especially with you, so it could be a long while.” He bumps your shoulder playfully with a laugh. 

You take his scarred hand in yours and you laugh like he did, pure and true, “I do.”

© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, modify or translate my content ໒꒱ tysm for reading, ⌗unlearn shame ⌇ taglist @tinycatharsis @simjaexy @leehsngs @511rkive @beomluvrr @jjongsaengzz @slvtella @jaerisdiction @kkamismom12 @rayofsunshineeee @nshmrarki @m3wkledreamy @hanjisbeloved @filmnings @stercul1a @hooniesfvngs @moriwori @sleepyhoon

[coconutdays]

sex, money, feelings dont die

s. you come back home after spending a year away from your friends, suguru geto among them. and you think you've gotten over your suppressed feelings for him, you think

w.c. 11.2k

w. fem! reader, kickboxer/business student!geto! x reader , mutual pining! friends to lovers! fluff!, smut! virginity loss! (but it's not that big of a deal, you'll see why) masturbation!

a/n: ummmmmm I thought about this while watching a suguru edit. this is a little slowburn, but not painful I think idk I stayed up to finish this. will proofread later I need sleep. mwah hope you like.

you are beat up the first morning you wake up in your home after spending a year abroad.

your head is pounding, the light is agonizing to stare into, and your back is tense after spending the last 24 hours running around with the fattest luggage on earth, sleeping on stiff airport lounge seats, and sleeping on the stiff plane seats, or at least trying to.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

fuck's sake

"let me sleep, let me sleep, let me sleep." you groan painfully into your bed, body short circuiting on the jet lag and reminiscing on the peaceful sleep you were just having.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

"oh my-"

knock-knock

your head whirs up and looks towards where the door to your apartment would be outside of your room. and you hear a faint, familiar voice calling out your name cheekily.

exhausted, you get up and out of bed to open the door.

"as much as I missed you guys, I just traveled across the world and my body is still recovering..."you groan, walking to your couch and flopping onto it, eyes still a bit puffy.

"my body too would also miss the crisp baguettes and wine for breakfasts," gojo slyly comments as he slides into your apartment with one step and plops into your--small--beanbag, his legs poke out comically while he inhabits the light pink ball of foam.

a light whiff of cigarette smoke and cherries inhabit your room too when shoko throws a warm? bag on your back and picks up your legs so she can sit underneath them.

"I told him you wouldn't want people at your door this early." she sighed aloofly.

"nothing a breakfast bagel can't fix." gojo snickers

you finally open your eyes and sit straight up, digging into the brown paper bag that was once on your back

"or two." he adds, watching with a smirk as you take a hearty bite out of the first bagel

when you gulp it down and clear your throat, you point a finger at him then to your suitcase in the corner of the room, "there are four boxes of pierre herme macaroons in there with your name written all over them."

"aw you thought about me."

"yeah I really do," you speak gruffly between heavenly bites, "paris doesn't make this shit."

"there's no bagels in Paris?" shoko tilts her head, a blank look in her eyes

"shut up, you know what I mean." you almost moan, faintly rolling your eyes back in pure bliss before forming a realizing thought and turning to gojo, "did you come here this early for your macarons gojo satoru????"

his smile is blank and so are his eyes, you can tell, even through his stupid glasses.

"eat that second bagel, why don't you, my favorite friend who I've missed so dearly."

right before a slight scowl forms on your face, shoko interjects.

"he did cry when nobody else wanted to drink the nth pornstar martini with him at the function the other day."

"hey!"

you giggle a little and feel your sleepiness and grumpy mood fading away. (thank you gojo's breakfast bagels and shoko's disrespect)

"no need to worry anymore babygirl, daddy's home." you smile, lazily hugging the armrest of your couch

gojo huffs and puts a hand close to your face, "I saw your stories unfaithful slut, those cheese fiends were matching your freak, with espresso martinis of all things."

"but did I ever drink a pornstar martini without you?" you poke back, slapping his hand away

you can tell gojo is thinking and has been left speechless, but just as much as he's a victim to shoko, so are you.

"that she posteddddd."

"you guys are not allowed to wake me up this early and bully me, either of you," you state as you jump up and address the both of them before heading to your fridge to serve yourself some water.

"anyways, where's suguru?"

"training." shoko answers airily as her head lolls onto the armrest.

"he's been super focused lately right? I think he deactivated his instagram like the first month of me being in France."

you remember feeling bummed out every time you posted a pretty picture and never saw him in your views.

"that's an understatement," satoru scoffed snarkily, "I do not understand such a dedication to kickboxing when he's deadset on business."

"can't a guy have hobbies?" shoko questions, not at all seemingly bothered by Geto's dedication to sport such as satoru is.

"you guys want coffee?" you ask, about to turn your back to turn on ur espresso machine.

"yes," gojo says before adding a quick, "but from the cafe two blocks from here."

eyes squinted, you turn again and lean against your kitchen countertop, "I literally have a coffee machine."

"you drink that pretentious small espresso shot crap, weirdo, I don't want that"

"okay but I can just pour milk for yours?"

"I doubt you can make an iced vanilla biscoff latte here." he scoffs

"satoruuuuuu~" you whine, exhaling as you stare up at your ceiling, "I have to wash my face and get ready! I wasn't mentally prepared for that."

"I'll buy you a pistachio matcha latte," he grins, toothy and sharp, "with that creamy oatmilk you like that's an extra 2 dollars."

"I missed you and your bank account so, so much," you say whole heartedly, sending him quick air kiss of appreciation with your middle and index finger as you trot into your bathroom to start getting ready.

on the walk to the cafe, you fight and try to suppress the wondering your conscious has for suguru geto.

you're friends, have been since your freshman year of college, and that's all you have been. there's always been a feeling there in regards to him, but you've never touched on it for more than you've thought about it (repeatedly.) you just couldn't bring yourself to break that peaceful friendship or to even think about crossing it.

sure you noticed the day he deactivated his socials.

sure you like wearing his hoodie/jackets and acting like nothing of it.

but it's not like you took up the scholarship offer in Paris because maybe your favorite city in the world could distract you from hoping he'd ever flirt with you.

it did

"oh is that the rock climber?" shoko asks as she peers over your shoulder and onto your phone.

"indeed it is," you mutter cheekily as you answer the French fling's text, "he thought I was leaving tomorrow instead of yesterday, lmao"

"no goodbye sex?"

"fingering me is hardly sex," you look at her with a side eye

"woah, couldn't get over the 50/50 thing after all huh?"

"never," you sighed, putting your phone back in your pocket, "the least he could do was service me a little with a few orgasms after I had to pay for my own drinks."

"so who did you fuck?" satoru interjected, visibly curious as he stood in line with you guys and simultaneously read the coffee menu for any new sugary drinks

"nobody," you sighed, "didn't feel like anyone was worthy losing my card to."

but all this and here you are, shoving thoughts of him to the back of your mind. it's all become so natural that compressing any thought of geto isn't an overthought process anymore. you've forced yourself to become near careless about him, silencing the voice that cares every minute of every day. you don't know if you're in love with him or containing a small crush on him, that's how scared you are.

"understandable," satoru reasons, whilst picking his phone out of his pocket to read something.

"hey, look at that, haibara wants us all to come for drinks at his place tonight," blue eyes sparkle at you from beneath his glasses that he's purposely let slide downwards, "you know he makes the best lychee and passionfruit martinis."

"and dirty martinis." shoko pipes in

both you and gojo stare at her in slight disgust before he returns to giving you his puppy face.

"as long as there's a ride home involved, I hate sleeping at other people's places."

satoru stands straight up in glee and claps his fingers together, "great! don't worry about that, suguru doesn't drink anymore because of how uptight he's been lately."

the whole day becomes hang out with satoru and shoko day after that. you can't exactly go home by the time you're done with your matcha latte and your stomach starts rumbling for lunch, especially when trust fund baby satoru offers to pay for lunch. then he drags you both into a museum he's been wanting to see, and suddenly it's nearing sundown and it's time for dinner.

"let's go buy pizzas for haibara!" satoru exclaims with a pep in his step as he leads the way for you and shoko to follow after him.

when you get to haibara's apartment, everyone's already there.

various chimes of your name are said as you begin to greet everyone after being away for so long.

utahime hugs you particularly tight and fusses over you, "thank god you're back, you look so beautiful, shoko's too careless to have conversations with sometimes."

fearing your friend would be offended, your mouth open and closes, unable to figure out what to say until you turn to look at her sleazed on the couch and already lighting a cig.

"it's true," she shrugs

"I'm glad to see you too hime." you smile, embracing her in the hug again.

you hear a familiar voice speak when you let go of the embrace

"there wasn't really anything for me to wear haibara, had to settle for this shirt."

geto stands at the door to haibara's bedroom, one hand up and holding onto the frame as he calmly peers down at his shirt and then to the owner of it.

why was he wearing haibara's shirt? and why does it look so...

and suddenly he's looking at you, eyes softening just a bit as he greets you by your name and starts to walk towards you.

you'd imagined, hoped seeing him again would warrant more excitement from him, but no he's still the same calm and collected guy he's always been.

"suguru" you smile, ignoring the way your heart races at the side hug he gives you

well, his body isn't the same. god, how often has he been training? you didn't know his arms could be that veiny.

"satoru texted me that you've been with him and shoko all day." he starts, lips only slightly, minisculely turned upwards as a way of being polite towards your presence.

"since eight in the morning." you sigh, looking over at the freakishly tall giant already breaking into one of the many pizza boxes he bought.

"he missed you." suguru looks at his best friend too, making a face of disgust for a moment when satoru finishes a pizza in two bites.

"I missed him too," you breathe, smiling a little, "wallet or no wallet."

that makes suguru laugh and you're so thankful tails evolutioned off of humans or else you'd have a hard time controlling the urge to wag it back and forth at the reward that was making geto suguru laugh.

"I missed you." he says once his laugh falters away

"me too." you respond, fighting the awkward and terrible pit in your stomach

did he really miss you? miss you? how much did that mean for him?

it doesn't seem like a lot because he gives you a small grin before walking towards shoko and striking up a conversation with her. and gojo hithers you to him from across the room to start drinking your first martini of the night.

you've forgotten how drunk you get with gojo.

your vision is tunneled and you dont know what time it is or what is even what.

"oh brother." you groan, stabilizing yourself on the kitchen countertop. you had gotten up from being sprawled on gojo's back on the floor because you wanted a slice of pizza and the journey seemed quite treacherous now. so far, yet so close. you just had to open that pizza box.

until a hand made its way into your vision, opening the box, getting a slice, and offering it up to you. its a pretty hand, a silver ring on the index finger, veins running up it and onto the arms

of suguru

he's smiling fondly at you

"hungry?" he asks in amusement

"yes, thank you." you gulp, otherwise unable to show how flustered you are due to the immense alcohol in your system and insatiable hunger.

once you take the slice from him, geto begins to slide a chair out and helps you land on it considering it was a little high.

he sits across from you on the kitchen island.

"parmesan?" he has the bottle in hand, jeering it to you

"mhm" is all you can say through a muffled mouth and take the parmesan bottle for yourself.

"is this anything like the pizza over there?" he asks again in amusement

"no," you shake your head gruffly, almost groaning from how wonderful the taste is on your inebriated mouth, "but I can appreciate this right now."

you feel as if you've finished your pizza far too soon, knowing that the part of you that's embarrassed is subdued and screaming that you've been far unladylike in front of suguru, who eyed satoru so disapprovingly when he did it.

suddenly,

"you have some..." suguru leans over just a smidge and brushes your cheek with his thumb, "...parmesan dust."

"oh," you try to keep your jaw closed amid the surprise of his actions, "thank you."

"you want another slice?" he nudges his head in the direction of the box next to him, eyes innocently waiting for a response.

he sees you open and close your mouth again, hesitant on a response before he decides for you and gets you another slice.

"you need something else in your stomach to keep the martinis some company." he smiles a little and motions for you to look at the plastered satoru on the floor, "he's done already, so don't worry."

"thank you." you almost pout as an appreciation to his mercy and figure you should ask what was on your mind earlier, after chewing and swallowing a bite gracefully. you were going to be more conscious of this second slice.

"why are you wearing one of haibara's shirts by the way?"

"Oh," his eyebrows only raise a little and he looks down at the extra tight black shirt, "he was trying to imitate those street vendors that make slushies out of regular soda before you three got here."

"and haibara being him, I figure somewhere along the lines it erupted all over you." you giggled a little, imagining the mess

"that you are correct." geto smizes. he then looks around to the various bodies thrown across the room and zones in onto the floor.

"are you ready to go now satoru?" he asks, one brow quirked up, wondering if his best friend heard him or not.

you turn a little to look at him too and he only turns his face so that his cheek is resting against the floor.

"I don't think I'm even ready to get up," he grumbles, "you guys can go without me, I'm fine right here for the night."

feeling alert already at the idea of being alone with geto, you ask satoru if he's sure

"your back is going to hurt a lot in the morning Toru." you plead internally

"don'ttttttt careeee." he burbles

you're about to open your mouth to urge him again, but suguru gets up and nudges your arm lightly, keys already in hand, "don't worry about satoru, he doesn't have anything important tomorrow anyways."

then his hand is reached out towards you, probably to help stabilize you as you get off the ridiculously tall chair.

hazily, you take it and start to follow him out of the apartment and to the parking lot

his back looks really good in that shirt, you note. every muscle is carefully outlined, every movement of his being emphasized.

"hey," he turns his head over his shoulder to peer down at you, "why're you back there."

suguru then reaches a hand behind your back lightly and motions you to walk in front of him.

"oh, my bad," you murmur, having been snapped back into reality.

the rest of the walk to his car is quiet. and when you get there, suguru's leading you to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, and leaning in to buckle you in without even asking if you could do it.

when he starts the car, you see the time on his front screen.

3:43

"oh my god," you gape at the time, then look at geto while he starts to back out.

one hand on the back of your seat.

"hm?"

and that's all it takes for you to resume what you were going to originally say, finding all the scattered gibberish in your brain to form and communicate the thought.

"weren't you telling utahime that you had to get up early for training? it's so late..." you point at the time

"I do," he shrugged, eyes on the emerging road

"I'm sorry," you lightly pout in guilt

suguru gives you a quick once over and he grins so faintly, "I don't mind."

"let me send you money for a coffee or something." you turn in your seat to look at him pleadingly, eyes scanning him for any hint of resentment

he laughs

"I'm flattered," he smirks, amusement lingering in his tone, "but I'm not taking your money."

you slump in your seat at the rejected offer before you remember something and quirk up in your seat a little

"at least let me give you the gift I got you when we get to my place?"

"sounds like the perfect exchange." he nods

when you wake up, its 1 p.m. and you're surprised you slept through the many alarms on your phone.

you remember everything from the night before and you're not hungover, thank god.

oh

you reminisce on the moments you shared with suguru, even the ones you're embarrassed about.

"arghhh why did I force him to walk all the way up for his gift," you groan into your pillow, "wasted like fifteen more minutes of his time."

a small shriek leaves you as you headbutt yourself on the bed, "why did I do that."

its been about a week and a half since haibara's hang out. which has given you enough time to finally get used to being back home. you reorganized your place to accommodate for all the trinkets and decor you brought from Europe and cleaned out your closet.

you finished everything in time for your hangout with satoru

"Hey Toru." you lean down to give him a quick hug from where he's seated snugly, slurping on a sundae

and suguru

"hey." you breathe, not gulping when he gets up and hugs you to greet you.

when you sit down, you notice your heart is racing and your breathing is just a bit labored

probably the long walk over

"we got you strawberry mochi and a matcha latte," gojo mutters through the straw he's still slurping on, eyes zoned in on particularly nowhere? on the table in front of you all.

never separate this man from his sweets...

"oh thank you satoru." you say appreciatively, happy he thought of you

"thank suguru," he mutters back, "he paid."

your eyes drift to suguru, who smiles unphased, and lifts a hand up to minimize the gesture of paying for you, "satoru knew your order already, I just offered to pay."

"oh," you try not seem too disappointed that he didn't go out of his way to know your order, "well, still, thank you."

"it's no problem." he settled back into his seat comfortably

"didn't offer to pay for my sundae." satoru rolled his eyes

geto's eyes creased a little, as if internally smiling, and said, "didn't you eat out almost a third of my fridge yesterday?"

"whatever," satoru rolled his eyes, "buy me a second sundae then, im already finishing this one up."

"I'm not familiar with anything you've just said. are you feeling light-headed?"

"oh puh-lease," satoru starts to nag, "you can hear me just fine. stop acting like an idiot."

suguru fakes a look of confusion and concern, which makes satoru bolt up out of his seat and start heading towards the door to enter the parlor. and you're pretty sure you hear him say something about taking a bite out of your mochi when you're not looking.

the idiocy makes you giggle a little and you don't notice when suguru turns his head from looking over at a grumpy satoru to you, a slight upturn of his lip at being able to make you laugh.

flash!

after a blinding white light attacks your eyes, you're met with five schoolgirls, all with their phones out.

you'd think they'd be ashamed but?

"you guys are going on my Pinterest!" one giggles

another one is laughing almost as if she's on a sugar rush, very manically, "I hope my boyfriend is as hot as him one day. oh my god. aha aha ahahahahah!"

"you're so so so pretty." a ditsy one with a valley accent deadpans, nearing your face and making immense eye contact, "I know that you guys have the hottest sex."

your jaw drops and you look at suguru in shock, embarrassment out the door at being a coupe and more surprised by the actual words these teenagers are spilling out.

suguru's no better, no other movement on his face except for his raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

the ditsy one speaks again before they start to trail off, "I'm using you as hairspo for my next hair appointment."

and it goes in one ear and out the other because your mind is still stuck on the, 'I know that you guys have the hottest sex.'

what the fuck? what kind of crap was she imagining?

what was she thinking about?

hottest sex?

like flashbacks that never happened, vivid images of you on your knees and suguru drilling into you from behind play in your mind quickly.

he's so big in person and the thought is so palpable when he's next to you...

stop!

you feel your cheeks heating up and a shiver runs up your back.

you try to laugh to brush it all off, "they were probably high or something. or just really really extroverted..."

the tips of suguru's ears are the slightest pink as he finally makes eye contact with you.

"yeah," he breathes, "without a doubt."

"what were those schoolgirls yappin about?" satoru asks, a bit careless, as he plops back into his seat, a new sundae in hand

"nothing."

"nothing."

satoru glares a little at the both of you, his brow quirked up a little, "yeah sure."

you're shopping later at the mall with the both of them, a slight awkwardness between you and suguru that the both of you cover up by only really interacting with satoru and not the other unless satoru was involved in the interaction.

satoru is drowning in what looks like eight bags of clothes when he halts your walking and jeers his head towards the store next to him.

Victoria's Secret

"Didn't you come with us so you could buy new stuff here?"

Yes you had.

But that was before a group of teenagers made you feel awkward about discussing/associating anything nearing sex with suguru now.

"yeah..." you try not to stutter as you start to walk in

god, satoru is so unabashed and careless that he's going to accompany you too. and if satoru goes in, so does suguru. if suguru didn't want to, he would surely have to right now or else satoru would question him.

you know what, maybe suguru isn't overthinking it like you are. surely he isn't clinging on to the idea of sex with you.

yes, exactly.

bracing yourself, you walk into the store, pick up a bag, and ready yourself to start filling it up.

you've forgotten about your awkwardness with suguru after a while of being amazed by all the pretty options in front of you

and satoru, for the most part, is quite mature in this store.

for the most part...

"ha, look at those," he points at a mannequin wearing crotchless panties and at the same panties decorating the table beneath it, "get them."

disgruntled and rolling your eyes, you respond, "yeah sure when I'm getting screwed."

"girls wear lingerie for themselves you know."

"yeah I know," you huff, "and I do. but I can wear crotch on lingerie under my clothes. that's just plain old porn panties for not single people."

"you're such a debbie downer," he groans, "if I were a girl, id wear those with or without out a man."

"well, im a girl and you're not so." you say in a sing song voice as you check out a bra in your hands and toss it into your shopping bag.

"wait where's suguru?" gojo says, having noticed that his best friend's presence was quiet.

and that was all it merely was because suguru was scrolling through his phone, seemingly unphased by the store, paying no attention to what you and satoru were looking at.

"oh." gojo shrugs before he moves on to checking out more underwear with you.

and he spots a particularly cute set of babydoll's that you've grown enamored with, staring at all of them.

"those are very cute," your white-haired friend says

"and very expensive," you whine, having seen the price tag on one of them, "I don't know which one I want to take home."

"hm," satoru whirls around and looks between the mannequin wearing the see through pink one and the see through baby blue one.

"hey suguru." he calls out

suguru looks up from his phone and is slightly confused by where satoru's standing.

satoru has his chin in his hand, "which one do you think would look better on her."

suguru faintly gulps and quickly regains his normal calm confidence, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"whichever one she'd feel the best in." his eyes smile for him

"oh don't be a prude," satoru gags before pestering him again, "really, pick one."

"why don't you pick satoru?"

"because I think both are too pretty." his eyes gleam, staring at both of the babydolls in question

suguru sighs then looks at you, who so happens to already be eyeing him down, eyes wide for a response.

"the pink one." he mutters quickly, eyes immediately darting away.

there's a loud sigh of relief from satoru when suguru finally makes a decision and you pick up the pink one sitting at the table.

"I think that's all for me," you breathe, skimming over the rest of the store quickly.

and before you make your way to the register line, you stop near suguru

"thank you sugu."

it's a Friday night that you've got all yourself the next month following the incident with those girls and suguru.

you've shaved, washed and blow dried your hair, did a thorough skincare routine, and put on the babydoll you bought last month.

you feel hot and have plans...in mind.

you've seen a little bit of stuff on twitter just for a spur

and there you are, sitting on your dildo, cheeks heated as you sit up and down on it.

you're unabashedly thinking about suguru.

truth be told, you haven't been able to get him off your mind since those schoolgirls planted the thought of that hot sex with him.

he's just so big and lean.

god

you remember satoru making you go with him to pester suguru while he worked out, considering his gym was next to his apartment complex and he had agreed to invite you both and shoko for a watch party of the scream movies that day.

he looked mad when he trained on his kickboxing, eyebrows furrowed and eyes dark on whatever he was taking out his strikes on.

you figured he'd make a similar face beating your pussy up.

that same trail of sweat making its way down his spine. thigh veins twitching all the same at the force he'd use on you.

"su-"

knock knock

the blood drains from your face and you immediately feel yourself getting dry

"oh my god, who's here at 10 p.m.?!" you whisper shout to yourself as you scram to put your dildo back in its hiding place and through your night robe on.

you take a breather and check through your door's peephole

a big blue eye meets yourself and zooms out when satoru leans back and reveals that suguru is also with him.

you open the door quickly, slightly angry.

"why are you guys here?"

you keep your eyes on satoru, afraid even looking at suguru would reveal somehow that you'd just been vividly imagining sitting on his dick.

satoru seems impressed as he looks at your very short night robe, thighs out in the open and he shrugs, raising a bag of fast food in his hand, "wanted to hang out with you."

unable to refute his friendly gesture, you move so that the both of them can come in.

"you were ready for bed early," he comments, setting down the food on your kitchen island.

"it's ten p.m. satoru." you sigh, spotting that they didn't get drinks, so you try to find some cups for the Diet Coke in your fridge.

you realize they're in a cupboard.

that you'd have to lean up to

you're about to ask satoru to help you, but he's far too focused in setting out the food for all of you and suguru's just there, standing watching you and satoru, mostly you, in awkward silence.

"um, suguru," you pipe

he fully turns his attention to you. argh, you didn't think having 100% percent of his attention would be so drastic than having 80% of it as opposed to earlier, but it did

"can you get some cups from here?" you point at the cupboard, "I'd get them but uh-"

you look down at your very short nightrobe and exposed skin and suguru's ears turn pink at the tips

"yeah, no problem." he says quickly, moving to open the cupboard and gets out three ceramic pink cups.

you, meanwhile, open your fridge and get the Diet Coke jug you've had chilling, thankful you put it in the top shelf and not the bottom, having avoided the risk of bending to get it.

you sit down next to suguru, unfortunately, since satoru took the single seat across.

"so," you start to pour drinks for all of you, "what were you guys up to before this?"

"nothing," satoru mumbles through a mouthful of fries, "we were supposed to watch t.v. at suguru's place but the internet went out in his building."

one of your brows raises, "and you came to hog my t.v.?"

"no," satoru glares at you a little, "the burger place was right by your place and I wanted to stop by."

"plus," he adds, "I didn't bank on you being ready for bed so early."

then something lights up in his head and he stares at you quizzically, a smirk forming, "were you getting off before we got here? is that why you're all dolled up and dressed for bed like you've got first name dil last name do coming over?"

"ugh," you groan, "gross, satoru!"

"shoko and I went with you to buy that eight inch purple girth monster," he laughs, "you were sooooooo on it."

you roll your eyes and decide to ignore him, taking a bite out of the burger in front of you.

"take it easy on her satoru," suguru swoops in softly to defend you, "I remember how disgruntled you were when I found you with the door open during our time as roommates."

"hey! we agreed to never mention that to anyone else!"

you start to laugh, embarrassment only a tinge less than it was before, thanks to suguru.

although their sudden presence had interrupted your orgasm, you looked forward to the moment in which they would leave.

but satoru somehow, being the annoying giant he is, finds a way to make suguru and him stay the night at your place.

"satoru, I don't think my back can support sharing this couch with you." suguru tries to reason

"oh come onnnnn, we've shared less at frat parties before" satoru chippers, beginning to roll himself into a ball in one of your blankets.

pitifully, you share a look with suguru and hand him a blanket.

"sleep well guys." you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to your room.

your very empty room.

and you can feel your panties dampening again.

no you shouldn't.

you get into your bed and stuff yourself under covers, hoping your body gets the message that it needs to sleep.

it doesn't

so you count sheep.

nope

force your eyes closed and hope it just knocks you out.

nope, you were in that weird limbo of sleep and no sleep.

you don't know how much time has passed but you assume its late enough that both of the boys are asleep, so you shoot up out of your bed and lean over to open your nightstand, flipping your covers off in the process.

the desperation never wore off, your panties were drenched and you didn't even have to play with yourself to spread your lubrication or open yourself up a little.

biting the bullet, you lift a leg up with one arm and use the other to press the head of your dildo inside.

your breathing was extra labored, but that was nothing compared to the moans you'd let out if your friends weren't sleeping in the room next door.

then you start fucking it into yourself slowly, inch by inch, and it feels oh so good. even if it was see through, you pull down the straps of your nightgown and let your tits out, letting the air hit them and put you in a further state of vulnerability.

then in a matters of seconds, you're pounding yourself as hard as you can without making a noise from either lips.

your eyes are rolling back and it's hitting that angle so well that-

the relief washed over you faster than expected, orgasm a little ruined because you wanted to relish in the feeling longer.

so there you are, dildo still inside, one hand over your stomach while you let your breathing go back to normal.

"I needed that anyways." you whisper to yourself, feeling your chest heaving up and down.

knock knock

"you've got to be fucking kidding me." you shriek to yourself in the quietest manner possible as you rapidly stash your dildo away and fix your nightgown back on.

you dash to your door and open it a little, only letting the top of your head and eyes peer through the side considering what you were wearing.

there's suguru, hair down and shirt ridden up just a little, face a little surprised at the way you opened the door

"yes?" you ask, quickly peering at his happy trail

"is it alright if I use the restroom?" he asks, a little sleepy

"yeah," you gulp, "just let me get back in bed so I'm not indecent when you come in."

"alright, just tell me when."

and you leap onto your bed, immediately tugging your cover on top of you.

"you can come in." you say meekly, hoping he can't see how disheveled you are. the moon was especially bright tonight and it always lit up your room nicely during nights like this.

suguru opens the door immediately and smiles at you a little as he walks towards your restroom.

you smile awkwardly back

he pees you assume, because you've barely seen three tiktoks on your phone by the time he comes out.

"did I wake you?" he asks while he approaches you on your bed, taking a seat at the end.

having him so near the spot where you just pummeled yourself to orgasm made you shiver a little in fear.

"no," you almost stutter and put your phone down, "I was struggling to sleep."

"so was I" he laughs a little, "satoru sleeps so selfishly."

and your blabber mouth, stupid fake facade that you aren't affected at all by him speaks up.

"you can sleep with me."

you're both caught by surprise at your offer except only suguru expresses it, his eyebrows have raised innocently

and you cough up another remark, "it's not like you can really see what I'm wearing and you can just turn to the other side."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable-" he's about to get up

and you act so stupidly again

"I don't mind suguru, your body needs good rest with all the strain you put on it." and there you are, flipping the covers open from the other side of your bed and tapping it for him to get into.

hesitantly, he gets up from the end of your bed and walks towards the open spot, "are you sure?"

"yeah," you nod, other hand hidden under the cover and gripping the sheets under you, "we've slept cramped up next to each other on road trips. what's the difference with all this space?"

you both know the difference

but he slowly gets under the covers with you anyways, positioning himself on his back, stiff as a board as he looks up and tries not to look at you, well that's what it looks like and you understand why.

"I'm sorry if I snore." you peep, also staring up at the ceiling

suguru turns to look at you a little, "you snore?"

"I don't know..."you respond, following in his lead and peeking at him from the corner of your eyes, "but I'd be really embarrassed if I did."

"well, I'm sorry if I do too." he gives you a small smile, one of those tight lipped ones, no teeth, just the softness the moment in them.

then your phone suddenly starts ringing loudly.

and you scram to shut it off, putting your phone on night mode

"who was that?" suguru peers at you, neck turned more to look at you now.

you gulp, "some guy from paris. I should block him soon anyways."

"you were seeing each other?"

well you did go out with him various times and continuously stayed lots of nights with him. hell you even showered with him a couple times.

"hardly." you brush off

"shoko would talk about you always spending the night at a Claude's place. didn't you text her that you had to pay for your own uber once?" he said it so smoothly, without a thought

you shrink a little into the bed, "well yeah but I never saw him as something serious and we never sealed the deal. I didn't think you'd know about him..."

"shoko often aired out what you'd be texting her in the moment." he breathed, one arm behind his head as he went back to staring at the ceiling again.

"so you know about how hard I partied and stuff?" you asked, hoping that maybe they showed him all your selfies and outfits, casual and sexy.

"yes." he nodded

he seemed so serious and a hopeful part of you wanted to say he seemed...jealous?

does he think you saw a lot of guys on your nights out? what is he thinking?

"I liked it," you started, making the path for a way to comfort him if that was the case, "but I wasn't a big fan of having guys try to pull me to dance with them. I missed you and satoru being there to stop guys from hogging on me."

his ears perk up a little and he looks at you again, almost as if he's waiting for you to continue, so you do, stupidly but it was at attempt

"I'm just glad I'm back with you guys."

"I'm glad you're back too."

"you guys finally freak it?"

you get a sudden whiplash and wake up to find satoru standing at the end of your bed, one leg propped up on it while he brushes his teeth.

you lean up, making sure to cover yourself with the covers and notice the comfort of suguru's arm leaving your head.

HUH

you're at a distance from him, you would've definitely noticed his body pressed against yours, but he's turned in your direction, one long arm splayed out and oh my god

you had been using it as a pillow.

he starts to wake up too at satoru's sudden intrusion and squints sleepily at him, starting to stretch a little. the covers must've shoved off of him a little because you can see his v-line when he groans.

which reminds you that he must've not recalled/felt you on his arm just now. he probably would've been so awkward.

you calm yourself down enough and go back to looking at satoru.

"oh probably not." satoru, with a mouth full of toothpaste, mumbles without a shame after looking at suguru still being fully clothed and your reaction at sleeping on him

"satoru," your vision and brain is still blurry from waking up, "is that my toothbrush?!"

"no," he borbles offended before walking back into your restroom and beginning to clean his mouth out with water, "I have a go-go bag here."

"since when do you have a go-go bag here? and where the hell did you hide it?"

"since you left me your apartment key to take care of your place before leaving," he's already spit out the last of his toothpaste and is sassily walking back to you and suguru, "and I have it in your closet all the way at the top."

you fall back into your bed, rolling your eyes at his weirdness, "why do you still knock then?"

"I have manners?" he looks at you like you just asked a stupid question

"I found his bag in my laundry room." suguru sighs, running his hands through his face.

"well it's impossible to hide anything in your apartment considering we're the same height." satoru rolls his eyes, "haibara's like 5'10 so he can't see that I have mine at the top cupboard above his stove."

"normal habits follow you satoru," suguru sighs, flipping the covers off his lower half and standing up, "but you outrun it."

"track was my thing in high school." he shrugs

you haven't seen suguru since then. it's been two weeks and you've no sight of him. you were hoping he'd make an appearance at satoru's apartment today, seeing as he was hosting a House of the Dragon watch party.

"oh suguru? he's not coming," satoru shrugs as he plops onto his couch, next to shoko and tugs the bowl of popcorn from her, "he's working on his startup. something about a big client needing something by tomorrow."

then it's been another week, no sight of suguru with anyone at any hangout.

you don't feel that optimistic when haibara and satoru beg the group to show up to the club tonight, with pregaming at satoru's apartment.

you're dressed in a tight little white dress when you show up to satoru's apartment, clinging onto shoko's arm because of how cold it was.

and you feel so happy that you still put 100% of effort into getting ready because there was suguru, seated on one of satoru's couches, watching in amusement as haibara attempts to teach satoru how to make a negroni.

your own excitement blinds you and without thinking, you slip in past everyone and stand in front of him.

"I thought you wouldn't be coming tonight." you look at him in slight marvel, astonished that he finally made an appearance

he makes a face of surprise at you, well you think it's surprise at what you said. you probably came off too strong because his ears turned a little red. what else could it be?

god he was taking a little too long to respond. had he been trying to avoid you? was he-

"it wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to leave your protection solely up to satoru would it?"

and just like that his soothing voice brushes over your entire body

"it would not." you giggle a little when you sit next to him, hoping your perfume reaches him and relishing in the fact that his arm was already hung over the part of the couch you inhabited.

"but what have you been up to? I haven't seen you in a while."

suguru's eyes soften at your curiosity, and unbeknownst to you, his heart swelled at the fact that you noticed his absence.

"I've been finishing up a personal project of mine," he says warmly, "if all goes well, I'll probably come close to affording an apartment like satoru's soon."

affording an apartment like satoru's soon?

that's like

a lot of money

a lot

and why is him getting more money in his bank account making you fawn even harder for him

well, the stability, duh.

but you have to act cool

"are you sure you want to live in the same apartment complex as satoru gojo?" you tease?

"I said like," he shoves your leg a little with his own, "I don't think I would be able to stand living under the same roof as him again."

"well I don't think he could either," you giggle, "he says you're too much of a homebody and always say you have food at home."

suguru makes no attempt to defend himself and shakes his head instead at the complaint from his best friend, "I find it wrong to say I'm guilty when there's nothing guilty about cooking your own meals."

"are you good at cooking? I know you posted on your close friends about some meals here and there, but it's been a while since you deactivated your account."

"I'd like to think I'm good," he pauses, looking at you for a moment before continuing, "I'd make a pasta for you but I don't want to challenge the likes of Italy and France."

"now that just sounds like an excuse to not cook for me," you squint your eyes and scrunch your nose at him playfully

"I make no excuses," suguru drinks from the glass of water in his hand, eyeing you with the same playful aura, "I'll let you try if you want, but you can't make any comparisons."

"deal." you huff a little, reaching your hand out towards him.

"deal." he agrees, setting down his glass to shake your hand.

you don't drink a lot in the pregame

or at the club

something about suguru being there, sober, and able to control every moment makes you want to do the same.

so you're surprised that you're not at all even tipsy when you gently grab his hand and motion for him to dance with you amongst the crowd of your friends and other strangers.

it doesn't really feel awkward.

satoru's dragged you plenty of times to dance with him. haibara's kinda twerked on you a couple of times.

how is this any different?

at least that's how your mind approaches it, unphased by the sensual rnb music and your waist in suguru's hand.

when your arms reach around his neck eventually, you note he smells intoxicating, like amber and leather.

when you've known the club to normally be a place where you cause a ruckus with satoru and haibara, this is quite the opposite.

you didn't know you could feel so grounded

maybe it was the lack of alcohol to spur on the party animal in you, but this was fine. your brain felt woozy enough from breathing in suguru's cologne.

it's only when you feel a tap on your back that you and suguru are interrupted.

suguru juts his jaw for you to look behind and when you turn, there's shoko a lighter and a cigarette in her hands. you and suguru follow her outside for her smoke break, the bare minimum for her protection, a norm.

"how come you haven't been following satoru's pace tonight with the drinking?" she sighs melodically as she puts a cig in her mouth and cusps a hand around it while the other lights it.

"um," you avoid suguru's presence, feeling something that you just can't quite point your finger at, "I think im pmsing, so...I don't want to trigger any cramps with the drinking."

"fair enough." she blows out a puff of smoke as she says that

"and when are you going to ever drink again suguru?" she lets her head fall on her shoulder, lazy eyes looking at him.

"when are you going to stop smoking those?" he asks in return, leaning against the wall behind him and looking at the people in passerby considering this was a busy street during the night.

"soon." she shrugs

you and suguru exchange a look between each other at the response. shoko's been saying that since freshman year.

and your small moment is interrupted when you see a frantic utahime waving her hand, nanami and haibara holding up a very pale satoru between them as they walk out of the club and towards you guys.

the three of you meet them at the middle and utahime starts to explain.

"satoru threw up on this vip table trying to make it in time to the restroom..." a slight look of disgust on her face

"you guys know I can't stand the smell of cheap vape smokeeee~"he whines from between his two friends, body slumped over

"oh." you also grimace imagining the situation

"we're going to walk him back to his place." utahime tries to convey with sorry eyes that she's sad the night had to end like this

"it's okay." you say and turn to shoko, "are you going with them?"

her place was on the same side of town as theirs, and they were probably going to stay at satoru's anyway. he had more than three bedrooms and was always ready for sleepovers.

"yeah," she says, moving forward to poke at satoru's chest, almost as if he were a lab rat, "you guys fine to-"

"nice tits pretty girl!" you hear a holler next to your ear

and its some guy walking by with his two other friends, clearly inebriated but its also clearly not enough for him to blame the behavior on it. and his target couldn't be anymore obvious when he's making the nastiest eye contact with you, or more so your chest.

"come again?" suguru says sternly at him, he didn't yell but...

you could hear him well and clear alright.

the guy stops walking and turns to you and suguru, speaking with a sassy stupor, "I said her tits were nice."

you look up behind you and suguru is biting his cheek, something you've never seen from him. you can tell he's mad and so can the other guy.

"you her boyfriend or something?" he smirks, relishing in the way suguru scowls at him as he nears the both of you, "if you're not saying shit ill fuck her little pussy right in front of-"

BAM!

multiple oohs are heard when suguru sucker punches him. and height is the only thing that helps your offender, because he does manage to stay up and land a punch to suguru's nose.

but before you can react and head over to check on him, like lightning, the guy is the ground after suguru hands him an uppercut.

and there goes satoru, vomiting on the side of the road too.

which you don't seem phased by because suguru just defended your honor, and won, so quickly.

but you're also really worried because his nose is bleeding when he turns around.

ignoring the pain of your heels finally setting in, you click clack over to him and move the hand he's using to grab at his nose so you can inspect him.

you're not sure if he can tell you're somewhere between feeling lusty and worried when he looks down at you, but he looks serious still as he makes eye contact with you.

and satoru barfs even more

"I can't handle blooddddd~" he cries which ushers a panicked utahime into calling shoko over and asking if you'd be fine heading back with suguru, making sure he's fine at the end of it.

when they start heading off, you pull out your phone from your purse, "let me get us an uber to your place."

your hands are shaking a little in adrenaline and you jump a little when suguru swipes your phone from your hand and hands you his, uber app already open.

he's continuously wiping his nose as he painfully murmurs, "not letting you leave my place alone, I'll drop you off at yours first, put your address, I'll pay."

worriedly, you want to deny him, but the thought is intimidated out of you when he stares you down.

"ok-okay." you speak a little shakily

so much for you thinking you'd be cool and calm in a situation like this.

you dragged suguru into your apartment the moment you got to your place. you had finally noticed the small cut on his nose bridge and near his eye and really insisted on patching him up.

you also were scared that he'd somehow get a brain bleed and die on the way home out of sheer anxiety. so you wanted to keep an eye on him for a while to keep your mind at ease.

suguru is sitting at the edge of your bed, watching as you rummage through your restroom for your first aid kid. and when you finally find it, you're rushing to him and setting it down next to him, beginning to filter through it for the alcohol wipes.

"close your eyes," you ask breathlessly, still feeling the after effects of your adrenaline, "I don't want to irritate your eyes accidentally."

suguru listens to you and closes his eyes, a slight grimace already on his face in preparation for the sting you're about to bring to his cuts.

he hisses a little when you press on them

"sorry."

"it's okay." his eyes scrunch a little and you can see his hand on his lap, opening and closing as a reflex to the sting.

then you take out the antibiotic ointment to start spreading a little on his wounds. his body relaxes a little when he sees that the bothersome part is over and he keeps his eyes open, watching you.

you feel so hot under his gaze, you can't help but blabber when you're in the process of putting cream on his nose bridge

"you really have been putting the work in at kickboxing huh." you say awkwardly, trying to do a fake laugh, but

"did I scare you?"

suguru's burning a hole into your face with how intensely he's looking at you

you almost choke on your breath

"no."

"you were shaking when you were typing your address on my phone."

oh he noticed

you didn't want him to misunderstand

"well you didn't scare me, but I was scared for you, still am. I don't want you to drop dead on the street." you answer a little shakily, having forgotten to reach for the small bandaids.

"besides what girl gets scared of the guy who defends her honor..." you add

"shoko almost gagged when nanami made a guy apologize to her." he quips

"well that's shoko," you shrug and look off to the side, "I liked it."

you're about to reach for the bandaids when his hand on is holding onto one of your arms, gentle but it sustains all your attention.

"what do you mean?"

"well we all know shoko's a lesb-"

"no, when you said you liked it."

explaining that to him is complicated. when you said that you liked it you know that you mean that your panties got a little sticky watching him spit out blood that tried to seep into his mouth from his nose. the memory makes you subconsciously rub your thighs together. but you'll just brush it off as a normal like, as in it flattered you.

unbeknownst to you, suguru spotted the movement between your legs.

"it was flatte-"

"then why do you look so nervous trying to tell me that?"

a bit exasperated and heavily flustered, you stomp your foot a little and avoid looking at him, "suguru, please stop. you're making me nervous."

"what's there to be nervous about?"

"we're just friends." he adds

and his eyes light up watching when your own shoot towards him, your offense front and center.

and for the first time, you can see how he looks at you with so much yearning?

"am I wrong?"

christ, has he always looked at you with this much desire?

you're speechless and even though the signs are pointing towards the obvious, you still form a sentence that spares your feelings.

"do you want to be wrong?"

"yeah."

you feel shaky again

and it's not because you're scared.

"can you please stop looking at me like that?" you beg, avoiding his eyes again, almost about to hyperventilate from the pressure his stare is putting on you.

he grabs your other hand and leers you close to him, breath tickling your neck since you're so stubborn on not looking at him.

"do you still want to be friends?" he asks

and even though it sounds seductive and suave, you can make out the slight genuine yearning to know if that's what you want.

so you look at him again, trying to swallow the nervous lump in your throat

"you know how I feel." you plead

"no I don't," he laughs a little painfully, "I've never said anything because I don't know, so tell me."

you stare at each other for a while, his patience everlasting as you muster up the courage to say something that shouldn't be so embarrassing.

"I don't want to be friends."

"do you want me to go home?" he asks, thumbs rubbing circles on your wrists.

and its the quickest answer you've given him so far

"no."

and you want it

bad.

so so so bad.

but you have to get the question off of your chest.

"what-what do you want to be?"

"each other's if you'll have me." he breathes, looking up at you still

he's saying all the right things. and he's here. you're freshly shaved and waxed and wearing the hottest lingerie under this. fucking hell you wouldn't even need foreplay to take him right now, you're preening at the thought of having him.

"do you think satoru packs condoms in his go-go bag?"

it just slips out of your mouth so easily and you want to be embarrassed, but you're to eager for that.

"I know he does." suguru gets up quickly, eyes darting to your closet and then to you, "are you sure?"

and it's like some sort of instincts take over because you take the hands that are holding yours and place them on your tits, motioning for him to squeeze them.

"I'm really sure."

the action has him baffled, a pink flush face you've never seen on him while he stands there taken aback. it gives you a little confidence to remove his hands and take off your dress. then you let him watch as you get on the bed, sitting on your heels as you take his hands in yours again to plead.

"I want you in me suguru."

"fuck." he curses, before rushing towards your closet and yanking the infamous go-go bag and tossing it next to the bed. he starts to take his shirt off soon after, immediately reaching for your face when he gets into the bed with you

he's a sensual kisser. sensual as in you're pretty sure it'd be illegal to kiss him in public.

he kisses like he's fucking your mouth with his own. and it has you shivering into his touch, pussy aching for him to fill you up.

you pull him in by the belt loops of his jeans and whine, "take it out please."

your words make him groan into your mouth and he reaches one hand down to help yours unzipper his pants and push them down.

you feel his raw length slap across and press onto your mound when he grinds against you

"you haven't done this before right." he almost says darkly as he stares down at where your bodies would be meeting soon.

"no." you moan, watching him as he stuffs his dick under your panties and slides it back and forth on your pussy lips.

he shivers at the contact and dips his head into your neck, mouthing and biting at the skin there, "fuck, you're actually drenched."

and for a moment, you both get rigid at the euphoric feeling of his tip catching on your hole so easily.

"I'm not sure I'm going to last long with you right now," he all but exhales shakily, hips still moving back and forth against you

"that's fine, just keep going."

and he's about to reach over in the bag for a condom when your lust takes over so much that you stop him and line him up with your hole.

"just do it like that please."

he moans as your ministrations and looks at you for reassurance, "are you sure?"

you can tell he's fighting so hard not to move

"just use my pussy please suguru, I need it so bad." you complain, reaching down to pull your panties further to the side, chest heaving from carnal need for him.

suguru leans closer to pull your see through bra down, and begins to suck harshly on one of your nipples when he starts bullying his cock into you.

you can feel every vein when he starts to sink into you and fuck, his tip is so snug and big, the feeling of it ridging against your insides every time he brings it in and out is dizzying.

you're so focused on the feeling of his thick dick filling you up that you've barely noticed how suguru's folded your legs back. both of you now entranced in the way he's balls deep in you, a loud wet pap sound accompanying every thrust of his.

"you like that sweet girl?" he heaves through deep fast thrusts, mesmerized by the way your stomach moves just a little every time he bottoms out.

words aren't something you're capable of right now because when you try to respond, all you let out is shriek

this is nothing compared to the way you've tried to pummel yourself with your dildo. his hands are everywhere and he's got you right where he wants you. you can't escape him.

and when you thought he couldn't his pace and force grows stronger.

you're basically screaming now.

"yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes." is all you can say, so dumb on his cock that you can't help but want more and more

"fuck, don't talk like that," he groans, almost as if to himself, "I'm gonna end up creaming your pussy if you keep that up."

"cream it please." you beg loudly, "wanna feel us get messy."

your tongue is basically salivating at the though of his balls coated in cum and slapping against your clit, strings of mess forming from how intense it is.

and he starts twitching into you, rushing to kiss you as he pumps inside of you. thank goodness, it feels like its spilling out of you in heaps.

you're so happy, so so happy.

"let's do doggy yeah?" you pull him in by wrapping an arm around his neck, grinding your hips against him for more

"whatever you want," he nearly whines, pulling out of you just so he can flip you over and push your back down.

you feel hornier like this, pussy more exposed and growing needier with the feeling of his cum seeping out of you. it makes you wiggle your ass for him to fuck you more already.

and without warning he does just that, slipping into you again and gripping your ass so hard when he starts using you like a fleshlight.

"fuck, yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes," he mumbles to himself, "tiny fucking wet pussy. love it so fucking much. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck."

you're thoughtless, just utterly brain dead from how hard he's going on you, from how much your pussy is getting split open again and again.

this goes on for hours, so many positions covered by you and suguru. foreplay was never involved at all during that time, neither of you wanting to go without feeling each other so crudely connected for more than a second.

you actually fall asleep cockwarming him even, the both of you too stubborn to stop that you fell asleep still trying to get it on.

neither you or suguru hear the jingle of your apartment door being opened later that day. both too fucked out and tired to wake up.

but you do hear when the door to your own bedroom opens, and suguru quickly gets on the defensive, covering you with your bedsheets and about to-

"satoru!" you both yell.

"woah," you hear laughing through the door, "you guys really stayed up all night fucking? everybody's been calling you guys since two."

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[lokissweater]

promise

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: halloween calls for pumpkin carving, cliche horror movies, and most importantly, a penthouse halloween party— only the best of the best invited amongst the world of professional athletes and teams, and you looking forward to this event and giddy as you stood in the ambiance of fake spiderwebs and skeletons…. but megumi is tested. patience running thin when every single man there seemed to track you like a dog, and you thrown off when a certain megumi admirer crosses the line with her absurd words and phrasing… unbeknownst to you that she had it out for you, planning schemes to get what she wants and stopping at nothing to get it— and what she wants being something that already belonged to you… megumi fushiguro.

warnings: MDNI. FLUUUFFF, angst, JEALOUSYYY YEESH, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of inebriation, afab!reader, cursing, use of y/n, pet names, penthouse party, FERAL SMUUTT, dom reader AND dom megumi HEEE, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it y’all), bondage, creampie, scary halloween sex, megumi is COOCKOO IN THE COCONUTS, reader is bratty, megumi is a jealous freak, all characters are aged up.

word count: 19.8k

authors note: OKAAAYYY MLB!MEGUMI FOOOUURRR AAAHHH THIS IS CRAZZZYYY !! LETS ALL COME TOGETHER AND PRAAYYY for what y’all are about to read, and i hope you all LOVEE ITT AND THIRST WITHH MEEE !!! UGH this was an absolute privilege to write for you all and i can only hope once again that i delivered !! <333 I LOVE YOU SOOOO SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT !! <333 MWAAAHHH !!

i highly advise you to read the other parts of this series or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

“what’s that baby.”

you leaned away from the mirror and looked at megumi, him sat patiently and content on the edge of the tub as he watched you do your makeup.

“this?” you held up your mascara wand and he nodded. “mascara gumi! it goes on my lashes and helps them look preeettyyy.”

you looked to the mirror and leaned over the sink again, dipping the mascara wand in the tube, muttering. “or at least i hope it does…”

megumi huffed a breath of amused air through his nose. “it does.”

you grinned, stepping away from the sink and walking over to him as you extended an arm, offering the little wand.

“wanna help mee?”

he pinched his brows momentarily before reaching and taking it from your waiting hand, mumbling. “i don’t know how baby… i don’t wanna poke your eye.”

you laughed a little and perched yourself up on his lap gently, megumi readjusting so you’d be comfortable and placing a cold hand on your thigh.

“you won’t gumi! i’ll show you look—”

you took the wand back from him and raised the bristle to your eye, sliding it up slowly against your lash as megumi focused his gaze on what you were doing, face so serious that it made you giggle.

“here! you try.” you smiled sweetly, passing it back to him as you excitedly waited for him to copy what you did.

he brought the bristle to your other eye, fingers coming up to gently hold your jaw and keep you in place as he brought up the wand, delicately running the mascara over your lashes with precision.

you stared at him, the way his deep blue eyes tracked his own movements so carefully with furrowed eyebrows as you could tell he was trying his hardest to stay away from your actual eyeball, you finding it difficult to stay still and not swoon over his striking features that never failed to hinder your normal brainy functions— his face close to yours.

“gumi.”

“hm?”

“your lashes are so beautiful.”

the side of his lip curled up in amusement.

“they’re.. eyelashes.”

“lucious eyelashes my god…” you murmured as he moved the bristles away from you and lowered his hand. “they’re so long and sexy.”

he snorted and lifted his hand to give you back the wand, you happily taking it as he then mushed your cheeks together with his fingers and kissed your puckered lips.

“you almost ready.”

“yes!” you responded, standing from his lap and walking over to the sink to take a look at his work, giving him a cheeky thumbs up at the results with a cute smile before dipping the bristles back in the shiny gold tube, coating a bit more of the product on your lash for a fuller look.

halloween was one of your most favorite holidays of the year, right next to valentine’s day and megumi’s birthday as the overall feel of horror, carved pumpkins, and cheesy gore just did something to you that made you sickeningly giddy and riled up whenever you and megumi participated in fall activities each year.

and today was just that— you and your boyfriend getting ready (well mostly you) for a halloween party taking place just about an hour from now, going as a couples costume that consisted of you dressed up as a slutty cupid and him one of your victims, his simple white long sleeved button up and black pants all it was since you didn’t have the heart to make him wear an actual costume, knowing he would probably be embarrassed by it and keep the fact from you.

but the event you were attending wasn’t just any halloween party.

it was the fucking halloween party for any professional athlete across the globe, exclusive as hell, and teams from literally everywhere invited as long as they were the best of the best and honed in several winning titles under their belts— megumi and his team being no exception as they got invited every single year with the event manager practically begging megumi and yuji in particular to attend, but megumi always missing out every year due to his general dislike for parties.

but you loved parties. and he knew that.

and seeing how upset you got last year not being able to go because one of your professors decided to be a dick and assign an exam the day of halloween—

megumi silently made sure that this year you both would be able to go, regardless of what he thought about parties so as long as you were there.

“i just need to put on my corset and wings.” you screwed the mascara tube shut. “i’ll be back!—”

“you’re not changing in here?” he asked confusedly.

“…no.”

“why not.”

“because i need privacy gumi.”

he gave you a deadpanned look. “i’ve seen you naked baby.”

a fiery pink blush rose to your cheeks as you started stiffly side stepping closer to the door.

“okay?” you pursed your lips. “water is wet. the sky is blue. i’m horny because of your costume—”

megumi laughed loudly as your voice trailed off down the hall, you skipping into his room and throwing your top off over your head so you could put on your cherry red corset, it already fucking suffocating you and you hadn’t even tied the laces yet as you quickly slipped on your white thigh high socks and little wings, running down the hall again back to the restroom.

“oh my god i can’t breathe—”

“jesus christ.”

“what?!” you froze and looked down at your costume. “what does it look bad? do i look trashy? do i look stupid—”

“no baby no.” megumi spoke gently, embarrassed that he accidentally let his reaction slip. “s’cute. i like it.”

you smiled sweetly, nodding and turning to look at the mirror to lace up your corset— each tug and pull from your hands only pushing your godly tits further up and up and up until megumi had to grip the sides of the tub to keep himself from grabbing you and taking your white mini skirt off, your soft tits now sitting pretty and puffy at the top of your corset with a tied lacey bow.

you breathed in deeply as you set your hands on your hips, barely even having room to properly exhale as you tried to get yourself accustomed to it.

“i’m gonna die.”

megumi chuckled and stood, walking over to you and settling his long arms around your waist, pulling you in.

“loosen it a little baby.” he leaned to the side to look at your skirt, one hand coming down to tug at it. “is this how short it is?”

“yup!” you cheekily grinned, pecking his rosy cheek. “i’m going as a little slut.”

he playfully rolled his eyes and smoothed his hands over the material of your corset, eyes wanting to lock themselves straight with your tits again but refraining himself from doing so.

“and halloween is like my religion gumi.” you propped your chin up on his chest. “it’d be a disgrace if i loosened up my corset like a freaking loser.”

megumi laughed, his pearly smile making your heart flutter as you stood up on your tippy toes and kissed him.

“kay, you ready?”

he looked at you confusedly. “for what?”

“for the lipstick kisses!” you stepped away from his arms and dug into your makeup bag on the counter. “it’s part of your costume baby it’s like i made you fall in love but with me ‘cause i’m cupid and i shot you with an arrow and now you love me and stuff…”

megumi watched you pull out your red lipstick and unscrew the top, sliding the end of it over your lips carefully before pressing them into a thin line and spreading the product around, leaning back from the mirror.

you turned to him. “ready ready?”

he nodded and let you tug him down by his collar, you undoing a few buttons from the top so his chest would show as you moved and pressed a gentle but solid kiss to his collarbone.

and megumi took note of then that you never really had to do anything for him to get riled up, because you being you and with each little kiss that trailed up his neck and left behind scattered red lipstick marks, had him blushing furiously and looking to the side, a particular peck to the edge of his adam’s apple causing him to harshly suck in a breath through his nose.

megumi loved halloween.

you finished with a kiss to his jaw, pulling back and eyes lighting up at the sight of him covered in your red smooches, you gently nudging him to look in the mirror.

“you look so cuuutee guumiii!” you gushed, a silly smile on your face as you admired your work and pointed at him funnily through the mirror, but faltering and head snapping in his direction once you saw his blank blinking eyes.

“what?” you asked softly, brows furrowed in concern. “are you okay? do you not like it? i could— i could take it off—”

you went to reach for the makeup wipes in your bag until megumi caught your wrist and yanked you forward, dropping his face into your breasts and biting down on a puffy tit as you gasped.

“gumi!” you laughed, hands pushing at his chest as he dragged a long wet stripe up from your boob to the side of your neck. “not right now!”

“why not.” he mumbled, pulling your waist in again and biting down on the side of your neck, his mouth traveling back to your tits. “i’ll be fast.”

your cheeks grew hot as he gnawed and bit over your boobs, your body melting with each lick and little by little giving in to him as you felt yourself dazedly lean forward into his chest.

but the party.

“w— won’t we be late?” you asked softly, thighs clamping together at the way he slipped his hand up your skirt to grope your ass.

“just a little pretty baby…” he murmured against your skin, fingers slowly creeping under your panties. “wanna feel you around my—”

a blaring chime rang through the bathroom, your phone vibrating against the counter as you tried to pull away from megumi and retrieve it.

“my— baby my phone—”

“leave it.”

“but it’s my best friend—”

you extended a strained arm, outstretched fingers clawing to grab at your phone as he continued to assault your neck and tits, almost knocking it off the counter instead as you alternately decided to put your phone on speaker, tapping your finger on the screen to answer the call with your frame still utterly caged in megumi’s arms.

“hel—”

“y/n oh my god please help me!”

your eyebrows furrowed in concern while you literally wrestled with your boyfriend at this point to let you go, him snickering and biting down harder on your skin as you giggled.

“what— what happened?”

“i can’t lace up my costumeee!” she whined. “are you at megumi’s place still?! yuji doesn’t know how to do it he almost snapped the ribbon twice and i can’t see because it’s on my back and we’re gonna be fucking late—”

you gasped. “oh no— yes! yes i am hurry so i can help you—”

“perfect i’m already at the door—”

megumi huffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened up and softly let you go, you looking up at him with apologetic eyes and reaching up to caress his cheek.

“i’m sorry gumi… we can have sex when we get back!”

“you can— what?!” your girl friend shrieked over the phone, both of megumi’s hands slapping over your mouth with blushing cheeks. “you freaks open the damn door!”

“m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry!—”

megumi laughed and kissed your forehead, dropping his hands and turning to leave the bathroom to get the door as your girl friend still yelled over the other line— a combination of what you had said and about her corset until you actually heard her in person down the hallway through the living room.

“y/n help me please dear god— move megumi—”

fast clicking heels echoed down the hall until they reached you, your best friend heaving as she slumped against the door frame with a trail of dark blue ribbon behind her, the corset of her slutty police officer costume loose around her body as she clutched it against herself.

“i’m so scared the ribbon is gonna snap.” she breathed out. “yuji pulled it so fucking hard i heard a rip—”

“is it okay?!”

yuji ran into the bathroom as soon as you ushered her in and gently turned her around, inspecting the ribbon.

“babe i’m sorry i’m so sorry please forgive me—”

“why did you keep tightening it when i told you to stop?” your girl friend stressed, holding onto the edge of the counter as you proceeded to lace up her corset.

“i don’t know i’m stupid i’m sorry—”

“it’s fine—”

“no i need the death penalty right now—”

megumi appeared behind yuji then with a cold look on his face, arms crossed as he leaned against the hallway wall and listened to the commotion happening in his own fucking apartment that annoyingly hindered the moment he was having with you minutes prior.

“you guys the ribbon is okay.” you began, quickly fastening it through various loops and crosses. “there was a little tear in it but not that bad! it shouldn’t give out.”

they both breathed out a dramatic sigh of relief and you giggled at that, finishing up the lacing with a cute bow at the bottom that matched yours and stepping back, your girl friend happily looking at the ribbon through the mirror then before throwing her arms around your neck and giving you a big kiss on the cheek.

“i love you thank you!”

“mhm!” you sweetly responded, looking over and readjusting the rest of her costume as she started pinning down her little police officer hat, yuji guiltily sulking in the back and megumi disappearing off somewhere.

“babe i told you it’s okay!” your best friend laughed, turning around to ruffle up his pink hair. “it didn’t rip that much and you didn’t mean to at all either.”

he nodded and kissed her cheek, running a hand up and down her side.

“i know i just feel bad… i would’ve fucked up your costume.”

she shrugged, running her hands over his white ribbed tank top. “and we would’ve figured something else out! i was already thinking of using my shoe laces instead.”

you laughed a bit, the sight of yuji wearing bright orange prison pants with his top a funny one as your best friend reached into the back pocket of her shorts to pull out her phone, you fixing over the straps of your little cupid wings in the mirror.

“i’m gonna down every single fucking fruity drink i see.” you spoke excitedly. “oh! you guys do they still do the bottle sparkler drinks you told me about? the ones they bring out and light on fire and—”

“yeaahhh!” yuji exclaimed. “they do holy fuck i’m getting in line for that i don’t care if i black out drunk you only live once—”

your girl friends sudden gasp made you both jump and look at her.

“oh my god—” she frantically scrolled through her phone. “oh my god we have to go we have to go—”

“what?!” you peered over her shoulder to try and look at her screen. “why?! what happened what— are we too late—”

she spun around and grabbed your shoulders. “the— the nfl cheerleaders! they showed up y/n the fucking cheerleaders—”

“oh my god!” you quickly shoved your scattered about makeup into your bag and flung your curler and straightener under the sink. “we have to go we have to go we need to butter our way in this is our chance to be one of them—”

“oh my god oh my god—” she hurriedly pinned her toy badge to her chest before snatching yuji’s hand and running out of the bathroom, yelling from down the hall. “we’ll meet you guys there y/n! call me as soon as you park!”

“okay!” you called back, megumi soon after silently appearing with your cherry red mary jane pumps— dangling loosely from his fingers.

“oh my goodness thank you gumi i couldn’t find those!” you tumbled out quickly, following his lead when he guided you to sit down on the edge of the tub, him getting down on a knee and lifting your ankle up to slip and strap your heels on for you.

“did you hear?” you grinned, bouncing in your spot. “the nfl cheerleaders showed up.”

he chuckled lowly. “i did baby. i heard all the way from my room.”

you bit down on your bottom lip to suppress a squeal, megumi gently setting down one ankle and lifting the other.

“would you still love me if i was a cheerleader for the nfl.”

he snorted. “yes. why wouldn’t i?”

“because i’m betraying the mlb.” you pouted, him finished now and looking up at you with a tiny smile. “but it’s not my fault you guys don’t have cheerleaders! i would’ve tried out a long time ago if you did…”

he looked at you amusedly before kissing your lips and standing, helping you up on your heels with a hand and leading you out of the bathroom over to the living room.

“would you still love me if i was in football instead of baseball?” he asked, grabbing his keys from the counter and leaning down to tie his shoes.

you gave him a bewildered look.

“gumi i’d still love you even if you killed people for a living.” you mumbled. “or if you had a criminal record. or if you committed arson for fun. or even if you straight up didn’t love me back i’d probably stalk you—”

megumi laughed loudly and stood back up, shaking his head and pinching your little cheek at your last comment before opening the front door and stepping out with you.

“i wouldn’t mind that.”

you giggled. “you wouldn’t?”

he shook his head, a sly smile spreading across his face.

“i’d do worse.”

the only thing you all really knew about the whereabouts of the party, was that it was annually hosted at a penthouse in the city by an event manager who was obsessed with professional sports teams, but the details of exactly who’s penthouse was unknown… only that it was the biggest social event of the year with open bars and smoke machines and cocktail waitresses at every corner— any player who was someone in their respective sport always in attendance.

you had heard about it many times before through yuji and your best friend before you had officially met megumi, you every year wanting to go so bad but far too intimidated by the type of crowd that it was to actually show up, doomed to watch their stories on social media and the cheerleaders you followed having the time of their lives doing shots from a cut in half bamboo pole with various others in a line— moping around in your room with nothing better to do.

but now you were eternally grateful that you finally got to go with none other than the person you loved most in your life, not wanting it any other way as megumi contently listened to you excitedly ramble and look through social media stories of the players already there in his passenger seat, interlaced fingers on the center console as he occasionally raised and kissed the back of your hand.

and upon arriving at the penthouse and leaving your vehicles at the parking garage, all of you were amazed to see that there was a line wrapped around the fucking building and down the street as you walked up, you nervous now for some reason while skipping through the entire line and going towards the security guard inside the lobby.

and you’ve always admired and taken pride in the fact that megumi was the best at his sport and was recognized immensely for it despite his indifferent stoic image… but even more so now as the security guard didn’t even have to listen to yuji say who they were as he stepped to the side and pointed down the hall.

“last elevator to your left, button goes straight up. have a great night.”

you all thanked him and walked over to the elevator, piling in and pressing the golden lit button to the top floor before the doors gradually slid closed.

“if the bamboo shots already happened i’m gonna be pissed.” you mumbled, yuji and your best friend groaning in agreement as they chatted and watched the number in the elevator screen rise to thirty five and still going.

“if the bar runs out of those tiki cocktail mugs before we get there i’m actually gonna start fighting with the bartenders this time—”

“no you’re not.” your best friend cut yuji off as she laughed, lightly slapping his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso after.

you felt megumi nudge you and you looked, his head coming down and placing his lips to the side of your ear.

“try not to lose me baby.” he murmured. “call me if you do please. or look for yuji’s stupid bright pants.”

“hey!” he whined. “i heard that…”

you giggled hard and nodded, standing on your tippy toes to give him a cute kiss on the cheek.

“kay gumi!”

and the doors slid open just then, music blasting through and startling you and megumi as he grabbed your hand to interlock your fingers, your eyes shining like constellations at the massive scene before you as you all stepped inside— the entire penthouse lit in a dark purple neon hue with hanging skeletons and bats on the walls, fake spiderwebs hung at every corner and yellow caution tape strewn about, absolutely everyone dressed up and not a single one in regular attire as you navigated through the crowd, foggy air over the floor that sweeped and swayed with every movement.

and the walls were tall and humongous, a particular side playing a montage of various teams and specific players’ best moments of their season on a projector screen, your eyes immediately focusing to see if you could spot megumi in any of the flashing videos.

a cocktail waitress passed by with a tray of shots then, multiple hands coming from the crowd to take as your group did as well and downed them back, megumi scrunching up his face in distaste as he coughed into his elbow and put the shot glass back on the tray, you rubbing a comforting hand over his back.

“loooser!” your best friend teased and pointed at him, megumi scowling and slapping her hand away from his face before swinging an arm around your hip.

“no that shit was actually nasty..” you gagged, the rest of you following suit and placing the shot glasses back on the tray before the cocktail waitress disappeared somewhere in the crowd, yuji nodding in agreement.

“that’s why i hog the tiki bar every year— oh shit!—” he quickly whipped his head around with wide eyes. “babe babe my tiki mug where the fuck is the tiki bar?!”

“the fire! the fire!” your girl friend pointed up ahead, all of you turning your heads to see a crowded bar adorned with hibiscus flowers and actual lit torches, multiple bartenders behind the counter booked and busy as they mixed alcohols and shook their barrel shakers to serve drinks.

“oh there’s actually fire...” megumi mumbled. “indoors.”

you gasped. “oh my god gumi let’s go let’s go!” you grabbed his wrist with two hands and gently tugged him forward, a beaming smile on your face. “i want a tiki mug too!”

he laughed a little, nodding as you all started walking over to the bar, yuji literally shoving his way through to the front until the upper half of his body was toppled over the counter with flat palms on the surface.

“tiki mug!” he breathed out to the bartenders. “tiki mug is there still tiki mugs?!”

“itadori!” one of them greeted with a smile, his eyes flickering over to megumi. “and fushiguro?! i’ve never seen you at one of these! ever!”

megumi’s expression read nothing as he only nodded curtly, yuji impatiently waiting for the bartender to answer his question as he looked like he was about to rip his hair out, your best friend laughing.

“congrats on winning the world series last year!” he spoke again before reaching under the bar. “and for the mlb, of course i have tiki mugs!”

“oh thank god thank you i love you mister bartender!” yuji slumped against the counter with a hand over his heart.

“so what drink with it?” he lined up four tiki mugs on the bar. “i could do a piñacolada, blue hawaii, tropical bay breeze—”

“oh! could i do a blue hawaii please?” you asked politely, the bartender nodding and taking the rest of your orders before quickly getting to work and mixing alcohols together.

“megumi i’ll take your mug if you don’t want it!” yuji mentioned hopefully, tail basically wagging like a little dog.

“i’m giving it to y/n.”

“fuck!”

you giggled and patted his shoulder. “it’s okay! you can have it. just let me drink his drink first though heh.”

“oh thank you!” yuji threw his arms around your neck and you stumbled back, megumi quickly placing his hands on your waist to stabilize you. “you don’t understand every year i come to this damn party and there’s never tiki mugs i’ve been saved—”

“babe you’re not letting her breathe get off!” your girl friend laughed, tugging at his ribbed tank before he released you and spun around, engulfing her instead.

“sorry! arrest me!”

“yu!”

“cuff me but the fuzzy pink ones i like those—”

“you’re disgusting.” megumi mumbled.

your girl friend shot him a glare.

“says the one who fucks my best friend every night and makes her say the most outrageous things—”

you screamed and covered your reddening horrified face, megumi shutting up instantly with wide eyes and pink cheeks as yuji and your girl friend reeled over and cackled.

“blue hawaii! tropical bay breeze! rum punch! bahama mama!”

each tiki mug was stacked onto the bar with a thud after every call— full and foamy with colorful liquid and little umbrella picks adorning them as they were pushed towards you, yuji profusely thanking the nice bartender and almost jumping over the counter too as he grabbed his mug.

you took a sip of your drink and lit up, immediately slurping the rest of your blue hawaii and downing it like it’s fucking water and not straight up alcohol as megumi watched you with shocked amused eyes.

“you like it baby?” he softly asked, taking tiny sips of his rum punch and surprisingly liking it, offering it out to you. “you wanna try mine?”

you swallowed a big gulp and quickly nodded. “yes! please gumi.”

you both switched drinks, trying each others and you loving his even more as megumi gently turned you around and wrapped his unoccupied arm over your tummy, tugging your back to rest against his front as you chatted with your friends and tried to hear each other over the loud music (and megumi trying to ignore the stares you got from random weird men..), your eyes occasionally drifting over the crowd and spotting several different star players.

most consisted of the nfl, but there were a good amount from the nba and other teams from the mlb— even volleyball and hockey as you recognized some of their faces from reruns that played on your tv or the highlights you saw through your social media platforms, you a bit star struck when you saw particular ones your were a fan of casually walk by the tiki bar next to you.

you reached a hand out and tapped your girl friend.

“have you seen the cheerleaders yet?!” you yelled over the music, shoulders slumping when she sadly shook her head no.

“i’m gonna actually start crying in front of all of these people if i don’t see at least one.” she stressed. “we need to start looking in the crowd—”

a sudden jolt stumbled you and megumi forward, the both of you craning your heads around.

“i’m so sorry!” a girl gasped. “i didn’t see where—”

she oddly stopped, megumi barely even sparing her a glance as he just nodded at her apology and turned back around to face the other way, but you still watching the way she stared at megumi with big shocked eyes and slightly parted mouth.

similar to the way you did when you first saw him.

but she continued to look at him, her eyes flickering to yours then and… hardening before she reluctantly spun the other way and moved through the crowd until you couldn’t see her blonde hair anymore.

and you figured she could’ve just been a fan of megumi’s and was simply too starstruck to say anything… but the weird feeling in your gut had you gnawing at the bottom of your lip as you turned to face the other way again.

“strange..” your best friend mumbled, your eyes snapping to hers.

“you noticed that too?”

“uh huh.” her gaze scanned the main dance floor. “don’t think i’ve ever seen her before either.”

you craned your neck to look up at your boyfriend.

“have you gumi?”

he looked down, brows furrowing.

“have i what.”

“seen her?” you nudged your head to the crowd. “the girl that bumped into us?”

“who?”

you laughed. “the girl— nevermind. it’s okay!”

he smiled softly, leaning down to peck your lips before continuing to sip on his little blue hawaii as he caressed his hand over your side, his arm still snug around your torso.

“is everybody having a good night or what?!”

your gazes shifted to the dj booth up ahead, the mc of the night holding up a wireless mic with his phone in hand as the crowd erupted in cheers and hollers.

“i want to thank everybody for coming out tonight! it’s a pleasure to do this every year and see all of your talented wonderful faces—”

“oh no.” megumi mumbled, you looking up at him with a confused raised brow.

“what?”

“i think they’re gonna call me up.”

your jaw dropped, stepping out of his arm and facing him.

“they’re gonna what?”

“yuji told me about this last year…” his face was practically pale as he looked to the dj booth, your best friend and yuji already cutting through the crowd to get up there. “they call up certain players from different teams for recognition.”

“oh—” you looked on ahead, an excited smile spreading across your face. “oh that’s so nice baby! you deserve to be recognized like thaaatt!”

he slowly shook his head, absolutely fucking stiff as a rock and annoyance brewing in his chest over the party and event manager doing something fucking ridiculous like this.

“baby let’s go to the bathroom.”

“the bathroom?” you tilted your head. “why?”

“to hide.”

“gumi!” you sent him a comforting grin and ran your fingers through his soft black spikes of hair. “it’ll be okay! they just want to show appreciation for your gift baby that’s all.”

“i don’t want it.” he mumbled, forehead dropping down to rest on your shoulder miserably as you giggled.

“but i wanted to see you up thereee!” you whined, wrapping your arms around his hunched shoulders. “wanna see my cool baseball man in the spotlight for a little like he should be.”

megumi’s cheeks grew pink.

“but let’s go to the bathroom or upstairs we can—”

“if you want me to go up there i will.” he cut you off.

“huh?” your eyebrows furrowed as he picked his head back up. “what—”

“m’going up.”

you gasped. “no gumi it’s okay! i don’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortab—”

“honda! ito! fushiguro!—”

he cupped your cheek and kissed the other.

“i’ll be back.” he murmured, patting your head while simultaneously swallowing back his displeasure for the situation— but doing it solely for you. “stay here.”

“ledger! itadori! okkotsu!—”

“o—okay!”

“please come up to the booth talented players—”

megumi walked away from the bar and through the crowd, his height making it easy for you to spot him through the masses until he got up there with yuji and the rest of the players, you going on your tippy toes and peering to and fro to try and see where he was at but pursing your lips when you couldn’t fucking see him anymore, ultimately deciding to move through the crowd yourself to find a spot where you could.

“ladies and gentlemen could i please get a round of applause for your top players of the year?!”

an eruption of whistles and clapping pierced through your ears as you tried to shimmy your way in, finally landing a leeway in between several heads and seeing your boyfriend up there— grumpy and bothered with his arms crossed as you covered your mouth to try and suppress a laugh, phone in hand already recording.

“woa— megumi fushiguro?! first year i’ve seen you here man!”

the crowd burst into surprised exclamations and gasps, the mc throwing a heavy arm around megumi as he stumbled forward, an unamused done expression plastered over his face as you held your phone up high with the biggest smile, probably looking utterly insane as you erratically flipped and rotated and zoomed in on his figure in every possible angle imaginable, the bright white lights illuminating him so insanely that he straight up looked like a god.

and you wondered then how in the fuck one of the mlb’s greatest players ever became interested in someone like you, for you felt like megumi was completely out of your league from the start with all of his glorious batting and pitching.

but every time you iterated exactly that to him amongst your endless daily ramblings, he would scoff and shake his head and gnaw at any part of your skin to get you to take back that ludicrous fucking statement, always thinking you were way too humble about yourself and polite and sweet to realize that he had to go through the trenches of telling different guy’s to fuck off if he saw they were even remotely interested in you without you knowing.

megumi did this even before you officially noticed him on the field.

and today was no exception as he scanned the main area of the penthouse to the tiki bar in search for you, the mc blabbering on about things he didn’t care about as he realized you weren’t where he told you to stay, quickly then scanning the crowd and his shoulders relaxing once he spotted you in the midst of the crowd, but eyes narrowing as he saw some stupid moron obnoxiously ogling your tits next to you while you were happily watching him with your phone propped up.

the fuck?

“—good luck to you and itadori in the league championships! any words you wanna say for us here?!” the mc vocalized through the mic, holding it up to megumi’s mouth after.

“wrap it up.”

a mix of ooo’s and laughs bounced off the walls, the mc awkwardly chuckling before unhooking his arm and patting a hand on his back.

“that’s megumi fushiguro for you! now any nba players up here?!—”

megumi immediately stepped off the platform and moved through the crowd, your eyes cutely twinkling once you noticed he was making his way over to you as you stopped your recording and stuffed away your phone.

“that was so funny— oh!”

he swiftly stepped in between you and the guy to block his view, the stupid moron slightly going off balance from how close he actually was to you and the fact only further pissing megumi off, an arm coming to wrap around your waist as he led you out of the center and off to the side by the big wall with the projection screen on it.

“what—” you looked to where you previously were and back to him. “what happened? why—”

he shrugged. “wanna talk over here baby.”

“oh, okay!” you nodded, sweet and oblivious as you enthusiastically yapped about how great it was seeing him up there.

but the guy who was ogling your tits was only the first wave.

“oh my god gumi!” you frantically tapped his shoulder and pointed to the projection wall. “it’s you! it’s you! oh my god i’ve been waiting all night i want a picture right fucking now quick hurry hurry—”

you hopped on over with your mary jane pumps and stood next to the huge projected singular shot of megumi swinging his bat, one foot crossing over the other as you wrung your hands behind your back and tilted your head with a cheeky smile, megumi reaching in his pocket for his phone.

that pose alone might as well have been you violently shooting another cupids arrow through his chest— his tingling pinky cheeks prominent under the purple neon hue of the penthouse as he took several photos, a fond smile growing on his face.

pretty.

megumi watched as you uncrossed your feet and seperated your hands, turning around and straight up pressing yourself against the wall with your tongue erotically out and spread palms over his projected snapshot, him snickering as he covered his mouth with the hand that was holding his phone, trying to ignore the way his dick twitched in his pants at the sight.

he took more pictures and gave you a silent thumbs up, you dropping your pose and skipping back over to him as he put his phone away and extended a waiting arm out to the side, you stepping in and his hand instantly snaking around your waist where it should be.

your gaze stayed locked to the wall, totally transfixed with glimmering heart filled eyes as it continued to play megumi’s greatest moments of his season— most if not all from this year alone, but a good amount consisting of last years world series game where he absolutely dismantled the opposing team with every move he made on the field with no mercy, immense pride bubbling in your little heart.

“you’re the coolest gumi…” you spoke softly and he looked down at you, eyes softening at your dazed state.

“yeah?”

“mhm.” you responded, letting him tug you into his chest as he leaned and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “i think i’m gonna start crying and hyperventilating on the floor.”

he chuckled, delicately moving some of your hair over your shoulder to run his hand along the smooth skin there, lips coming down next to your ear.

“i love you.”

you grinned, your heart actually skipping beats and running around every corner of your inner body as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in.

“i love you too gumi!” you gave him a cute peck on the side of his head. “and i think i’m gonna start stalking you anyways like i said because i really need something to do on my down time when i’m not studying or at your events—”

megumi laughed, an infatuated squeaky one as he nodded against the crook of your neck and held you a little tighter.

“do it.”

“okay i’ll start monday! or maybe now and i’m gonna do it by—”

“oh my gosh megumi fushiguro!”

you felt him falter in your arms and turn his head, the both of you slowly separating from each other to see who it was and your brows slightly pinching once you did.

it was the girl from earlier. the one that bumped into you.

“hi! oh my— i’m such a big fan of yours!”

your guard lowered a little upon hearing that, a small smile on your face as you looked at her.

“oh, hi.” he mumbled.

“i’ve been a fan since you got signed actually!” she exclaimed, her short bobbed blonde hair and angel costume cute to you. “how funny i run into you here right? must be fate.”

fate?

“well it’s—” he shifted uncomfortably. “it’s a sports party… thing…”

she giggled obnoxiously like she’d just heard the funniest thing ever, fingers lightly smacking his shoulder as you stood there.

“i know silly!” she smiled, nudging his upper arm with her hand. “just wanted to say that i admire you so much and think you’re the greatest! the way you play is amazing and i love it.“

you were absolutely happy with the fact that a fan was being so nice to megumi and telling him such kind words, as he deserved all of the praise and support and you loved whenever people expressed just that to him— a total treat for you if you were there to witness it as well.

but the weird feeling in your gut was back… and why was she touching him so much…

“thanks.” he spoke simply, giving barely a smile before he made his way to turn back around.

“w—wait!” she shot her hands out. “i’m hana!”

he paused midway and nodded curtly. “hi hana.”

her face gleamed and she blushed, looking like she’d just won the fucking lottery as she smiled big and cupped over her mouth with both hands, obsessed over the way her name sounded from him.

“do i hear wedding bells?!” she squealed. “when’s the ceremony?!”

you choked on your fucking spit, your boyfriend completely taken aback as he looked at her bewildered and awkwardly, megumi sort of initially appreciating the support, but now he just didn’t wanna partake in the conversation anymore as his mind was more interested in the ways you’d stalk him that you were about to tell earlier.

“so are you having fun tonight?” hana continued. “i’ve never seen you around and i come to this event every year!”

“um yeah i’m here with—”

“your friend?” she pointed at you. “how cute! i’m here with a friend too.”

the way she barely acknowledged your presence, even when it was pertaining to you as she spoke about you rather than to you, and the way she literally insinuated marriage like it was nothing with your man, left a sour fucking taste in your mouth.

and friend?

“girlfriend.” he corrected.

her face tightened.

“right!” hana’s gaze landed on yours. “sorry! i couldn’t tell.”

huh?

megumi’s arm was around your waist and she couldn’t tell?

you hugged his upper arm to your chest and gently tugged him away. “sorry but we have to go it was nice meeting you—”

a spark of annoyance flashed through her eyes. “oh but i was talking to him though—”

“—i’m sorry bye.”

you pulled megumi harder and you both dove into the crowd, disappearing from hana’s view as you went in search for your best friend and yuji— agitated and feeling guilty that you were in case hana really was just a fan and was simply overly affectionate.

but she didn’t have to disregard you like that either…

megumi could sense you were a bit bothered by the grip you had on his arm and the way you barely looked at him as you shimmied through people, his brows furrowing in concern.

“baby.” he leaned down next to your ear. “what’s wrong.”

you shook your head. “nothing. just trying to find yuji’s stupid bright pants.”

he smiled a bit.

“i think you’re lying.”

“i’m not.”

“baby— i can tell something’s bothering you.” he continued to pry and you pursed your lips, looking up at him finally.

“that girl was kind of weird…”

“girl?” he cocked his head to the side. “which girl?”

you paused. “the— the one that came up to you and told you her name and complimented you—”

“oh.” his dark blue eyes blinked and trailed off like he was searching his brain for answers, him ultimately left clueless. “sorry i actually forgot everything she said.”

you snorted, leaning forward and covering your mouth as you giggled and shook your head, somehow your boyfriend forgetting the interaction as a whole making you feel better.

“you’re so cute gumi.” you stood up on your tippy toes and gave him a big fat kiss on the cheek. “now let’s find my best friend— bright pants! i see yuji’s bright pants!

you grabbed his wrist and quickly weaved through the crowd, your girl friend’s police officer costume coming into view as you let go of megumi and flung your arms around her neck, her immediately recognizing that it was you and gasping.

“oh my god i lost you y/n! i’m sorry!” she hugged you back and you frantically shook your head.

“no it’s okay!” you pointed to megumi. “he got called up to the dj booth i was distracted—”

“they kept asking you a bunch of questions and none for me man!” yuji pouted at megumi, your best friend laughing.

“they probably got tired of you giving shout outs to the tiki bar every year when you’re up there babe.” she smoothed a hand over his bicep. “and also because megumi came out of his bat cave for the first time in decades…”

you leaned and placed your lips to her ear.

“i have to tell you something.”

“what?! what?!” she whipped her head around and looked at yuji. “yu! go to the tiki bar please with megumi i think we all left our mugs there—”

“oh my fucking god we did!” he shoved his hands in his pink hair, completely horrified. “fushiguro let’s go we have to go—”

“why the fuck do i have to go—”

“no questions come on!”

yuji yanked megumi by his white button up and they tumbled through the crowd, you laughing hard as megumi looked at you over his shoulder— a pleading disgruntled look on his face.

“okay i got rid of them now tell me.”

“girl get ready.” you slowly shook your head, eyes wide. “because i think i’m about to crash out.”

“it’s that bad?!” she placed her hands on your shoulders. “what happened?!”

“a fan of megumi’s came up to him earlier.” you began. “but the things she was saying were putting me a little off.”

her brows furrowed. “what did she say?”

“first she said that them meeting was fate.” you gnawed at your bottom lip. “and then she started saying how much she admired him and loved him on the field which is fine but—”

“not fine but go on.”

you giggled and continued.

“she barely acknowledged me… like at all. she thought i was megumi’s friend even though his arm was around my waist—”

“huh?!” her eyes narrowed. “is she fucking stupid? what’s her name?”

“hana and— i don’t know!” you whined. “but then she literally said ‘do i hear wedding bells’ and ‘when’s the ceremony’ when he said her name—”

“what the fuck?!” she yelled. “y/n this girl was straight up flirting with him in front of you! oh my god if someone was doing that to me with yuji i’d be going to prison!”

“i was thinking—” you hesitated. “that maybe she was just really affectionate but i just feel like somethings not right.”

“hell no it’s not.” she shook her head. “y/n you need to stop being so nice all of the time and bite. next time some shit like this happens you need to say something. please don’t let yourself be disrespected like that.”

she patted your shoulders and released you, crossing her arms. “and what did megumi say?”

“oh he forgot it all!” you beamed. “i think he was barely listening to what she was saying.”

“HAH! okay that’s fine i won’t beat him.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and smiled. “i just wanna take shots from the bamboo pole and forget about it.”

“oh! it’s coming around!” your girl friend frantically looked around. “i saw it pass by and a group do it! it should come back—”

she stopped.

“what does hana look like?”

you quirked a brow.

“uhh short blonde hair? she’s dressed up as an angel.”

“oh my fucking god.” she muttered. “turn around.”

you did, heart dropping once you saw that she was talking to megumi again at the tiki bar, animatedly and close to him that you nearly took your cupid wings off and chucked them at her.

“what the hell is she doing?” you mumbled. “gumi!”

megumi’s head snapped up from his hunched over position on the bar, head swiftly looking around until he spotted you and without another thought pushed himself from the counter and walked, leaving hana there with her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, cutting off whatever she was saying to him prior.

you tugged him in once he got to you and snaked your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in and placing your face into his neck.

“you okay?” he asked over the music, rubbing slow circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“mhm!” you nodded. “was just wondering if you wanted to do bamboo pole shots with me.”

he huffed out an amused breath and squeezed you. “sure baby. don’t take too many though i don’t want you to get sick.”

“no promises!” you grinned.

hana knew from the moment she bumped into you who you were.

how could she not? the only woman that managed to somehow sliver her way in megumi’s life and beat her to the game was like a broken record in hana’s mind— over and over you played and taunted her with every appearance she saw you with him, with every game and event and social media posting from him you were always there— sweet and beautiful with the angelic reputation of changing megumi for the better and treating others so fairly, physically stinging her eyes every time she saw it on the tabloids or on tv.

megumi was supposed to be hers, and when she lost the game she didn’t know.

but her number one goal the minute she learned that megumi was in attendance at the party, was that she was gonna try with her life to make him see that he was destined for her. not for you.

though it wasn’t working like she thought it would.

through the times she’s pulled him and talked to him and flashed him sweet smiles and compliments, trying to copy the entity that you were so he would at least so spare her a fucking glance and listen to what she had to say— wasn’t working as he always disregarded her and straight up treated her like she wasn’t even there.

because of you.

and she was getting desperate.

increasingly so as she watched you and megumi and your little friends line up to take shots from the bamboo pole, all of you having fun and surrounded by people that loved you— for you were the absolute life of the party as you pulled various others from the crowd to do shots with you and rejoice, hana staring from afar with rage as she couldn’t help but just hate you with every kiss and laugh that megumi gave you.

and once hana saw an opening with megumi, him stepped off to the side as he watched you continue to down shots with your friends like nothing with amused eyes, she pushed her way through towards the bamboo line with a new immoral objective of getting him to just be interested in her and forget about you so that you’d crack, evidently showing him and everyone else that you weren’t so angelic and poised after all.

“megumi!”

he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around, indefinitely confused as to why the same girl kept pulling him for chats once he noticed who it was.

“hi?”

“sorry just saw you by the bamboo line.” she smiled. “have you taken any?”

“uh like two.”

megumi looked over his shoulder, attempting to keep an eye on you while at the same time talking to her and already thinking of ways he could cut it short, wanting to just go back to you and make sure you weren’t feeling sick or that a random dude wasn’t preying on you like a dog.

“i don’t know how you can do that!” she shook her head and giggled. “i don’t really drink like that.”

“i usually don’t either.”

pathetic hope washed through her body like an avalanche, her face lighting up over the similarity and the fact that he was actually continuing the conversation with her instead of brushing her off.

“really?!” she gushed. “what a coincidence! it’s like you’re my other half hehe.”

megumi froze.

why was she always telling him the most obscure things?

“um—”

“are you nervous for your league championship game coming up?”

several hoots and hollers made megumi turn around and see that you had taken a cocktail waitress’ tray and was literally doing her job for her— handing out shots to whoever and excitedly bouncing on your toes in response to those who accepted.

“megumi.”

he snapped his head back around.

“huh?”

“i said—” her eyes flickered to you before returning to him. “i said are you nervous for your league game?”

“somewhat.”

“you shouldn’t be!” she reached up and smoothed a hand over his shoulder, her heart pumping that she was touching him. “you’re the best on the team! you’re practically the reason why you guys win all of the time i’ve—”

you saw what she did.

and maybe it was the alcohol in your system making you bratty and the fact that you were a bit overly tipsy, but you also saw the way he let himself be caressed on the shoulder like that without any consideration for you, wondering why he wasn’t stopping the conversation as a whole and coming back to you and instead entertaining her, even after all of the weird shit she had told him before in front of you.

why didn’t he care?

you smiled at the cocktail waitress and gave her back her tray, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes as you tried to look around for your best friend, itching to get confirmation on whether or not you were being batshit crazy or if your feelings were valid as you searched— but halting once you heard megumi’s familiar squeaky laugh that he only let out with you.

megumi was laughing. wholeheartedly. and so was she.

what the fuck was so funny?

“hey—” your girl friend waved her hand in front of your face. “babe are you okay? why are you crying?”

what?

you reached a hand up and touched your cheek, your fingers sure enough shimmering and wet under the purple lights once you pulled them away.

“i don’t—” your lip wobbled. “i don’t know i— i think it’s just because i’m tipsy—”

“where is megumi?” her concerned gaze scanned the crowd until they landed on him, eyes narrowing instantly as she scoffed and shook her head.

“what is this?” she threw her hands up. “ditch my girlfriend for some other bitch day? megumi!”

he jumped and spun around, an initial annoyed look on his face over the way your best friend screamed at him, but eyes widening once he saw your shaking shoulders and covered face.

oh god.

megumi took long stride full steps away from hana to get to you, her sickeningly content with the fact that her presence alone with him upset you so much and threw you off your poised demeanor, thinking it was only a matter of time now before you took out your frustrations on him and drove him away— bonus points if you made a scene.

“what happened?” he hurriedly asked, gripping your shoulders and turning you around in his direction. “baby what happened why are you—”

you pushed him away and hiccuped.

“i don’t wanna talk to you right now.”

“what? why not?” his eyebrows furrowed. “hey—”

he reached to pull you in by the waist and you dodged his hand, turning around in the process and pushing your way through the crowd to get away from him, his heart sinking as he wasted no time in following after you.

“baby please—”

“no.” you stubbornly responded, damning the alcohol for making you act so irrationally. “why don’t you keep talking to other girls all willy nilly without giving a single fuck about me—”

“what?” he spoke sharply, completely thrown off. “okay no hold on—”

megumi picked up speed and engulfed his arms around your torso, lifting you up and taking you down a secluded hallway away from the main area while you thrashed and whined in his hold.

“let me go!”

“no.”

you sniffled.

“gumi let me go.”

“are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

he turned into a darkened corner and slowed.

“no.”

he bit down on your arm and you yelped.

“okay yes i will!”

he loosened his arms and gently set you back down on your feet, nudging you around as he bent his knees to look at you at eye level.

“what’s wrong.” he pushed. “are you hurt?”

you shook your head and hiccuped, fingers coming up to carefully wipe your tears away without ruining too much of your makeup.

“why do you keep talking to her?” you mumbled.

“to who?”

“to hana.”

“hana?” his eyebrows furrowed. “who’s hana?”

“the one that keeps coming up to you!” you expressed. “what did she tell you back there? while i was handing out shots?”

“oh she— she was asking me about the league game.”

“did she say anything weird again?” you crossed your arms.

fuck.

“she did baby…” he spoke softly.

your teary eyes snapped open.

“actually? what did she say?”

megumi really didn’t want to upset you any further, but he wasn’t about to shamefully lie to you either.

“she called me her other half.”

“are you serious?” you hiccuped. “and you just let her?”

“i didn’t let her—”

“this whole time you’ve been letting her i’ve seen you!” you sobbed. “she touches you way too much and has been pulling you for chats all fucking night saying things that are completely disrespectful to me and you say nothing!”

“i—”

“and then you’re laughing with her after she called you her other half? and laughing like you do with me?” you put your hands up defensively. “i’m sorry didn’t know you guys were the best of friends now—”

“baby— i wasn’t laughing at anything she said some drunk idiot tripped and fell on his face behind her.“ he placed his hands on each side of your head and you stopped. “and i swear to god that i didn’t realize any of those things because i don’t give a shit about anyone else but you and i’m sorry.”

“but she literally said do i hear wedding bells and when’s the ceremony!” you cried, the alcohol triggering a new wave of waterworks as you covered your face. “how could you not realize that—”

“no i know baby i know that’s on me.” he gently moved your hair away from your face. “everything she was saying was so foul and i was just letting it happen and i’m so fucking sorry that i didn’t put my foot down from the start. my entire focus is always on you and i was too stupid to realize you were hurting.”

“you’re not stupid gumi—”

“yes i am.” he delicately pried your hands away from your face. “yes i am and you don’t ever have to worry about things like this okay? the only thing that matters to me is you. and i can’t tell you how sorry i am for putting you in this position and making you cry.”

“no it’s me i—” you hiccuped, cheeks buzzing with embarrassment. “i’m sorry gumi i just got jealous and i overreacted and i’m tipsy so it made everything worse. i didn’t mean to yell at you…”

he shook his head, murmuring as he pulled you into his chest. “no you have nothing to be sorry for… i would go nuts if some dude told you the same shit she told me.”

you giggled a little, and megumi was so glad that you had stepped up and said something, especially over something as drastic as this, for you were always too sweet and chose to swallow back things that bothered you around him.

“i would never do that to you pretty baby.” he mumbled. “i would never let anyone else in… just you.”

you pulled away from his chest and quickly shook your head. “n—no gumi i know you wouldn’t. please don’t think that i’m accusing you or anything—”

“no absolutely not.” he spoke gently, thumbs reaching up to carefully wipe away the tears from your pretty face. “i just needed to tell you that… okay?”

you nodded. “okay.”

you stood on your tippy toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, his right away coming around your waist and pulling you in tight— nuzzling his nose into the soft skin of your shoulder as relief washed over his body that you weren’t upset with him anymore.

“are you tipsy like me?” you whispered cutely after a few seconds of comfortable silence, and he chuckled.

“yes.” he admitted. “i think i lost my phone.”

“gumi i feel it in your pocket.”

“i think that’s my dick.”

“gumi!” you nudged him away and giggled hard, a silly small grin spreading across his handsome face as you simmered down and looked at him, lips coming up for a kiss and him gladly leaning down to give you one— the moment sweet and tender as you wetly lip locked and megumi drank you in, him completely fucking deprived of you.

“can we go home.” he spoke in between kisses. “i wanna fuck.”

you laughed and pulled away, face hot as you bit back a smile. “we can go in a little bit baby. i still wanna see if my best friend and i can talk to the nfl cheerleaders heh.”

he chuckled and nodded, pecking your forehead before releasing you and beginning the walk back to the main area, your head in a better place now that you got the reassurance you needed— and so grateful you and megumi were able to bounce back after a situation like that with no repercussions, amazed time and time again at how understanding and patient your boyfriend was with you.

you moved your way through the crowd then in search for your best friend, not having to look for long seeing as she was right in the middle where you had left her— her yelling up and down if anyone had seen either you or megumi and harassing whoever that said they might’ve caught a glance.

“y/n!” yuji pointed, and your girl friend whirled around with frantic wide eyes, running and tackling you into a big hug as she cried.

“where were you?!” she sobbed. “oh my god i was looking everywhere for you you were so upset i thought the she devil took you away or broke you and megumi up or killed you—”

you gasped. “no oh my goodness please don’t cry!” your lip started to wobble again as you listened to her sniffles, hugging her back. “hell no i would never let her do any of that!”

“me neither!” she cried. “please let me get violent with her please—”

you laughed loudly and stepped back, carefully wiping her cheeks before treating yours as both of your men stared dumbfounded.

“fuck hana forget her we have to find the cheerleaders!” you exclaimed, placing your hands on her shoulders and shaking her. “are they still here?! have you checked their socials?!”

“yes! they’re still here!” she frantically nodded. “i saw one while i was looking for you she was—”

“is that one?”

megumi pointed to a girl who was straight up wearing her nfl cheerleader uniform with her pompoms, both you and your girl friend choking on air and gasping as you sputtered a bunch of nonsense and dragged your men with you over to her and her group.

“this is our chance this is our chance—”

why hadn’t it worked?

had hana not upset you enough? tore you down enough to an insecure little bubble to make you bark and bite and be everything that she thought megumi despised? what had happened when she lost the sights of both of you once you left the bamboo line?

because what she was looking at now was making her sick with rage.

you, surrounded by people again and cheerleaders— still stunning and breathtaking and not looking at all like you had just cried buckets like she thought you did, megumi’s arms around you from behind and actually closer now than before while you and your little girl friend conversed and laughed with the cheerleaders about god knows what, hana on the verge of screaming in agony over everything that was going wrong when she had expected a break up right about now.

she just didn’t get it… what was so great about you?

and it didn’t get any better when she started asking other people about you too throughout the night, the purpose being to dish out any nasty information she could of you to use it to her advantage, but getting straight fucking nothing from it as no one had a single bad thing to say about you— referring to you as ‘fushiguro’s girl’ and how sweet and welcoming you were even if you had just met them, how funny you were and pretty and thoughtful and hana was just sick.

had she actually lost to you? had she lost megumi? after being in love with him since the start of his contract?

she thought she had gotten your entity down. hana thought she had managed to morph herself into someone like you since she found out megumi and you were together from the tabloids— watching you and your social media postings since then to see what you had done to turn his head, megumi someone she thought would never find love until she got to him eventually.

and at this point without hana wanting to admit it, she was more obsessed with you than she was with him.

because she cared. she cared so much about everything that you did— the perfumes you wore, the ribbons in your hair, her stomach in complete utter knots watching the way megumi was with you all unfold in front of her in real time, cursing her jealous rotten eyes for how hard they fell for you and how much she worshipped all that you did.

how much megumi worshipped you.

because every time you took pictures with your friends he only looked at you, every move you made he followed after you, every time she tried to talk to him he dismissed her for you, and even every person that knew who you were at this fucking party absolutely loved and adored you.

it just wasn’t fair. why couldn’t megumi love her?

so what could she do? what else could she do?

leaning against the counter of the tiki bar, gaze fixed on megumi’s blushing cheeks and little smile with his face and button up covered in red lipstick kisses she didn’t doubt were from you, him looking at angelic you like you were the sun itself… she conquered that there wasn’t much she could do anymore.

“blue lagoon please.”

hana watched from the corner of her eye the man that just came up to the bar, bored and uninterested and on the verge of deciding to just go home, until she noticed who it was.

ino takuma.

she slightly turned her body in his direction, his eyes drifting to hers momentarily before flashing her a polite smile and looking away again.

“you’re ino takuma… with megumi fushiguro’s team right? for the mlb?”

he turned his head. “oh yes! i am. nice to meet you!”

hana gave him a quick smile.

“do you know his girlfriend by any chance? y/n?”

“yeah of course!” he grinned, a bit drunk. “she’s great. really sweet.”

god, well aren’t you just the greatest thing to ever exist?

she held back her agitation, ino receiving his drink from the bartender and slurping it down immediately.

“i actually was interested in her for a while.” he admitted with the straw in his mouth, loopy and inebriated. “but megumi got to her first… lucky guy.”

her ears perked up.

“do you still like her?”

ino thought for a moment.

“well… a little.” he pursed his lips, a very slight pink hue to his cheeks. “never got to explore it but every time we talk she’s kinda like the one that got away heh… that’s if megumi isn’t pulling her away when i try though.”

a devilish idea sparked in hana’s mind, because at this point— the woman was out for carnage.

and whether megumi ended up with her or not she didn’t care. right now? she just needed to break you both up.

“that’s kind of wrong, don’t you think?” she sighed heavily. “why don’t you try talking to her now? just you two! there’s a hallway by the other side of the penthouse that’s secluded… you’ll get a proper chance to have a conversation!”

ino looked at her like she was insane.

“megumi would actually bite my head off.”

“that’s why you do it away from him and away from everybody else!” she shook her head disappointedly. “what, she can’t be friends with you? you have every right to talk to her ino! so go for it.”

ino looked over to where you were, apprehensive as he gnawed at the inside of his cheek and actually really wanting to talk to you without megumi breathing down his neck for once… but the alcohol in his system making it hard for him to juggle whether it was the right choice or not to begin with.

“have you guys ever tried for cheer teams before?!”

you and your best friend frantically shook your heads no, excited expressions as you hung out with half of the cheerleaders from one of the top nfl teams by the dj booth.

“you should try out for ours!” one of them suggested over the music, a huge smile on her face. “seriously! you guys would do so well and you already know most of us!”

“oh my god i would but i don’t even know if i can do a split!” you whined. “if i show up i’m gonna look like a fucking idiot.”

“i’m weak i’m un-athletic.” your best friend added miserably and they laughed— a different pretty one shaking her head.

“don’t even worry about that!” she waved her hand dismissively. “i’ll literally personally talk to the coach!”

you looked at her wide eyed. “really?! wait no it’s okay! you don’t have to do that i feel bad—”

a different one stepped up. “no she’s the captain she’ll do it!”

“oh fuck!” you slapped your hands over your mouth.

“honestly?! actually?!” your girl friend exclaimed.

“our team prioritizes character over ability!” the captain spoke again. “ability can be taught, not character, and you two are the prettiest and funniest bitches i have ever met.”

you all screamed and laughed as you and your best friend shook each other by the shoulders, unbelieving that you were being scouted right fucking now by the best nfl cheerleaders out there.

“here— give me your numbers and put your emails down too—”

the captain pulled her phone out and swiped through a few apps before turning it over to you, you typing out your information on her notes app and passing it to your best friend after for her to do the same.

“i’ll contact you guys tomorrow morning!” you both nodded and thanked her profusely, her smile bright as she took her phone back and gave you both a thumbs up. “please keep in touch with me or i’ll die.”

you and your best friend vowed that you would with more frantic nods and hugs, you spinning around to face megumi as the team conversed amongst themselves for a moment.

“did you hear?!” you asked, eyes glowing and shiny with hope. “gumi did you hear?! they said— the captain— she got my number— tomorrow morning—”

megumi laughed at your hyper yet spacey behavior, nodding and smiling warmly at you as he pulled you in by the waist, not even phased in the slightest that you and your girl friend got along so well with the cheerleaders— but still a bit shocked nonetheless that you’d basically been offered a spot on the team and you only needed to finalize a few things with them.

“i did.” he gently spoke nudging your chin up, ruffling your hair then as he looked at you sincerely. “that’s really really good baby. good job getting on their radar.”

your face broke out into a gigantic smile and you quickly pecked his cheek. “thank you thank you oh my god i need a drink right now i need to calm down—”

megumi playfully rolled his eyes and released your waist. “i can go get you one.”

“are— are you sure gumi?” you gnawed at your bottom lip. “no it’s okay i can get it—”

he silently shook his head and kissed your forehead. “no baby you have fun… just stay here.”

you smiled sweetly at him and reluctantly nodded, watching him turn and walk through the crowd towards the tiki bar as you shifted your attention back to your girl friend and the cheerleaders.

“no you’re lying.”

“i’m not babe!” your best friend laughed. “they got our contact information and i swear to god they really want us to come try out.”

“holy shit.” yuji shoved his hands in his hair. “holy shit i’m gonna have an nfl cheerleader girlfriend.”

“right?!—”

“holy fuck you’re gonna look so good in those uniforms—”

“i know right?!—”

yuji and your best friend jumped up and down and cheered loudly as you giggled alongside them, your mind completely preoccupied with the thought of how lucky you just were to gain leverage and connections like that with a professional dance team at an event like this.

“we’re gonna head home in a little bit after this!” you mentioned to your girl friend after her and yuji settled, her shoulders slumping in response. “i’m just gonna get one more drink before we go.”

“lame!” she pouted. “is megumi okay to drive?”

“yes he sobered up!” you smiled. “not me man jesus christ.”

your best friend laughed and reached over to give you a hug. “okay just text me when you get to his place—”

“y/n.”

you both stopped and turned, ino takuma behind you with a sheepish smile.

“oh hi ino!” you greeted him kindly. “i didn’t realize you were here! you okay?”

“no yeah! yeah i’m alright. been hogging the bar or upstairs with some of the hockey players.” he smiled warmly. “thanks for asking.”

“mhm!” you nodded. “that tiki bar is crazy every single drink they have is so good.”

he nodded vigorously. “it’s why i’m practically shitfaced right now god.”

you laughed at his phrasing, ino realizing then that he dangerously still kind of liked you with the way he swooned a bit over your smile.

“do you wanna—” he hesitated. “do you wanna talk? over there? for a little..”

“over—” you peered over his shoulder, him pointing to the other side of the purple lit penthouse at a darkened hallway. “over there?”

“y—yeah… if that’s okay!” ino scratched the back of his neck. “it’s just kinda loud here… and i haven’t had the chance to properly talk to you in a while.”

“oh!” you nodded, thinking his intentions were purely innocent and justifiable, feeling bad yourself that you hadn’t spoken to him in some time after megumi’s practices. “yes of course! i’m so sorry ino i’ve been so busy i—”

“no it’s okay don’t!” he grinned. “it’s not your fault whatsoever i just—”

you and ino began your walk to the other side of the penthouse, your best friend and yuji shooting each other weird looks that went unnoticed by you, ino leading you away from the crowd and to the other side of the main area.

you’ve always respected and had a really great impression of ino, him never failing to be kind to you since the moment he introduced himself at the banquet way back when— helpful and genuine and not a bad bone in his body as he was a hard worker for the team and catered to all, you touched that he always took the time to greet you at least once every time you were there for megumi at his baseball events.

“how are you and megumi doing?” he asked, crossing his arms as he casually leaned against the wall of the hallway, you wringing your fingers behind your back and doing the same.

“we’re great!” you beamed. “our two year anniversary is coming up soon!”

“oh wow!” he tightly smiled. “it’s been two years already? shit.”

you giggled and nodded. “i know! time flies hehe.”

ino dismissed the slight growing pit in his stomach, the alcohol in his system obnoxiously amplifying his crush for you as he tried to simmer it down and just conversate with you while he still had you on your own.

but he didn’t think it’d be this hard— his drunk mind blurring the definitions of morality and respect as his judgement was sloppy and you were just so fucking pretty, ashamed of the way he was thinking how a bubbly sweet girl like you ended up with someone as stoic and stern like megumi, someone who was the complete opposite of who you were.

“…are you okay ino?” you spoke softly, eyebrows pinched in concern at the distant look in his eye.

“huh? oh yeah! s—sorry i just—” his cheeks heated up. “i’m tipsy don’t pay that much attention to me.”

“oh no don’t even i am too!” you laughed. “i had two drinks from the tiki bar and like four shots from the bamboo pole.”

he looked at you incredulously. “how are you standing?”

“i don’t know!” you covered your mouth and leaned forward, coming back up against the wall once you calmed down and took a deep breath. “i’m good though i’m great.”

he smiled softly. “you are… and you look really good by the way.”

you faltered a bit but quickly fixed your demeanor, knowing ino only meant that in a friendly way and completely missing the way his drunken gaze flickered to your boobs momentarily before returning to your eyes, his cheeks flaring up at what he did.

and the angel on his right shoulder was absolutely beating the devil on his left for planting two guilty images in his head then.

one imagine that was lewd and sinful and one he wanted to get rid of immediately.

and another image of what it would be like to kiss you…

just once.

“fushiguro! what can i get you?”

megumi was hunched over the tiki bar with his elbows on the counter, his eyes scanning the drink menu as he tried to decipher which drink to get you that you’d like, knowing the fruitier ones were particularly your favorite.

“um… do you have anything that isn’t strong on alcohol.”

the bartender pointed to the menu, megumi’s gaze landing on ‘jungle bird’.

“this one’s your best bet.” he took his barrel shaker out to prepare for megumi’s order. “i can also cut back the alcohol some more if you want me to.”

he nodded. “is it like— fruity.”

“yeah!” he grabbed a glass from the back. “i’ll cut back the alcohol and add more pineapple juice to it so it’s better.”

“thank you.” megumi sent him a thin smile, the bartender giving him a thumbs up before turning his back to him and getting to work, him not even realizing that hana was standing next to him at the bar.

“you getting another drink?”

megumi’s eyes flung to the source of the voice, annoyance pumping through his veins as he saw it was the same girl that had upset you, and the same one who wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone.

“yeah for my girlfriend.” he responded flatly.

hana hummed. “nice! where is she?”

“back over—”

he looked over his shoulder and stopped, instantly straightening up when he didn’t see you in the crowd anymore and worry spiking through… as he knew you were a little tipsy and naive at the moment.

“hmm… weird! actually you know what? i did see her walk away earlier!”

his gaze snapped to hers, hana thrilled since this was the first time he actually looked at her in the face.

“where.”

“with ino takuma!”

his eyes narrowed. “what?”

“yeah! i saw them talking in that little secluded area on the other side… they looked kind of cozy in there i don’t know.”

cozy?

“what do you mean.”

“mmm—” she looked up in thought. “from what i saw she pulled him to talk… and it kind of looked like she was all over him… sorry megumi. i’m just trying to look out for you—”

all over him?

oh fuck no.

megumi stepped to the side and drowned her out, squinting his eyes to try and see if he could spot you on the other side where you supposedly were until he did— you and takuma in a little corner talking and laughing, him obviously drooling over your tits and alarmingly too close to you as megumi’s jaw hardened.

it looked like he was about to fucking kiss you.

“—i would never do that to you what your girlfriend is doing is disrespectful—”

megumi moved without a single word and bumped shoulders with hana on the way, her staggering back a little and scoffing as she watched him disappear to the darker side of the penthouse.

and megumi was furious.

because how many fucking times did he have to make it obvious to takuma that you were off limits, that you had been off limits that you were never on limits? and why were you both so far away from everybody else? from him? why had you pulled him to talk? what for?

megumi understood from the get go exactly why you were so upset about hana saying absurd things to him throughout the night, but with the sight of you now pressed up against the wall as takuma was basically cornering you in, the both of you all alone and secluded and him knowing you were too helpless and nice to call out when a person was being weird— really put the situation into perspective now that the roles were reversed.

and he hated it. hated it so much.

so so much as his mind raced and spun with jealousy over another man wanting to sweet talk his girl, immense venom in his chest thinking ino was actually fucking insane for even attempting such a thing as he shoved and pushed through the stubborn crowd until he—

“what the fuck are you doing.”

megumi grabbed your wrist and tugged you behind him while he looked straight at ino, his pull a little rougher than he intended as he created distance between the two of you.

“oh— hi gumi!” you greeted happily. “look it’s—”

“did you hear what i said?”

“yeah— yup yup—” ino cleared his throat and shot back, face paling over what he almost did. “i was just um— talking to y/n.”

“talking.” he repeated. “and you were about to kiss her too right?”

“no i—” ino looked over at you. “i’m sorry y/n i don’t know what—”

“huh?” your eyes snapped back and forth between them. “gumi what do you mean—”

megumi jerked his head down in your direction. “did you pull him for a chat or did he pull you?”

you shrunk back a little, your boyfriend’s usual gentle eyes now sharp and crazed and one you had never seen from him besides through particular tough games on the field.

“he— he pulled me but why does it matter—”

“why does it matter?”

his head shot back to ino, gaze narrowing.

“what the hell did you think you were gonna get out of this?” he spoke harshly. “taking her over here away from everybody else? away from me?”

“fushiguro—”

“so i wouldn’t see right?” he stepped forward and you quickly grabbed his button up from the back. “so i wouldn’t see you try and sweet talk her and change her mind? to take advantage of her? knowing she’s too nice to say no?”

“no man i would never.” he shook his head. “never i—”

“you’re full of shit.” he spat. “you think i’m an idiot? you think i don’t know what you were just about to do with her?”

“gumi stop it—”

you tried to come around his frame but he only pulled you back behind him.

“megumi— i’m sorry man i really am i’m drunk right now and—”

“so you think that makes it okay for you to try to make a move on her?” he shook his head in disbelief. “she’s in a relationship with me ino. we play on the same sports team what the fuck are you doing?”

“i— i don’t know—”

“you still like her then?”

what.

“no i don’t—”

“don’t bullshit.”

ino ran an exasperated hand down his face. “okay fuck a little!”

“well that’s too damn bad!” megumi shot back. “get your own.”

ino felt horrible.

fushiguro was right. everything he was saying was absolutely right and he had never felt so much shame as he looked at stunning you through the cracks of megumi’s arms, for he not only fucked up his friendship with his teammate, someone he works with, but with you. a person like you an utter loss if driven away— him more than sure that that’s exactly what he did just now.

and what compelled him to do this in the first place? he couldn’t remember anymore.

“fushiguro punch me.”

megumi looked at him bewildered while you gasped, frozen in place.

“huh?”

“sock the shit out of me right now.”

“m’not gonna do that idiot even though you deserve it—”

“no do it right now i’m serious and we’ll call it even.”

megumi rolled his eyes. “go home takuma—”

“do it or i’ll kiss y/n—”

megumi instantly reeled his fist back and knocked the fuck out ino’s jaw, blood boiling and chest heaving over what he said as you slapped a hand over your mouth in shock, ino hunched over with a hand on his face.

“thanks.” he choked out.

“we’re not even dingus.” megumi mumbled. “but go home.”

ino nodded, sending you one last apologetic look before stepping away from the two of you and down the hall until he was out of view.

“what the fuck was that—”

“did he try anything else?” he cut you off.

you looked up at him, trying to peer around his shoulder at his face. “n—no he didn’t he didn’t try anything—”

“he didn’t try anything?” he turned around, brows furrowed. “baby— he was staring at your tits and he tried to kiss you.”

“how?!” you exclaimed, genuinely confused. “we were just talking and—”

“why did you go with him when he pulled you to talk.”

you blinked. “because it’s ino. he’s a friend i didn’t think anything bad of it…”

“you didn’t think anything bad of him taking you to some dark fucking place without anyone else around?”

“i—i’m sorry gumi.” you gnawed at your bottom lip, it registering in your dumbass brain now how shady ino’s request was to talk to you in the middle of an empty hallway. “i didn’t…”

“you didn’t?”

he stepped forward and your eyes widened as he backed you further and further up against the wall, lips coming down next to your ear as he placed his palms flat next to either sides of your head.

the logical and empathetic part of megumi’s brain was yelling at him not to utter his next few words, that he ran the risk of deeply upsetting you and ripping open the bandaid of what you two had previously just cured… but the rest of his brain and entire fucking body and soul was livid.

livid at takuma for taking advantage of your kindness, livid at him for thinking he could successfully pull the shit that he pulled while you were naive and sweet, and livid at every single god damn man in this building for preying after you like a piece of meat and like he wasn’t just standing right there next to you with a hand on your hip.

and megumi was gonna flip it back on you… his anger completely misdirected as he was delirious and fucked off after the events of today and wanted to rile little you up— afraid to admit that he was shaken at the fact that he could’ve potentially lost you to someone as respectable as takuma, for as stupid and shitty and drunk as he was earlier… ino wasn’t a bad person in the slightest.

you matched better with someone like him.

and he didn’t like that at all.

“what if hana had pulled me here hm? to a place where nobody else was around..?”

your brows furrowed.

“w—what—”

“what if she was the one to pull me in this dark empty hallway to try and kiss me?”

you swallowed, jealousy and venom swirling in your chest as you breathed out shakily through your nose, a picture perfect image of the stupid scene megumi was describing sending a sting of agitation through your insides as you narrowed your eyes at him, his hidden underneath the front pieces of his black spiky bangs.

“why are you telling me this.”

he didn’t respond, his splayed out hands balling up into fists.

“do you get off to this? is that what’s going on?”

the tremor behind your voice and your shaking shoulders broke him out of his dark clouded fog and he straightened up, regret hitting him like a brick once he noticed your teary eyes and angry furrowed brows.

“shit i’m sorry i’m sorry—”

you snatched his wrist and yanked him with you out of the hallway, him stumbling behind you as he sputtered out apologies and pleas for you to turn around, for you to look at him as you pushed your way through the crowd back at the main penthouse area.

“pretty baby please i’m so fucking sorry—”

you said nothing, and anxiety welled up in his chest, wondering where you were going and if you were crying as he tried to nudge back and stop you, you only pulling on him harder as you reached the stairs of the main area.

a drunk random guy made himself known from the crowd and leaned over suddenly, his eyes wide and comically bewitched by you as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“oh my god— you are so beautiful!”

you looked at him rattled as you tried to get away from his strong grip, megumi’s mind over the fucking edge at this point as he grabbed his wrist and jerked it off your shoulder with such a force that it sent him tripping over his feet.

“the fuck do you think you’re doing moron?!”

“oh is she your girl?” he put his hands up defensively. “my bad she’s hot—”

megumi lunged and you quickly wrapped your arms around his torso to pull him back, wrestling with him as you dragged him up the grand stairs of the penthouse.

“baby let me go.” he spoke firmly and out of breath. “let me go right now—”

you ignored him as you tugged at his wrist again and continued up the stairs, him clamping his mouth shut and shitting himself, ashamed of his temper and the behavior he’d been exhibiting left and right as he was sure you were about to break up with him once you found the appropriate setting to do it in, his eyes cast down to the ground and filled with remorse.

you speed walked down the wide hall, pumps clacking against the shiny tile flooring as you opened several doors before you found a vacant bedroom, dragging him in and slamming the door closed behind you with the click of a lock, the music from downstairs now a distant vibration through the walls.

and megumi kept rushing out apologies, trying to explain himself as you turned and closed in on him at the edge of the bed, shoving him down and climbing over him in a straddle as his words got caught in his throat, looking up at you with round eyes.

“baby..?”

he watched you lean back and slowly, tenderly, undo each and every cross and knot from the front of your corset, your little cupid wings long gone now as your gaze stayed glued to his, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth in a little smile.

megumi cautiously propped up on his elbows, observing the way your soft tits spilled out of your corset as you gracefully undid it entirely, throwing it next to you and tilting your upper body down to his level sensually while his heart pattered against his chest— his lips reaching and connecting with the side of your neck as he placed slow open wet mouthed kisses alongside it, licking after each one before starting anew.

he breathed in sharply through his nose then and pulled away. “wait— baby first i’m sorry okay? i’m so sorry—”

“be quiet gumi.” you murmured against his jaw, trailing little sucks and nips at the skin as his eyes fluttered closed, him nearly missing how you tugged your mini skirt off and left yourself with just your lacy panties on top of him— rubbing your pussy teasingly over his clothed cock.

“fuck.” he breathed out, his trembling hands undoing his button up as he hastily sat up and shook it off his shoulders, tossing the white cotton material somewhere in the room and enveloping you in his arms, desperately sucking and biting over the flesh of your tits and nipples as you moaned so sweetly in his ear.

you pressed your pussy down hard on his crotch, megumi moaning with a mouthful of tit as he sat back on his elbows again and rode his hips up to meet yours, obsessed with the way you looked on top of him now with your thigh high socks on and pretty little face— unsure of how the events from earlier led up to this moment but choosing not to question it whatsoever, eyelids blissfully closed as you ran your hands up and down his chest tenderly, rutting on him.

“i wanna fuck you gumi.” you pouted, and megumi swore he saw stars. “take your pants off—”

his hands dived for the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with the buckle of his belt and chest moving rapidly as he hurriedly unclasped it, slipping it off and tossing it to the other side of the room— you swinging a leg off of him so he could kick the rest of his clothes off, megumi grabbing you and settling you back over his lap once he was bare.

you tugged your panties off and sat your puffy lower wet lips on his aching cock, sliding over it deliciously and slowly before lifting and lining his dick up with your hole, sinking down on him as megumi’s eyes rolled back at the feeling.

“you like it baby?” you huffed as you bounced on his dick. “does it feel good?”

megumi lustfully nodded as he reached to place his hands on your waist, you slapping them away and his eyes flying open in response— eyebrows pinching.

“wait—” he bit back a moan as you started going faster. “let me—”

“touch me and i stop.”

“what?” he shook his head. “no don’t do that—”

he reached for you again and you slapped his hands away.

“i said no gumi.”

what the fuck?

megumi reached again and you straightened up on your knees, his dick slipping out of you and landing with a heavy thud on his lower tummy as his breath hitched.

you got off his lap and his eyes widened, disbelieving that you were actually being serious as he confusedly watched you pull the red lace from your corset, tossing the rest of it somewhere and moving further on the bed with your knees.

“sit up on the headboard.”

megumi dumbly blinked.

“do it or i’m putting my clothes back on and going downstairs—”

he shot up and propped his shoulders and head up on the metal frame, you coming around and swinging a leg back over him as his mind went into a fucking frenzy over the way you were acting, too in his thoughts to notice that you had tied his wrists to the metal bars with your lace, eliminating his privilege of putting his hands on you.

you scooched back down and mushed his cheeks up with your fingers, pecking his puckered up lips and smiling innocently.

“be good.”

“baby— fuck!—”

you shoved his cock back inside you and he choked, you picking up your previous brutal pace as he heaved and tugged at the lace in a horny sweat, never in his life seeing you like this as his skin physically itched and burned to touch you with every bounce of your pussy on his length, your cunt so warm as it strangled the life out of his dick and milked it, your tits bouncing in his face and the view of your ricocheting ass a straight up torment to him as he continued to pull frustratedly on the lace.

“let me touch you baby please— hah!—”

“nope.”

“please pretty i’m so sorry i’m sorry for everything that i did!”

his body trembled as you pistoned down on his cock, hiccups coming from his throat as his hips pathetically lifted from the mattress to compensate for not being able to feel you up, overstimulated tears at the corners of his eyes.

you whimpered and licked your lips delightfully at how good he felt and how he was whining for you, making him pay back for everything he did and said tonight as you leaned down and licked a long stripe up his chest to the side of his neck.

“holy shit—” heave “holy shit—”

you sat up on your knees and let his dick fall out again, megumi’s eyes bulging open and jaw dropping at the sudden stop.

“put it back in.” he panted. “i beg you please put it back in—”

“hmmm… i don’t know…” you rubbed your pussy over his cock, noises sticky and squelchy as you pondered. “i think i wanna stay just like this!”

you leaned down and gave him a wet kiss on his cheek.

“baby listen to me.” he looked at you desperately as you pulled away. “i love you i love you please untie me—”

“you love me?” you grinned.

“more than anything—”

“didn’t seem like it all those times you hung out with hana!” you shook your head disappointedly. “why don’t you keep hanging out with her and talking about her and throwing it in my face yeah? maybe ask her to get you off.”

“n—no baby i’m sorry i don’t know why i did that—”

“and since you like hanging out with her so much, i’ll go and hang out with ino.”

he stilled.

“huh?”

megumi’s chest picked up speed as he roughly tugged at the lace, your words already riling him up with the mere mention of you with somebody else.

“mhm! maybe i should slide my pussy over his dick just like this—”

“the fuck you just say to me?”

“—and let ino fuck me and bite me and suck my tits—”

megumi yanked and the lace snapped in two, tackling you and throwing you face down on the bed as he hauled your ass up and smacked it hard, receiving a yelp from you.

“is that what you want?” he plunged his dick inside of you and you cried out, going off balance from trying to lift yourself with your hands and dropping back down by the force. “you wanna be a slut and replace me?”

he grabbed a piece of the torn up lace and joined your wrists behind your back— hastily tying them together and securing it roughly, hooking his hands on the underside of your elbows and wrenching you up.

“gumi!—”

“you gonna do that to me baby?” he hammered his pelvis against the fat of your ass while holding you up at an arch, the bend giving megumi the leverage to absolutely demolish your insides while he fucked you. “you gonna break my heart like that?”

“no!” you sputtered, high pitched whimpers from you filling his ears. “i would never!—”

“uhuh, sure.” he panted, letting go and throwing you down on the sheets below to grip your hips— slamming them back to meet his in such a brutal pace that tears of ecstasy were streaming down your face, your cute pitchy moans mixed with your hiccups and sobs thrilling him sickeningly at the moment, for megumi was too far gone and in a state of animalistic and scary need for you, wanting you to remember that you’d always be his.

“you’d never yet i find you all alone with another man?”

“gumi i’m sorry!” you hiccuped. “i’m so s—sorry—”

megumi reached over and meanly pinched your wet cheek.

“i don’t wanna fucking hear it.”

he looped his fingers through the lace and pulled you up again, wrapping one arm over your shoulders under your chin and the other over your tummy as he enveloped you, dick splitting you open so fucking good that drool seeped from the corner of your mouth— megumi’s tongue coming out to lick it up alongside your tears and you squirming and pouting as he did.

“i bet ino wants to play with your pretty little pussy like this huh?” he spoke softly in your face, eyes crazed and wild as you jerked up and down. “i bet every single fucking guy at this stupid party wants to play with what’s mine right? and you’d let ‘em? you’d do that to me baby?”

you sniffled and whined. “no gumi!— hic!— i love you i wouldn’t—”

“i’d kill for you baby…” he whispered in your ear, nose nuzzled in your hair as your breath hitched.

“so be careful who you talk to yeah?”

megumi threw you back down and broke the lace again with two hands, your arms springing apart freely as he flipped you on your back and spread your pretty thighs, cock lining up, thrusting in and drilling as he hovered over you and kissed you so sloppily— majority of it the sloshing of tongues as you moaned into each other’s mouths and made a wet drooly mess.

“gumi— can i— pant— can i cum please please—”

he shivered at your begging as he trailed his lips to your cheek and gave you a kiss, hips rapid and curt as he felt his cock on the brink of spilling.

“you wanna cum on my dick?”

you licked your lips. “mhm! please.”

so sweet.

“yeah?”

“uh huh—”

“cum— hah— all over my dick baby s’okay—”

“guummiiii!—”

your orgasms flooded through both of your bodies like a white flash, you as a pair completely fucked out and sweaty and abused as megumi’s cum drained into your pussy, hot and droopy as his hips continued to absentmindedly rut his cum back inside of you while you were both borderline checked out with pink cheeks and dewy skin.

megumi was the first to come down from his high, his fogged half lidded gaze looking at your pretty face and pressing multiple small kisses along one side of your cheek, coaxing your little mind to come back from la la land as you stirred and whimpered.

“you okay?” he whispered, and you weakly nodded, sending him a cute tired smile.

“i think—” he sat up and moved a few strands of your hair away from your eyes, mumbling. “i think i was too rough baby i’m sorry…”

“what you just said was a sin.” you spoke flatly and he chuckled, you shifting to curl into his side and wrapping your arms around him, face hiding in his chest.

“…are you mad at me.”

his eyebrows pinched, a soothing hand running up and down your back. “no, never.”

megumi sighed deeply and stared up at the ceiling. “that should be my question to you…”

you lifted your face from his chest and looked at him. “why would i be mad at you gumi?”

“for everything.” he mumbled. “everything i did.”

you giggled, his heart instantly flooding with warmth at the sound as he clutched you tighter.

“but you didn’t do anything baby.” you kissed his collarbone. “everything you did i would’ve done exactly the same and maybe even worse.”

you played with the hems of your knee high socks. “but i shouldn’t have gone with ino gumi i’m really sorry... i genuinely just thought he wanted to catch up as friends… not that he— you know. i didn’t even know that until today.”

and megumi already knew it was exactly just that— your precious kind self trusting ino with everything you had, trusting a friend, that you weren’t considering any of the logistics that could consider a request like his shady.

but he was still so bothered in that moment. and he regrettably couldn’t help it, usually being able to swallow jealous tendencies whenever they appeared, but completely losing it seeing as you were so close to being disrespected like that.

and one issue after another and another made him shamefully insane for a little.

“no baby i know you don’t have to explain.” he answered gently. “i acted like a fucking psychopath today man.. i can’t tell you how sorry i am.”

“oh absolutely not.” you scoffed. “your reactions were so justifiable gumi…”

you looked at him. “you were frustrated and so was i. it was only natural for us to start having a fucking meltdown… but we had it together! right?”

megumi laughed a little and nodded, pulling back to look at you as you grinned.

“we just matched each others freak is all.”

how you managed to make every sour situation better and funny no matter the circumstance, was one of the millions amongst other things megumi loved most about you.

“i’m also trying to say that you don’t have to worry so much about me gumi…” you mentioned. “i can defend myself if i need to okay? i love to hit a man that deserves it.”

he playfully rolled his eyes and smiled softly at you, nodding and accepting your words but them having absolutely no effect, as he was going to continue to worry over you until his very death bed and beyond— that being a promise.

because from the second that you blessedly agreed to be his two years ago, megumi’s job was to worry about you and take care of you, to love you as he silently promised to you over and over again that he would try his hardest to keep you happy— happy with the life that he has given you as your man, and happy with him so that you’d keep wanting forever with him like he so badly wanted with you.

hana was nowhere to be found after you and megumi went back downstairs— not that either of you cared in the slightest as you gathered up your tiki mugs, bid your best friend and yuji goodbye and left the party as fast as you could, eager to get to his apartment and snuggle up under the covers with the warmth of each other’s bodies gently lulling you both to sleep, something megumi had been looking forward to all night and content once he finally got his wish.

and even after the roller coaster of events that happened at the halloween party, the both of you were happy and healthy and laughing about what had happened a couple of days later— you over at his apartment in bed with him during a rainy lazy november day, pajamas and fuzzy socks still on even though it was well past morning already, and with the smell of cookies baking in the oven from the recipe you had made together just for fun to partake in fall activities for the month, the two little pumpkins you had carved silly faces in earlier today with megumi sitting side by side cutely on his dining room table and ‘in love’.

“i say we run down the street right now in our pj’s.”

“baby it’s pouring outside.”

“so?” you pouted, crossing your arms as you sat there straddling his lap. “and then we can kiss in the rain!”

he smiled softly. “you’ll get sick though.”

“and so will you so then we can be sick together in your bed and have sick sex how about that—”

megumi threw his head back and laughed, the crinkle in his eye one you adored so much as you giggled alongside him and traced absentminded figures on his chest, his hands squeezing and caressing over your thighs lovingly.

“your audition is next week right.” he murmured. “for the cheer team.”

“mhm!” you nodded sweetly. “i’m sick to my stomach.”

he snorted, eyes flickering to yours amusedly. “you really shouldn’t be baby. it seems like they really want you and your best friend in.”

“yeah but—” you paused. “what if when i get there and they see me look like a fucking idiot they change their minds? or i talk their ears off and i get banned? or what if i ruin—”

“you’re not gonna get banned.” he chuckled. “just do your best okay… and i already know you will. trust me.”

you grinned, leaning down and peppering little kisses all over his rosy flushed face.

“you’re so niiiceeee gumi my goodness!”

he playfully rolled his eyes, the little smile on his face unwavering as he looked at you.

at his future.

“close your eyes.”

you stopped. “huh?”

“close your eyes.” he squeezed your thighs reassuringly. “i have a present.”

you gasped. “really?! holy fuck wait okay—” you covered your eyes with your hands. “okay okay i’m ready.”

you heard the opening and closing of a drawer, giddy and excited on his lap as he shuffled through a few things that you weren’t sure of.

“can i open nooww?”

he laughed a little. “hold on baby.”

“maaann—”

“okay now you can—”

you ripped your hands away from your face and you froze.

megumi had the prettiest black ring you had ever seen in your life in between his thumb and index, shiny and dainty as it had a cute black little heart in the middle to complete the piece, holding it out for you with flustered cheeks as he looked to the side.

“gumi…”

“it’s a promise ring.” he peered up at you. “do you like it.”

“a—” your eyes snapped to his. “a promise ring?”

he took your left hand that was on his chest and raised it, gently sliding the ring over your ring finger as you sat there in utter shock, him letting go and you slowly retracting your arm with your gaze locked on the stunning jewelry piece.

megumi had the ring hidden for months and dumbed around looking for the right time to give it to you… a time that was perfect and meaningful and intimate as he took it everywhere he went for that time— hidden in the crevices of his duffel bag during practice, stuffed in the pockets of his jackets or sweaters, and even the day of the party, his fingers playing and running along the smooth little heart while you had gone to change into your costume in his room, embarrassingly afraid and nervous over what you’d say even though he knew he didn’t need to be.

“i—” he struggled, you looking at him so sweetly and patiently as he tried to get his thoughts together.

“remember… when we went on that trip to the mountains with my dad… the car ride coming back?”

you quickly nodded. “i do.”

“and when you said that… you thought about us married.”

you blushed furiously and you nodded again, a silly shy smile growing.

“i was serious when i said i did too.” he stared up at you sincerely.

your eyes softened, your fingers lightly grazing over the ring, feeling it.

“i want a life with you..” he mumbled. “i want you to know and remember that… that i love you and i promise you soon it’ll happen. and on days where you’re not happy with me that i’d do anything for you so we can fix it.”

megumi never messed around when it came to you, and you were the one thing he never wanted to lose or let go.

he could live without and lose his car, his apartment, his things his fucking career and he still wouldn’t give a shit as long as your pretty face and smile was still by his side through it all— for you were the thing he absolutely couldn’t live without and would rather swim in boiling scalding water than experience it happen first hand.

megumi softly pinched your cheek. “i want you in my life forever pretty baby.”

your lip wobbled. “you do?”

he nodded, reaching into the collar of his hoodie and tugging out a silver chain with a black ring looped through, his heart beating through the roof as he held it up for you to see.

“i got a chain for it so i’d still be able to wear it under my uniform on the field.”

oh how you fucking melted at that, thinking over how megumi was so dedicated, so committed to the things that mattered most to him, and you couldn’t believe still sometimes even after being with him for two years and him always making sure you knew— that you were one of those things.

and you loved him.. so fucking much as you sniffled and covered your face, leaning forward to lay on his chest as megumi’s eyes softened and arms came to wrap around your body.

“i’m so happy i met you gumi.” you whispered in between your sobs, those words alone sending a spark of emotion through his body, feeling his eyes oddly and ever so slightly prickle.

“i’m so happy i met you baby..” he murmured, hand lifting to pat and smooth over the back of your head. “don’t cry..”

you sniffled and wiped your eyes, feeling so warm and safe under megumi’s arms as he kissed your wet cheeks and carded your hair away from your face, silently so loving as you settled down.

“i’m always happy with you gumi okay…” you spoke. “i’m never not happy. ever. and i’m so fucking thankful every single day that you love me as much as i love you and that i get to keep you.”

he breathed out a little laugh through his nose as you sat up, his glimmering lovesick eyes on you, you smiling.

“i want you in my life forever too baby.” you murmured, playing with the chain on his neck and fiddling with his ring. “i always have.”

megumi smiled, the feeling of joy and love so potent in his chest that he didn’t think a feeling so strong like that even existed or was supposed to happen to him.

but you made it happen. you never failed to make it happen.

his happiness.

“i wanna have your babies.”

megumi choked at your sudden comment, arm flying up to cover his coughs with the crook of his elbow as you giggled uncontrollably at his reaction.

“what?! it’s easy we just do what we already do now except i skip a month on my pill and you cum twice in me instead of once—”

“baby!—”

“i’m kidding!” you snickered over the furious blush on his cheeks, tapping his pinky nose. “i’m kidding i need to be a cheerleader first and then you can impregnate me because i know you want that so bad—”

“oh my god—”

“—and maybe you should cum inside three times actually because third times the charm and i feel like—”

megumi suddenly flipped your positions and tackled you down, lifting your top to reveal your tummy before digging his fingers into your sides and tickling you all over, you thrashing and gasping for air as you laughed loudly and tried to get away from him, him stuffing his face in your neck and nibbling obnoxiously.

“i’m sorry! please stop! gumi— eeekkk!”

“no.”

“i’ll do— i’ll do anything!—”

“no.”

you giggled and gasped. “gummmiiii!—”

days like this with you were megumi’s greatest days.

he didn’t need anything else. just you and your giggles and your smiles, your sweetness and your talkativeness as you brightened up his life in every single aspect, coated all of its tribulations with sunshine and warmth as you proved to him everyday still how beautiful life could be if he just let it.

and as ludicrous as the party was with bamboo shots and cheerleaders, tiki bars and shitfaced players and certain individuals literally trying to pull you both apart… you still loved it. an experience you were glad that you shared with together and barely had to make the effort to talk about and fix because there was nothing to fix.

you and megumi always understood each other, two souls on the same wavelength that ebbed and flowed in the same direction and in the same form always— a privilege that you never once clashed against each other so much so that it destroyed the natural flow of your currents.

because this sea was much different than the dark and torturous one he was in by himself all those years— the one he was in before he met you.

this one was sparkling and crystal blue, luke warm to the touch and fun as he didn’t mind the saltiness of it getting into his eyes, because somehow it never burned when it did, resolving itself quickly and gently and the waves themselves never making him feel like he couldn’t breathe but alive instead, and all while swimming and nurturing it kindly with you as he made sure that you never got tired or unhappy with it— never got tired or unhappy with him.

and all of that was a definite promise— resembled in the ring that sat pretty on your finger.

to look after you. to support you. to love you.

to make you happy.

always.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @reneinii @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @hy3phiren @fushigurioo @wil10wthetree @jameinfrau @pancakeszs @k0z3me @k4zivy @dindjarins1ut @starrnai @stilettoheelz @iloveoldermenn @dazqa @applepi25 @aria-chikage @rose-tinted-kalopsia @runfrme @unofficialsapphire @dee-writes-anime @megumisluciouslashes @peachyaeger @yourstru1y4ever @yoonights @skendos @babylambdietcoke @yunstarz @dinomdubs @kalulakunundrum @s777athv @sugoroo @wastednightsonyou @miri222 @jayawaya @dazailover4ever @courtneedsleep @kcch-ns @halovianembrace @rhaitanis @kayamor @mirophobic @aylinnhealsformeow @zeesturniolo @arionater

[bluemoonscape]

No no listennnn it’s the way Obi-Wan drags out the first ‘a’ in Anakin’s name. It’s the way everyone else ignores the hyphen in Obi-Wan’s name and runs it all together but Anakin pronounces every syllable slowly and clearly. It’s how Anakin was the only constant in Obi-Wan’s life from the time Qui-Gon died, how he threw all of his energy into keeping Anakin safe and sheltered, because he’d already seen too many horrors as a slave. It’s about how Anakin went to Obi-Wan’s room every night for a year because he was afraid he would disappear like Qui-Gon and his mom, and Obi-Wan lost sleep because he doesn’t know how to swim. It’s how Anakin grumbled and complained about Obi-Wan’s teaching to others because his feelings were so muddled and confused and yet he would die for him in a heartbeat and thrived on his approval. How Anakin, hours after losing his mom horrifically and suddenly, threw himself into a battle with Count Dooku on Geonosis and lost his arm to save Obi-Wan because he couldn’t lose him too. How Obi-Wan tried to steer Anakin from attachment but in the process became irrevocably attached himself, admitting multiple times to loving Anakin, passing down the gift his own Master gave him for his birthday years ago that meant nothing to Obi-Wan when he got it but meant everything to Anakin because it was from Obi-Wan, holding onto Anakin’s lightsaber and cloak when all else of him was lost, taking care of his children because they were living pieces of him. It’s that they called each other and asked after the other constantly when they’re apart during the Clone Wars. It’s that Ahsoka was technically Anakin’s Padawan but they thought of her as theirs and she called them her parents to others. It’s the little things like Anakin modifying Obi-Wan’s R4 droid to look like his own R2 unit. It’s the big things like them being able to sense one another from lightyears away even after Anakin turns. It’s Obi-Wan willfully turning a blind eye to Anakin’s violations of the code because he wanted him to be happy more than he wanted him to be a good Jedi. Anakin still referring to him as “Master” even after their apprenticeship is over, to their last battle; Anakin wishing that Obi-Wan would stay with him in his time of need rather than go to fight General Grievous and end the war; that they were the greatest Jedi to live, at the end of the age of heroes, “the best for last” and they were so insanely, disgustingly, beyond attached despite the Code’s teachings on what made a Jedi good, and they were the best. They were the best because they were together. Because they were Kenobi and Skywalker and that became one name, the name of the Open Circle Fleet, name of the greatest duo the Jedi had ever seen. I consider almost nothing from the sequel trilogy canon EXCEPT for the force dyad because you can’t tell me they weren’t one and never even knew because that was just how they were. They just figured they matched each other’s freak too hard. That’s just them.

[kleptokure]

Chaotic Crushes ᰔᩚ

Burning Spice & Golden Cheese, Mystic Flour & Dark Cacao, Shadow Milk & Pure Vanilla x GN!Reader (separate pairs)

❯❯❯❯

Burning Spice Cookie & Golden Cheese Cookie

The day was moving along as it tends to. There were no duties that called for your aid, and you could rest as much as you liked. While that did sound nice, you decided to log into a game you play quite frequently: Cookie Run: Kingdom.

Hopping onto your device, you found you had little to do. Nothing much besides the daily activities until the next update comes out. Before the inevitable of logging off, you wanted to play around with your favorite pair of counterparts: Burning Spice Cookie and Golden Cheese Cookie. It wouldn't hurt to have a bit more fun.

You located the two and dragged them to an open area in your kingdom. They did not share an interaction, but you liked to pretend the both of them were annoyed with the other's presence. While they were your favored, you enjoyed bringing about their forced bonding. It's not like they can deny the player.

Random dialogue appeared above their heads, which was nothing out of the usual. In spite of that, there was a chat bubble that made you look twice.

"I do not see what you gain from this!"

Golden Cheese Cookie held the stance of staring into your screen, as if she truly was speaking to you. Of course, that would be nonsense since this is a game. And yet your next actions include clicking on Golden Cheese repeatedly. You search for that same sentence, but nothing alike appears.

Her Radiance then returns to a normal pose, which settles you a bit. Still, maybe you should have taken up on that nap earlier.

To return yourself to peace, you drag the beast back to the side of the ancient. They behave as coded. Somehow, you retain that sense of unease. It seems you can't let that mishap slide by. You were right to do so because another so-called accident appeared.

"Your badgering has grown boring over time!"

Your eyes hovered over the chat from Burning Spice Cookie. The pose of looking your way was taken by him as well. You begin to think, was there an update you missed? You are positive you would have known at least something of it. The cookies cannot simply act how they please all of a sudden.

You are growing both anxious and amused. The factor of mirth was less, though. With that said, you decided to log off for a moment. Cookie Run: Kingdom did not appeal to you like it tends to.

But it seems the game was persistent in having your attention. You were unable to pull out of the tab at all. It was stuck on your screen, with the music playing in the background as always.

Irritated, you scrutinized your screen. There were no pop-ups that were notifying of a bad connection, and all movement progressed with zero delay. Your eyes felt the need to trail back to Golden Cheese and Burning Spice, only to find the pair with their eyes staring at you. This time, they took up no other actions. Just a long, hard stare your way.

You were beginning to freak out. The situation was not looking upwards due to the fact of your screen zooming in by its own commands. All you could see was the two of them.

You confirmed it yourself; your game was broken in some way. It was hard to know how. As much as you wanted to ponder over the circumstances, you were gifted no time to. Your screen became a blinding white, and you backed away from it. Whatever was happening, it was intentional.

You wait for an event, yet your eyes catch nothing amiss. Your screen was black, meaning the entire game decided to shut off. Oh well. That was preferable anyway. Now you feel silly for being afraid. But then your ears catch an unexpected noise.

Inspecting, you witness hands extending out of your display. To reiterate, hands are coming out of your screen. The sight may be in front of you, but you pinch yourself in hopes of this being a terrible nightmare. Much to your dismay, you experienced the pain.

Running out of your room was a smarter choice, yet you backed into a corner. Fear engulfed you, and you were too afraid to watch. You relied entirely on your hearing, which brought a loud laugh that echoed off the walls. Silence followed after, sending off a false sense of security.

Footsteps were loud against your floor. Before you could grasp onto the noise, hands grasped around you. You were lifted off of the floor and carried by a muscular subject.

Now opening your eyes, there was much to indulge in. You were unaware of what to concentrate on. The strong aroma of spice nearby did not assist your focus. Even so, you believe you know what predicament you have fallen in. Is that truly who you think it is?

"How dare you place your hands on my treasure? Release them at once!" With a voice so divine and a presence that shines like gold, Golden Cheese Cookie stood in your room. Hovered, to be exact. Her wings defied what was humanly possible.

Holding you was the person she shouted at. The scent that stems from them left you with one guess.

"Hah! You dare tell me what to do? They shall be for my appeasement," the booming voice of Burning Spice Cookie states. You could feel the muscle in his arms, which were wrapped around your side. It seems he came into your world just as brawny as he was spoken to be in his own dimension.

For the slightest second, you squirmed to readjust your position. Your small movement caught the gaze of the two. Their eyes burned into your skin like you did something wrong.

For reasons unknown to you, Burning Spice Cookie released his grip around your figure. You took the chance of backing away from them, their sights not leaving you for a moment.

Golden Cheese inched closer to you, and Burning Spice behaved the same. She sent him a harsh stare; he returned it. Another argument would arise soon. That is the last act you would want executed, so you spoke up for once, ridding yourself of your shell-shocked behavior.

"Hey," you said, your tone not exactly still. Once again, you had their attention, which included their unsettling stare. Your next words did not follow after since you were unsure of what to say. Calm down? It would be hypocritical to demand an attitude you don’t even own right now. You chose to question instead.

"How... How are you both here right now?" Even now, you are not certain of the way they arrived. Could they merely just jump out of the game at any time? If so, why could they not appear in their cookie form? Circumstances would be much simpler then.

You did take note of their somewhat kind bearing towards you. Golden Cheese Cookie deemed you her treasure, and Burning Spice Cookie regarded you as his form of appeasement. You do not recall doing much for them in the game. How could they view you so highly?

Then you remember the starting signs of this entire situation. They stared at you from within the game, which means they can see you, which means they could see you this whole time. The idea does not settle well. Perhaps they could hear you coo over them at random intervals as well.

Now that you believe you have a few facts understood, you wait for a reasonable response from one of them.

"Right! Excuse my rude entry, darling. I have desired to see you for quite some time now, you know..." Golden Cheese Cookie sounds displeased for a matter you were unable to control. By some means, you feel guilty.

"You," Burning Spice started off. His tone startled you a bit. "You are far from boring. I have ached to find my way to you." He stepped closer, a grin spread on his face. "I have you now." You gulped at his last claim. You are sure he means that.

"Shall I inflict my radiance upon your stupidity once more?" Golden Cheese Cookie did not take a liking to his declaration over you. If her weapon came along, there would surely be a brawl. You are starting to see a pattern for the reasonings of their quarrels.

"How about we all sit down?" You suggested before Burning Spice could respond to the threat Golden Cheese sent. You made a trail towards your bed and sat down. Thankfully, they followed in your steps. You were glad your bed did not collapse under their weight.

Their compliance is surprising. They manage to tower over you, and the power that accompanies them is greater than yours. It is an odd feeling to have both of the mighty beings seemingly under your command. It is not a bad feeling, though.

Golden Cheese Cookie put her wings to rest. She made herself a seat right to your side. Her wing snuck around your shoulder.

Burning Spice Cookie spared no time for her attempts at flattery. He took a seat next to your other side, pressing his own skin to yours. Her wing was moved aside, replaced by his head smushing to your cheek. It is obvious he was curious about your nature.

It would appear these cookies know nothing of personal space, yet in reality, they do. The both of them simply deem it unnecessary when it comes to you.

"So, um, why are the both of you here?" Since your last question was ignored, you brought up another. You received their claims of wanting to meet you, but why? Was remaining inside the borders of their game not satisfying enough?

"Subjected to the unworthy matters of such a monotonous game," he huffed, like the memory pained him. "But then there was you. Your presence was a constant—yet your arrival excited me all the same." A chuckle brewed within him. "I craved the thrill you give."

His statement was strangely flirtatious, all spoken in a proper manner as well. It could cause your stomach to flutter. His fiery eyes, paired with his long lashes... Burning Spice Cookie was a sight to behold in his human form, and that was a plain fact.

You turned away from him, giving a hum in response. He was bored and stuck in a game. His motive was understandable, as anyone would go crazy under that situation.

Golden Cheese Cookie released a sigh intertwined with annoyance. It was clear she did not care a bit about Burning Spice's reason. Clearing her throat, she brought the attention to herself.

"Well, how could I not want to meet the one responsible for all my prosperity?" Her eyes sparkled while they fixed upon yours. She appeared even more divine than she did in the game.

"I only wished to thank you face-to-face." Her hand snuck into yours, attaching your palms together in a tight grasp. "You've provided me with an abundance of gold, yet my most prized possession is right here," she declared.

It is getting really hot in here now. You were bound to end up flushed between the two of them, but their words caused circumstances to grow poor. You would not want to mistake anything, but how else would one take their statements? The way they look at you with such admiration? You believe you'll faint.

"It's no big deal, really," you assured. Your eyes averted from hers since you found her stare overbearing.

Burning Spice Cookie was nowhere near fond of the sight of you and that woman, who he believes would be better off elsewhere.

Snatching away your attention from the greedy queen, Burning Spice placed his hand upon your lower back, pushing you closer to him. While you wanted to look anywhere but at a pair of eyes, he focused your gaze on his own.

"Appeasement," he titled you, "amuse me."

An odd choice of a nickname, but you find it fitting when it comes from him. Focusing on his request, you find yourself lost. How could you amuse a beast of destruction? There is no way you would challenge him in combat, so you think of a choice you would be capable of.

"Nonsense! They do not have to appeal to the likes of you," Golden Cheese Cookie sneered. She could be correct, yet you acted in the interest of the man anyway.

Shifting upwards, you pulled yourself to press a kiss to the cheek of the beast. The second after, you felt sick with apprehension. Was that the best option in mind? There must have been an alternative to please his constant need for entertainment.

In spite of your assumptions, Burning Spice Cookie was delighted. Within his mind, he presumes he will never find himself bored with you present.

To express his gratification, he releases the sound of boisterous laughter. Once again, he tightens his arms around you, which could be concluded as his form of a hug.

"Yes...! That's the rush I crave! Appeasement, amuse me again." Maybe introducing him to your small way of amusement was a bad choice. He is as greedy as his counterpart.

Speaking of his counterpart, her radiance is far from pleased. You dared to press your lips to the skin of that brute? Oh, you must have felt pressured, she claims. Fear not, as your queen is nowhere far.

She pulls you from the arms of her enemy. Commencing her wings to flight, Golden Cheese Cookie carries you in her own hold, which she deems where you will be far more content.

"You vermin! I will—" The scolding that approached the man came to a pause. The mouth Golden Cheese has was sealed due to your abrupt action. She received your soft kiss to her cheek, causing her anger to diminish into dust.

For a gesture so small, Golden Cheese Cookie feels the urge to request an abundance more of your affection. She presumes you would not hesitate if she asked. You were so giving when it came to her gold; would you provide a different source the same way if inquired?

She will question you later, preferably at a distance away from the beast. For now, you are returned to your feet and given your freedom.

The two are surprisingly silent. Still, you can catch them eyeing you, and their stares speak for them. It seems to be a matter you will have to learn to get used to, as it is not looking to be going away.

You hope they can attempt to coexist since you are positive they plan to stay awhile. Or they will refuse, and persistent fights will arrive. Regardless, a kiss could potentially help, based on the behavior they exuded moments prior.

While you're here, things will be under control. You'll have to be the one to assist with their questions. They will have a lot to ask about your world and a lot to ask about you. Nonetheless, they will be fine. But will you?

Mystic Flour Cookie & Dark Cacao Cookie

Late at night, you were awake in your bed. At an hour like this, it would be best to go to bed, but your sleep schedule was already ruffled. You saw no reason in attempting to fix it now. Besides, there were significant issues that required your aid. Those issues may be within a game, but they remain problems all the same.

While you do love Cookie Run: Kingdom, you were growing tired of logging in to repeat the same actions. In all honesty, you were missing a few days of resources that you could claim. The whole of your motivation was left to your guild. You did not want to get kicked for inactivity.

You were amidst your dark room, the lone source of light acting as the screen displaying the game. Your eyes exhibited boredom as you waited for each of the nine battles to end. The 2x button seemed like it was failing to help.

At the commencement of the final battle, you glanced at your team, which included Dark Cacao Cookie, along with his opposite, Mystic Flour Cookie. You are aware there is dialogue between him and his son at the start of a shared battle, so you tend to pay the text bubbles no mind.

This time around, you took a glimpse of what they conversed about. To your surprise, it seemed like you were included in his conversation.

"Why must you be so distant at times?"

You do not believe you read that correctly, but a quick read over proves you wrong. What does he mean by that? Was he talking to Dark Choco Cookie? It could apply to him, but such can be said for you as well. You have failed to log in for a few days now.

It must be something you are unaware of. You would rather not bother your mind with what appears to be a bug. Then again, you still played out a practice guild battle to investigate your worries. You eyed your team, and there popped another sentence, but not from the cookie anticipated.

"I have longed for the sight of you once more."

Now, it was Mystic Flour Cookie who acted bugged. Seriously, what was up with your game? You do not pay much attention to your battles; that much is true, yet you believe you would have taken note of their dialogue by now.

Aiming to make sense of the situation, you check the game's update log. You scroll, your eyes trailing over each bar of text to find what could settle your worries. There was nothing to be seen, and you were left clueless.

Thinking over what happened, you conclude this was nothing to fret about. It could very well be a mistake that the developers released by accident. After all, it is just a cookie game. They are all coded to act how they do. It would be silly to think they're sentient.

Before you went to bed, you took the two cookies who had startled you: Mystic Flour and Dark Cacao. You drag them to interact with random objects placed in your kingdom. It made you feel the slightest bit better.

"To even think you guys were real... Maybe I'm missing too much sleep," you spoke to your screen. You did not expect an answer in return.

"I am real."

What? Okay, now you realize the state of your affairs. That could not possibly be programmed into Dark Cacao Cookie's chat. Your game is absolutely hacked, or bugged, or something. It has to be something.

"I'll show you if I must."

Those next words send you into a panic. When did this become a horror game? How does she plan to display an impossible act? It was impossible for her to become existent, right?

If it were true, then you would like to prevent it. The timing was much too far into the night for events like this to be happening. With a quick mind, you conjure up a reaction.

"Wait! Wait, how about... no?" You tried to let your response down softly as to not offend whatever sentience was before you. It would be breathtaking to witness a humanized cookie, but the dark in your room made you think otherwise.

Your rejection was not taken as lightly as you wished, though. They were not as quick with sending out responses compared to before. In fact, your entire screen went black, most likely due to the power of them. This was all appearing far too genuine to entertain the thought of this being a dream.

Using your nimble wit, the best choice of action was to flee. Where? Your closet. Although when you take place behind the closed door, you realize that a different location would have been better.

It was too late. Your brain had played tricks on you by now, making you believe whatever was out for you took place in your room. As might be expected, you soon realized that was stupid. Your subconscious was scared, and you knew it.

What was there to be afraid of? You said it was simply a cookie game. There is not anything out for you. Your mind was eased, and you stepped out of your hiding place.

It goes without saying, there was nothing within your space. No monster, no cookies, nothing. A sigh you were unaware of holding escaped from your mouth. Then the sigh was not the only sound inside of your room.

The next thing you knew, there was a loud tumble audible, and you jumped out of surprise. After that, there came your returning fear. It may have been dark, but you could notice the outlines of two people, who were beginning to stand up.

Before anything else, you turn on your side lamp. You were scared, yes, but you would also like to see the face of what would end you. With a spring of light, you look forward.

In front of your eyes, you could observe recognizable faces. It did not take long for you to understand what happened.

"Your resolution irks me to no end. There is no reason for you to be here," spoke the pale lady, her voice firm in tone.

"Yet again, you stand in my way. I will cut you down once more if necessary," the man folded his arms. The hostility in the air was thick. You are well aware of the past between the two of them. It looks to be that they shared a matching goal: reaching you.

"Holy..." You breathed out in shock. Despite the rapid amount of blinks you took, the pair remained ahead of you. This is far from imaginary. You have Dark Cacao Cookie and Mystic Flour Cookie amidst your room.

Your singular word attracted the gaze of them both. Unlike them, you were unable to vocalize your feelings. It was obvious you were shocked. It was no problem in their opinion. As nice as your voice sounds, they came here to lay their eyes upon you in person.

Her footsteps were agile; it did not appear as if she even moved. In the next second, Mystic Flour stood before you. You leaned back, yet she leaned in. Her eyes opened, revealing the darkened stare she owned.

Even with features that would seem disturbing, Mystic Flour Cookie appeared ethereal. It was captivating to witness her from a distance, whereas the shortened proximity taps at your nerves. You pray any of your prior words had not insulted her.

Her hand crept to your cheek. "It is you," she whispered, her touch gentle when in contact with your skin. Your mouth was dry, yet you evoked your response in due time.

"...Are you real?" Your voice was quiet as you asked for confirmation. You felt as if you were getting swallowed in her unwavering gaze, but you kept still. Her hand was cold at the time she cupped your cheek.

Dark Cacao Cookie stepped forward, disliking the view he saw. "She should not be here." His hand fell onto her shoulder, increasing the space between you and her.

Mystic Flour Cookie's face twitched, and she brushed the hand of the man off of her shoulder. It did not take much to notice their hatred for one another. You would rather there arise another topic since it seemed like the two would argue at any moment.

"Dark Cacao Coo—or, just Dark Cacao, how are you..." Your sentence had not come to finish, as you cut yourself off at the sight of the lord stepping closer. It was to no one's surprise that he towered over you. His hand dropped its secure grip on your shoulder. They both come off as touchy, you believe.

"I have managed to achieve my true strength. I am able to protect my kingdom with ease and fight for my subjects. My sword has grown sharper—because of you." His stare was resolute as he looked your way. You felt your ego inflate due to his words. How nice it felt to experience a lord expressing gratitude for you, albeit he originates from a game.

"I did that? I mean, yeah, I did that! It was easy, really. You were very deserving of it." It was like all of your previous anxiety had diminished. Since you were aware they held you in high regard, you would play along. It brought no harm to.

You catch sight of Dark Cacao's bashful face. It looks like your words went to fluster him. He will have to get accustomed to it. Knowing how much power you hold, you plan to use it to your advantage.

In the corner of your eye, Mystic Flour Cookie gives the impression she is brooding. Perhaps your small praise of her rival left her upset. It would not be fair to pick and choose when you are certain they both worked hard to reach you. Breaking out of a game sounds like no easy work.

Shifting her way, your hands find their way to hold her own, bringing her near your person. This gains her attention, and her eerie stare is placed onto you once again.

"Mystic Flour," you started off in a murmur, "I think you did what you had to do. In the end, you are worthy of the care I give you." You were close enough to whisper in her ear, pulling away to send her a quick smile. With her skin complexion, you could see the red tint on her face with ease. She is as adorable as her foe.

You spoke in a mighty tone, keeping the god title they placed you in. It would only be right. It was clear they were in need of some sort of tribute. They may be tall and powerful, but their need of affection remains. As their "god," you were more than happy to give what they sought from you.

Mystic Flour Cookie shut her eyes and returned a nod of her own appreciation. Her hands tightened around yours, yet you had to free one palm from hers to clasp another.

Dark Cacao Cookie appeared bothered at the statement you gave to her, but his complaints were unheard. It was as if his exasperation reduced to dust when you held his hand.

"Now, let's stop the sulking." Your request fell on deaf ears. Mystic Flour cannot tolerate that man, even for you. The same can be said for Dark Cacao. There is a limit to what he can do in favor of you.

"Hey, uh, when will you guys return to your world?" You eyed both of them, believing you could guess their answers.

"I plan to stay by your side," he replied. You feel uneasy when Mystic Flour Cookie does not send her response. With that given, you are sure they own an identical answer. Would it be possible to change their minds? From your memory, they were keen with resolution and set with apathy. It may take a bit to send them off, if it's even attainable.

For now, you will have to deal with the two of them. They are silent enough, but their animosity is constant. Will you be able to deal with the tension?

Shadow Milk Cookie & Pure Vanilla Cookie

It was early morning, and in your bed you lay, wide awake and eager for the upcoming day. There were no events to attend in person. Instead, there was an update coming to the game you adored: Cookie Run: Kingdom.

You wanted to prepare for the arriving cookie, so you made sure to gather all of the resources that were within your reach.

All of the codes available were input, and you claimed your rewards from such. Heading to your guild's alliance, you battled the highest difficulty you could manage. The rewards for a high tier were not ones to be passed up.

Finished with that, you moved onto the daily acts you could do. Collecting your train goods, sending off the balloon, and fulfilling wishes. Everything was almost complete, but you had the arena to finish up with. Tallying time was around the corner, so you wanted your tier to experience growth before then.

As always, you clicked on battle after battle, watching as your collection of trophies rose next to your tier. Down the path, you faced a few problems with Pure Vanilla Cookie dying off. He was insufficient compared to other teams, so you wanted to fix the problem.

Seeking out his beascuit stats, you aimed to modify a few things. Before you clicked on the icon, you received a piece of dialogue from the healer.

"Could you spare me a minute or two?"

Huh. Although that sounded sweet, you were focused more on the creation of the text. Somehow, you cannot dwell on the memory you first heard that. Was it added on a later date?

Having fixated on Pure Vanilla Cookie during a certain period, you feel as if you would recall his question, yet you fail to. It must be your blurry memory. It seems like a reasonable conclusion.

You wanted to view those words anew to remember them the next time around, just to ensure no unnecessary confusion. Even so, after you tapped the character a few times, you could not find the message you were in search of. It disappeared, like it never existed. Strange, but you chose to let the topic go.

While you believe you clicked on Pure Vanilla Cookie's beascuit, you ended up on another cookie's stats: Shadow Milk Cookie. It was simply an accident, so you undo your mistake and return to Pure Vanilla's screen. Over again, you click on his beascuit, but then the same mishap occurs. How are you ending up on Shadow Milk instead? Your game is awfully glitchy today.

Then, out of nowhere, you are on the screen of the blue jester. His cookie floats to the left, seemingly innocent of the reoccurring disturbances. Another inconvenience arrives, and you are stuck on his screen. You are unable to click on the next cookie. None of the arrows work, and the exit button has denied you.

You would go to assume you need to reset, but the fact that everything else is fine leaves you curious. You are allowed to click on his cookie, beascuit, toppings, and skill. All is well, except the exit source. At some point, you just started to spam it. That's when you hear your next problem.

"Hey! Didja forget? I'M the star of the show!"

That marks the second time you are presented with unseen dialogue, both of which feel like you are being spoken to directly. You do not have a known cause for this, but you hope a shutdown of the game could aid your tiny predicament.

But of course, luck was not on your side. You were not presented with the chance of closing the game. The display of Shadow Milk Cookie persisted. It would be weird to blame a fictional character, but you want to point fingers at him anyway.

Looking around, you check for a bad internet connection. Nope, nothing. When your eyes trail back to the screen, you do notice another fact. Shadow Milk Cookie is gone. He is not on your screen, even though you are on his page. What could possibly be wrong with your game? A cookie cannot just up and walk away.

Then, one feature worked. You could move onto the page of the next cookie in your team, like you had been wanting to earlier. Now, Pure Vanilla Cookie is displayed. You could have returned to a normal routine, yet you did not. The last few moments were not to be dismissed.

All of a sudden, there was audible giggling behind you, which echoed in your room. There was no one else but you that resided here, so you were obtaining genuine fear.

Glancing at your screen, there was yet another interference. Pure Vanilla vanished in the same manner Shadow Milk did. Have your cookies just decided to leave you? You always thought you cared for them well, but perhaps not.

You felt no need to stay within the bounds of your room for much longer, so you got up and headed to your door. You are not sure one would believe your situation if you were to tell them, but you hold no care for that. Getting a breath of fresh air was your main goal.

Every goal is accompanied by its obstacles, except you forgot about that part. You did not anticipate the arrival of your new guests, which left them with an opportunity to sneak up on you.

Stopped in your tracks, you stumbled upon your locked door. Not from the inside, but from the outside. Your urgency increased with each rattle of the knob until a voice was heard behind you.

"Awwwh, where are you going? The fun just started!" There poofed a blue man in front of your way of escape. While you wished to be courageous, you were startled by his appearance and shrieked, stumbling over your balance and falling. Fear not, as there was an awaiting grasp at your back.

"Shadow Milk Cookie, must you behave such a way? You are scaring them," spoke the soft voice near, their arms steady around your body. Hearing that name confirmed what you initially thought to be insane. The character became real, and he was right ahead of you with a grin across his face.

Peering upwards, you spotted the opposite of the jester. He turned your way with a kind smile adorning his face.

"My light..." Pure Vanilla Cookie tugged you closer, his voice warm like a candle. His embrace felt safe, yet you were still alarmed by the situation.

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes at the sappy man. The beast wanted nothing more than to have you near him, but he begrudgingly listened to Pure Vanilla. His goal was not to scare you, although it would be humorous to.

You slipped from the grip of the blonde man, who was saddened but allowed you as you wished. Your expression seemed tense, and he did not want to frighten you. Their attention was on you and you alone.

Thinking too hard gave you a headache. You do not think you could comprehend what occurred before you. "I don't—I can't understand what just happened." They both recognized your concern, but Pure Vanilla Cookie was the one who expressed his sympathy.

"There is nothing to fear—" The compassionate man was pushed to the side, overshadowed by his parallel.

"Whatever could you mean? The star of the show has graced you with his presence!" Shadow Milk Cookie was able to fly, which was an entirely different matter for you to gawk at. He hovered to your side and wrapped his arms around your neck, his touch smooth but cold. You felt his hair curl to your cheek, as if it possessed its own mind.

Your eyes stared into his. Seeing him in the game was fine, yet his features became more prominent when humanized. Observing the eyes in his hair truly left you bothered. "Why?" Your question was legitimate. What made them determined to visit you? They seem nice enough, so you are glad you did them no wrong.

"I needed to see you SO BAD! I mean, any good host would spend time with their number one fan." He deemed you his number one fan? Really? You are not sure if you felt flattery.

Your hand was pulled in the direction of Pure Vanilla Cookie, diverting your heed to him instead. Shadow Milk Cookie gave no approval to this, his expression salty and hateful. It was obvious he believed the attendance of Pure Vanilla was unnecessary.

"My friend, you have given me your faith throughout my journey. I could not have done it without you." His eyes unveiled the pretty case of heterochromia he has. The way he stared at you made you feel all nice. You were unknowing of exactly what you provided for him, but you received his gratitude all the same.

"Blah, blah, blah. They only did what was coded. I’m sure they had my best interest at heart," Shadow Milk Cookie excused, reclaiming your personal space as his own with the pull of his arms. You did not confirm nor deny the statement given by Shadow Milk. Slight irritation exuded from the usually calm man.

"...What do the two of you want from me?" Now that they reached you, you wondered what their plans were. If it is anything simple, you can see yourself offering.

"I only desired to see you, my light." Pure Vanilla Cookie was so upfront with the admiration he held for you, it was almost overwhelming to hear. He was nearly a stranger admitting this. "I wished to illuminate you with the same warmth you gave me."

Despite how strong he may come off, you appreciate his thanks. Your hand lowered to hold his. Your action surprised him, but your next movement shocked him.

You planted a kiss on the back of his hand, returning his faltered smile with your own. It was the least you could do for such heavy devotion. You found yourself respecting him as well. Pure Vanilla sent out shy chuckles, clearly pleased by what you conducted. Would it be selfish to ask for another? He ponders.

Watching from the sidelines, Shadow Milk Cookie is furious. How does that stupid, blind gnat receive a kiss from you? He believes your kindness needs to learn some limits, which should stop right at the edges of that foolish man.

You were aware of the jealousy oozing off of Shadow Milk Cookie. It was simple to catch on to his emotions after a few minutes. You would not want anything broken in your room due to a fight, so it would be best to share your affection. It was planned to be passed anyway.

Before you could reciprocate the same behavior for Shadow Milk Cookie, the man scooped you up in his arms effortlessly. Inspecting his face, you notice a scowl taking place on his lips. For someone who was so playful a second ago, he held such resentment within him.

"Not everything can be solved with friendship, Silly Vanilly," he mocked, sarcasm in his tone. You believe the only reason he fails to attack his rival is because of you. At any other rate, there would be holes in the wall.

To lessen his loathing, you were quick to bring his hand to your lips. You send him a kiss, similar to the way you gave Pure Vanilla. The piece of affection seemed to shut his temper up immediately, and he clung to you further.

"Ha ha! I knew ya loved me more!" That seemed to be baseless evidence, but you repaid his hug with a smile anyway. It went without effort to get acquainted with his silliness when in person. You can foresee the new fun he will bring with his antics.

Pure Vanilla Cookie could not say he was pleased with what he saw, but he went without speaking about it. You behaved the way you do because of your benevolence, and he wanted to respect that. He would live up to his nickname if he were to compete for your time.

Managing the two of them for a bit does not seem difficult. Surely, if they could come here, they could go back. They will return to the game at some point, but you can hang out with them right now. Hopefully, their competitive demeanors will be rid of. You can only anticipate how you will handle them until then.

[rafeslittlepup]

moving to tannyhill pt. 2

it’s just past five in the morning when you tiptoe down the stairs, a monogrammed duffel bag over your shoulder and your fuzzy pajama set hidden under a big hoodie. your mom’s already left for her pilates retreat and your dad is doing business in madrid. the whole house is silent except for the click of your slippers on the hardwood floor.

outside, rafe is leaning against the passenger door, sleeves rolled up, one hand holding his phone. you open the door and he looks up, instantly smug.

“thought you were gonna chicken out,” he says.

“almost did,” you giggle, climbing in.

he tosses your bag in the backseat and then drives one-handed, other hand gripping your thigh. his thumb strokes soft circles over the hem of your sleep shorts.

“you’re really quiet,” he teases.

“i don’t know, i feel like i’m running away.”

when you arrive, you expect him to carry you over the threshold like in a movie. but instead , he grabs your hand and leads you inside fast, possessive.

you walk into the main room, the vanity’s set up just like he promised. closet is organized by color.

“you really did all this?” you whisper, a little overwhelmed.

“you like it?” he shrugs.

“it’s like a dream.”

“that’s the point,” he murmurs, pulling you in by the hips. you let him kiss you senseless, arms still around his neck, heart fluttering so fast you could hear it.

“what if my mom freaks out?”

“lemme know when she calls. i’ll remind her whose last name you’re about to have…” he smirks.

later that day, your phone buzzes with a string of texts from your mom:

“where are you??”

“you are NOT living with that boy. you’re a child.”

“this is outrageous, you don’t want to go to college? now this!?”

you start to cry, but rafe grabs the phone, deletes the messages.

“baby, stop… no more listening to her,” he says, brushing away your tears. “she had her shot at raising you, it’s- it’s my turn. i’ll take care of everything….”

and you know deep down, that you’ve traded one kind of control for another. but at least this one chose you, rafe did.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Incubus

NSFW Art the Clown x F!Reader

Prompt: Reader is out with one of her friends when she runs into an interesting looking clown. Later that night, he seems to visit her in a dream. (Kinda going off the idea that Art is a supernatural being who can appear in people's dreams at will).

CW: Art being a freak, use of sex toys, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, choking, creampie

a/n: to quote Cassie from Euphoria "AND YOU CAN ALL JUDGE ME IF YOU WANT BUT I DO NOT CARE! I HAVE NEVER EVER BEEN HAPPIER" really going back to my sexy-clown-fucker roots with this one gang

~~~

Halloween Night.

You and your friends had been planning to go out like you had since you were teenagers. Getting dressed up in your sluttiest best Halloween costumes, going to your favorite spot in town to eat, then hitting up some parties.

Your group took up a large table at the same old diner you always met at. Friends pregaming with flasks and shot bottles they snuck in. Some more blitzed than others. As you got older, the desire for partying was beginning to leave your body. Wanting to be completely black out drunk in public becoming more embarrassing than exhilarating.

So when your best friend decided she wanted to mess with one of your fellow patrons, a lump formed in your stomach.

A tall man dressed in a half white and half black clown costume sat at one of the tables alone. Giant shoes adorned his feet, the tip of his long nose had a black dot on it, and a bald cap with a tiny hat rested upon his head. He had been staring at your group since he arrived. Most of your friends too out of it to notice.

Your friend walked over, leaning over the table he sat at. Pushing her cleavage directly in his face as she spoke to him. “Nice costume,” she batted her lashes at him. His expressionless face stared at her. A semi aggravated frown on his face. Everyone at your table began giggling as you watched in horror. She took a seat directly in his lap, wrapping one of her arms around him. She tugged at the hat on his head, smacking it down with a pop. “Awe, look how cute. But dontcha think it would look better one me,” she grabbed the hat off his head. Pulling the string and placing it down on her own.

Embarrassment ate away at your insides. All your friends stared and snickered at the situation. The man seemingly unfazed. She flicked at his nose with her finger. You could not take it any longer.

“Oh my God,” you grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away from him, “I am so sorry. If I had known she was going to do that I would’ve stopped her sooner.” You ripped the tiny hat off her head. “Here’s that. Once again I’m so sorry—“

“Why do you keep apologizing to this freak?!”

You shot a look at her, brows pushed together in frustration. Pulling her outside of the restaurant. She fought for you to let go of her. Stumbling in her drunken state.

“What the fuck is wrong with you! Why are you acting like this?” You were hurt by your friend’s actions.

“Why do you even give a shit, Y/N? That’s just some random skeezeball in a restaurant. I could fuck him and we’d never have to see him again.”

“Because you’re embarrassing me!” You shouted, folding your arms over your chest. Taking a deep breath and blinking away the feeling you were harboring.

She stood in front of you with a look of disgust on her face. Her hand planted firmly on her hip. A laugh erupting from her. Wrapping her hand around your wrist and pulling you back inside. Presenting you in front of the table of all your friends. “Go ahead if that’s really how you feel, Y/N,” she cocked her head to the side.

“I— I, uh—“

“Y/N said she’s embarrassed by us. Guess we huwt hew widdle feewings!” Your friend pushed out her bottom lip and mocked you. The entire table laughed at you. All your so called friends calling you names like “Debby Downer” or “Sour Puss” or “Buzz Kill.”

You stood frozen in shock. Unable to believe all your friends you had known so long were treating you this way. All of them a little drunk, but not drunk enough for them to not know what they were doing.

“Come on, everybody. Since we’re so embarrassing to be around. You can stay here,” your friend patted you on the head as she and everyone else threw some cash on the table to cover their bills. You were in disbelief. Feeling abandoned and hurt. Ashamed.

You looked over at the Clown Man who you were defending previously. His gaze fixated on you, expression completely emotionless. Sharp eyes cutting into you. Walking over to him one last time as you began to leave, “I really am sorry she did that. I hope your night goes better than mine.” You gave him a closed mouth smile as you walked out of the restaurant. Lifeless eyes watching you exit.

You held yourself as you walked home. Cold breeze hitting your revealed skin, sending chill bumps down your body. You tugged at the short skirt you wore when you saw a group of guys staring at you. Suddenly uncomfortable in your costume. You arrived home and began getting ready for the night ahead. You did love passing out candy. Something you really had not got to do in a long time. You loved seeing all the kids dressed up, excited for their sugar filled treats.

Time passed and the knocks on your door were scarce. Disappointed in the lack of trick-or-treaters. Feeling like you had lost all love for this holiday. One that was your favorite. Deciding to pass on dinner and just bake some cookies instead.

You sat on your couch mindlessly watching TV. The lack of trick-or-treaters had you drifting in and out of sleep. Finally dozing off…

You were in a dark room. Only lit by candlelight. A musky smell filled the air. You looked down to see yourself completely nude. Wrists and ankles tied to the frame of the large bed you laid on. Confusion ran through you.

Footsteps filled the room. Straining your neck to look down the dark hallway through the open door. Complete silence coming from the darkness other than the loud clap of shoes. The Clown from the restaurant earlier walked into the dim light. Facial expression flat, eyes piercing down at you. Heat dripped down your body knowing he was seeing you completely nude and on display. Approaching the edge of the bed, his head falling to the side as he stared at your bare pussy. A wicked grin crept upon his face.

His hand dug deep down into the bag he carried. The sound of all different textures of things tussled against each other as he went shoulder deep looking for something. An excited look washed over his face as his hand gripped around what he had been looking for. Pulling a deep red, microphone shaped vibrator from the bag. Your entire body flushed.

He crawled on the edge of the bed between your spread legs. Clicking the vibrator to the setting he thought you would enjoy most before teasing around your pussy with it. You moaned at the sudden sensation. Your thighs began trembling as he edged closer and closer to your throbbing nub. When the toy finally found its place on your sweet spot you called out to him, your hips arching at the feeling. Making circular motions with the vibrator, pulling every noise from you he could. Watching as your chest heaved with each shaky breath.

The waves of your first orgasm washed over you like a tsunami. Every inch of you quaking as pure ecstasy pumped through your veins. The Clown smiled at you from the position he was in. A prominent tent pitched through his satin suit. You bit your lip watching him palm himself through the fabric. Mouth beginning to water as the spot of his suit grew darker with his pre-cum. You rolled your hips at him, encouraging him to fuck you.

Dark eyes shot up to look into yours. Hand never leaving his erect member. Your eyes pleaded with him, a small quiet “please” falling from your quivering lips.

His hand clawed at the fabric around his cock, ripping open a hole big enough for him to pull himself out. Eyes unable to look away from how his gloved hand wrapped around his member. Tugging at his erection, his head falling back ever slightly as he savored the feeling of his hand. Almost like he was putting on a show for you.

His body weighed down the bed as he positioned himself to be directly in front of your aching core. Head of his cock prodding at your entry. Tremors of anticipation quaked through you. His lips were barely parted as he looked down at your face. Hooded eyes enjoying the view of you. He rubbed the tip against your folds, collecting all the remnants of you on himself. Ready to delve in.

… A loud knock at the door pulled you awake. You had been dozed off for a few hours now. It was almost too late at night for kids to be out. You sat up, grabbing the bowl of candy off the table in front of you. A second more aggressive knock. “On my way!” You called out as you walked to the front door.

Opening the door to a familiar costumed man. The Clown your friend had been rude to earlier. Little old to be trick-or-treating, but you did not care. “Oh— Hey! It’s you,” flashes of the dream you had been having about him ran through your mind. Heat rising to your cheeks. You swallowed heavy. A toothy grin painted his face as he waved excitedly at you. Holding up a black garbage bag asking for candy from your bowl. You smiled grabbing a large handful of candy and putting it in the bag for him. His eyebrows rose as his mouth morphed into a perfect ‘O’ shape. His hand went up to his lips blowing a silent kiss at you. You caught it with your hand and placed it on your cheek with a giggle.

“There plenty more where that came from. You’re probably my last trick-or-treater for the night. I’ve got all this candy left,” you shook the bowl tossing the candy around in it. The Clown stood before you not saying anything. Eyes staring at you with a wicked grin on his face.

The loud sound of your fire alarm going off made you jump right out of your skin. You looked over your shoulder then back at the man in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Oh— Oh, Crap! I forgot about the cookies I put in the oven!” You rushed back into your house leaving the door wide open. Running into your kitchen and grabbing the oven mitts you had left on the counter, pulling the charred cookies out and throwing the pan into the sink, running cold water over it. Smoke engulfed your kitchen. You opened the window over the sink, fanning the thick fumes out of the window with your oven mitt. Coughing as you accidentally inhaled some of the tar.

You leaned over the counter, hearing the squeak of shoes approaching you identical to what you had heard in your dream. You looked up to see the Clown examining your house. Waving his hand in front of his face as he scrunched up his nose at the smell. You sighed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even get to introduce myself to you yet. I’m Y/N.” He waved at you acknowledging the introduction.

“Don’t say much do you?”

He shook his head aggressively.

“Hmm. Then how am I going to learn your name?”

He gleamed excitedly. Coming over and grabbing you by the wrist. Pulling you to your fridge where you had countless letters, newspaper clippings, and coupons pinned. He pointed to a picture about the local go-cart racing tournament that happened a few weeks back.

“Cart?”

He made an ‘X’ with his hands, shaking his head in disagreement. He reemphasized the ‘X’ before holding up one finger.

“Okay, minus one letter.”

He nodded with a bright smile.

“Car?”

He folded his arms over his chest, a look of disappointment on his face. His head falling to the side with a look that said “really?”

“Okay. Okay. Art?”

He jumped up and down clapping his hands with joy. Nodding his head rapidly. Clearly thrilled that you were so good at guessing.

“Art! I like that name,” you smiled suddenly realizing that his grip around your wrist stayed. Blushing at how close your bodies were to each other. Remembering your fantasy you were having about it pulling heat to your face.

“Well, since you’re already in here might as well make yourself comfortable. If you wanna sit in the living room I can bring you a glass of water or something,” you smiled. His wide eyes stared at you, smile never leaving his face. He slowly gave you a thumbs up before spinning on his heel and going into your living room.

“Can I tell you something crazy?” You smiled as you sat the glass down in front of him. He nodded. “I— you were just in my dream.” His mouth morphed into an ‘O’ shape, eyebrows raised in intrigue. “I dozed off after I got ditched at the diner. And we were— uh— well, you were. I was—“ Embarrassment washed over you. Realizing you were about to admit to having a sex dream about a complete stranger.

He made an okay gesture with one hand, sticking his opposite pointer finger into the o. You blushed at his insinuation. You nodded coyly. His face fell into a look telling you he thought your thoughts were naughty. Chastising you with his finger. You smiled. He rested his chin on one of his hands propped against his leg, waving for you to continue with the other.

“OH! No, you don’t want to hear the details or anything. It was…” you hid your face from him slightly. Unsure of what to say about the dream. Too awkward to fully admit it.

Art crawled off the couch, resting his chin on your bare knees like a begging puppy. A large frown decorating his face as he fluttered his eyes at you. Wide eyes stared down at him in your lap. Your nerves were set on fire. The source being where his chin touched your bare skin. You swallowed back hard.

He pressed his lips into the skin of your exposed thigh. Biting the soft flesh, leaving grease paint anywhere his lips touched. You felt your body quiver as his teeth dug into you. Bites turned into long licks. Saliva painted your exposed skin. “Art~” you moaned loving the feeling of him on your skin. A wicked grin crept on his face.

Partially gloved hands pried your legs open. Sadistic eyes stared at your clothed core. Noting how you had already soaked through your panties. Licking his way up your skin before planting a sloppy kiss on your core. You slid down the couch exposing yourself better to him. His long tongue lapped over your soaked entry, sucking on the fabric. Your hands gripped his head, eyes rolling back as he worked on you.

He suddenly stood up. You fluttered your eyes up at him. He walked over to his previous seat on the couch. Digging through the black trash bag he carried with him. Making a surprised face when his hand found what it was looking for.

Everything was so familiar...

Pulling something out and hiding it behind his back. Gesturing for you to join him. Patting his lap as you got closer to him. Hesitantly you straddled him. He leaned back into the couch, hooded eyes scanning your entire body. A mischievous grin painted his dirty teeth. He grabbed at your panties, ripping them clean off. Holding them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, eyes rolling back into his head. Over exaggerating his exhale and putting your ripped garment down into his trash bag. The cool air against your now exposed core sent chills across your entire body.

There was a sudden hum coming from behind Art. He pretending to look around as if he could not find the source of the sound. You blushed at the realization of the noise. Revealing the same deep red want from your dream. You gasped.

"That's the same one from my-"

He cut you off by pressing the toy against your throbbing clit. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. You rolled your hips against the vibrating silicone. Fire igniting deep inside you. Lost in the feeling.

Art watched how you played with yourself on the toy. His cock begging for the same attention the vibrator was getting. He smacked the side of your thigh to get your attention. Pulling you from your horny, dumb state. Your eyes meeting his gaze. His brows furrowed together as he pointed down to his erect cock. You continued your motions as you reached around to unzip his clown suit. Sliding the satin off his shoulders. His pale, slender body revealing itself to you. Propping yourself up so he could shimmy the material around his ankles. Noticing how he wore no underwear under the suit. You smiled as you stared at his cock.

Your first orgasm was rapidly approaching with the pace of the toy pressed into you. Art's gloved hands guided you down onto his member. Throwing his head back as you sunk down. The way your walls sucked him right in. Almost like your body was begging to be fucked. He blinked hard, his jaw agape. Hands encouraging you to bounce up and down. From the first few hops your orgasm took over you. Moaning his name and shaking. Walls gripping his member inside you. Art licked his teeth, mocking your orgasm face.

You expected him to move the wand so that he could fuck you to his own high. However, he pressed it firmer into your aching nub. Your hips rutted forward. Shocked expression taking over your face as you panted above him. Sweat decorating your skin.

"I-I can't do an-another one," you pleaded with the Clown. Your senses in overdrive as your pussy still spasmed around him occasionally. He pouted, mocking your pleas. Nodding his head to tell you, you would be having another one. Shaking entirely as he began a relentless pace inside you. Snapping his hips flush against your ass with each aggressive thrust. You cried out with each crack of skin. Overwhelmed with how good he felt inside you.

Fingers dinging into his bare shoulders. Gripping him tight enough to break the skin. His own fingers held your hips with a bruising force as he continued bouncing you on him. Feeling yourself approach another orgasm. Air hitching in your throat feeling your skin burn with pleasure.

Art reached one of his hands up and wrapped it around your throat. Squeezing tighter than anyone had ever before. Having you seeing stars, feeling like you could faint at any moment. Truly taking your breath away from you.

HONK!

A silver horn was shoved in your face as he released your throat. Bringing you back to the situation. Also causing you to grip his member again. He mimed a laugh when your body jumped at the sudden noise.

His head fell back against the head of the couch as he savored the feeling of you wrapped around him. Knowing his end was approaching. Sloppily thrusting up into you, circling your clit with the want. Willing you to cum at the same time. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Wishing you could lean forward and bite at his flesh. Decorate his skin with your markings. But you were far too close to your second high to change positions now.

Screaming out to him as you came far harder than the first time. You felt Art shoot up into you, spilling his hot seed into you. Continuing to thrust up into you as he rode out both your highs. Watching how he leaked out of you and pooled around his base. Smiling for a moment before his face fell flat. He helped you off his lap, sitting you beside him. Standing and attempting to reach his zipper on the back.

You stood and helped him. Making sure to pull the zipper away from his skin to prevent any accidents. Art turned and tipped his hat to you. You blushed as you stood in front of the man who just rocked your world.

You watched as he grabbed his black bag and threw it over his shoulder. Heading towards the door. Turning to blow a kiss at you one last time.

Catching it and placing it on your lips. Blowing one right back at him. He pretending to rub the blush off his cheeks.

And just as quick as he had entered he exited your home. You waved goodbye. Choosing not to question the stranger you had let into your home for a quick fuck.

Watching as he disappeared into the night.

~

[END]

// Thank you for reading! This is my first time writing for Art. You really gotta get creative when you can't use dialogue lol. I hope you enjoyed this story! I plan on writing more for him, so if you have any requests please send them my way! Or if you want to be tagged in anything let me know! //

{tags}

@hoe-for-daddywise | @cup1d-ends-here | @xenoanamorph | @getmeoutofhell |

[limerlove]

THEY CALL ME HOMEWRECKER

pairing. established!cait x reader ft. older!vi

content warning. eighteen+, some freaky toxic shit, caitlyn lowkey a bad girlfriend, reader a freak, and violet’s just there for a good time, ooc!vi mostly, strap!sex, threesome, jealousy, cheating, some good ‘ole drama, public!sex, slight voyeurism if you squint.

#thank u to my boo @sinstear for helping me facilitate this madness and giving me even more ideas for it. and for @shouyuus for always supporting my gay panicking. still crying about it. as always, eighteen+.

since the two of you were struggling financially, you’ve always stuck by caitlyn’s side. throughout all of her business endeavors, one finally stuck, the restaurant on avenue street, and god is it ever so booming. weeks of hectic hours turn into months of hardly seeing her due to her schedule always being on the flipside of hers.

all of it was so excruciating.

over the past few months, the cracks of your relationship fall over like a tsunami waves, crashing repeatedly into the shore. you try to talk about it with her — the two days out of the week when you actually see her — but she’s always too tired.

too this.

too that.

nothing you do is ever enough. it doesn’t matter if you set the mood just right, candles light with rose petals on the bed, buying a new lingerie set to attempt to peak your girlfriend’s interest.

“baby, it’s been months since we’ve had sex? do you just not want me anymore? caitlyn reassure you she does but makes no move to give you the relief you’re so desperately seeking. deadly kisses turn stale in your mouth, the bitterness of her stagnant need tastes like the dark chocolate on your tongue.

“just—“ caitlyn grunts as she gently shoves you off as her back turn away from you “not tonight.”

you’re so close to cry, to calling this relationship for what is, a colossal failure. deciding to cool down before offering her the proposition, the one you’ve been thinking about for a while now. no matter what you do, you love cait too much to call it quits. you have to fight for who you love, no matter the cost. this is the only choice you can make…right?

droplets kiss your skin, an oversized shirt hits your thighs as your feet pad away from the cool tile, the dampness of your hair touches the cotton as she looks at you, exhaustion written all over her gorgeous face.

“what if we opened this up? let someone…in.”

shyly, you mumble. and you expect some lewd response, anger, a finality to the end but you’re met with relief. “i think that’s a great idea, love.”

but caitlyn would live to regret those words. “just one night with someone else.”

the both of you agree.

all of it happened organically, that’s what you were her for. caitlyn was close and made sure not to hover. the stipulation being the two of you had to be attracted to whoever came home with the two of you. it’s when you spot her, checking you out from the other side of the bar.

“hi, cupcake.” her voice is sultry but her rasp velvet smooth.

“o-oh, u-um, hi—” you readjust shirt, the swell of your breasts threatening to spill from the tight top you’re wearing. she’s the hottest woman you’ve ever seen. soft lines on her face to resemble her age, but fuck, she’s so pretty.

powder-blue eyes resembling the sky as she checks you out from head to toe, unable to keep her eyes off of you. she can’t stop looking at you as you squirm underneath her blunt gaze.

“who’s the blue haired woman behind you? girlfriend? she looks like she wants to kill me for getting so close to you.” with a fierce sense of confidence running through her veins, she plays with the pretty silver chain hanging from your neck.

“she is my girlfriend but we have an understanding.” the nerves from your initial impression of her dissipate, as you step closer to her. “we’re on the hunt for someone to fuck our brains out, especially mine it’s been a little too long.”

"how long?"

the curoisty slips out before she can help herself, eyes falling back on your tits again again as you cross your arms over your chest, tongue running over your lips as the tattoo peeking out from her the underside of her neck.

“long enough.”

but caitlyn interjects, slithering her way as she immediately starts caressing the mystery woman’s forearm. it’s difficult to pretend there isn’t a sting in your chest when she so easily touches someone else without a second thought.

it isn’t fair, that’s all you’ve wanted, an ounce of her affection but it seems it just takes a certain kind of woman to get her going. on that doesn’t love her the way you do, one that’s hotter, sexier, and definitely has more experience than you.

caitlyn is all over her, all night. vi, as you’ve come to learn, is much older than you and cait, more successful than you could ever dream of, and she damn sure knows how to sweet talk. you can’t help but feel a little left out as you sip on your martini, courtesy of vi.

excusing yourself to freshen up, not that you believe either of them would notice, you wash your hands, splash some water on your cold face to calm yourself. it’s crystal clear, she always wanted to have sex, just never with you.

there she stands, proud and tall, with hope in her eyes like she’s found the missing piece of her puzzle. “so, she’s perfect, right? i mean we really hit it off. the both of us, right?”

you nod, “yeah, sounds perfect, cait.” but she’s too fucking horny too nice the clip to her name or the bitterness in your tone. she’ll have her fill and you’ll be stuck on the sidelines, again. she’ll do anything but acknowledge this relationship for the farce it is.

you should have known, all the signs right in front of you to see, and now it all it took a pink-haired goddess to show you the light. she’ll get her pussy wet for anyone who isn’t you.

“great! i’ll tell her. i’m so glad we decided to do this, love.”

love.

the irony of her burning affection nearly causes you to throw up.

still, you’re incessantly scrubbing at your hands, the skin feels raw, the top of your fingers wrinkling like prunes. the last thing you want to do is meet them out there. the gorgeously, very-fuckable stranger who your girlfriend can’t get enough of. you should have just done the right thing, put the relationship to bed along with the rest of your dignity. now you’d have to watch who you thought was the love of your life, get off right in front of you.

then she’s here. vi. with her beautiful face, her cologne that smells of vanilla and mahogany, her perfectly fit body, making you feel more insecure than you’ve ever been.

“you alright, princess? if you have second thoughts just say the word…”

“nope.”

with a violent urgency, you keep scrubbing the soap into your absolutely clean hands, bending over the counter slightly to rinse them when you feel her behind you, gripping at your hips. she reaches over to shut the water off, handing you a few paper towels to dry your hands.

what the fuck is she playing at? why isn’t she sucking caitlyn’s face off?

“i have something else in mind—” vi leans over as her hot breath kisses your ear, “and it has to do with this pretty, little skirt on the floor.”

“oh, vi, we should really go and meet caitlyn, she—” but you can’t talk, not when she starts stroking the silky skin of your thigh, pushing the hem of your skirt up just a hair.

“you sure about that?” vi crawls her playful hand underneath the hem, playing with the panties covering your cunt, teasing your slit through the delicate lace. “i had my eyes set on something i want to try first.”

“o-oh…kay, well, it’s really not the best idea. please, can we—"

“so you really want to princess? something tells me, you’re dying to have this pussy eaten, fucked….stretched. i have a perfect hot pink cock for you to get fucked with, a mouth to please you, and a good set of fingers for you to bounce on.”

before you realize what’s she’s doing, her heavenly hands dip inside your panties, splitting your folds like the red sea; as god intended. she groans in your ear when she not only feels, but hears how soaked you’ve become, hot breath setting your body aflame.

“how does that sound, princess? want me to take care of you?” you grind against her pelvis, back arching into her as she slips a lone finger inside you. you moan so high, it nearly sounds like a scream.

“mmm, shit, ahhh, that’s—”

becoming very aware of the public setting, anyone could walk in the door at any given moment, you try to refute but you’re struggling to find the words, as she curls her finger inside you, establishing a steady pace.

“what? don’t think of caitlyn now. she certainly didn’t care before, did she? let me guess…she left you and your vibrator to your own device, pressing on that pretty clit of yours, hoping she’d jump in but she couldn’t.

“she couldn’t do what needs to be done—” vi bites and sucks at your neck, you crane your body towards her in submission, giving the older woman all the access she needs to tear you apart. “but i can give you whatever you fucking want, princess.”

it doesn’t take anything else before you’re attacking the older woman with your lips, her tongue invades your mouth as she surges for dominance, gripping your plump cheeks through the small amount of fabric covering them.

immediately intertwining your finger through her hair as you tug on her roots, as your skirt rides up against almost rising completely as vi pushes you through the first open stall she sees. not giving one flying fuck who hears her.

“needed you first, you know that? couldn’t help myself as soon as i saw you. god, just you wait until tonight.”

you shake your head as she pushes the your skirt to your hip bones, ripping your panties off with one single rip!

“tonight?”

“yes, pretty girl, tonight. m’gonna make her watch while i fuck you on my cock.”

pressing her knee with force in-between your legs, an animalistic moan tumbles out before you could even stop yourself.

“c’mon, ride my thigh, sweet girl. that’s what you want, hm?”

vi’s strength centers you in like gravity, allowing you to slide further up her trousers, your folds fluttering against the friction, allowing the crease of her perfectly-ironed slacks to push against your soaking pussy.

“god, fuck her for not wanting to fuck you. i’ll fuck you all night if you let me.” vi grunts as she watches your body writhe, tits bouncing as chase your high.

“fuuuckkkkk,” you hiccup, so close as she pushes a thumb in your mouth, effectively shutting your mouth for a moment as you suck on the digit. swirling your tongue around her finger, pretending she’s fucking you with a strap instead.

“such a good girl for me.” pulling off with a delectable pop, she presses against your clit, blissful patterns being traced on your bundle of nerves and just with a few strokes you’re done for. falling fast and hard.

“vi, vi, oh fuck, baby, viiii—” a drawl of her name as she abuses the bundle of nerves, the ache for her full attention and freely does vi give it.

you fall into her chest, whimpering as her incessant need to play with your clit does nothing to help you calm down — all she does is rile you up.

fuck, caitlyn.

not a day in your life had you thought of being interested in someone so much older than you, but god you’d never come apart like that. not so quickly and not ever quite as hard. she knew what you liked without uttering a word.

the swipe of her thumb felt like a stroke of god, as if she was one, giving into your mundane pleasure, helping you close in on what seemed like an impossible finish.

this wasn’t part of the deal. shit, you’re so fucked.

“turn around.” you obey.

a pathetic servant willing to get it’s pay.

she slaps your ass once more, a whimper tumbles and vi eats up every second of it.

“how bad do you want my cock, baby?”

“so bad, please.”

“good. you’ll show me…in front of her.”

—

“just like that princess, fuck, you’re so goddamn pretty.”

violet’s hands steady your hips as you ride cait’s cock, the strap stretching you out to the heavens, vi guides you in perfect rhythm. you know you should feel bad, but you can’t stop staring at vi, her perfect eyes gleaming as you moan out her name.

not cait, vi.

“love—” caitlyn’s voice is drown outed when vi is looking at you the way she’s does, the way you’ve been begging your girlfriend too but she only does when there’s someone else giving you what you’ve been desperately craving.

“how does it feel, cupcake?” vi whispers in your ear, “does it feel good when you fuck yourself on her cock?”

without warning, vi slaps your ass as you jolt forward, the silicone cock slipping deeper within you, kissing your cervix as vi keeps her hand on your lower back, guiding your movements.

“f-feels really good, vi.”

vi kisses down your neck, biting at the skin before she presses her scarred lip against your ear.

“i know it does, princess. been wanting this for months, huh? don’t worry about a thing. i’ll take care of you.”

vi smirks as she sees caitlyn stirring with fury, bold pair of blues ignite under the fire of someone else seeing what is so rightfully hers. she hates this, knowing someone else is talking you through it, touching your skin, soft lips kissing the ample skin of your neck.

truthfully, she’s never been a jealous person. as the rises at the break of dawn and sets in the cool evening, caitlyn truly believed she’s the one for you — no one else could dare compete.

it’s caitlyn and you.

but suddenly it doesn’t feel like the two of you against the world.

it’s vi and you, the anxiety bubbling in her stomach feels catastrophic, so she fucks into you, making you squirm with need. but still, you’re so entangled in vi, you don’t even notice her.

the night hadn’t started the way caitlyn planned — or wanted — but she lapped at your cunt as vi instructed her to do so. she’d been vying for an ounce of her attention. truthfully, she’d settle for either one of you, but the two seem to enthralled with one another to even notice her existence.

but fuck, you’re her girlfriend. only hers.

but when you’re close, you ask vi for permission to come. it’s vi’s whose name you scream out when you start falling apart on caitlyn’s cock. it’s vi rubbing your clit, whispering sweet nothing in your ear as you see stars, it’s vi who pulls you into her lap as you cling onto her for dear life, as if caitlyn’s touch feels poisonous.

nothing makes sense.

when caitlyn thinks for a moment, she’ll get an ounce of attention, vi handcuffs her to the chair across the bed.

“what are you doing?” dark blue eyebrows furrow as her, eye squinting harshly.

“you’ll get your turn, be patient.” vi scolds, but she has no intention on following through on her promise. this is to make a mockery her, to show her exactly what’s she been missing.

in the full nude, she walks over to the night stand, grabbing the harness, and makes sure everything is just right for you — the hot pink dildo protrudes, just as she promised. the pink bush she’s sporting matches deliciously as her happy trail follows up her lower abdomen.

caitlyn wants to curse at the wind when you immediately fall in obedience, commands fly off vi’s tongue and you adhere to her wishes. the first has your mouth wrapping around her pink cock, she gently thrusts, lubricating the plastic with your tongue. your hands twisting vi’s pierced nipples, playing with the silver barbell, taking pride and joy when her breath hitches.

“lay on your back for me, yeah?” vi doesn’t waste another beat.

with reckless intent, she slides in, every inch of her saturated in your warmth. you waste no time, fingers woven through her hair like a thread through embroidery. her pink hair becomes nothing more than a leash for you tug on, each powerful thrust to much, too soon — but you also are too terrified to let go.

"take it, princess. just like that—" violet pushes deep, clinging to her broad back, scratches made in tandem when she delivers a brutal pace. "tell her how much you love my cock."

there she sits, jaw slack, mouth open so wide she could catch flies.

vi can't tell if you she's crying and part of her almost feels bed until desperate pleas of her name fall from sanctioned lips. violet smirks as she looks back at caitlyn, waiting for the inevitable moment of her crumble.

there's only so much one girl could take and violet knew she had to be hitting her limit. soft please of, babygirl, falls on ears that only hears vi's instruction. deviously, violet smirks as she watches caitlyn realizes exactly what as going on.

but it's too late.

you're already far out her grip as your grip onto violet for dear life as you come apart on her cock, moaning louder than caitlyn's ever heard.

you're never loud, even when the two of you did have sex, it's always been quiet.

sweet. soft.

nothing about this is tender as your squirt all over her bed sheet, effectively sending violet over the edge from watching you come, fucking you harder as you moan into her neck, sharp teeth sinking into her collarbones.

to sink the final dagger in her heart, you initate violet's lips locking in yours, a smashing of desire reaches it's fateful end. caitlyn watches as you lose yourself in someone else, someone older, wiser — her stomach churns as she desperately tries to break free of the restraints.

she's been made a fool of, a mere mockery just for wanting to try something you suggested. but the jealousy falls around her, she's not strong enough to watch you enjoy getting your brains fucked by someone who has everything.

for the first time in her life, she feels you slipping through her fingers.

"would you stop touching her? this is over. we're done with you, vi. she's my girlfriend, get off her." bitterly, caitlyn sneers.

"oh, she does?"

with a roll of her strong hips, vi thrusts deep into your pussy, you clench around her, arching your back as you cry out for your lover's touch.

"well, i hate to be the barrier of bad news, but she's not done which means neither am i. so, enjoy the show, cait. you sure have paid a pretty penny for it."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Danny reincarnates as Tim's twin. The only problem is that his ghost powers act up in the womb from either the gross ecto in Gotham or an artifact that Janet handled while pregnant. Because of this only Tim is 'born', the Drake's either assume one was miscarried or never knew they were twins.

Tim meanwhile grows up with a brother his parents ignore more than him. It takes Danny an embarrassingly long time to realize what's going on and fix it but by then the twins are around 4 so can't really explain to the rest of Gotham.

When they become Robin, either Nightwing and Batman are almost convinced he's like Harvey with how many times they've found him talking and discussing plans with himself. Or with how bad their collective mental health was at that time think they're going crazy.

Only Alfred knows what's going on because he's Alfred.

Tim Drake is a strange child. Ever since he was little, he would point to empty air and interact with it as if someone was standing there and responding.

At first, his parents thought it was cute that he had an imaginary friend, and Mrs. Drake even shed a few tears when Tim proclaimed that it was the brother he had at birth. The second son of the Drakes had been growing healthy in her stomach until the very end of the first trimester when he simply vanished.

Not died, not stop growing- vanished as if he was never there.

The doctors and the Drakes had no idea what happened. Test after tests were done, but in the end, they could only conclude that the second baby was gone. It was theorized that Tim may have devoured his brother in the womb, though there had been no symptoms that Janet suffered from.

When Tim was born, Janet had nearly died with a false labor that happened only ten minutes after giving birth. The nurses and doctors had been panicking because they could not understand where the contractions originated. False labor was contractions during pregnancy, not after labor, so there was nothing the body could confuse for the urge to push.

They ruled it as a freak false labor since the only other match was Janet entering second labor. Still, as much as the nurses and doctors were ready for a monochorionic monoamniotic twin, nothing came out. Eventually, Janet passed out, and her body finally finished doing whatever it was doing.

It was no surprise that this experience ended up giving Janet postpartum depression. She tried to connect to Tim, but something in her just never clicked, and Jack was beside himself, trying to care for his child while his wife drifted further and further away.

A therapist suggested Janet return to work, which seemed to do wonders for her. She took part in multiple digs and went on many trips, but eventually, Jack felt like she was never home. Worried his wife wouldn't return to him, Jack jumped on a plane while leaving Tim in the capable hands of the housekeeper.

He said it would be a short trip just to get Janet to come back and get treatment.

Jack ended up helping at the dig site, extending his stay to his once again bright and loving wife. Seeing her back to her usual self led to him booking them another trip.

Then another, and another, and antoher. Before long, the Drakes rarely spent time in Gotham, and Tim grew bigger in their absence. Janet loved Tim, but seeing him only brought back guilt that she could not love him like other mothers could so quickly. She was so excited for their baby and had loved him with her whole heart while he was inside of her, but now, seeing those big blue eyes blink up at her, all Janet wanted to do was run.

She drowned in guilt, and sometimes, it felt that she was only breathing because Jack was there for her. He dragged her back to the surface only long enough to take a breath and be dragged under again.

She missed his first steps, his first words, and his first laugh. That's why hearing him call out to Danny was so jarring. She had stopped outside his room, carrying gifts in the form of toys, hoping they would make up for the fact that she had only seen him a handful of times for a solid year.

He was playing with blogs, babbling to "Danny." She had picked out the name of her other son when she found out she was having twins. The only person Tim could have heard that name from was the housekeeper.

Janet fired her after wiping her tears. She would hire a replacement that wouldn't mock her two-year-old son. She let Tim keep his imaginary friend, figuring he would outgrow it.

Tim didn't.

Over the years, Tim became increasingly convinced Danny was with him. He even started turning in classwork under the name Danny, and when a teacher would call him, he would respond with "I don't know. Tim is better at this than me."

Sometimes, when he acted out, Tim would be the one responsible. Tim was the one who got bored quickly in class, needed to be challenged more, and preferred to follow whatever hair-brain idea he had. Photography, skateboarding, and actual crime shows were what made Tim happy.

Then, he became Danny when he showed effort in school but struggled to keep his solid, slightly above-average results. This side of her son preferred astronomy and baking and seemed confused by their wealth. Almost as if he was new money instead of the old wealth the Drakes had. Janet also heard that Danny seemed to stick his nose in whenever a bully targeted a classmate, confronting them with a bravo she could not associate with Tim.

Tim was more like her. They dealt with their opponents through clever planning instead of confirmation, which Jack preferred. He talked to himself a lot, too. The Drakes weren't even in Gotham, but their family's whispers echoed through the gala halls anyway. As young Tim walked by, there were rumors and speculations.

The elites would gossip as Tim continued arguing that the decor was worth the money and that they couldn't steal it, no matter how much food it could buy people in their charities.

He whispers, yelling at the air as Janet watches from across the hall, her stomach turning with love and repulse.

Years after his birth, she could not bring herself to stand before him for too long. Jack followed because he worried she do something to herself if he didn't.

She could not deny it now that Tim was nine. Janet realized, after a while of reading reports involving her son, that he likely suffered from a split personality disorder. Seeing it in person was entirely different.

They'll likely have to have him instituted, and the thought almost has her throwing up. She wonders if she would have caught on faster had she been a better mother and been around.

She steels herself, crossing the room to speak to her son. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that Jack has noticed and quickly tries to make an excuse to stop her. Fortunately, depending on who you asked, the men looking for an investor don't let their husbands go that easily, so she is clear.

"No, I won't ask him for an autograph!" Tim hisses, looking at the wall to his right as if someone were leaning against it with him. Janet's resolves wabble a little at Tim's pout. There is a short pause before Tim goes red. "I can't do that! Mr.Wayne is really protective of Richard."

Dread pools into her stomach as Tim's features shift, and a grin with a mad twist settles on his lips. "I already have all the pictures I want about him. My favorite is the one I took last night."

This can't wait. Janet loves her son; she does not care what anyone says that she doesn't, but she can't allow him to harm others. Stalking will eventually lead to harm; she knows it. Those are the early signs.

She opens her mouth, only for Tim to turn to her with a coldness she hadn't noticed he always regarded her with.

She had never seen joy on his face, so she had never had a chance to compare how he looked at her and Jack to how he looked at others. How he looked at Danny.

Janet feels everything in her freeze, and a tremble grows in her arms and hands. Trying to hide it, she drowns the glass of wine in her hand in one gulp but instantly regrets it.

The world become slightly hazy that alcoholic cause, and maybe it's been a long time since she last drank. She could have sworn she was seeing double for a moment, and an exact copy of her child was leaning on the wall behind Tim.

But that wouldn't make sense. Tim's eyes weren't green.

"Son." Jack's warm presence is behind her, placing a comforting hand on her back, and she can't bring herself to speak as her husband commands. He likely feels her trembles. "It's time to leave."

The second image of Tim flickers out of sight, and Janet walks out of the Wayne Gala, wondering if her son inherited his madness from her. Neither adult notices the soft thump of the backseat, nor do they pay much attention to Tim carefully buckling the air or how the blanket he keeps back there spreads itself across Tim's lap.

Janet falls into old habits, and instead of being up to what she realized that night, she convinces Jack to go to Guatemala. They are gone first thing the following day.

Tim watches them leave from the top of the grand stairway, his eyes glowing green in heavy judgment and ice that Janet would have felt in the coldest winter. Jack is chatting nonsense to fill the silence and keep Janet grounded, but when she peeks over her shoulder to the Manor, she spots Tim in the window of his room, watching them leave with a frown.

His green eyes are gone, and she feels a chill race down her spine. There is no way he could have run up the stairs, gone down four different hallways, and gotten to the window before they could get to the waiting car.

"Goodbye, Tim. Keep the house safe!" Jack says as he opens the car door for Janet, but he's talking in the doorway. Because that's where the grand stairway is. She hears her son respond but can't tell what he is saying.

She can only gaze upwards to where Tim waves at her while clutching the curtain. His mouth doesn't move. He isn't the one speaking to Jack.

Janet sits in the leather of the car, Jack beside her, holding her hand tenderly, and she rethinks about having Tim instituted. She should hire an exorcist instead.

When they get back, of course. The car pulls away from the driveway, and Janet does her best not to look back even as the door slams shut, as if the sound was meant to tell her never to return. She closes her eyes, holds her breath, and only lets it go when they are far away from Drake Manor and her son.

Maybe one day she can be a good mother.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.