#this wonderous thing that is alive and wants to be found

[miirohs]

meant to take all my love [o.p]

pairing: Dark!Spiderman!Oscar Piastri x GN!Reader wc: 4.4k cw: heavily implied vouyerisim, implied masturbation, implied stalking, graphic descriptions of sexual thoughts, pwp: fingering, oral (f reciving), minor destruction of clothing, grinding, biting, unprotected sex (don't do this btw), riding, dub-con (no explicit consent is given for half the shit they do), mild degradation/dumbification (blink and you'll miss it), praise, overstim, usage of good girl, dom/sub dynamics, power play, the whole 9 yards i guess an: spider oscar save me... also wow this is terrible i did not think there would be a day where i actually wrote smut,,,, moots, please ignore this especially if you know me irl. inspired by: tempo by kyu and the machine by reed wonder/aurora olivas.

[MINORS DNI, you will be blocked if i catch you]

Oscar's skin was burning hot with shame.

He couldn’t help watching you from across your room, still beat up and damp in his spiderman suit, letting him in oh so casually as if it were just another visit from a friend you hadn’t seen in a while. 

You didn’t know it was him.

He was so incredibly in love with you. 

And so incredibly hard right now.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this before. Like he hadn’t trailed behind you, an invisible guard dog protecting you from the unknown dangers of the city. Like he hadn’t sat on the fire escape in the early morning hours, watching you toss and turn with a look on your face he could only dream of. He’d found every occasion there was to let himself into your life, learning every little thing about you. you, knowing or not.

He hated himself for how much more he wanted to consume your being.

You only truly knew him as Oscar though. 

Quiet, reserved Oscar, your neighbor who occasionally carried your groceries up the stairs, who sat with you every time you cried about something stupid, who held a soft spot for you almost everyone could see.

The one who dreamed about you writhing under him, hand around his cock while your name fell off his filthy lips.

The guilt was eating him alive. He didn’t know if it was from how close he was, or from how far he’d let it go on.

Probably both, he reasoned, ears burning as he tried to dry off faster.

You were now quietly settled in the corner of your bed, leaning against the walls of your room, book in hand. His eyes only wandered further down. There wasn’t much left to imagination there anyways in the skimpy outfit you had on.

A sick, sticky feeling only stirred in his chest as the thought reignited a thought from two nights ago, when he was safely locked behind his door after another impromptu visit to your window: him crouched between your legs, a soft whimper escaping your mouth as you tugged his head like he was some sort of toy, guiding him to do what you wanted. 

He’d fed that ugly beast, letting it rear its head at even a thought of you. Now it was starving, begging for more than it deserved. More than he deserved.

It was only a couple moments before he broke the silence again. Finding his way to the foot of the bed, hoovering. His heart was hammering in his chest as he opened his mouth, afraid of the filth replaying in his mind spilling out in the place of words.

“Ah- thank you.” He paused for a moment. “For the towel. And the first aid.”

You hummed. “You’re lucky. I almost went out with my friends today, but I decided to stay back. I guess I knew It was gonna be a long night opening my window for strange men to come in.”

His heart leapt out of his chest. He didn’t know if it was jealousy, fear or something bigger than that. “Not just any stranger though. Is that really all I am to you?”

“Totally.” You giggled, unaware of the jealousy that found its way onto his face.

“I may be Spiderman, but I’m just a normal person deep down. Not much different from you.”

“Right.” You smiled that sweet, deadly smile at him, and he felt chest squeeze. “You’re not Spiderman. I guess you’re just Spidey. My Spidey.”

That was all it took for the thin rope of his restraint to snap.

He didn’t think anymore, he just moved, consequences be damned. 

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, blood rushing in his ears as he crawled, filling the space between you two in less than a second.

You raised your hands, startled by the suddenness of his movement, unsure what you were even defending yourself from. You barely registered the sounds of questioning leaving your own throat before he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft like you’d imagined it to be.

No, it was hard and messy, reeking of desperation.

He was clashing with you, pushing himself further onto you. He was trying to pull you closer to himself, hands digging into your sides as you collided into him.

He broke away soon enough, chest rising and falling as if he’d just ran a mile. 

“I- I’ve watched you before.” He panted, words falling out of his mouth. “Watched you live, outside of the protection or the heroics. It’s not fair.”

You froze, brows furrowed as you tried to process the information. “Wh- What do you mean by that?”

You almost swore you could’ve heard him groaning under his breath, pressing his forehead to yours. 

You couldn’t read his eyes, obscured by the mask he wore, but you could still feel the heat radiating off him.

“I’ve been good,” he said feverently, voice wavering as he closed in on your lips again, eyes flitting up at you for a moment. “So fucking good. Sitting outside, listening, waiting, never taking anything you haven’t gave me. I’ve been protecting you.”

Your heart almost stopped. You couldn’t breath, your own eyes wandering down to his exposed lips, raw and glossy as if he’d been biting them in deep frustration. It made you painfully horny and painfully uncomfortable.

“But this isn’t you. You aren’t…” You trailed off. If anything, this was proof, he wasn’t who you thought he was. Your chest ached but his words lit a fire in your cunt, hot and bothered.

It was like walking a taunt tightrope, trembling, heart bursting at the slightest provocation.

He smiled, though it wasn’t one of his usual sweet smiles. It was predatory.

“You don’t know who I am.” He murmured, brittle. “You don’t know me like I want you to know me, baby.”

He kissed you again. Harder, this time.

His hand moved from your waist, greedy as they found their way into your shorts. You were basically unraveling by the time he got to the wet patch on your underwear, failing to stifle a dark laugh at your condition.

Teeth clashed, and his tongue swiped over your lips as if trying to taste your flavor. Another hand ran up your shirt as he played with you through the thin fabric of your panties, pressing down and cupping the area.

You couldn’t hold back the broken whine that slipped, book abandoned somewhere on the floor as you tried to buck up subtly, trying to get friction through the thin fabric.

The concentration in his smile turned mocking, vicious. There was no doubt he’d heard the way your heart was thundering in your chest.

“You like you’re getting off this more than me.” He pulled the waistband, earning a yelp from you when it snapped against your skin. “You’re such a whore even when you try acting shy, baby.”

You grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his hand away from you, but his other hand came back down to stop you. 

He pried your thighs apart, giving you a pointed look as he leaned into you again, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. 

“Behave. I would hate to end things here and I’m sure you want more than this.”

You snapped still.

You couldn’t say you hated it when he said that. No. You loved it, and it felt filthy.

”Good girl. Now take it off, don’t make me ask you again.”

You could’ve sworn you could’ve imagined what his eyes looked like as he watched you gingerly pull your shorts down, hesitating as you reached your underwear. He was peeling off his own skin tight suit, abs toned from nights of swinging and fighting crime.

It was silent for a couple moments as you debated saying something to break the silence, his mouth forming a thin line at your obvious reluctance.

“Hurry up please.” He groaned, shifting uncomfortably. You didn’t dare look down.

You opened your mouth to say something but he beat you to it, hooking a finger through and tearing them straight off.

You couldn’t help the whine that came out, fingers digging into the sheets as the cold air hit the wetness. He was stronger than you thought he'd be but it wasn’t a surprise, he was Spiderman after all.

“You were taking too long.” He snapped, breathing hard as he got closer again. 

You were dazed by your own lack of opposition, somehow entirely comfortable letting him manhandle you as he pleased.

He noticed, eyes flickering underneath the mask back to you.

“Did you know I’ve thought about this all the damn time?” He muttered, reaching ro brush the damp hair sticking to your forehead back. “Wondered all about your sensitivity, wondered what kinds of sounds you make when you cum, ‘bout how nice it would be holding you down and keeping you here.”

You moaned, writhing as he tapped on your clit again, reaching up to loop your hands around his neck.

“Ah- please.”

The tension was a tightrope, trembling with the anticipation of it snapping.

“Yeah?” He exhaled sharply, lips moving down the column of your neck, biting down hard when you gave him access. You could feel his canines sinking into the crook of your neck, unusually sharp.

“You want this, don’t you?” Pain jolted across your body, but It felt good.

“You want me to fuck you with my hand or my tongue? Either way I’ll loosen you up a little, hmm? ‘S that sound good to you baby?” It took everything in you not to squirm at his words and you still failed, letting him push you down as his attention moved to your soaked cunt.

His hand played up your leg while he kissed your neck again and again, fingers brushing against your trembling thighs purposefully until they found their way into your fluttering hole. 

His fingers were coated with your slick as he thrust one in cautiously as a test, causing you to jerk. That was his sign to go, pushing them in and out, sliding with surprising ease.

“You’re so desperate.” He said smugly, kissing your jaw as his thumb started to rub circles into your clit. “Rutting into my hand like you haven’t done this night and night again. I’ve seen it all, pretty girl, can’t keep your hands to yourself when you’re all alone.”

Your heart stuttered and he picked up the pace, free hand keeping your thighs spread. You couldn’t keep your eyes on him, looping your arms around his neck, keeping him locked where he was. He teased another one into you quickly, going deeper until his palm was flush with your cunt. The constant stimulation made you whine, chest tightening with pleasure.

You were heaving with effort, trying to bury your face in the crook of his neck as a hand returned to soothe your sides. “You’re so greedy, letting a person whose face you don’t even know do this kind of thing to you, you’ll just take any stimulation you get, yeah? Your fingers weren’t enough, were they?” He cooed, curling his fingers inside you to get another reaction.

He could be so cruel.

His free hand made its way up your shirt at the same time, this time successfully finding your chest. He tweaked with the nipple, rubbing and pinching at it as you let out a muffled gasp at the sensation.

“Do- hng, do you want me to take my shirt off?” You stuttered, lifting your face from his crook.

He paused, getting slower momentarily. 

“Nah, keep it on, it’s fine.” The loss of stimulation made you feel impatient and needy, but he picked right back up where he had left off.

It was torturous, the coil curling in your belly as he pressed harder and harder. Without warning, it snapped, and you seized up. It was almost shameful, the moan of relief you let out.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’monnn…” He muttered, kissing you again. It was just as messy, only slightly softer though, as if coaxing you into willingly letting him in. He shuddered as you let him have his way, moaning softly into the kiss before letting you go with a quick peck to the corner of your mouth. 

His lips were swollen and pink, hot against your skin as he kissed down your body, pressing one final kiss to your stomach before disappearing from where you could see him. He hooked his arms under your legs, pressing kisses up your inner thigh all the way up.

His breath was hot against your cunt, earning a whine from you as you tried to buck up, only held down by him. You could’ve come from the sensation alone, head clouded with the pleasure of the previous orgasm.

“Mmh, there she is.” He unfurled an arm, prodding at your entrance once again, tracing circles around your lips. “You want something, you’re gonna have to ask for it or are you too dumb from one orgasm to even speak?”

You gaped, trying to squeeze your thighs shut in response, but he pried them apart again with unpracticed ease.

“Ah ah, I didn’t say you could do that, did I?” He sighed, voice rough. “I have to spell it out for you, don’t I baby?”

You swallowed, trying to still yourself as he gripped your legs firmly- reminding you of who was in control.

“Keep still, and let me play with you a little more.” He admitted to you. “Wanted to do this to you for a long time, you can have your fun with me later.”

He perked up a little bit, just enough to catch your eyes and receive confirmation before he went back down on you, kissing all over your cunt.

“Good girl,” He murmured, pressing a small kiss to your clit. “See? Things are good if you keep being a good girl f’me.”

You didn’t argue with him as you might’ve, legs shaking as he dove back in.

His kitten licks were light, but slowly they devolved into bolder licks, running up and down your cunt with utter disregard. 

It was like he was out to personally destroy you, targeting your weak points. He was reading hou, front to back, and for a moment you didn’t doubt his words about knowing you.

He inserted his fingers back into your hole as well, pumping as he sucked and licked at your clit, groaning against your trembling core. He was shaking the bed as well, grinding against the sheets as wet sounds filled the air. You arched your back, gripping the sheets as his nose bumped the bottom of your clit.

His mouth was just as relentless, eager to get you to come again and again. He was greedy, frantic, trying to pull everything he could out of you.

You were shaking, unstable hands slipping again and again from the slick fabric, failing to drag him closer like you desperately wanted to.

Your frustration twisted through your haze. You needed more. Deeper, closer, burning hot-

You didn’t think when you moved, hands moving under the mask at the back of his neck before you pulled. 

His groan of questioning went unnoticed by you yet his mouth didn’t stop even as you pulled the mask up, exposing more of him. 

You just want a better grip on his hair, just enough to-

Your body jolted, freezing in shock as you registered it. 

Oscar.

He froze, looking up at you as if it was his first time ever seeing you. His pupils were blown wide, lips shining and wet.

His breath ghosted your skin and made you even more horny, shamelessly letting more thoughts swarm your head.

His eyes were stirring with some kind of innate obsession, but it flickered as you looked at him. 

It melted. 

Something softer, more distraught took its place: fear. He looked just as desperate as you, if not more, staring at your chest from between your legs like a frightened cat unable to meet your eyes.

You sat up properly, grabbing a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up at you again.

“I- ah- ah, please.” His Adam's Apple bobbed, a gasp escaping his lips as he looked at you through lovesick eyes. Something came out of his mouth, groaning as you let go, running your fingers through his hair again to fix the mess you’d caused.

You stopped for a moment though, leaning in conspiratorily. “Oscar.”

He shuddered at the sound of his name. It made him look submissive, pliable, like you’d exposed him. It made sense now, why Oscar always looked injured or tired, or why he couldn’t ever seem to meet your eyes when you sat together. The man was in love with you.

You wondered how long he’d been playing you like that, why you hadn’t invited him in sooner.

“You’re not gonna stop me Osc?” You asked softly, watching as he squirmed under your gaze, clearly uncomfortable. His eyes glazed over slightly and face stained with spit and slick. The tension in his jaw was visible, even despite his outwards submission; You hated to say, but it made you wet with excitement.

“You’d do something if i asked you to?” He tried to look away, but you kept his face there, scanning his eyes for something more. He hesitated, face burning pink but you already knew his answer was.

“Take off your suit and lay down… please?” 

He scrambled, pulling the suit down from his his torso, revealing only grey boxers underneath. He had a raging boner, sporting a wet spot so dark you knew exactly what it was. Oscar swallowed hard, eyes flickering nervously. He looked like he was gonna cry from the tension alone.

Your eyes were immediately on him, scanning him from head until your eyes stopped at his thighs, thick and built. “To think you protect the city, huh?” You shivered, pushing him down. “I think you’re just as desperate as me.”

A loud groan escaped from his lips as you pushed him down, stilling for a moment as you mounted his thigh.

His breath hitched, chest rising and falling quickly as you put your hands on his chest, pushing yourself back and forth on his leg. His muscle flexed under you, causing you to whine, grinding down hard. 

He whimpered under you, hands finally finding their way to your hips after seconds of indecision. He pushed you down with more force than necessary, trembling as the friction increased, jolting through your body and putting more pressure on you. Your rhythm started setting itself, tracing the same path along his thigh with increasing intensity.

You weren’t looking, but you were sure there’d been some evidence of your struggle left on his thigh, allowing you to glide back and forth easier.

Oscar had zoned out from the sensation. His eyes were glassy, lips parted like he was trying to get something out but couldn’t. You hadn’t heard it, still chasing your own high with his assistance, allowing him to help you grind down on the taut muscle.

You hit your high moments later, and Oscar let out a low, guttral moan as you squeezed down his thigh, cum trickling down the sides. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his chest as you waited to ride it out, twitching as his grip on your hips tightened.

“You got everything out of your system now?” You heard him say, voice cracking slightly as his fingers tapped on your skin. You let out a noncommittal noise, eyes shutting slightly as you rested against his chest.

He tutted, tapping stopping as his fingers dug into your skin, heavy and likely to bruise. You’d barely opened your eyes before he’d flipped you over on the mattress, jolting you awake and knocking the air out of you.

His thigh slipped free from your, moving faster than you’d anticipated seeing his dazed state. He manhandled you, grabbing your wrist with one hand and pinning them above your hand. 

You were startled. He managed to hold you down though, preventing you from landing any sort of hit on him.

He was a superhero for a reason, but it was still too-

The glassy look at completely disappeared, replaced with a look of anger and lust.

“You done using me already?” He spit, voice ragged and feral. “Making a mess of me like i’m nothing to you.”

Your chest was heaving as he stared your down, controlled and deliberate. He was still a message, with pink lips and flushed cheeks, but the look in his eyes was unmistakably him. You couldn’t handle it, looking to the side, avoiding his gaze further.

“Now why are you so embarrassed, huh?” He slotted a leg between yours, making you arch as it put pressure on your cunt again. His free hand moved, gripping your jaw with force, making you look at him through bleary eyes.

“I let you because I wanted it,” He continued, watching you through thick lashes, “Because you’re so pretty when you’re chasing your own pleasure.”

You whined as his leg pulled way from yours, wriggling at the loss of movement. 

“See how that feels baby?” He snarled, grinding against you, slow and forcefully. “Don’t even dream about using me like some kind of toy, ‘n just curling up on me like some kind of lazy cat. Not unless i get what i want, okay?”

You moaned in response, gasping as he pressed his bulge against you, whispering against your neck. “You feel that? That’s what you did to me, and you gotta make up to me for that, no? You’ve been acting like a common whore, baby, i really thought you were better than that.”

You couldn’t speak, paralyzed by how he touched you. The way his body pressed against yours, his hands up under your shirt again, playing with you like you’d imagined doing to yourself. He was the real deal.

When you didn’t answer, his hand left your body, trying to move the hair out of your eyes just to see your expression. “So quiet once you finally get what you want,” He muttered, laughing a hollow laugh, “But you always want more, don’t you? Is that what this is? Letting me use you so pilantly, just so i put my dick in you for being a good girl, yeah?”

You clenched, squeezing your thighs, unsuccessfully getting any more stimulation. 

“Say what you want baby. We all know you’re dying to ask for it.” He hummed, affectionate kisses to your jaw contrasting the violent way your stomach flipped at his statement. “Unless you’re too dumb to ask me to put my dick in you.”

You whimpered as the warmth of his hand disappeared from your body, slapping your clit lightly. The sensation made you spaz and squirm, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Looks like your body really wants it, yeah? Should i put my dick in you, give you a reward for being so quiet?” You nodded, words in and out of your brain, unable to register anything beyond the roar of blood in your ears.

He let go of your hands, allowing you to grab at him as he pulled down his boxers.

You blanched.

He was definitely pretty, the head of his cock pink, wet from all his previous orgasms. It looked like he hadn’t been touched at all, and the guilt from your realization suddenly washed over you.

He might’ve noticed, but he didn’t say anything, giving himself a couple of quick pumps before lining himself up with the entrance to your cunt. 

You didn’t have anything to say at that point, watching as he pushed it in at first, slowly as if afraid of damaging something. You couldn’t hold back the moan you let out as he fucked it in, sinking deeper into your heat with every stroke. You took him in willingly though, clenching tightly around him as he pushed into you. He bottomed out for a moment, letting it sit as heat built up behind your eyes, watching you with a predatory smirk.

It wasn’t much longer before he could finally slip in and out of you again, rocking with a deliberate rhythm that made your toes curl and you cry out. You were struggling to catch your breath again, reaching up to put your arms around his neck.

He pried you off him just as quick, looking at your face, half delirious from the burn of the stretch. “Look at you, so damn greedy aren’t you baby? All you can think about is my dick up in you from the way your cunt is just swallow it up, can’t you? Not a single thought about how I hard I am from seeing you act like this.”

He growled, reaching down to rub your clit, slapping it and watching how you fall apart on top of him. “You sure love being fucked stupid for someone who acts so innocent.”

You clenched around him and he immediately noticed, grinning.

“Oh, so you do like it.” he cooed. “Looks like your cunt really loves it when I treat you like this, doesn’t she? Mine to do whatever I want with.”

You clenched tighter, feeling your stomach turn as he pressed down on it. He knew you were close. “Osc- ah, ah, Oscar, pleasepleaseplease-” You begged, reaching out to him again and burying your face in his neck. This time, he didn’t pry you off, instead putting a hand on your back.

The impact was instantaneous, cumming all ove him and the sheets as he thrust in, clearly starting to chase his own high once yours was over. He came within minutes after you did, overstimulating you as he filled you up.

“Good girl,” He panted, pressing kisses to your shoulder as you clung to him, exhausted. Your cum mixed, leaking out of you until he scooped it up, gently pushing it back into you as best as he could.

You groaned as he let you down, watching as you slumped down, breathing labored. His jaw was tight as he leaned over to grab his mask, startled when your hand stopped him. Neither of you spoke, your body stilled as you watched him with tired eyes. 

“I wasn’t… planning on leaving.” He muttered, voiced hoarse.

“Okay.” You nodded, allowing him to pull the blanket up your legs. “I’m sure you know where everything is.”

He breathed through his nose, a little embarrassed at the reminder.

“I know it, yeah. I’ll get you some water, ‘s that okay?”

You hummed in acknowledgement, letting him wander away.

You know he’d come back to you. You had no doubt.

fin.

[formulafanfics13]

Hey first off I love your works they are absolutely amazing and I was wondering if you can do something for Kimi Antonelli where he is dating Lewis Hamiltons daughter and the have been dating for 3 years now sense they were 15 and they have a 1 year old daughter but nobody but family and close friends know about them dating and having a baby but then one day something happens and it somehow got out that they are dating and have a baby so sense that happened mom and baby end up going to a race and they interact with everybody at the paddock?

Little Secrets, Big Hearts - KA12

masterlist

At fifteen, Kimi Antonelli and Lewis Hamilton’s daughter met in secret — two legacies forged in fire, hiding from the world in each other. For three years, they built a life in silence: love, distance, victory, and eventually a baby girl. Their daughter’s birth was kept private, shielded from the spotlight, known only to a sacred few. But when leaked photos expose their family, the world explodes with curiosity. Instead of hiding, they step into the paddock as a unit — mother, father, child — facing the chaos head-on. What follows is a frenzy of reactions from drivers and team principals, awe and disbelief crashing together as the truth becomes undeniable. In the end, with Lewis's support and the paddock rallying around them, they reclaim their space as a family. Visible. Untouchable. Unafraid.

Warnings canon-divergent timeline, secret relationship, secret baby, teenage parenthood, implied first love, media leak, public exposure, emotional vulnerability, intense fluff, soft chaos, protective Lewis Hamilton, father-daughter dynamics, family themes, paddock gossip, minor jealousy, baby cuteness overload, romantic kiss, found family energy.

It started like something out of a movie. They were fifteen when they first met. Kimi Antonelli: the prodigy of Italian motorsport, already fast-tracked toward a Formula 1 seat. And her, Lewis Hamilton’s daughter, hidden from the public eye by design. She was protected, shielded, fiercely loved but rarely seen. No interviews, no press, no public appearances unless carefully planned by her parents. She was the product of a lifetime of scrutiny and a father who swore the world wouldn’t eat her alive like it tried to do to him.

And still, somehow, she found Kimi. Or rather, he found her. It was a rainy afternoon in Brackley, in one of the simulator lounges at Mercedes HQ. Toto had invited Lewis to watch a promising junior test, and Lewis, half-laughing, half-joking, brought his daughter along.

“She’s not allowed near the sim,” Lewis had said as he ruffled her curls. “Unless she plans to keep her hands off every single button.”

She had rolled her eyes. Kimi had stared. He didn’t mean to. But he was fifteen, and she was beautiful, and she looked at him like he wasn’t just another karting stat. He was stammering when he said hello. She was bold when she replied.

That was the beginning.

Over the next few months, they messaged. Quietly. Carefully. He didn’t have Instagram then, only WhatsApp and the Mercedes junior team group chat. They bonded over playlists, over racing, over long texts about what it felt like to have dreams so loud and people so invested in you they forgot you were human. She confided things she’d never told anyone. He told her she made him feel calm in a way nothing else ever did. She kissed him for the first time behind the team truck at Spa.

And then they were together.

Three years. Through everything. His rise through F2. Her gap year. His promotion to F1. Her quietly finishing uni online while keeping their secret. Every milestone, every race, every heartbreak, they did together. And when she got pregnant, it never even crossed her mind to run. She told him with shaking hands and watery eyes, terrified, not of him, but of what the world would do. He had kissed her, crying himself, and whispered, “We’ll do this. I want this. I want you. Both of you.”

Their daughter, a tiny thing with his eyes and her curls, was born just weeks after his first F1 test. Only a handful of people knew: Lewis. Susie. Toto. George and Carmen. Ollie Bearman, sworn to secrecy with his life. Kimi’s family. That was it. No public posts. No mentions. They weren’t trying to hide in shame, they were protecting what mattered most.

And somehow, for over a year, it worked. Until now.

The leak came suddenly. No warning. No lead-up. Just one blurry photo, Kimi holding a baby, shirtless, cradling her against his chest in what was clearly their kitchen. She was babbling. He was smiling. The image spread like wildfire.

"KIMI ANTONELLI: SECRETLY A FATHER AT 18?"

"WHO IS THE MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND?"

And then the second photo hit: them together, walking out of their private villa in Tuscany, his hand on her lower back, the baby in a sling across her front, both of them laughing.

The paddock imploded. The PR teams scrambled. The fan accounts rioted. TikTok went feral. F1 Twitter didn’t sleep. Everyone had a theory. Every driver had to pretend they hadn’t known. Journalists couldn’t get enough.

But through it all, one thing stayed the same. They were a family.

So when the dust started to settle, when Kimi finally posted a single picture, a grainy polaroid of the three of them with the caption “mine.”, it was game over. The truth was out. And she was done hiding.

That’s why, the next weekend, they flew to the Grand Prix. All three of them. Kimi walked through the paddock hand in hand with his daughter’s mother. And slung across his chest, face buried in his t-shirt, was a curly-haired, smiley one-year-old wearing a tiny team lanyard and the tiniest little white bucket hat anyone had ever seen.

The chaos was immediate.

“No fucking way,” Pierre Gasly said, frozen mid-sip of his espresso as they passed.

“Wait-wait-IS THAT-?” Logan Sargeant gasped, nearly dropping his phone.

Charles Leclerc was already beaming. “I knew it,” he said proudly to Carlos. “I KNEW it.”

And the team principals? Oh, they were fighting for their lives. Toto looked smug as hell. Like a proud godfather watching his secret weapon arrive. Christian Horner blinked twice. “Did we know about this?” Fred Vasseur just laughed and muttered, “Charles is going to kill me for not warning him.”

Zak Brown damn near choked on his own gum when the baby reached for Kimi’s sunglasses.

And Lewis? He looked like he might cry.

Because when he saw them, the way she walked like she owned the paddock, the way Kimi glanced at her like he’d burn the world for her, the way his granddaughter cooed and clung to her mama’s shoulder, he realised they’d done it. Against all odds, all scrutiny, all expectation. They had built a real life. A hidden, sacred life.

“Hey,” she said, stopping in front of him, voice soft.

He pulled her into a hug. “You look good.”

“Terrified,” she whispered.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “You’ve got nothing to be scared of. You did this right. You both did.”

Beside them, their daughter giggled. Lewis offered her his finger. She took it with a fierce little grip.

“Definitely a Hamilton,” he joked. “She’s gonna rule the world.”

Kimi stepped up then, uncertain but respectful. “Hey, Hamilton.”

Lewis shook his head. “Hey Kid.”

And just like that, everything was okay. The paddock was already buzzing. Even before the cameras started rolling, before the pit lane crowd thickened and the first race engines fired up, there were murmurs, a shift in energy. Something was different. Something was coming.

And then it happened. Security parted like the sea, photographers whipped around, and for the first time since the news broke, the entire grid caught sight of her. Of them. Lewis Hamilton’s daughter. Kimi Antonelli’s secret girlfriend. And the baby.

She walked in slow, calm, unrushed, head high, one hand curled gently around her daughter’s hip, the other holding the toddler’s tiny backpack. Her black Prada sunglasses sat like armour. Her oversized Mercedes race jacket, Kimi’s, was zipped halfway over a baby-pink dress. Her hair was twisted into a clip, her shoes were flat, and her presence was thunder. She wasn’t just here. She belonged here. And no one knew how to behave.

Not when the one-year-old on her hip had Lewis Hamilton’s cheekbones, Kimi Antonelli’s curls, and a gummy, sunbeam smile that disarmed even the iciest of paddock staff.

It wasn’t until she entered the Mercedes garage, past security, past chaos, past journalists who didn’t even dare shout her name, that the whispers turned into what the fucks. Toto looked up from his notes and smiled instantly. She was greeted with hugs from half the engineering team and a quiet, affectionate “You’re early, principessa” from the old mechanic who had been there when Kimi was still karting.

The baby squealed as her mother set her down on the couch inside the hospitality, arms raised until Toto picked her up with surprising ease.

“I’ve seen how she looks at pasta,” Toto said, bouncing her on his hip like he’d done it a hundred times. “Definitely Lewis pushing the Ferrari lifestyle.”

And that was only the beginning.

The first driver to arrive was Oscar Piastri.

He walked into motorhome to say hi to George, only to freeze like someone had pulled a handbrake on his entire soul. “Wait, wait, wait-” he said, pointing between her and the baby. “Is that-?”

“Mhm,” she said, calm as ever. “Oscar, meet the real boss of the team.”

Oscar gawked. “She’s yours?��Like… you and…?”

She nodded. “Me and Kimi.”

He blinked. Then blinked again. And then: “Okay but why is she cuter than every baby in the world?”

The baby reached for his ears. Oscar let her tug them. And then Lando arrived. He swaggered into the hospitality like he was born in a leather jacket and woke up on a yacht, sunglasses on, iced coffee in hand, pretending he didn’t know what was coming.

Until he saw the baby. And froze. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “You’re not kidding. She actually exists.”

“Of course she exists,” she said, already laughing. “She’s not a hologram.”

Lando looked between the baby, her curls, her tiny Ferrari socks, and then back at the reader with a completely wrecked expression. “Okay but like-like Kimi made her?”

“Kimi helped, yes.”

Lando blinked. “That’s so unfair. She’s cuter than both of you. No offence.”

“None taken.”

He leaned down and offered her a fist bump. The baby blinked, squished his knuckles with her whole palm, then giggled. Lando looked like he’d just witnessed god.

“Okay,” he said seriously, “I’m giving her a McLaren cap and telling everyone she’s mine.”

Toto looked up. “I will burn your entire team to the ground.”

Max Verstappen wasn’t far behind.

He entered looking grumpy, standard, until he noticed the crowd. “What’s going on here?” he muttered. And then he saw the baby. “Wait. Wait. Wait.” His face contorted. “You-you are the mystery baby??”

She tilted her head. “She’s a baby,” she deadpanned. “She doesn’t answer questions yet.”

Max stared. Then, weirdly… smiled. “She’s got your eyes.”

“I know.”

“Poor kid,” he teased, then ducked as the reader threw a breadstick at him.

Max stepped closer, studying the toddler. “She looks like Kimi. But like, nice. Like if Kimi was cuddly.”

“She is very cuddly,” she said. “Kimi? Not the baby.”

Max laughed. “I still can’t believe you kept this secret for years. Lewis must’ve-wait. Does Lewis know?”

“That's my grandchild, of course I know dickhead,” came a deep voice behind them.

Max turned around. Lewis. Already suited, sunglasses on, arms crossed like he’d seen the whole thing play out.

“Jesus,” Max muttered. “Is anyone going to survive this race weekend?”

“Doubt it,” Lewis said.

By the time Christian, Toto, Zak, James, Andrea, and Laurent arrived, there was no pretending anymore.

The whole paddock knew. Photographers were screaming. Paparazzi were stalking hospitality roofs. F1 Twitter had combusted three times in under an hour. Headlines were hitting live: “SECRET F1 BABY?!”, “ANTONELLI FAMILY REVEALED!”, “WHO IS SHE??”

She hadn’t planned on staying long. Just a walk through the paddock, just to let the world breathe her in for the first time not as Lewis Hamilton’s daughter, but as a mother. As Kimi’s partner. She was holding their daughter on her hip, soft curls pulled into a tiny half-up ponytail, cheeks flushed from the Monaco sun, and it was meant to be quick.

But the paddock didn’t let things go quickly. Not with something like this. The cameras hadn’t even caught their nameplates yet before Charles Leclerc was cutting across the media zone, hands up in surrender like he’d just spotted a sacred animal. Alexandra was with him, sleek dress, dark sunglasses, heels clicking, and she let out an audible gasp the second she saw the baby.

“You didn’t tell me she was this cute!” Alexandra cried, tugging off her glasses and crouching down immediately. The little girl blinked, suspicious, then reached out a hand toward Alexandra’s necklace.

“She likes you,” she said softly, shifting her daughter’s weight.

Charles beamed. “Smart girl.”

“Smarter than both of you combined,” Alexandra muttered, running her finger down the baby’s soft arm.

Charles turned to the reader, warm eyes flicking over her like he was trying to check if she was really here. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

Alexandra stood up and kissed her cheek. “I don’t care what anyone says, you’re iconic for keeping this private. If I had your face and your secrets, I’d do the same.”

A flash of laughter escaped her. “I think we just wanted her to be ours, you know? Before the world got their claws in.”

“She’s still yours,” Charles said, voice low. “No one gets to take that.”

They left reluctantly media duty, and next came Yuki Tsunoda, bouncing toward them like he was already half-caffeinated and high on sunshine. He nearly tripped over a cable trying to get to them.

“Oh my god,” he said, staring at the baby like he’d just walked into a Pixar movie. “She looks like you.”

“She looks like Kimi,” she corrected.

“She’s cuter than both of you.”

“Don’t let Kimi hear that,” she teased, but Yuki was already making faces at the baby, who stared back with big blinking eyes and an unimpressed scowl that was absolutely inherited from her father.

“She’s judging me,” Yuki whispered. “She’s so tiny and she already hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“She has your bitch face. You’re both dangerous.”

She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Fred Vasseur came next, flanked by his ever-present phone and a half-eaten pastry. He took one look at the baby and froze, then let out a sigh so dramatic it could have made Max Verstappen flinch.

“I should’ve known it was yours,” he muttered. “She’s got that Antonelli look. Serious. Suspicious.”

“She’s cautious,” she said proudly.

“She’s judging my coaching.”

“She doesn’t know you exist yet.”

Fred squinted at the child, then pointed at her cheek. “That mole? It’s going to be a killer when she’s fifteen. You’re all doomed.”

She laughed, bouncing her daughter gently. “I’ll tell her you said that.”

“Don’t. She’ll think I’m soft.”

“You are soft.”

Fred rolled his eyes and walked off, grumbling in French about babies with Ferrari-level cheekbones.

And then came the couple that made everyone shut up. Christian and Geri. They appeared like royalty, Christian in navy, Geri in red, and it was Geri who stopped dead in her heels when she saw the baby, one gloved hand flying to her chest like she’d been winded. “Oh… oh, she’s divine.”

Christian looked equally startled. “Bloody hell, that’s a Hamilton face.”

She stepped aside so they could see better. “Meet your newest paddock problem.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Geri whispered. “You’ve made something holy.”

“Is she as loud as Kimi?” Christian asked.

“Louder.”

“Terrifying.”

“She likes to throw spoons.”

Geri cooed. “So she’s already smarter than Christian.”

Christian sighed. “Tell me you’re going to let her race.”

“I’m trying not to,” she admitted.

“We all said that once,” Geri smiled knowingly. “Then they get a helmet and it’s over.”

Christian leaned closer. “If you let her drive Red Bull junior, we’ll treat her like a princess.”

“She already is one,” the reader said, brushing curls back from her daughter’s face.

Christian just nodded. “We’ll be ready.”

Alex Albon and Lily found them near the ice cream stand. Lily shrieked when she saw the baby and immediately yanked Alex toward them, ignoring the cameras entirely.

“LOOK at her!” Lily squealed, hand over her mouth. “She’s a real-life cherub.”

The baby blinked at her, then reached for Lily’s earrings.

“She’s obsessed with shiny things,” She explained.

“Same,” Lily said. “You’re going to have to fight me off.”

Alex reached out carefully, letting the baby grab his finger. “She’s got a strong grip.”

“Tell me about it,” the reader laughed. “She punches Kimi in the nose when he won’t let her have more blueberries.”

“She’s perfect,” Lily sighed.

Alex was still looking at the baby. “She’s already a better person than I am.”

Carlos and Rebecca were the last, strolling down the paddock like it was a red carpet. Rebecca stopped so fast Carlos nearly ran into her. “Oh wow,” she whispered. “That’s a baby.”

“Not just any baby,” Carlos murmured, grinning.

Rebecca leaned in. “Is this your baby?”

“Yes,” She said softly.

“Oh my god,” Rebecca said, near tears. “You’re someone’s mother now.”

“It’s weird, right?”

“It’s beautiful,” Carlos corrected. “She’s got your nose.”

“I think it’s Kimi’s.”

“It’s definitely yours,” Rebecca said, gently tickling the baby’s foot.

Carlos leaned close. “You think she’s gonna drive one day?”

The baby grabbed a strand of Rebecca’s hair and pulled.

Carlos beamed. “That’s a yes.”

By the time Kimi returned from the press pen, his daughter had already made enemies, friends, and lifelong fans. She was wrapped in Lewis’s arms now, head on his shoulder, a gummy smile on her face as she babbled to herself in toddler nonsense. Susie was braiding a flower into her hair. George was trying to teach her how to say “Mercedes.” Carmen was handing her a tiny bottle of water like it was sacred.

And Kimi? He just stood there, watching it unfold, mouth half open like he couldn’t believe this was real.

She walked over to him. “You okay?”

He nodded. “They all love her.”

“She’s impossible not to love.”

He turned to her, voice quiet. “So are you.”

She smiled. “We’re not hiding anymore.”

Kimi looked at the paddock, the chaos, the cameras, the gossip flying like wildfire. Then back at the two girls he loved most in the world. He kissed her, once, firmly. Then turned back to the crowd. “Let them talk,” he said. “She’s here. You’re here. That’s all I care about.”

[orellazalonia]

Lingering Hope and Doubt

Summary: After slowly reintegrating into the compound, you begin to share quiet, meaningful moments with the rest of the team including Bucky. However, doubt creeps in as you start to wonder if his attention is only because she is no longer around. 

Word Count: 1.9k+

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

As time passed, the days didn’t feel so sharp anymore.

They weren’t exactly comfortable yet, but the air didn’t bite when you walked into a room now. People looked at you differently. Not in awe, or suspicion, or even pity.

They looked at you like you existed, like you were seen, like you mattered.

And the most surprising part?

You were starting to believe it.

It started small.

Bruce had gently roped you into reviewing logs from his portable monitoring systems. Wanda asked if you’d go on a walk with her when the air was too heavy in her head. Clint dropped by with bad snacks and worse jokes. He always left too fast, like staying longer would make it real.

But Bucky?

Bucky stayed.

Every day that week, he’d stopped by your door. No expectations. No plans. Sometimes with coffee, sometimes with a question, or sometimes with silence that didn’t feel like an absence.

You never told him no.

And by Thursday, you’d stopped waiting for him to knock. You were already waiting by the door when he arrived, and he never said anything about it, just gave a small nod and started walking.

You followed.

That morning, the two of you sat on the south-facing balcony just off the training floor, nursing tea neither of you particularly liked. The sunrise spilled amber light through the clouds, and for once, the compound felt still.

He didn’t ask you deep questions. You didn’t offer any revelations. It wasn’t like the old movies where damaged people stitched each other up in one grand moment.

You were just sitting. Together. Safe, quiet, and alive.

“I never liked this place much,” Bucky muttered after a long stretch of silence.

You glanced over at him. “The compound?”

He gave a small shrug. “It was always too clean. Too… polished. Never felt like it was meant for people like me.”

You gave a soft hum. “I used to think the same thing, like I was some uninvited guest waiting to get caught in someone else’s spotlight.”

He looked at you then. Not hard or apologetic, but the words that followed were full of sincerity.

“You never belonged in the shadows.”

Your heart beat too loud in your ears. You looked away.

“Neither did you,” You whispered.

The silence after that wasn’t awkward. It was weighted and full.

You finished your tea as he did too. Then, as he stood, he glanced back down at you.

“You doing anything tonight?”

You raised a brow. “Is that code for a mission or…?”

He cracked a small smile. “No. Just thought maybe you’d want to join the rest of us. It’s movie night. Clint picked something terrible, and I figured you should suffer with the rest of us.”

You smirked. “That’s the most compelling argument you’ve made so far.”

“So…?”

You nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

“Cool,” He said, stepping back. “See you then.”

And just like that, he was gone again. But the warmth stayed.

Not from the tea. Not from the sunrise. Just from the realization that for the first time in a long time, you were being invited to something.

Movie night was exactly what Bucky promised: a chaotic mess of over-salted popcorn, bad lighting, and Clint loudly quoting every line of the terrible action flick like it was Shakespeare.

You sat near the edge of the couch, half-curled into a blanket Wanda had tossed at you without comment. Bucky sat a few feet away, arms crossed, and trying not to smile at the absurd explosions on screen.

It wasn’t cozy yet, but it was safe.

And maybe that was more than enough.

In the mornings, you helped Bruce catalog long-forgotten samples from the lower labs. In the evenings, you found yourself eating in the kitchen instead of your room. Some nights you’d wander the halls late, listening to the low hum of the ventilation or the sound of distant laughter from the gym.

You saw Wanda, Clint, Steve, Sam, and occasionally Natasha, slipping through like a shadow and offering you a curt nod in greeting.

And Bucky was always steady, always there in small, quiet ways; making room for you. But sometime around the middle of the week, you noticed something.

She wasn’t there.

The woman Bucky had once cared for. The one who smiled with soft confidence and made you feel small without ever raising her voice.

You hadn’t seen her in the cafeteria or during debriefs. Not walking the halls or tending the plants she used to keep.

At first, you thought maybe it was coincidence. Maybe you were avoiding her without realizing it. Perhaps the compound was just big enough that two people could simply… miss each other.

But then three more days passed.

And still, nothing.

One afternoon, you passed by the comms room where she used to sit during rotation and found it empty. The glass teacup she always used was gone from its usual shelf in the lounge. The spare keycard hook on the access board read:

Status: Revoked

You stood in the hallway longer than you meant to, something unsettling turning over in your chest.

No announcement had been made. No debrief. No confrontation. No trial.

Just… absence. At least, to your information.

You didn’t bring attention to it yet, but your brain cataloged it all anyway.

She hadn’t been escorted out publicly. She hadn’t been arrested that you knew of. And yet… her clearance was pulled. Her name was off the board and somehow no one mentioned her.

It was as if she’d been quietly erased.

You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or unnerved.

The hum of the reinforced glass filled the stillness.

Below, two junior agents ran combat drills loud enough to fill the silence with the rhythmic slap of boots and the dull thud of padded hits. You stood at the edge of the wide viewing window, arms folded loosely, gaze drifting.

Sam joined you halfway through the second round.

“Thought I’d find you up here,” He said lightly, passing you a bottle of water. “Word on the floor is you’re the mysterious ‘coffee ghost’ who keeps vanishing before anyone can say hello.”

You offered a faint smile. “I’m easing back in. Stealth mode helps.”

He chuckled, leaning against the railing beside you. “You’re not the only one figuring things out again.”

The agents below reset their stance. Your fingers toyed with the plastic cap of the bottle.

Then you asked quietly, “Hey… do you know what happened to her?”

He blinked. “Her who?”

You hesitated. “The woman who used to be around a lot, close… to Bucky. Smart, kind of always knew what to say and smiled a lot. I think… I think she spoke to me once.”

Sam’s brows knit faintly. He didn’t answer at first.

Then: “Oh.”

That one word told you everything you needed to know.

“She’s gone?” You asked, even though you already knew.

“Yeah.” He exhaled slowly. “Sort of. Officially she’s… being held elsewhere. Off-site.”

“Elsewhere,” You repeated, voice flat.

He glanced at you. “It’s not really public info. But she’s not in the wind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t,” You lied.

He didn’t call you on it.

“She always seemed so…” You trailed off, trying to find the word. “Certain.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. That was the mask.”

You looked over at him.

“She really got to you,” He said, not unkindly. “The way she talked, the way she knew things. But not everything she gave away was free or honest.”

“She only ever spoke to me once,” You said, frowning. “It wasn’t even much. Just… a passing moment, but it stuck.”

“Because she made you feel seen.”

You didn’t answer.

He glanced down at the agents below. “We all missed it.”

“She said she cared about him.”

Sam looked at you again. His eyes soft, but unreadable. “Maybe she did, but doesn’t mean she truly did… or cared about the rest of us.”

You turned back to the window, the weight of that sitting cold on your shoulders.

He didn’t push the conversation further. Just stood beside you as the drills wrapped up and the buzzer sounded.

Before leaving, he added quietly, “Some people… they know how to find the cracks in a place. But that doesn’t mean they’re trying to fix them.”

Then he left you alone again. And the silence left behind felt larger than ever.

After that conversation, you weren’t sleeping again.

Not for lack of trying, but your mind was filled with thoughts. Too many of them, too loud, too persistent. You’d hoped a trip to the gym would help tire them out, but after half an hour of half-hearted pacing on the treadmill, you gave up.

Now you sat on the upper balcony overlooking the empty floor, legs pulled up to your chest with your water bottle forgotten beside you.

Then you heard footsteps. You didn’t look up. You already knew who it was.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Bucky’s voice was soft behind you.

You shrugged. “Something like that.”

He sat a few feet away like always, not too close, not too far. Familiar.

“I figured you’d be on mission rotation this week,” You said, staring out at the dark mats and deactivated equipment.

“Opted out.” A pause. “Didn’t feel right leaving.”

You hummed, unsure what to say to that. You could feel the edge of a question pricking your mind, but you didn’t let it out. Not yet.

He rested his arms on his knees. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m always quiet.”

He smirked faintly. “Yeah, but this week it’s the kind of quiet that echoes.”

You didn’t mean to ask. But the words tumbled out anyway, raw and too real.

“Would you still be around if she hadn’t disappeared?”

Silence.

You looked away, heart hammering suddenly in your chest. You hadn’t even planned to say it. It just came.

When he finally answered, his voice was slow, careful. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You swallowed hard. “You used to be close with her and now she’s gone. And suddenly you’re… here, talking to me, bringing me coffee, sitting with me at movie nights…”

You didn’t say caring. You weren’t sure you could handle the answer if you did.

Bucky didn’t answer right away either. The air and silence between you stretched for what felt like ages.

When he finally spoke, it wasn’t defensive. It was low and honest.

“I’m not here because she’s gone.”

You waited.

“I’m here because I should’ve been before,” He continued. “And I didn’t realize it until it was too late to fix what I missed.”

You clenched your jaw, voice quiet. “So I’m a guilt project.”

He turned his head toward you, eyebrows drawing together. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

You didn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m not trying to earn points,” He added. “I’m not here because I feel bad. I’m here because I see you now. And I want to.”

That made something twist in your chest: warm, aching, and uncertain.

“But would you have looked if she were still here?” You whispered.

He hesitated for a moment but he didn’t lie.

“I don’t know.”

The honesty hurt, but so would anything else.

You nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek. “That’s what I thought.”

He leaned back, looking at the ceiling now, sighing softly. “I don’t know what that says about me. But I know what it says about you.”

You looked over.

“That you were worth seeing the whole damn time.”

You didn’t answer, but your throat felt tight. And your hands were trembling just a little where they rested on your knees.

You weren’t sure if you believed him, but some part of you wanted to.

Taglist: @herejustforbuckybarnes @iyskgd @torntaltos @julesandgems @maesmayhem @w-h0re @pookalicious-hq @parkerslivia @whisperingwillowxox @stell404 @wingstoyourdreams @seventeen-x @mahimagi @viktor-enjoyer @vicmc624 @msbyjackal @winchestert101 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @avivarougestan @saoirses-things @itsmejen @saucysasha2035 @smokescreen1000 @poiscntree @therealh18 @vieenr0se @ravenswritingroom

[idontknowreallywhy]

Wow! I deliberately left this open for a week because not everyone in a fandom can be logging in every day but… 106 people in 24 hours! There are more Thundernerds out there than I thought and it’s so exciting!

And so many from the early days are still here 😍

The thing that excites me most though is the top two bars - currently standing at 25.5% between them - 27 people have joined us in the last 18 months.

That makes me happy for two particular reasons -

(Oh heck this turned into an essay so I’ll put below the cut 🥴)

It isn’t over

When I found TAG (via tumblr) in 2023 I was equally delighted and devastated. I spent months reading back through all the historic posts and couldn’t help a deep sense of sadness that I’d found my fave show of all time and My People but most of them had gone or stopped talking about it. It was old news.

I felt like there was no point me being excited or chatting about things because anyone left would be all “well that’s been done to death *yawn*”. It was so new to me but I felt on my own in that and stupid for letting it pass me by at the time.

Except I was wrong. I impulsively posted some things anyway, clumsily wrote my first fic, got feral about the soundtrack, took silly pictures of my toys… and people were so kind and welcoming and encouraging! New fic (better than mine!) and art was still coming - not in the volume I could see from before but that made it all the more precious. I said clumsy things in my enthusiasm but was forgiven. I made some wonderful friends.

But I still felt sad that this incredible series made with so much love was largely forgotten or unrecognised.

And now 26 new people have joined the fun in 18 short months (and they have been short - time flies in Thunderfam!) and folks it’s not dead or forgotten - TAG and TOS are still reaching and charming new people who want to chat about them with like-minded fans.

The magic is still alive!

💙💚❤️💛🧡🖤🩷

Thunderfam IS welcoming

Myself and some others were recently accused by an Anon of gate-keeping the fandom and being unwelcoming and being the reason there were ‘no new people’. Heartbroken barely covers it. The idea that someone could think I could have broken the beautiful friendly community that genuinely changed my life a couple of years ago was so awful it totally overwhelmed the fact it was hilariously ludicrous they thought I was in any way important or influential here 🙄.

So I am absolutely thrilled they are wrong (perhaps despite me 😏) - the Thunder family is still thriving and despite the usual wobbles and disagreements all families have (even the Tracys) they are kind and loving and welcoming to outsiders (who quickly become insiders if they are also kind and loving and welcoming).

We may be small but we are mighty! And the stories and characters we are here to celebrate epitomise HOPE and the fact everyone is precious and worth saving - and I don’t think there could be two more important concepts to cling to in the world right now.

Somebody commented that Thunderfam didn’t get many new members but it seems to me like we have a real blend of new and old here… so let’s see :)

Edit to add - sorry for confusing people - I meant it to be when did you get involved in the tumblr Thunderfam - just fun to see the spread of how long people have been here. (Maybe how long have you been a Thunder-Fan should be a different poll 😁)

Reblog and put the year you joined and how you got here in the tags if you’d like :)

[providing-leverage]

The Old Guard 2

Wow they're getting a lot more graphic already with the injuries. But at least we know what happens if they get decapitated now

Andy where are your weapons, I can't believe she isn't armed to the teeth

Nile on a boat. And here I thought she couldn't get hotter

Andy is still super hot too

Joe and Nicky dying in a car accident because they were making heart eyes at each other, makes sense

"The CIA never taught him how to count"

Joe, you're making me nervous

Not just me apparently. Go, stalk your husband Nicky

Is he going to meet Booker? OH YES HE IS

I love Joe. Screaming for his head and yet can't stand how alone he is

OOOH ANDY'S GOT A SECRET DREAMING FRIEND

So Tuah is immortal but not a warrior? Is that what is happening?

So just not a warrior anymore.

Ooh the family is fighting

Discord is a fun name but makes me think of the app more than terrifying me

It makes sense that Quynh found Booker instead of Nile, since he was in one place the whole time

Yesss Nile, be the voice of reason

Kinda surprised Joe and Nicky didn't want to come too. They knew her, even if their connection to her wasn't like Andy's

Andy I feel like at this point you should be on your knees. Not in a sexual way. Just as part of your sorry

Fight scene! I wonder if Andy has ever fought purely on defense before? Maybe in some sparring sessions, but never like this

Gay face grab!

I don't believe that Discord was actually there when Jesus was crucified. It's a big world, and she had no reason to be at that exact time and place. But she does have reason to lie and manipulate Nile. I don't believe the birthmark thing either

Staging of the room! Booker in exile still, Nile exiling herself while she thinks. Gorgeous sets in this movie, I approve.

Lore drop? This feels like Supernatural. Where are you getting this legend? If there is a legend about it, either someone saw the future or there have been races of immortals in the past. Plus, surely Nile has wounded one of the others in sparring sessions and stuff. I can't believe they haven't been training her in hand-to-hand in the last six months.

One of my favorite parts of the first movie was how much they did not know about themselves, their condition. Not sure how I feel about trying to explain it now

Booker, your suicidal ideation is showing again

Discord really is a master manipulator. I bet she could have gotten Quynh at any time and only pulled her out when the time was right for her.

Booker: I need her to kill me. Tuah: Andy said this guy was a mess but damn. Nile: ooh what a fun sparring match

Does Discord know Tuah is with them?

Poor Joe and Nicky, not the main main characters and thus always the first to be caught

ANDY IMMORTAL AGAIN

Booker and Andy's friendship is so important to me. I fully believe the only reason he made it to the nuclear facility instead of killing himself immediately was to make sure the transfer had worked. Once that was confirmed? Why waste a bullet when he could take these guys with him.

Shit Nile cut Quynh

Is this movie, which we waited 5 years for, going to end on a cliffhanger? It better not. Quiny being alive was one thing but everyone but Andy in captivity is another entirely.

They really are. Okay then.

At least there's lesbian flirting at the end?

Over all, not a big fan of this one. The first is one of my favorite movies and this felt like a let down, plot wise. The acting and set design were great though.

[eumppapasmom]

⋆°•☁︎°⋆. Closer than ever .⋆°☁︎.𖥔 ݁☾

~ new year ~ hyung line

~ synopsis: It’s New Year’s Eve, frustrated because all your friends ditched you claiming that they are "busy". You have no choice but to stay at home, sulking. But when your brother’s best friend surprisingly offers to take you for fun, unexpected (?) feelings and emotions arise.

~ pairing: brothersbestfriend!enhypen x fem!reader

~ genre: acquaintances to ???, slow burn, fluff ^^, one shot

~ word count: 2173 W (combined)

~ warnings: None!!

~ notes: im a bit (very) late but I loveee the new years tropee. All of them are brothers bff trope except for heeseung's. not proofread. ENJOYYYYY <333

Full Masterlist I maknae line

~ Lee Heeseung I You never thought you’d be standing outside the old bus station on New Year’s Eve.

Your phone buzzed a few hours ago with a message you weren’t sure you wanted to see

Heeseung (DNI): “Meet me where it all began. Midnight. pleaseee.”

It was cryptic, but you understood immediately.

The place where you first met, before all the misunderstandings and silence that stretched between you like the ocean.

You wanted to say no, you wanted to tell him to go away and not to text you, to stay safe from the hurt he caused you.

But something pulled you here anyway.

The station was empty except for the echo of distant fireworks and your footsteps crunching on the frosty ground.

The faint glow of street lamps cast long shadows, making the world seem suspended between yesterday and tomorrow.

And then he was there.

Heeseung. His eyes held the weight of what you hoped were unspoken apologies and regrets.

“Y/N,” he said gently, voice almost lost in the cold wind.

You swallowed hard. “What do you want, Heeseung?”

He winced, as if he could feel the ache in your chest. "I… I was afraid you’d leave without hearing me out. Please just wait I have a lot I need to say.”

Your throat tightened. “We left so much unsaid.”

“I know.” He stepped closer, hands shivering from the cold. “And I was scared that silence would become permanent. But I care...”

You looked away, biting your lip, trying to push back the tears forming in your eyes, memories flooding back.

The arguments, the distance, the nights you cried your eyes out wondering if he even cared about you anymore .

“I really do,” he said quietly, reaching out. “More than I ever let show.”

You met his gaze, the vulnerability shining through. “Why now?”

“Because,” he whispered, “every moment without you felt like losing a part of myself. I don’t want to start the new year with regrets.”

For a long moment, the world was nothing but the two of you, breath mingling in the cold, hearts pounding in fragile synchrony.

“I missed you,” you confessed, voice trembling.

Heeseung’s hand finally found yours, warm despite the chill. “I missed you too. Words can't explain how much I have.”

The clock began to chime midnight, and a distant symphony of bells and fireworks.

He leaned in slowly, searching your eyes for permission. When your lips met, it was bittersweet—a promise to heal, to try again, and a tender acknowledgment of everything lost and everything still worth fighting for.

When you pulled apart, the city was alive with light and sound, but all you felt was the steady beat of a heart that had come home.

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” he said, voice low and full of hope.

You smiled through the tears. “Happy New Year, Heeseung.”

~ Park Jongseong I You don’t even get a chance to open the door.

It flies open the second your hand touches the knob when you go to answer the door sleepily.

Jay stands there, deadpan, holding out your scarf like it personally offended him. “Are you seriously going out dressed like that?”

You blink. “Nice to see you too.”

He pushes past you without waiting for an invitation. “Where are your gloves? Do you want to get sick or something?”

“Why are you yelling at me like I’m your responsibility or girlfriend?”

“You’re my best friend’s little sister. It’s the same thing.” he says like it's very obvious.

You stare at him. He’s already storming into the living room like he owns the house.

“My brother isnt here, also, How did you even get in?”

“Your brother gave me the key. Said you were being stubborn.”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight—”

“Exactly,” Jay snaps, turning to face you. “You’re not going anywhere. By yourself. You’re staying here sulking while everyone else is out celebrating. So put on your coat. You’re coming with me.”

You cross your arms. “Is that a request or a kidnapping?”

He glares. “Both.”

You end up in his car, glance out the window, against your will.

Jay drives with precision, tense but careful, like he's carrying something fragile and refuses to acknowledge it.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you mutter.

He doesn’t look at you. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“So you’re playing hero now?”

“No,” he says, sharp. “I’m doing what your brother should’ve done. Instead of letting you rot at home”

You glare at him. There’s color in his cheeks—definitely from the cold and not from what he just said.

Right.

You stay quiet for a beat.

“…Thanks.”

He doesn’t respond.

But his grip on the steering wheel loosens.

He takes you to a viewpoint just outside the city.

It’s quiet, snow dusted, and completely isolated. The sky stretches wide above, stars just beginning to peek through.

“Are you happy now?” he asks as you both step out.

You look around, breath visible in the air. “…Yeah.”

You walk for a bit. Neither of you says much. The silence should be awkward but it’s not. Not with jay.

Finally, you glance sideways. “Why did you really come get me, Jay?”

He stiffens.

“I told you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Liar. You are lying.”

He whips around. “Excuse me?”

“You act like you don’t care. Like you’re just doing a favor. But you showed up with my favorite colored scarf and hot cocoa with cinnamon, which you hate. So either you’re the world’s most overprepared friend… or there’s something else.”

He’s silent.

Then, under his breath, “You’re insufferable.”

You smirk. “And you’re very see through.”

Jay groans and rakes a hand through his hair. “You really want me to say it?”

Your smile softens. “Only if it’s true.”

He exhales sharply. “Fine.”

A beat.

Then he looks at you, finally, eyes burning despite the cold.

“I like you. For a while. And it’s driving me crazy.”

Your heart stutters.

"Then why act like I’m a burden or just something you need to take care of?”

“Because I didn’t know how else to handle it,” he mutters. “Because you smile at me and I forget how to breathe. Because if I let myself be soft, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.”

You step forward. Wrap the red scarf around his neck.

And you lean in.

“Then never stop.”

You kiss him.

He’s frozen for a second.

Then he kisses you back like he’s been holding it in for months.

~ Sim Jaeyun I Jake Sim is the last person you expected to see at your door on New Year’s Eve.

Yet here he is.

Grinning like he is about to do something dangerous, holding up an oversized gift bag that reads "EMERGENCY KIT" in glitter glue.

You blink at him.

"Please tell me there's food in there." you say lazily.

"Not unless you count bubblegum and glow sticks as food," he says cheerfully.

You step aside, letting him in. "Sunghoon ditched me. Isnt he such a dingle?"

Jake tosses the bag onto your couch like it's his home. "Correction. Our friend ditched both of us. Tragic, honestly."

You raise an eyebrow. "So you decided it was best to sulk together?"

"Sulking is for loser. It implies regret. I call this a strategic upgrade."

You roll your eyes. "Wow. I forgot how charming you can get."

"Impossible," he says, already poking around your kitchen. "I’m unforgettable."

Fifteen minutes later, you’re wearing a glow stick crown. Jake is dancing to the playlist he made when he was heartbroken, and you’re laughing so hard you nearly drop your drink.

He’s ridiculous. And way too good at making you forget you were supposed to be miserable tonight.

"Alright," he says, collapsing onto the couch beside you, cheeks pink from exertion, "confession time."

You glance over. "This feels like a trick."

"You love hanging out with me."

You snort. "That's not a confession, that's you being extra delusional."

He leans in closer, smug. "You definitely like me."

Your heart does a flip that feels wrong.

"Huh?"

"You do," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You get all flustered when I wink at you."

You sputter. "I do not."

He grins wider. "You just did. Ah, just admit that I'm the best."

You throw a pillow at him.

Later, the room is darker, the mood quieter.

You both sit by the window, legs tangled, looking out at the city lights. Fireworks haven’t started yet, but they will soon.

Jake is toying with a glow stick, his smile softer now.

"Can I tell you something?"

You nod.

"I’ve been waiting all week for an excuse to hang out with you."

You notice that he isn't teasing anymore.

"I thought you were going to the festival," you murmur.

"I was. Then I heard you weren’t going, and suddenly it didn’t sound that fun anymore."

He looks at you, "I like you. I think I have for a while. I know its sudden but yeah."

The clock blinks 11:59.

You whisper, "Then what are you waiting for?"

Jake blinks.

Then he laughs under his breath. "God, you're so cool."

He leans in, and you meet him halfway.

The kiss is warm, and shy, and just perfect.

Fireworks start to bubble outside.

Jake rests his forehead against yours.

"Happy New Year, Y/N."

You smile.

" I told you it was a strategic upgrade."

~ Park Sunghoon I It’s past 10 PM.

You’re wrapped in your thickest blanket on the couch with an untouched bowl of popcorn beside you and some old movie playing at low volume. You’d already accepted that tonight was going to be lonely.

Your brother had warned you this week: the group’s plans were set, tickets bought, no extra space.

You’d said you were fine.

And you were.

Until your phone buzzed

Sunghoon: come outside.

You stare at the screen.

Then at the door.

Then at yourself.

You’re in pajama pants with snowflake socks and haven’t brushed your hair since noon. But something tight in your chest makes you move anyway.

When you open the front door, he’s there.

Sunghoon. Black puffer jacket. Scarf pulled high over his chin. Hands in his pockets. The cold makes his cheeks glow faint pink, but he doesn’t look cold.

He looks calm and like a prince, someone straight out of a fairytale. Like he knew you’d come out.

“Hi,” he says.

“Did you get lost on your way to a better party?” you say.

He raises an eyebrow. “You always this charming when you’re sulking?”

You stare.

He stares back.

Then—he smirks. A little. Barely.

You sigh and step onto the porch, pulling your coat tighter. “What are you doing here?”

“Your brother said you weren’t going anywhere.”

You glance at him. “So you came to confirm the tragedy with your own eyes?”

“I came because I didn’t want you to spend the last night of the year alone.”

Your breath catches. He says it so casually. Like it doesn’t set off fireworks in your stomach.

“You could’ve just sent a meme like a normal person.”

“Would you have smiled at it?”

You don’t answer.

He offers his hand.

“I know a place,” he says. “It’s quiet. Just trust me.”

He takes you skating.

To a rink you didn’t even know stayed open this late. The lights are soft. There’s no music. Just the sound of blades on ice and the wind biting at your nose.

You nearly fall three times getting in. Sunghoon catches you every time.

“Are you trying to die?” he asks after the third near-splat.

“I’m adding drama to the evening.”

“You’re gonna add a concussion.”

But he doesn’t let go of your hand.

Not once.

Later, you sit on a bench at the edge of the rink. Your fingers are stiff with cold. Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Sunghoon sits beside you, eyes on the moon.

You sneak a glance.

He’s always been hard to read. Cool. Reserved. The kind of boy who rarely speaks unless he means something. That’s what makes this whole thing so confusing.

“Why me?” you ask.

He turns.

“You could’ve spent tonight with anyone. Why me?”

A long pause.

Then, without looking away, he says, “Because when I realized I didn’t want this year to end without seeing you… I couldn’t think of anything else.”

Your chest stings.

You turn your face away, trying to breathe.

“Sunghoon,” you murmur. “If you keep saying things like that…”

“I won’t be able to take them back,” he finishes for you.

You look at him.

He looks at you.

And he whispers, “I don’t want to.”

The air crackles.

You move first this time. Your hand finds his under the blanket you share. His fingers curl around yours.

Neither of you speaks.

But when the fireworks begin somewhere in the distance, and the sky turns gold and pink above the rink, Sunghoon leans over.

And your forehead rests against his.

A breath between you.

[tryingtofindmycomputer]

I'm too lazy to finish my wips but I'll let them free otherwise who know how long I would keep them as my skeletons in the closet (they're coming out, they're gay ur honor)

The prompt I came up with is that Shen Yuan plays a dating simulator based on PIDW but for girls and ends up transmigrated in it. (End game ship is scumcum cuz they're my little miaw miaws.)

Yes, Shen Yuan knows! The absolute embarrassment of a righteous cultivator setting that the original novel was, with thousands of beauties to be lost in the flowerbed, is being advertised as a dating sim?! Towards girls?? Unthinkable!

Shen Yuan doesn't see the appeal and wonders if whoever agreed with this was high off their kite! He bought the game anyways.

Don't get him wrong, he's not a masochist. He just wanted to see if he could find out more about the characters between all of the horrendous plot holes.

Who was he kidding? Himself! That absolute trash novel gave birth to the trashiest game ever! No contest for first place when you hold all of the seats at the podium of the horrorlympics.

Shen Yuan tried to find out more about each character because the novel was just a lake of red herrings, even if it still wasn't finished, but all of the cultivators ended up getting killed by Luo Binghe by the time he got even remotely close to romance between any of them.

At first he was okay with it since it was the stallion protagonist conquering his destiny and marrying his destined wife but there were only so many routes you could finish with Luo Binghe without it looking like lazy writing. This monstrosity was the same as the novel! Started out with good plot but ended up making him regret ever thinking the author of the book behind this game could be anything but a suck-up to perverts!

Yue Qingyuan? Dead. Wei Qingwei? Dead. Gongyi Xiao? Dead(??). Ming Fan? Dead. Liu Qingge? Dead... Well, that wasn't Binghe's fault. Shang Qinghua? Dead... That one also wasn't quite Binghe's fault. Mu Qingfang? Who even knows! Alive somewhere despite his sect being literally massacred. Shen Qingqiu? Dead, maybe?? In this point in time?? But he deserved it!

Oh! Don't even mention how he couldn't choose to be a guy! They didn't give him a choice, the hacks!! The beauty (read: amoeba) he was playing always ends up married to that bride snatcher, Luo Binghe!

And there are soooo many papapa scenes! The quality is not even good, where the fuck did all of the budget go except to animate papapa? Who did they even pay? They were scammed! Robbed! Swindled! Shen Yuan is sure people don't bend like that! The moment those scenes appeared? Literal jumpscare.

Shen Yuan found out last minute the game did not have a censoring feature so he was assaulted by Luo Binghe's heavenly pillar. You couldn't imagine the horror in his face at realizing that would enter someone's body. He was beginning to understand why Binghe's wives started to lose their iq the more time they spent in the harem. No space for them when they had to accommodate that thing! Some of them daily too! What are these proportions? Not human and shouldn't be justifiable, absolute bullshit! It's bigger than his forearm!!

The only thing that they did right is commissioning the original artist of the novel and merch to draw the backgrounds and character pictures when they're not... moving. The NPGs basically.

Who even is this fan service directed to?? Whoever tries to watch this will get turned off by the sheer amount of weird illogical poses and unnecessary ads littered everywhere. Sell-offs! Also, how is she, meaning his character, not at a gynecologist or something similar?!

Anyways, after trying all possible routes unfortunately leading to Luo Binghe, he has found a special character! Shen Yuan had found you could date Shen Qingqiu, the scum villain who deserves to be castrated.

Shen Yuan had just started Shen Jiu's love route by becoming a Qing Jing disciple (because why not, it's not real life) but he is sure the guy deserved at least some of the torture he got. Shen Yuan can't even keep count of the amount of times the guy has gotten on his nerves. May that bastard walk on guqins barefoot until he repents!

The game was wrong here too! They characterized him wrong, the antagonist did not even try anything with his character even though Shen Yuan had upgraded all of his beauty's stats to literal succubus-charm-your-pants-off.

He doesn't understand why the scum villain isn't jumping him when his beauty is at blows-your-socks-off levels, he thought the guy was perving on his students but whoever made this game probably didn't read some parts of PIDW or was a scum apologist. Divine retribution to whoever wrote this excuse of a game storyline. Ah, my script!

Probably one of those hare-brained people Shen Yuan wrote whole essays to, scathing them and the villain who should be castrated. The story that is barely found between all of the bad papapa was, after all, to show Luo Binghe's rise to power and inflicting justice against his past bullies and scum shizun! They gave him a ticket to becoming an invincible protag, he gives them a ticket to get their lives ruined. Easy logic.

Shen Yuan kept ranting in his head, too furious to notice the snack he had gotten for himself had already long ago expired.

He ate his pork bun too angrily, too stiff and yet still cursing out the novel and disgustingly named author, and didn't notice until it was too late how his healthy body couldn't take such abuse.

"Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel, dumbfuck game!"

These were the last word Shen Yuan could curse before he died.

Who would have thought a strong young man of a wealthy family would die this way after spending so much money on a specific stallion novel. At least he did before the dating game became the one mostly draining his bank account. Even so, it was not even out of natural causes like his own body failing on its own out of old age. No, it just had to be because he didn't notice what he was eating!

Shen Yuan was too angry he felt he could come back from the dead only to haunt the authors of the game, but especially give Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky a heart attack. He would make sure to haunt that hack writer's dreams even if it's the last thing he does.

Into the darkness he went, he couldn't feel anything. He couldn't see anything.

Then, a sudden but clear noise came from somewhere inside the void.

[ Activation code: 'Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel, dumbfuck game'. Automatically triggering system. ]

Shen Yuan looked around but could not find where the ai-like voice was coming from. 'System? Like a-'

[ We welcome your entrance into the system. This system is based on the developing concept of 'You can you up, no can no BB'. We hope to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the course of your experience, you can achieve what you desired. To transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance to your wishes into a high-end, impressive, and high-grade classic work (of porn). We pray for your happiness. ]

Amidst the dizziness, Shen Yuan could hear someone, a voice, close to him. It was asking, "...–Shidi! Can you hear me? —

(that's all I have)

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🪷max please!!!

500 for 🪷:

---

Hmm. Interesting. Eddie supposes that is true. He wonders if she’ll have more complicated feelings about it when she has more time to process. She had been a complication in Eddie’s mind, when he started to realize more about himself and where his attraction did and didn’t lie. He supposes, for now, he’ll accept this. It could be far worse.

“Thank you,” he says. 

He’ll be prepared for any hard feelings to come. 

Shannon offers him a tiny, gracious smile. Like she can see how hard this must have been for him. On a day where she must feel like she’s losing her mind, where he knows she’s overwhelmed and upset, he’s not sure where she summoned the empathy from.

“Uh, but to answer your question, no,” Eddie says. “I don’t think Buck will mind. Something weird is happening, and he likes solving mysteries, so…”

“Buck?” Shannon asks. “Your friend? That’s who you married?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, frowning. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” she says. “Yeah, just… Sorry. Surprising.”

“He’s not going to turn you away,” Eddie assures her. “Why don’t you both come back with me? There’s no space for you here, anyway, Shannon.”

“It’s very spacious,” Chris mutters. 

“It won’t scare your daughter?” Shannon asks, eyes flickering over to Chris. 

Eddie shakes his head. “No more than this morning.”

“What does that mean?” Chris asks.

“Josie is the one who found Bobby,” Eddie explains. “She and Buck were on a hike and… She found him.”

Christopher’s expression drops. “Is she okay?”

Eddie nods. “We were all a little freaked out, but she’s fine.”

He thinks, anyway. He hopes.

Shannon sighs. “Okay. I’ll come. Uh, I think it’ll be awkward, but you’re right… There’s a lot to figure out.”

Eddie exhales, relieved. 

“We’ll get through it,” he promises. “We’ll figure it all out.”

The truth is, he doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know that with any degree of certainty. He knows he’ll try, but nothing beyond that. Tomorrow, she and Bobby could be gone. Who’s to say? 

If he’s honest with himself, he just wants them all together. If they’re going to lose Shannon again, Chris can’t be alone with that. He won’t let that happen. 

Whatever happens here, it could be healing for Christopher. Or it could shatter him. And if it’s going to be the latter, then Eddie will be waiting to shield him. 

Buck

By the time Eddie texts Buck to tell him that everything is alright with Chris, that Shannon is in fact alive and seemingly okay, and that he needs to bring her back to the house, things have improved with Bobby. His talk with Athena really lifted his spirits. He’s even spent some time talking to May. He seems less afraid. Less anxious. Obviously, his life is still entirely up in the air and unexplainable, but at least he’ll have his wife again soon. 

[crsssies]

:3 behind the scenes time !!! scrapped a couple of things and I wanted to elaborate a little on the lore since i didn't get to write all of it

"Before I fix the camera. I'll make you a deal." You glance around, lack of electronics on you also an indicator of total privacy. The prototype stills. You don't have much to live for, so you gamble whatever worth you have in the form of your all-access employee card. "I know you want to leave." "I... can access that card anywhere." "No. You can only access a Head's card from one of us, and the Doctor won't be able to give it to you either. He doesn't have an omni hand." The prototype stills. "What... do you want." "I know you want to kill the humans. It's evident. Pretend to kill me but hide me." "Why... would I do that?" "I'm your biggest bargaining chip against the doctor." You laugh. "You want him to work with you? Sparing him will be fine, but holding me hostage and promising to return me will produce evident results." The prototype considers it, and you fish out a charm from your belt. "This will work."

Originally reader was going to be the one who tells the prototype about the doctor's infatuation with them but i ended up having the prototype use reader instead of the other way around

"He promised me it would keep me safe." "During the hour of joy, angel."

this was the original first dialogue when the doctor's minion finds reader in the cell!

A figure opens the door to the doctor's lair, turning back to stop and stare at each one of the cameras. The doctor is defeated, screaming out a garbled name as he died, leaving nothing behind. Nothing, except the box of crayons on top of the monitor with a name. Scratched out by something sharp, but a name nonetheless, and a map tucked between the two rows of colors. In the corner of the maze — hidden behind a series of servers you have to crouch to get to lies a figure, frozen, skin clean and temperature perfect. The figure contemplates to cut off the life support of the human, staring at the vitals and oxygen mask on her face. He looks at the enclosure with fake skies and artificial sunlight — a fridge opened full of canned food. He wonders if the human is alive or being kept alive. The scratches on her wrist match those of the doctor's minions. Terrifying feat. To think that evil incarnate could be capable of showing affection, though twisted. The figure pulls the life support, watching as the monitor beeps at the flatline. There is no confirmation that the two will end up at the same place, but perhaps it is human to hope that even in the void of pure darkness, there was something that could give light. Huh. Wonder if that's what happened to them.

og ending! originally reader was going to be found unconscious by the doctor so he puts her on life support and she never wakes up but then the story took a different turn from what i wanted originally so. whatever ig

When he presents proof of concept as the prototype had requested of him, you're given to him in perfect health. He's not sure what you've been feeding off of as there is no food below, and even if there were, he's sure the prototype would have fed it to his loyal subjects instead of whatever you were in consideration to that. You're handed off to the doctor's main body, clawed hand to clawed hand, and it takes one look from the doctor to notice that you're not quite as harmed as he thought you'd be. He adjusts the cloak over his head as he stares you in the eye, and you smile at him. "Congrats on proving it." You take his hand, paying one last glance to the prototype as he lets you leave with the figure.

Originally the prototype hands reader over but then I thought it'd be funnier if the doctor just finally accessed his main body and jumpscared her lol

ending notes:

There's hints throughout the fic but basically reader was going to be Elliot's adopted child after Poppy passed away. They showed the same passion for design and creation he did, so he took them in to raise as a successor since originally Poppy was never meant to take over the company (hence the she's too pure thing) but since reader was part of the young genius' program and elliot took to liking them they ended up raised by elliot. but also bc reader and harvey met when they were kids bc like. yknow. also bc it's so fun when sociopaths have childhood friends whom they have a weird attachment to. I might edit and bulk up the fic one day but oh well. :3

this is what you came for (blood on the game ball)

word count: 7.2k

Warnings: implied/non explicit smut, reader's Head of Design, slightly unsettling vibes

You learn things over the years of being a head at Poppy's Playtime.

One, Stella Greybur is a softie. She loves the children, which you don't particularly blame her for, and she establishes boundaries that one must not cross, and you are not to cross with her if you can avoid it. She's eccentric in her own way — perhaps not the same way the other heads are, but still eccentric nonetheless. One can find her in her office mumbling about how she regrets her involvement while gaslighting herself that it would save more than it would torture. It's a lie and everyone knows it.

Two, Eddie Ritterman is a recluse. But that's simply a front given to the rest of the company, because the truth is he's a shady ass man who runs the majority of deals behind the scenes. It takes darkness to engulf darkness, and he's no exception from that. He makes sure the company keeps and makes the money that they do. He's not a researcher, he's a businessman. His words, and it doesn't quite matter as a matter of fact, because at the end of the day, he makes sure the surgeons get the money that they need in order to continue their research.

Three, Leith Pierre is not worth the arguing. Not in the sense that you would stop arguing because you would lose, no. You could not out-argue the man simply because he wasn't willing to listen all that much. He's also money-hungry, and one of the reasons he had picked up the Bigger Bodies Initiative meant that he could pay less employees. Not one of the heads is an emotion-feeling man. Leith found joy in telling people how hopeless everything was, after all. But he was a man to keep up appearances as the successor of Ludwig, so he knew how to pretend.

Finally, Harley Sawyer is a sociopath who does not care what happens to the children or the toys. His hand is his weapon and his scalpel will bring life, but beyond his own curiosity and drive for fame, there is nothing else inside of him. His only form of joy and release lay in the creation of life — in playing god. There was no saving grace when he set his eyes upon you, and if you were selected as an orphan, then heavens kill you because your fate lay worse than it did in death under his hand.

You are not allowed to avoid anyone with your position as head of design. It was a fickle title, as you had practically taken over the creative process that Elliot Ludwig had once done, but you worked closely with the head of production that the rest of the heads did not. Your designs made their way in the end to the hands of the Doctor. You did not care as much as you'd liked to, but you would visit the orphans selected and see if they had ideas. The minds of children were simple and easy, after all. Their designs came just as easily as yours.

The avoidance of the Doctor is not something you're conscious of. You steer clear of him when you can, and you have other workers hand off papers to him when you can. When you cannot, you stare him in the eye for as long as he'll meet yours, and you ignore the look of contempt in his eye when you show the prototype for the child's design. The children had toys they wished to turn into, and it was your responsibility to make sure that their last gift of grace came to life. The Doctor does not care, and quite frankly neither do you, but you learn that the children adapt better to their new bodies if it is a design that they created. It comes as instinct — especially when you run them through the process of it all and they adapt better in their new bodies. They breathe and are conscious slightly longer.

There is still no explanation as for why, but experiment 1006 survived and lives. You do not know. You keep an eye out on it, staring through the glass as it articulates its fingers. The Doctor stands next to you, staring and staring, and you stare back at the prototype, wondering if anything is happening. The prototype does not kill the Doctor, yet, when he steps into the enclosure. It almost feels as though the child were staring back at you. You do not feel remorse, no. The child had request to be jagged at the edges in order to have an advantage when it came to killing. You had fulfilled the child's promise, and its intelligence was more than apparent in the way that the Doctor's voice was imitated, but yours was not.

You complete Log 24459 B with the prototype, blinking slowly at the figure as he stares back.

It can not stare back, yet the ghost of a soul stares at you anyway.

"It is bad to grow attached to them."

"No. It is bad to grow attached to them. It is not bad for them to grow attached to you. The same way Experiment 1166 relies heavily on you."

"You can not control him."

You did not reach your position through naivety. Contrary to what people in the company seem to believe, you are not stupid nor incompetent. You did not sleep with the Doctor to hold the position of someone in power. You wouldn't have gotten as high had you slept with the Doctor. Even if you did sleep with someone, it would have had to be Leith Pierre. You would have had to have slept with Ludwig himself if you wanted to consider sleeping your way to the top, but Ludwig would have never let his daughter end up in a position of power. She was too pure. She was to be preserved. She had to be preserved.

She had to be—

The voice of the child snaps you out, and you tilt your head. "Say that again, sweetheart?"

"I would like to be this one."

He points at the blue creature, and you ruffle his hair. "Alright, sweetheart. How would you move in him?"

"I would spin my arms." He giggles, tucked against your legs as he hums. "They would be soft to hug."

"What would you name yourself?"

"Huggy."

"What rhymes with huggy?" You hum. "Buggy?"

The child laughs. "Noooo… maybe wuggy?"

"Like snuggy wuggy?"

"Ya!!" The child gasps. "I'd be called Huggy Wuggy."

"Would you hug your friends?"

"Mhm!"

You wonder if you'll ever experience the horror of being betrayed by someone you assumed you could trust. You wouldn't know. You probably wouldn't live to know. You'd die at the hand of the Doctor before you could even live to experience it. The Doctor would make sure you're dead before you would even consider such a thought. Though, it's a shame. Your consciousness would give up before you could even consider to fight tooth and nail to become conscious in a Bigger Body.

"So... you want to become Catnap?"

"Yes... with a longer spine and a big... limbs." The boy whispers, medical wrappings all around his head.

He's still half dazed from the Prototype using him as a means to try and escape. You don't know what prompted the hand to return the boy and save the boy, but you don't comment on it. You'll ask later when you pay a visit. For the time being, you draw an abnormally long Catnap that is more bones than fur, and the boy nods slowly.

"I want to look like... my friend."

"I see." You hum. "Then I hope you become like him too."

You hand the design to the Doctor yourself this time, taking a good look at his face, head tilted as he raises a brow at you back.

"Something on my face, Head of Design?"

"No." You laugh, cheeks warm. "Just think there's some sort of beauty in the look of you tired out from lack of sleep."

"Tch." He clicks his tongue. "Get talking to that new orphan."

"I'll see what kind of idea comes from her mind."

When you leave, you miss the way Harley Sawyer's eyes linger on you for a moment longer than acceptable.

There is history that some of the workers have in the company, so it wasn't out of the question for you to have known some people from your childhood, and Elliot Ludwig was no exception. You had been selected as his successor right before his death per the development of the Young Geniuses Program, so it was interesting to meet Harley Sawyer face to face after so many years. You didn't think Leith Pierre was smart enough to hire someone Ludwig had deemed as dangerous all for the sake of more money.

Marie Payne is a girl who is both terrified and plagued with nightmares, so you give her a brighter design. You hide Catnap's design from her when you flip through the pages, and you hand her a box of crayons as you let her draw, and she tells you about how she wants to be able to stretch for the sake of hugging others, and you tap your pen against your bottom lip, considering what material you could use for that. The new plastic they were planning on creating would be nice, but you're not sure if it would be able to shrink back to its original size after it stretches out. You ought to talk to Harley about it.

"I see." You think over it. "You want to stretch?"

"Yes. That would be my thing." She whispers. "It also means I can escape if I need to."

"Mm." You nod. "I see. Well, I'll see if we can make a model for you, sweetheart. It'll be your little toy, hm?"

The orphans have a misconception that if they choose you, then they're special. No child likes being left behind, and you know that better than anyone. You revel in the attention from the children, but you're also aware that it's an awful thing to be ostracizing children because they'll be going into surgery anyway. It helps to make them bitter towards something before being put under and transferred to a bigger body. And, well, if that bitterness manifests in something, then their consciousness fights to adapt to the new body because they have something to continue living for.

"Head of Design—"

You look up at Harley, and he raises a brow at you.

"What?"

"You want me to use elastic plastic for this upcoming project."

"Correct." You show him the prototype, stretching out the arms as they snap back in place, and he scoffs.

"What kind of dream is this child up to?"

"A dream to hug everyone, Doctor." You pinch your brows. "Something you clearly did not know."

The Doctor takes the toy to examine it and scoffs.

"We'll see."

Mommy Long Legs, the toy that Marie becomes, is sent to the Game Station. You don't speak to her again, passing her on occasion when you take the train down further, and you send her a nod. One of the few good things about being the Head of Design meant that the toys knew you more or less. Playing god, dare you say it. To them, you were the creator. They could tear at you if they really wished for it, but you have given none of them a reason to.

You spend most of your days talking to the orphans and having them select toys to personalize, and for the most part, you need not to meet up with the Doctor to any extent, but on occasion you pass him in the halls when you leave new designs, nodding at him as he furrows his brows at you.

"1006 is asking for you."

"And you're telling me?"

"It is not my place to question that toy. He's far wiser than we make him out to be, after all."

"I see." You hum. "How's work been?"

"Don't start that small talk shit with me."

"Sorry. Just wanted to know. We haven't had a new Bigger Body in a while." You hum.

"We're planning one with two new orphans."

"Kevin and Matthew." You deadpan. "I can't help but think that Kevin's too temperamental to create a toy that will listen."

"We need success right now. Not anything else of the sort."

"I see." You remember Leith Pierre going off about how the investors were looking for results outside of the smiling critters that had been getting mass-produced. Proof of concept was there, so it all fell on Harley's shoulders to show results again. Doey was going to be next. The experiment had been named already. Stella had been working hard to get the two boys attached to the dough toy, and it seemed it would undergo surgery soon. Well, it wasn't really your place.

Then, a boy falls off the railing into the dough and the company adds a third into the mix. The same day that there is surgery, a third boy, Jack Ayers, is brought in, body pieces mixed in the dough machine as the Doctor sneered. It was a pain in the ass to him, but he succeeds anyway, turning Doey alive and storing him with the rest of the toys. It's one of the final big experiments that the Doctor gets to achieve, after all.

"Head of Design." He stares at you, and you tilt your head.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"One Bad Day." He smiles. "If you want to stay alive, I suggest you stay in lockdown on the fifth of next week."

You listen, because you know the man's a sociopath who means every word he says. The other employees laugh at him, and you watch as Sawyer's brows twist in annoyance. You offer something to him, so he can't afford to lose you. Everyone else, though? It didn't matter if they were dead or alive. As long as you survived or whatever. You wonder if that's what you get for... whatever this was. Maybe the Doctor likes you more than you think he does.

You could use that to your advantage. You know someone who could use that to their advantage. You're starting to get tired of this hell.

The Theater Incident occurs as over 60 victims are left for dead because of the fire and escaped toys, and your office initiates safety lockdown as you watch over the cameras. When Lockehart is sent back in for investigation, you know better than anyone that it must've been Sawyer. The warning was enough evidence, but you don't bring it up. Lockeheart reveals it to the table of Heads when the time comes, and Leith Pierre nods at you far too quickly for it to be a coincidence for you to sketch up a design to still keep him alive.

You sit through the board meeting after the incident, sketching designs for metal casings to hold onto the Doctor. It's heinous to even consider what they're considering to turn the man into.

You don't tell the Doctor. You have no need to.

The agreement is put into place and you're given a timeframe to figure out what kind of a design to give to the Doctor, but not until he finishes the majority of surgeries that are left under him. To use a man until he is done, and then the rest of the experiments could be started with a new doctor. One that wasn't him. One that wasn't suspected to be behind the death of Elliot Ludwig.

"Doctor." You smile. "Take a break with me, would you?"

"What kind of break?"

"They're planning on jarring some organs. If you had to become jarred and reduced to just a brain, which design would you pick?"

He lets you sit down on his table, flipping through a full book of designs.

"The simplest one."

"You sure you wouldn't go for something more... creative? Mobile?" You flip to another page with a humanoid robot on it, and he scoffs.

"No." He flips it back to your third design and points. "This one's most efficient. Though, I'd size it down if we were going to force it upon a child. Will I be conducting this one?"

"Maybe? I'm still confirming with the heads. Think of this as... insider info." You beam. "So? Anything to share with me, Head of Special Projects?"

The doctor pulls you in by the calf, pressing your forehead to his as he looks at you.

"I know you still dangle that charm around your neck that you take off when you come to see me."

You press your fingers to his chest, fingers sliding down to hook his belt as your lip quirks up.

"And I know, Harley, that you still have that permanent stain of red where I sit my charm."

You hand Dr. Bruno White the artistic design that you all had agreed upon during the meeting, and the creation of the Doctor began. You refuse to act as bait, forcing Leith to talk to the underlings instead and force Harley to be put under, the man caught off guard as they keep him under anesthesia, and you catch one last glimpse at the Doctor before he's put under. He's much better when he's quiet.

Too many people killed, not good for the company, and whatever other excuse they have in the book. At the end of the day, they only fear for their lives and reputation. So, the Doctor must pay.

"Doctor White."

"Head of Design."

"Preserve the heart, would you? The engineers have already designed the body." You hand him an extra sheet, and he raises a brow.

"Don't worry. It's inactive. There's no actual electricity jumping through it unless plugged in."

"I see." He pauses. "Does Mister Pierre know?"

"I'm telling him in a bit. I have a copy in my journal. You'd store the body in my office. Unplugged."

"I see."

You wonder if you should pay the prototype a visit now that the Doctor will be decommissioned into nothing more than a system. Too much access to too many things, yet somehow at the same time still powerless as ever. What can you do as a system? It would be better off to store him into a robot than a system. It's still enough power, it's just that he's too weak to be able to do anything. It doesn't stop you from clicking through his system and asking for information.

"Head of Design. Couldn't you have picked—"

"Nope." You hum. "You picked it yourself."

The doctor stares down at you as you continue sketching on your book, computers and laptops around in your room reduced to stacks and stacks of papers. You're not as stupid as to let the Doctor into your private life. You know where everything is, and you learn to live that way. All of the heads do. Almost. All of the heads. But the truth is that Leith Pierre and you are both just concerningly paranoid about the Doctor. Leith's room might as well have become a library with how much paper he uses.

The Doctor can see everything yet at the same time see nothing. It's intriguing in the way where he can look at you through the cameras of the lab, yet unable to access anything you keep on paper. You sit in his central hub when bored to converse with him, and at other times you let him sit on the phone with you while you sketch. The orphans start knowing you as the woman who goes around with a strange voice tucked on your waist. A mean voice that you reprimand and turn down to low when he starts being mean to the kids.

There are no more widely successful experiments after Harley Sawyer turns into a computer.

You continue the drawings in your hands and stories you tell the children. You explain none else, sitting down with them to draw designs and then hand them off to the surgeons to do their thing. Your world is finished. Your job was simple as that. You did not care for administrative issues or more wealth. Your job was simply found in the pen and paper of the soul. Nothing beyond that.

You complete log 25479, pulling the plug to the camera in the room when you leave, never turning back once for the experiment. Harvey would have. Paranoid. Constantly mistrusting of his experiments, only manipulating them into trusting him alone. You're not nearly smart enough to do all of that, though. You know your limits, so you stick to them. You are not an overachiever like the rest of the team.

You stick with colors from the children and staring up at security cameras for a moment too long, and quiet moments of clicking on a computer to interact with the Doctor. It's fun. It's cute, even. Nothing cute about him. He's still as vicious as always. You input questions and he spits answers with annoyance and an edge in his tone, but that's really all there is.

There's supposed to be nothing else — there is supposed to be nothing else, but you make the mistake of using the wrong disc at work, and all of a sudden the Doctor shows up on your laptop, eyes slanting into what they work look like in a sneer, and you realize what you've done. It's not much, though. Simple diary entries regarding each child and what you learned about them. Things you can use to earn trust again. The same way the Doctor and 1166 act around each other. Though, you have less malicious intentions. Perhaps you want to return to them some semblance of feeling human.

"Head of Design. Affection? How rare."

"Is it not dignified to die a noble death even when a child? You and I both know it has been better since I've started working with the children."

The computer sneers, appalled that there could even been the luxury of feeling. The Doctor never felt when he was human. It's why he was the perfect machine — to weave the brain of a sociopath to a device that could not feel either. It was a creation of apathy — the same way the Doctor was. It was much too dangerous to let him be. Too dangerous to let him do what he wanted to. You understood it as well. To show any empathy without eccentricity was to dig yourself a hole. No one wore their emotions on their sleeve in the face of Poppy Playtime. It was stupid to.

Not even Greybur herself actually wore her true emotions on her face. Her true emotions were too far gone. All she did now was gaslight herself into believing that what she was doing was right.

"It's just some diary entries." You hum.

"About everything about the children. These aren't in the database, Head of Design."

His voice makes your skin crawl, but you don't speak up on it.

"Is that so? I deemed it unnecessary information to know about the children."

"Head of Design hiding information from the company? Oh, sweetheart. This is horrible."

"Is that so?" You stare the eye in the… eye, quirking up a brow as the eye smiles, or, attempts to smile.

"What would happen if I sell you out to the company?"

"They can't fire me. The success rate of surgery has only gone up since I've stepped up into this position." You reach to shut your laptop, wincing as the electricity stings your fingers.

"Is that so? You're only a couple months my senior, Head of—"

You force back a wince and shut the laptop, unplugging the disc as you think over what to do. Now the Doctor would be able to check out all of your notes or whatever. It doesn't matter. It doesn't kill to be sympathetic as long as you're still doing your job. You can pretend you're the children's saving grace all you want, but everyone knows that at the end of the day, no one's better than the other. You're all money-hungry mongrels who'll do anything for the company as long as you're being paid nicely. The pretty penny meant more than children whom you've never met. You can fake sympathy all you want, but the seven figures in your bank account didn't come without stepping on others.

Stella can pretend she's giving the children a brighter future all she wants. It's a lie and she knows it.

You tuck the disc back into the desk, and you listen to Harley continue to rant on your phone.

You leave him in the office to meet up with the other Heads.

Success rates in surgery have dropped. It's been a painfully long time since there have been any successful surgeries, and everyone knows it. You don't speak up, having known this would have happened, and if you mention it to the Doctor, then his poor excuse of an ego would have skyrocketed. It's easier for him to be a robot for everyone's sake, but for the company's sake, it would have been better if he had stayed the head. They should have considered another way to have him complacent.

"Head of Design. I hear from the kids you carry Sawyer around."

"On the phone." You hum. We know that we can't access electronics or electricity without his consciousness anyway, so he's there for entertainment."

"Would you say the doctor has a soft spot for you?"

You think you know where this is going.

"It would be impossible to make him completely complacent."

"We can't use them." Leith speaks up. "We're not losing someone else who succeeded in connecting the children to the toys."

You lean back in your chair, and the rest of the meeting is spent deciding what to do. For starters, the Shelf has finished construction, and almost everyone has been moved down to the location. Most, if not all toys. Your job remained mostly on the surface thanks to it. You keep Harley on your phone still, but you remain virtually unconnected from everyone. Everyone, until you're summoned by the Prototype. Leith himself carries the news with a sneer. The scientists are looking for you because the prototype wants to see you.

You comply. After all. It's been a while since you've met up with the prototype.

The travel down is long and boring, and you spend most of the time chatting with Harvey on the phone, much to his annoyance, but when you do enter, you hear the quietest of "don't die"s, and you realize that it's worked. It's happened. You've done it.

You stare at the Prototype in the room, the camera deemed malfunctioning as the door locks behind you. The prototype lunges at the door to try and open it, and you stare at the Prototype.

"What did you want me for?"

"The doctor knows you."

You raise a brow, and the prototype leans down to stare at you.

"The doctor. Needs you."

You laugh, but the truth is, the absurdity is true. The Doctor has formed a bond with you after so long. You think you were correct to sell your body to him right before he lost all physical contact, and was impossible to deny that the doctor couldn't do much to you. It was something that was just in your bones. Sticking to your skin the same way sweat did on a humid day. The doctor had to work out his twisted attachment to you so he could understand it before he would kill you off. Boredom pained him, but getting to know you was a form of pastime entertainment. You know the answer better than him, you fear. The doctor was attached to you the same way Yarnaby was to him. Codependency, but still romance. Was it love? It didn't matter anymore.

"So?"

"You will become a playing card. You will survive."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"It will."

You don't see the prototype after that, but you receive note that when the scientists tried visiting him next accidentally let him escape. They lost their lives for it, and the prototype spends much of his day hiding in the facility. No one can find him. It's enough to send Leith Pierre home, forced to send emails into the facility, and you're back to letting Harley watch you type boring emails on your laptop as you rat his ear off about boring things and the children that he couldn't care less about. You notice the eye glancing at your chest, though. You make the effort to ignore the way his eye stares, and eventually, you cover the part of screen that his eye buzzes on because you're uncomfortable. He looks. He can stare. It's quite awful, but you unfortunately don't care enough for it.

Your only warning from the prototype comes in the form of a letter given to you by a lower-level employee, telling you to stay locked up in his old room during the hour of joy, and you listen. You bring enough water to not die for days and sustenance that will keep you alive enough. You have a feeling the next person to find you won't be the prototype, but you don't have much time to argue for it. He can't kill you until he gets what he wants from Sawyer. You make sure to connect that body in your office to electricity before you leave. A small plug. Nothing compared to the big one in his base station, but just enough for the body to gain consciousness and start charging.

You're given the privilege of watching the security cameras of the Hour of Joy, tucked away as your only source of entertainment lay with the television screens, but you also understand to some extent that the doctor would find you precisely because of the television screens. You're expecting his eye to flicker on at any point anyway. You've been spared the torture, but you suppose it's not much better to finally be under Harley's control.

The one who opens the door to the room isn't the hand you made a deal with. Rather, it's the Doctor's eye that stares you dead in the eye, and you laugh dryly. He must've found you through the screen. That pathetic excuse of a Doctor wanted you in his hand so bad that he decided to cooperate with the prototype like you had expected. What a rude twist of fate. Bafflingly rude, dare you say it. Yet, you survived anyway. Nothing Harley could do to you would be worse than the Hour of Joy.

"Sweetheart."

You stare at the Doctor's minion, considering if you should just make a run for it. Huggy Wuggy wasn't particularly volatile towards you, and you could most likely bolt out of the facility if you tried hard enough. But you know also that it isn't good. If you make it out, the company will make sure to erase you at the end of the day. You're not quite sure what you're clinging onto survival for. Perhaps it is human to want to live despite it all. You want to control how long you live for and how short you stay on this wretched planet for. It was agitating for you, yes. You simply weren't able to go anywhere if you follow the doctor, but it's clear you were part of a deal.

"Sawyer, I didn't know you were capable of affection." You laugh, staring up at the minion's eye.

"Yes... so be good and follow my instructions, yes?"

You glance behind the machine, really wondering if you should just have those fingers pierce through your neck and end it all, but it would be boring not to torture the doctor one last time before you meet your eventual demise anyway.

The Doctor controls his minions, but at the end of the day, you control whether or not you die.

"I want a contract."

"Papers mean nothing to me, pet."

"Then I die."

You lunge for one of the hands and snap it off with precision, holding it to your chest.

"You dare—"

"You know I do, Sawyer. So you listen or I die."

"The scraps can't hurt you, sweetheart. They're all sanded down." He sneers, and you stare at the piece that you've broken off, fate registering in your head.

"Tell me what you plan to do to me."

"I won't—" He laughs, snickering. "I won't hurt you. I simply wanted a pet."

"You have Yarnaby for that." You stare up at the screen, and he hums.

"No. No. I'm still human to some extent. I want to see someone squirm."

"You shouldn't even harness hatred for me."

"I don't."

You glance at the Doctor, and you think something clicks.

"Harley Sawyer. You still have that schoolboy crush on me? My, I would've thought you no longer wanted anything to do with me." You laugh, holding your stomach as you fall to the ground. "You have this cruel twist on what love is so now you're forcing that upon me? Oh, well heavens forgive me for being too kind to someone who's never known it. Perhaps I ought to leave you to rot in our next life."

"I will find you in that life, and I will promise you hell." He sneers from the machine, and you laugh.

"What do you really want to do to me?"

The eye squints, and you smile.

"You couldn't hurt me if you tried."

"That's where you're wrong."

You glance down at the body's chest and grin at the lack of red on it.

"Where's your signature birthmark, Harley? I'm disappointed I won't see that splotch of red on your chest if you ever do fuck me in this form."

The Doctor barks out a laugh.

"I assure you, sweetheart. You'll see that matching red on my chest. After all, were you not the one to charge a separate body for me? I have to have you in the body I can actually feel in, after all."

"Tch. Guess you're still that brainless in the face of sex. You'd never hurt me, though, would you?"

"You don't know what I'm capable of, pet."

"That's not what you whispered to me while asleep when I let you have me. You think the prototype will let you have me like this? Oh, you are so wrong—"

Your voice cuts off on the Doctor's side as he's forced back to the main terminal, buffering as he connects to the cameras nearby. When he finally does, he spots you with the prototype, its figure next to you as the two of you discuss in hushed whispers, a language that Harley can't decode. Something you used to speak in when talking with the kids sometimes. Blabbering that apparently has meaning.

The Doctor knows better than to step in, his end of the deal with the prototype not yet over as he works on the few living humans, desperate to recreate Poppy. The unintentional consequence of gambling with you. You'll be attained when he shows proof of concept. You're that final key to his god awful domain that he's set up regarding the prison. But he doesn't need to hand it over. He only needs to find you through the clues that the two feed to each other. Like a twisted mind game between predator and prey.

He finds you soon enough, crouched in your office as his main body finishes charging. You'd been in your office this whole time, only hiding whenever the Doctor would attempt to access the body. He catches you off guard as you're wiping the screen by connecting suddenly, body finished charging as the mechanical parts wrap around your waist, body towering over you as he stands to half his height.

"Pet."

"I will stab my duster through your chest compartment to kill the one functioning body part you have."

"..." The Doctor laughs in the new body, and he presses a finger onto the lower part of your stomach.

"You're alive after five years."

"I'm surprised it took this long to charge this body to full." You toss the feather duster behind you as he wraps his the clawed hand around your waist, holding you still as he hums.

"I'm hurt you didn't include my... appendage. You are into this, are you not?"

"Why would I fuck a robot, Harley? That's just sick and twisted." You avoid his gaze as he tightens his grip around your waist, rewarding him with a squeak in pain at the feeling of the claws around you, and he glances down at the red that starts forming on your skin. He lets go, though, letting you turn around to set the spray down as well.

"You did not sand me down."

"Why would? I wasn't planning on fucking you, you twisted robot."

He hunches over you, pressing the metal casing of his heart to your back as you feel the organ beat behind you, and you stop.

"What are you doing?"

"You caused this. Fix it."

"Do I look like you? I can't do sh—"

He slides his fingers down your abdomen, letting the claw test how sharp it is by sliding down your shirt, and stopping right above the hem of your pants.

"Sweetheart."

"Harvey, if you're going to be a horndog, then just get it over with—"

He presses down, earning a hiss from your lips as you wince, and you feel skin break as he pulls his claws off.

"You're quite easy to break in this form."

"You're wrong if you believe I want to live after living on such horrible food for the past five years. I might feed myself to the prototype if I have to."

"And why not me?"

"Why do you think, Harley?"

"Let's get you down to my lair first." He mumbles, cradling you in his hand as he pinches at your box of crayons and you tell him what else you want to bring. You're surprised he's being considerate, letting him grab what you need, and he lets you know he'll send a toy to haul whatever remaining supply of food you have left on the floor down eventually. This side of him is fascinating to you. You'd never expected the Doctor to show you even a semblance of affection, so for him to practically meet your every demand was baffling.

Of course, it all comes with a price, though. You refuse most of his antics, but he locks you down in his domain — in a faux apartment hidden from the rest of the maze with glass overlooking the rest of the area. You get to observe his mind in action in the central window that you get to observe from. The doctor's body is free to stand to his full height, and you sand his fingers down as he curses out your coworkers again and again. You had him bring your toolkit so he wouldn't hurt you unless it was intentional, but at the expense of taking care of a ridiculously large amalgamation of a creature. When you finish all of his fingers and polish, he articulates them as he presses a hand to your stomach to force you on the floor, watching as your skin only pales at the pressure and none else.

"Pet."

You reach for the spray on the table, and he stops you.

"You sanded my fingers down. You wanted this."

You huff, grumbling. "What's the point if I can't even kiss you?"

"Oh, quite a romantic, aren't you?" He loops a finger under your belt to pull at it, humming as he presses down on your skin to stop your squirming. "Don't worry. I'm not some dead skull you have to show affection to."

In retrospect, perhaps you should have taken a day off like Leith Pierre back when you had been warned about the Hour of Joy. You don't know what made you stay. Perhaps a lapse in judgement, a moment of weakness that the prototype knew would happen. After all, he read you just as nicely as you read him. You both knew. At the end of the day, you were both just as human as you were. The prototype was a product of circumstance whose hatred festered too far. You don't know why you were spared. You probably wouldn't return to the doctor even if you were forced to.

"Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. Eyes on me." The Doctor grins, and your head falls back as you gasp.

"Don't you like my new additions?"

But then again, you are human.

Your fingers dig into the metal of his forearm, brows furrowing as your body buries itself in sweat. You're sure you're going to rust the body on accident, but you don't think he minds one bit. Not when your head is spinning and you're sure your wrists are going to bruise by morning. You aren't eating as well as you ought to be. There is truly not much left for you down here. You can only do so much for four years before being driven to the cusp of insanity. Maybe your sanity is only waiting to be snapped. The paranoia of being with the doctor will be the thing to kill you, and you know it. Soon, whatever apathy you feel for the Doctor will force its way through your body until it tears out and becomes that same obsession he has for you.

Maybe he'll never know that it's his strange version of love.

He can only hope you agree to become one like him before the hunger starves you.

-

A figure opens the door to the doctor's lair, turning back to stop and stare at each one of the cameras. The doctor is defeated, screaming out a garbled name as he died, leaving nothing behind. Nothing, except the box of crayons on top of the monitor with a name. Scratched out by something sharp, but a name nonetheless, and a map tucked between the two rows of colors.

In the upper corner of the maze — hidden behind a series of servers you have to crouch to get to hides an apartment. No way in, no way out. In the corner, a figure rests with a much larger version of the Doctor's bodies, compartment of the chest shattered to leave a browning heart, resting there with much fluid leaked to the ground. In its arms resides the figure, a human who lacks the movement of someone who's alive, cradled in the figure's arms. There's the smile that mirrors someone who's accepted that their end has come, and there is peace, perhaps. There’s a curiosity as to what the doctor’s final screen was on this body as well.

To think that evil incarnate could be capable of showing affection.

There is no confirmation that the two will end up at the same place, but perhaps it is human to hope that even in the void of pure darkness, there was something that could give light.

Huh. Wonder if that's what happened to them.

[sttoru]

𖠵 I’M YOURS.

𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you visit your husband during his work hours to hand him his lunch which he forgot at home. his subordinates are surprised to see their superior act so gentle with you—a total opposite to how he usually is when finding and punishing outlaws.

tags. wild west sheriff!kento nanami x wife!female reader. fluff, smut. set in the wild west (1860’s - 1890’s). blǒwjob. size difference (reader short), p in v -> unprotected, breeding themes, creampié, semi-public, hair pulling. traditional views of marriage. nicknames: darling, sugar, sweetheart. wc: 6.4k

the southern parts of the county are sweltering under an unrelenting sun, and most of the townsfolk have retreated indoors to escape the heat. kento nanami - the town’s sheriff - is taking a quick break, having just returned from breaking up a violent brawl at the local saloon. damn drunkards, he thinks as he shakes his head. they have been causing havoc all afternoon, threatening to turn the place into a shooting gallery. he had to put them in their place.

kento strolls to a nearby window, silently critiquing the poor job done on the grimy glass. his eyes scan the wagons that roll in and out of town to keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. but before long, his thoughts wander, and he found himself thinking of you. his dearest. his beloved. his world— his wife.

the blonde man wonders what you’re doing right now. are you preparing supper, or perhaps knitting him another one of those scarves in preperation for the colder weather?

one of his hands slips into the pockets of his slacks, fingers brushing against the handkerchief you gifted him. he smiles as he traces the embroidered flowers. their colors are still vibrant despite the constant wear. it has become his lucky charm over the years.

kento sighs as he catches a glimpse of a couple in the distance. they share a kiss, the woman waving her partner off with a handkerchief of her own as her husband leaves on his horse. the sight has his jaw clenching as guilt creeps in. he had left home in such a hurry this morning, that he hasn't kissed you goodbye properly. he hopes that you didn’t take it personally.

it is a small thing, but he makes a mental note to apologise for that later.

kento turns around from the window he’s been staring out at for the past couple minutes as one of the deputies hustles a trussed up outlaw into the office. the other male slams the wooden door shut behind them which rattles the place. the outlaw is a scruffy looking fellow and his wild eyes dart nervously between kento and the shotgun-toting deputy.

the blond sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. just when he thought he could have a peaceful break... duty calls.

“got ourselves a lil’ troublemaker here, sheriff,” jake says and gives the outlaw a rough shove forward. the man stumbles, nearly falling to his knees before catching himself.

kento’s jaw clenches as he looks the outlaw up and down, his hazel eyes hardening. he aims to keep the peace in this small town, and that means dealing with the dregs of society from time to time. anything to keep the folk safe. especially if it meant protecting his dear wife.

“ye damn pieces of shit,” the outlaw spits, glaring defiantly at the two authoritive figures standing in front of him, “i ain't done nothin’ wrong, ya hear?”

there it is; the cliché line nearly every sentenced outlaw utters whenever they’re caught. kento runs a hand through his hair and scoffs as a muscle in his jaw ticks. one thing he hates are shameless outlaws who claim to have done no wrong.

this man before him has been on countless bounty posters, plastered all over the county. wanted dead or alive, for assault, murder and robbery. bart cavanaugh, the thug’s name is.

kento barks out a harsh laugh, but his face doesn’t show an ounce of emotion. the deputy shifts on his feet. the young man had seen that face on the sheriff countless times before. it’s intimidating and scary, the tension in the room palpable.

“done nothin’ wrong? boy, y’ve been stealin’ and killin’ yer way through half the damn county. and now y' got the audacity to stand there and lie to my face?”

kento steps forward and looms over the outlaw, his broad shoulders squared. his hand drifts to rest on the butt of his holstered revolver. the metal is cool and reassuring against his palm.

“jake, go fetch the preacher. tell him to start diggin' a new grave,” kento orders without taking his piercing eyes off the outlaw. his free hand shoots forward to grab a good handful of the man’s matted hair, yanking it back roughly. the sheriff’s eyes are cold and calculating, “looks like we got us a hangin’ to do ‘fore sundown.”

the outlaw’s eyes widened in fear and he tries to take a step back, but kento’s strength is not to be matched. “but... but you can’t!” he stammers, “i got my rights, i-i'll have ya know that!”

“rights?” kento huffs and releases the thug with a rough shove, dusting his hand off on his blouse as if he touched something filthy. “the only right ye got is the right to wait here and take what's comin’ for ya.”

it did not take long before the outlaw is sentenced, hauled outside and led toward the gallows. kento stretches his arms above his head, feeling the tension slip from his shoulders. another task crossed off the list. he can only hope that the rest of his break will pass quietly without any more disturbances.

the exhausted sheriff drops into the wooden chair behind his desk and leans back with the nth sigh of the day. his fingers fumble with the drawer, and after a moment of rummaging, he pulls out a cigar. he strikes a match and lights it up before placing the stick between his lips. kento closes his eyes and inhales deeply, letting the burn of the tobacco settle his mind.

minutes slip by in silence—just the quiet flicker of the lamp and the rhythmic sound of his own breathing. then, the front door creaks.

kento’s eyes flicker open. a loud prayer sounds in his head; please lord above don't let it be another caught outlaw. not another deputy or bounty hunter with some new problem to throw his way.

however, when he looks up, all the weight on his shoulders vanishes in an instant. there you are - his wife - standing in the doorway like an angel sent to pull him from the depths of his workday hell. the stress, the frustration, all of it fades away in your presence.

kento squints through the haze of cigar smoke as you walk inside with a beaming smile on your face. fuck, you're beautiful. a dream come true.

he takes a long drag and holds it in his lungs before exhaling slowly. the smoke curls around his tired face. his hazel-colored eyes narrow as they rake over your figure. a little provocative, he thinks, not wearing a shawl on your exposed shoulders. especially around these parts of town—with other men lurking that aren’t your husband.

“well, well, if it ain’t my sweet lil' wife,” the blonde rumbles, setting the cigar down in the ashtray. kento leans back in his chair which causes the wooden furniture to creak under his muscular frame. “what brings you ‘round these parts, darlin'?”

it is unusual for you to visit him during work hours. normally, you’d be at the house, attending to your duties. taking care of your cozy home, or perhaps socialising with the other wives around town at one of your regular gatherings. kento didn’t expect to see you here, yet the sight of you is a welcome surprise. even more so when you look so radiant, as if the sunlight itself has wrapped around you.

“ah, you forgot your lunch dear,” you explain with a warm smile. your voice carries a familiar tone that always seems to soothe your husband. you nod politely to his colleagues who’re staring at you in awe and curiosity. you continue, “i started to worry. i can’t possibly have my husband starvin’ at work, now can i? ain't so proper as y’r wife.”

your words make kento’s heart lighten. the smile that has faded from his face the second he left you this morning, finally finds it way back. his entire demeanour softens and his body relaxes.

the two deputies, who have been going about their duties in the background, can’t help but glance over at the scene unfolding. they exchange a bemused look as they watch kento’s demeanor shift the moment you walked into the office. it’s almost comical how quickly the stern, commanding sheriff transforms into a doting and affectionate husband.

kento stands up, his tall, imposing figure towering you as he approaches. the gun belt slung low on his hips clinks softly with each step along with the spurs on his boots. he reaches out, taking the cloth wrapped box from your dainty hands. his calloused fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through him.

“well, much obliged, sugar. yer a real sight for sore eyes,” kento comments, his deep voice lowering to an intimate rumble. he sets the box down on the desk before stepping closer to you. his eyes search for yours while his hands gently rub your sides.

“any time,” you shyly duck your head as you sense the tension between kento and you building up. it’s always like this between you two. the honeymoon phase? for you it’s not a phase, it’s a forever thing. until death do you part.

your hands reach up, slithering from his sides to his chest to straighten his sheriff’s badge. “has work been okay, hun?” you murmur in a honeyed voice, the one that drives kento crazy. neither of you seem to care about his co-workers standing around, lost in your own little bubble.

kento’s hand slides from your side to your throat, fingers skimming over your pulse point, enjoying the rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his touch. “work’s been a pain in the ass, darlin’. same ol’ song and dance,” he replies while his half lidded eyes dart all over your pretty face, “but now that y’re here, it's startin’ to look up.”

your conversation is casual, yet the underlying tension tells you there is more to it. even the deputies become aware of what’s playing in the middle of the office. or more so, what's about to happen if the passion in both kento and his wife’s eyes come to life.

kento can’t help but smirk as you press yourself against him. your soft curves mold to the hard planes of his muscular body, a stark contrast to the gentle hands that hold you close. his eyes darken once he catches you looking up at him through those long lashes of yours. that’s his damn weakness.

“y’know, seein' you here, lookin' like sin in that dress—it’s making me think all sorts of improper thoughts,” he starts in his deep voice. your husband lowers his head to whisper in your ear, “thoughts about bendin’ you over my desk and showin’ ya what happens to naughty little wives who distract their husbands at work.”

a shiver runs down your spine even though this is exactly what you wanted. you came here to deliver kento’s lunch, yes, but you've also missed his attention, affection and most importantly his touch. due to his job, he’s not at home for almost the entire day.

you don’t want to come off as clingy, but when you have a man like kento to call yours, you can’t help but want to be greedy.

the same goes for him as well. kento is ever the devoted lover, head over heels for you, and that includes feeling a great sense of physical attraction to you. he can’t help it—especially when you look so adorable, playing the role of the dutiful wife, visiting him at work to drop off his lunch. it’s a massive turn on.

“l-later. there are others here,” you try to play your erotic interaction off, even as you feel the insistent press of kento's clothed cock against your lower belly. your cheeks heat up as you realise that this bit of proximity had already turned your husband on.

kento licks a stripe up your earlobe, his teeth grazing the flesh before he soothes it with his slick tongue. he knows he shouldn’t be so explicit with you, not here in his office where anyone could walk in. but he simply cannot resist your charms. that pretty body and voice of yours are like a siren’s call to him.

however, he also notices your hesistance because of the company you have. kento, ever the thoughtful man, glances up at the deputies sitting around the office. his gaze hardens and his voice is filled with authority, “don't y’all got better things to do than sittin’ ‘round here?”

it’s a hidden message that all men in the room clearly understood. kento wanted them out and as soon as possible so he can take care of his wife. his duties are put on hold for as long as you need him by your side. he trusts his coworkers to deal with the rest while he’s busy attending to your needs.

the deputies scramble to their feet and grab their stetsons, hurrying out of the office with a chorus of 'yes, sir!' and 'right away, sir!' some smirk knowingly as they make their way out into the muddy streets. they know all too well about kento’s soft spot—the one woman he’d do anything for. even if it means that he ignores his work for a while.

within seconds, the office clears out, leaving kento and you alone. he turns back to you and his eyes instantly roam over your feminine curves. from the swell of your soft breasts to the flare of your hips. oh, his mouth immediately starts to water.

“now, where were we?” the blond man hums. he stalks forward until your back hits the wall with a inaudible thud. you swallow thickly as you look up at kento, who’s staring back at you like you’re a five course meal.

but beneath that passionate gaze is something so intimate. so much more gentle and loving. with every touch, his eyes still search for yours, wordlessly confirming your consent. it’s a habit of his—ever since he took your innocence on your wedding night.

kento’s hands slide down to grab your thighs. he hoists you up and encourages you to wrap your legs around the dip of his waist, holding you between his body and the wall. his eyes flicker downwards to where the skirt of your dress rides up and exposes more of your soft skin to his greedy touch.

“i need you,” your lover breathes against your lips. his mouth is an inch from yours, eager to capture it in a kiss. kento groans the second he feels your clothed cunt press against his throbbing bulge. his fingers dig into the plush flesh of your ass, “shit. i need you now.”

not a second more is wasted as your husband crashes his lips against yours. he presses you back against the wall, moaning into your mouth. this is what he missed the most. your touch, your taste— it makes him feel alive. like all his hard work is worth it.

your fingers curl into his blond locks, tugging at them as your lips move in sync. your tongues roll around each other and your lower bodies move accordingly, grinding for fiction. “are ye sure? right here?” you ask between gasps, voice muffled as his lips interlock with yours repeatedly.

kento pulls away, but not fully. he can’t let you go in any way or form. his head instantly dives into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. he immediately latches onto your throat and kisses his way down to your collarbone.

this is exactly what he needs after a hard day. the familiar perfume mixing with the faint scent of your arousal and something so homey—it’s dizzying.

“never been more sure,” your husband groans once he feels your nails gently drag down from his nape to his back, slipping beneath the collar of his blouse. little minx, he thinks, knowing exactly what makes a man weak.

kento tilts his head back so he can look into your eyes. your gaze catches his and you’re taken aback by how handsome he looks. he always does, of course, but this sight just makes you clench around nothing. it leaves you throbbing in your underwear.

the way his neat hair has now turned messy, locks covering his half-lidded eyes, biceps straining against the material of his blouse, sharp jaw clenching with the effort to hold himself back from completely ravaging you. . .

you’re soaked.

kento grins at the way your kiss-swollen lips fall apart in a small ‘o’ as you admire him. he knows he looks good and it boosts his confidence. “keep lookin’ at me like that,” he encourages as his lower body grinds against yours.

you can feel the thick outline of his dick pressing and rubbing against your clothed cunt and it causes you to jerk in place. your moans get swallowed by your husband’s lips once more, his mouth not giving you a moment to breathe as he kisses you more demandingly this time.

kento carries you to his desk, not once separating your lips from his. he sits down on his chair and settles you down on his thick thighs. your arms immediately wrap around his neck to deepen the kiss.

the steamy make out session continues for a while, both of you breathless. you finally pull back for some air and open your eyes to meet your husband’s. the way he’s looking at you, like you’re his entire world, makes you weak in the knees.

“let me take care of ya first,” you suggest in a hoarse whisper against his lips. you feel kento stiffen beneath you, his cock throbbing impatiently in his slacks at the implication.

“go right on ahead,” he bites his lip and watches your wandering hands drag down from his shoulders to his chest. the muscle in his jaw ticks as he tries his best not to intervene—to grab and bend you over his desk already.

kento’s breath catches in his throat as your delicate hands worked at his belt, the leather creaking softly as you undo the buckle. he watches, transfixed, as you tug his pants down.

suddenly, his large hand reaches out to wrap around your smaller one, squeezing it. “wait,” kento hisses and his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. he’s trying so hard not to lose control.

he takes a deep breath after closing his eyes, hips bucking lightly against your warm palm as it rests against the deliciously big bulge in his undergarments. you gently drop to your knees in front of him while giving him some time to regain his composure.

when kento opens his eyes again, he lets out a low growl from the back of his throat at the sight of you looking up at him with those big eyes. so ready, so eager to please your husband. it can make him bust a nut in his underwear.

“go on,” he whispers gruffly, letting go of your hand but not before giving it a quick kiss. that gentleman side of his never fails to make an appearance, even during sinful moments like these.

you nod and smile in excitement. you lick your lips before hooking your fingers beneath the material of the jockstraps. you slowly tug it down and free his aching cock from its confines. the thick length springs up, gently slapping against his lower stomach and leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on the fabric of his blouse.

kento’s cock was a thing of beauty—long, thick, and girthy, with a bulbous head already glistening with arousal. veins puls along the shaft, and a faint clump of blonde curls dusted the base. the musky scent of his desire fill your nostrils, making your head swim with need.

the pre-cum trickles enticingly from the slit of his tip, a drop slithering down slowly to his heavy balls. it’s evident how much you affect the man and it makes your tummy do a flip.

“mmh— kento. y’re so hard already,” you moan as your pink tongue lolls out to lap up the sticky liquid from the head. you give it a couple small licks to tease your partner, a coy grin playing at your lips.

kento growls, one hand coming down to tangle in your hair at the contact. “fuckk, sugar,” he instinctively thrusts his hips forward, the swollen head of his cock brushing against your soft cheek, leaving pearly drops of pre-cum on your skin. “been thinkin’ about this sweet lil’ mouth all damn day. dreamin’ about them pretty lips wrapped around my dick,” he breathes heavily.

the once composed sheriff is a total mess. he squeezes the base of his dick as he gently taps your cheek with it, trying to coax your lips to part. “c’mon. ye can’t keep this from me any longer,” kento grunts with his brows furrowed.

when you blow some warm air on his tip, he throws his head back at the contact. he’s aching for relief and sitting there teasing him. he could manhandle you to comply, but he’s simply too needy for your touch to do so.

kento gulps before looking down at you. his expression is a mix of frustration, pleasure and neediness. his cheeks are flushed, blonde locks covering his eyes. he breathes out his plea in a shaky tone;

“please.”

your jaw drops at that unexpected moment of vulnerability. it’s thrilling and causes you to immediately give in to his charms. you silently hum in agreement before wrapping your lips around his tip, swallowing inch after inch slowly.

a guttural groan tore from kento’s throat as your hot, eager mouth engulfs his twitching cock. the sensation of your tongue swirling around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre that still leaks steadily from the head, was almost more than he could bear. his fingers tighten in your hair, gripping the strands as he fought the urge to thrust deep into your throat and take his pleasure.

“awh shit,” kento growls. his voice is strained with pleasure at this point, not even able to say things properly. “yer mouth feels so fuckin’ good ‘round my dick.” he watches through heavy-lidded eyes as you take him deeper, his thick length disappearing inch by inch between your plump and kiss-swollen lips. the sight of you, on your knees before him, servicing him with such enthusiasm, sends a surge of pure primal satisfaction through him.

you redouble your efforts and bob your head. up and down, up and down—a hypnotic rhythm that has the man in front of you wrapped around your little finger.

“such a good little wife—yeah, jus’ like that,” kento’s hips rock up to your downward movements, driving his cock deeper into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

he can feel the wet muscles fluttering around him, could hear the obscene sounds of your gagging and slurping as you struggle to take him all the way. but you didn’t stop, didn’t pull away. instead, you start sucking him with a fervor that has him seeing stars.

kento’s eyes roll back and he’s trying his best not to cum on spot. he wants to last longer, wants to relish the feeling of you pleasuring him and most importantly—he wants to spend his cum well. in a place where it can take root, where it’d serve its intended purpose.

inside you.

but it’s hard. so hard. especially when you’re watching his every reaction, eyes so captivating and alluring as you suck the soul out of him.

“don’t—oh lord,” kento grits his teeth as your hands cup his balls and squeeze them, rolling them in your palm. the dual sensations of your mouth and hands working in tandem had his breath coming in harsh pants, his muscular chest heaving with the force of it.

your husband’s head tilts backwards, the chair creaking beneath him as he grips the armrests with white knuckles. he’s lost in the sensation of you worshipping his dick, your moans vibrating around his shaft as you slurp and suck with abandon. he knows he will not last much longer at this rate, knows he is going to paint your mouth white with his seed any second now.

kento doesn’t really want to, but he also does. he’s conflicted, though it’s already too late. one particular suck and his tip hitting the deepest parts of your throat sends him over the edge.

“ah, fuck! cummin’, sweetheart!” he moans loudly, his eyes squeezed shut as the first spurts of his hot seed flow from his cock. he can’t stop it, even as he tries to pull your head off due to the overstimulation.

when you finally let his dick go with a lewd, wet pop, kento gasps for air, pushing the hairs away from your face. you’re looking so debauched, so lost in the pleasure, it sends his blood rushing southwards. again.

“there ye go. swallow it all down f’ me,” he mutters quietly, voice rough as his thumb swipes away at the cum on the corners of your mouth. he watches your throat work as you drink down the taste of him.

before you can catch your breath, kento hauls you up off the floor and onto his lap, his hands gripping your waist tightly. he feels the renewed throb of his erection pressing insistently against your thigh, already aching for more.

“dammit, darlin’,” he clicks his tongue, his voice rough and ragged with lust. “y’ve got me so fuckin’ worked up— can’t hold back no more.” his callused hands slide down to grab your round ass, kneading the flesh roughly as he grinds your clothed cunt against his wet dick.

kento stands abruptly and sweeps the contents of his desk onto the floor with a crash. papers flutter everywhere as he bends you over the now empty surface, the rough wood digging into your soft skin. he can’t care less about those important documents. not when he has his wife in front of him.

he flips the hem of your dress up, the material pooling around your waist to bare your underwear-clad ass. you’re already so wet, your pussy lips clinging to the soaked fabric of your undergarments, outlining your cunt perfectly. it’s a sight that makes kento weak in the knees.

“look at this sweet lil’ ass,” the blonde man rasps, delivering a sharp smack to one cheek. the sound echoes through the office, followed by your startled yelp. “she’s g’nna be hurtin’ when i’m done with her, i bet.”

you arch your back in response to the slaps against your bottom, “mhh, kento. need you real bad.” your ass rippling with each smack to it, along with your soft voice begging for him, makes your husband dizzy.

with a muttered curse, kento rips your underwear off, the flimsy fabric tearing like tissue paper in his large hands. he tosses the ruined garment aside, leaving you bare and exposed to his ravenous touch. his callused fingers delve between your thighs, finding you dripping wet and ready.

“tsk. would ya look at that,” he groans, plunging two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your tight cunt. “yer fuckin’ soaked. practically beggin’ for my cock like the needy lil’ slut you are.”

you can only moan in response, your hips bucking back against his invading fingers. those nasty words being said by your usual sweet lover makes you crave more. the obscene squelch of your arousal fills the air as he pumps his digits in and out of your fluttering pussy. you can feel every ridge and vein on his fingers as they stretch you open so well, preparing you for his thick cock.

“that’s it, baby,” kento encourages, his thumb finding your clit beneath its hood and rubbing the sensitive nub in rough circles. “get this sweet cunt nice and ready f’ me. am gonna make you feel so good, i promise.”

kento’s fingers pump faster, plunging in and out of your dripping pussy with wild abandon. the wet, sloppy sounds of your arousal fill the room as your slick walls clench greedily around the invading digits. he can feel you getting closer, your body tensing and quivering as he worked you towards a peak.

“cummin’ already? naughty girl,” kento growls, his voice a low, dominant rumble, “can’t have that.”

with a harsh tug, he yanks his fingers from your weeping cunt, leaving you empty and aching. “kennnn,” you whine as your fingernails dig into the wooden desk beneath you. you wiggle your hips back in frustration, needing more.

kento can see your hole clenching around air, trying to draw something back inside. the sight makes him groan, his cock throbbing painfully between his thick thighs. he’s such a weak man when it comes to you.

“i hear ya— i hear ya,” he mutters, giving in quickly to your needy whine. your dear husband can’t tease you when you’re basically begging him to take you. he grips himself in one hand, stroking his shaft as he rubs the swollen head over your dripping slit.

kento slides the engorged tip teasingly along your slick folds to coat himself in your arousal as he aligns your lower bodies. with a single thrust of his hips, he buries himself fully inside you. his heavy balls slap against your ass with a faint, meaty smack.

“fuuuck!” kento cusses and his voice echoes off the office walls as he hilts his dick in your wet pussy. no matter how many times he ruins your cunt, it’s still as tight as the first time. “fuckin’ hell, sugar,” he breathes out shakily.

your silken walls grip him like a vice, the slick muscles fluttering and clenching around his fat dick. he pauses for just a moment to savore the exquisite sensation of being buried inside his wife's perfect little cunt.

however, he cannot hold back for long. gripping your hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped dents on your flesh, he begins to move, his thighs flexing as he sets a relentless rhythm. the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room as he fucks into you. the ancient desk creaks and shakes with each forceful thrust. it’s a wonder that old thing isn’t breaking.

“tha’s it, take it,” kento snarls. he punctuates each word with a sharp snap of his hips. the feeling of his slick dick slamming into you over and over has him nearly tearing up from pleasure. this is the way to forget about all his earlier problems

“doing so good, honey. yer squeezin’ the life outta me—good girl,” he praises in-between movements. no matter how much he gets lost in the haze of lust, he’s still the sweet nanami kento you know.

his fingers dig into the meat of your ass, kneading and squeezing the soft flesh as he drives into you again and again. you’re overwhelmed by the stretch, the pure pleasure of his dick molding your insides to fit him and him only.

your toes curl as you struggle to lay steady on your tummy. “o-oh, mmh. right there,” your eyes roll back and your body jolts back and forth in sync with his thrusts. your lower tummy and cunt are tingling, needing more stimulation to build up to that mind-blowing orgasm.

“faster, deeper, please— please,” you mewl. you can’t bring yourself to care about the possibility of others hearing you outside the sheriff’s office. let the town folk gossip and whatnot. at the end of the day, you’re the one winning by having a husband like kento.

your lover leans over your arched back, his sweat-slicked chest pressing against your shoulder blades. he kisses the back of your head with a smile playing on his lips, “as you wish.”

one hand slides up your back, tangling in your hair. kento fists it tightly, using it as a handle to yank your head back, forcing your spine into a deeper arch. the new angle lets him drive even deeper into you, his hard cock kissing your cervix with each rough thrust.

kento’s dick plunges inside your cunt with wild abandon and you’re loving it. your sweet noises intensify and you can’t think about anything else but the feeling of you being split open. the tip of his dick touches the deepest parts of you and it’s painful—but the pain is nothing compared to the mind numbing pleasure.

“there we go. gotta get all up in there, aye?” kento pants harshly against the side of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. his other hand reaches around to flick your clit before coming to rest on your lower tummy, “that way i can ensure y’re g’nna end up with a swollen belly.”

the implications of his words make you shudder. you know kento’s always been a family man. always dropping hints of wanting to start a family with you when you’re ready. and he never misses the opportunity to pump you full of his potent cum when you do try for a baby.

“k-ken,” you bite your lip at the thought of it. of succeeding to conceive this time. it’d be because of this lewd moment, in his office out all places. it’s so naughty to the point it’s driving you insane.

kento notices how your body is reacting to his dirty talk and grins to himself. he isn’t clueless—he can feel the way you clench around his dick, as if you’re trying to suck every drop of cum out of his sack. “hm? yer cunt is agreein’ with me, it seems,” he hums.

your lover bites your shoulder as his hips pound against your rear with a strength that’s nearly inhuman. your insides are being turned to mush while you’re drowning in ecstasy.

“yer g’nna make such a good momma,” kento continues to whisper those words in your ears, simply to drive you to the brink of an orgasm. he kisses your earlobe lovingly as his deep voice carries on, “can’t wait to see this beautiful body change to carry my child.”

the dirty talk sure is working. he can feel you tensing, could hear the breathy moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he brings you closer to the edge. he knows your body—knows every inch of you—and he uses that knowledge drive you utterly mad.

“ah, fuck, ken! honey,” you whine. the contrast between his honeyed voice and rough thrusts that send electric jolts down your spine, is maddening. you can feel the knot tightening in your belly, threatening to snap any second now.

kento’s eyes darken and he grunts in response. the hand that’s been playing with your clit moves to hold onto your hip again for leverage, pounding into you with a passion you’ve never felt before.

“i know,” he mutters gruffly as he watches his cock disappear into your greedy cunt, “i know, sugar. just give yerself t’ me. let go.”

that’s all it really takes. kento feels your body go rigid beneath him as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. your walls clamp down around his pistoning cock like a silken vise, fluttering and rippling as you cum hard.

you cry out due to your mind-blowing orgasm. your thighs tremble and your body convulses uncontrollably on the desk—eyes closed as your senses focus on the remaining pleasure.

“fuck, yes— yes yes yes,” kento grunts as your slick fluids gush out around his dick. he can feel the warm, slick heat of your juices splash against his balls and drip down his thighs. the sight of you coming undone on his dick, the sound of your screams of ecstasy filling the room, pushes him over the edge as well.

kento slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt in your spasming, sensitive pussy. his cock jerks and throbs inside you as thick ropes of cum erupt from the tip. he can feel each spurt of his load, can count the pulsing jets of cum as he pump you full with it.

“take it—let me breed ya real good,” he pants while grinding his hips against your ass to properly empty himself inside your pulsing cunt. kento shudders as his hips lazily move in small, shallow circles, “get it all nice ‘n deep in there.. yeaaah, good job.”

his grip on your hair tightens for a moment, forcing you to arch you back even more as he slowly rides his orgasm out, his release seeming to go on and on. he senses his hot seed sloshing inside you, can already picture it flooding your fertile womb and taking root.

finally, with a shuddering groan, kento collapses against your back. his large frame easily blankets your smaller one. he notices your body trembling beneath him, could hear the soft whimpers and mewls spilling from you lips as you came down from your high as well. despite that, he stays buried inside you, not wanting to lose a single drop of his cum.

“yer so perfect,” your lover whispers and nuzzles his face into your neck, “the most perfect woman a man could ask for.” that gentleman side of his now makes a full return, as it always does after a particularly rough session. kento takes aftercare quite seriously.

his hands rub your sides and massage your body in places he knows will be sore later on. his lips leave trails of kisses from your neck to your shoulders and back—a testament of his love for you.

after making sure you’re okay, kento eases himself up off your back, his softening dick slipping from your tender folds with a squelch. he looks down to see your combined fluids leaking out from your slit, dripping down your thighs to pool on the rough wood beneath you.

the sight makes him bite back a groan. if it wasn’t for the ounce of self control left inside of him, he’d go for a second round. but he can’t. his coworkers will be back soon anyway.

kento helps you up as well, his hands gripping your waist to steady you as your shaky legs find their footing. “mmh, my lovely wife,” he smiles at you as he cups your face into his hands. he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls you into a hug, “thank you so much. don’t think i would’ve even survived today if ye didn’t show up.”

you giggle at kento’s dramatics and hug him back tightly, body slowly recovering from the intense passion you two just shared. the fog on the nearby window, the steamy tension and the scent of sex still lingers in the air—something you have to take care of soon before others come to visit.

but for now, you’ll just enjoy the warmth of your husband’s embrace. that’s all what really matters.

[mononijikayu]

i saw mommy kissing santa claus — fushiguro toji

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.” You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face. “Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?” You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—" “Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, christmas day, santa, parenthood, pet names (babe, love, etc), love, humor, light-hearted, domestic life, slice of life, being in love, parenthood, married life, healthy relationship, toddler, family, late night sex, kissing, p-i-v sex, profanity, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: toji seems to me like the type who would have been so good at teasing mamaguro??? like he would definitely be the person that would also wear a santa claus costume just to put megumi's gifts on the tree and then know that megumi would be watching??? anyway i love their tiny family i am so floored every time i write about them. anyway merry fushiguro christmas!!! i love you all <3

box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU ALWAYS ADORED CHRISTMAS. Even as a child, the magic of the holiday season was something your mother and father made sure to bring alive for you.

They worked tirelessly to fill each moment with joy, whether it was the way the house glowed with lights or how the scent of fresh-baked cookies lingered in the air. 

Your favorite memories were wrapped in those small, meaningful traditions—sipping hot chocolate while the snow fell softly outside, unwrapping presents by the fire, and gathering together to share stories and laughter. It wasn’t about the gifts or the grandeur, but the warmth of family and the sense of belonging.

Now that you had a family of your own, you were determined to recreate that magic, to pass down those same feelings of joy and love to the people you held closest to your heart. Fushiguro Toji wasn’t raised with those kinds of traditions. 

For him, the holidays were often just another day. Especially when he lived with his family and even after that. There was no desire for a fuss, no fanfare. But when it came to you, he was more than willing to step out of his comfort zone.

Toji might not have admitted it outright, but seeing how much the holidays meant to you made it easy for him to get involved. Whether it was wrestling with tangled strings of lights or holding your hand while you browsed for the perfect tree, he found himself drawn into the excitement. It was a quiet kind of joy for him, watching your face light up with happiness as you brought the season to life.

When your beloved Megumi came along, the holidays became even more special. Toji was quick to embrace his role, even if it meant helping you with putting out the tree or helping to bake cookies that somehow ended up burnt half the time.

He didn’t care if it was messy or chaotic—seeing the laughter, the wide-eyed wonder, and the unfiltered happiness of his family made every effort worth it.

What surprised him most was how much he’s slowly come to love those traditions, too. They weren’t just holidays anymore; they were the foundation of memories he never knew he needed.

He started to look forward to the little things, like staying up late with you to wrap presents or watching Megumi to try to stay awake for Santa, only to fall asleep halfway through their schemes.

Each holiday became another chance to build something new together, a season filled with traditions that were uniquely yours. Toji might have started off doing it for you, but somewhere along the way, he realized he was doing it for himself, too.

After all, your beautiful family meant everything to him, it’s now his safe zone—and these moments were proof that he finally had one worth celebrating.

So on this bright Christmas morning, your comely house was tenderly wrapped in a soft, magical stillness. The gentle hum of the house’s heater and the occasional crackle from the fireplace your husband had set up added to the warmth of the room. 

The Christmas tree glowed with colorful lights, their reflections dancing on the ornaments and the neatly wrapped presents beneath. The faint scent of cinnamon and pine hung in the air, blending with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Young and bright four year old Fushiguro Megumi shuffled into the living room, his favorite blanket dragging behind him like a cape. His small, sleepy frame was bundled in his fuzzy pajamas, the ones with tiny snowflakes printed all over. 

His dark charcoal hair was a tousled mess, sticking out in every direction as if he’d been wrestling with his dreams. He paused near the doorway, rubbing his blue–green eyes, and blinked at the cozy scene before him.

There you were, curled up on the couch with Toji, both of you cradling steaming mugs of coffee. Toji was dressed in his usual casual sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other holding his mug. He looked relaxed, his sharp green eyes softened with a rare, unguarded warmth. 

You were tucked into his side, your legs curled beneath you, wearing an oversized Christmas special cardigan and your fuzzy faux fur slippers.

The two of you shared a quiet moment, sipping the coffee your husband brewed and exchanging conversation and content smiles as the early morning sunlight peeked through the curtains.

Megumi's sleepy gaze lit up as he took in the sight of the tree, its glowing lights illuminating the pile of presents waiting for him. His little mouth opened in a gasp, and he looked at the two of you with wide, sparkling blue–green orbs.

“It’s Christmas!” he announced, his voice still tinged with the rasp of sleep but filled with excitement. “It’s Christmas morning!”

You smiled, setting your mug on the coffee table and opening your arms to him. “Good morning, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He toddled over, crawling onto the couch and nestling between you and Toji. Toji chuckled, ruffling Megumi’s messy hair affectionately. “Morning, kid. Looks like Santa came through for you this time around, huh?”

Megumi nodded eagerly, his blue–green eyes darting back to the presents under the tree. “Can I open them now?” he asked, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

“Not even a good morning first?” Toji teased, arching an eyebrow. But the playful tone in his voice made Megumi giggle. “Too excited, you are.”

“Good morning, Dad.” Megumi said, grinning as he leaned against you. “Good morning, Mom.”

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, his excitement so pure and unfiltered. You kissed the top of his little head, wrapping an arm around him as Toji stood and stretched, walking over to grab the digital camera.

“All right.” Toji said with a smirk, motioning to the tree. “Let’s see what Santa left for you, kid.”

With a delighted squeal, Fushiguro Megumi scrambled off the couch and ran toward the presents, his blanket forgotten on the floor in his excitement.

You and Toji shared a tender glance, his usual smirk softening into a genuine, warm smile. You shake your head, looking at him with much contentment.

He walked back to you, settling beside you on the couch and slipping his hand into yours. His touch was steady, grounding, as the two of you watched Megumi dive headfirst into the pile of gifts.

His bright laughter filled the room, bright and melodic, blending perfectly with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

For a moment, everything was perfect—pure joy radiating from your son as he examined each box like it was a priceless treasure. Then, Megumi suddenly paused, his small frame still in the middle of the living room. 

He turned slowly to face you both, his expression shifting into something unusually serious, his little brows furrowing in a way that was far too mature for his age. When he wasn’t smiling, you were sure your son was quite a young old man in that tiny body. 

You blinked, puzzled, as Toji sat up straighter, his grip on your hand loosening. Before either of you could ask what was wrong, Megumi crossed his arms over his chest, his blanket forgotten entirely now, and declared with absolute certainty:

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.”

You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face.

“Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?”

You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—"

“Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!” 

His little pout was so serious it almost made you laugh. You tried to hold your composure, his cute little glare gleaming at you with the most adorable aggression. He looked too much like Toji when he was like this. And that had made you even more adoring of him in this way.

Toji’s chuckle deepened as he leaned back on the couch, completely unbothered. “Cookies and milk are standard, kid.” he said, shrugging casually. “But Santa? He’s a special guest. Sometimes he deserves a little extra appreciation.”

Megumi tilted his head, his little face scrunching in thought. “Like a hug?” he asked, glancing back at the presents under the tree, though his curiosity still lingered.

“Sure, sure.” Toji said, smirking as he threw a glance your way. “Or something like that.”

You nudged him with your elbow, your cheeks heating up again. “Toji, that’s not something you should be jumping into.” you whispered under your breath, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused.

Toji just grinned and leaned in closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “What? I didn’t even mention the mistletoe.” His tone was full of playful mischief, and you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. 

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice broke through, his tiny hands clutching a brightly wrapped box as he looked up at you both. “Can I open this one first?”

You gave a soft laugh, glad for the distraction. “Of course, sweetheart.” you said, smiling warmly at him.

Toji reached over, ruffling Megumi’s hair again as the boy plopped down in front of the tree. “Go for it, kid. Let’s see what Santa left you.”

“Hmm. Okay.” he finally muttered, turning his attention to the colorful boxes waiting for him.

Megumi’s attention shifted entirely to the gift in his hands, his little fingers working furiously to tear the wrapping paper. You let out a breath, glancing at Toji, who was still watching you with that infuriatingly smug look.  His hands wrapped against your shoulders. 

He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Kissing Santa, huh, babe?” he teased, leaning in close. “Got any more Christmas spirit for me?”

Your face burned as you playfully shoved him, your smile betraying you. “Shut up, Toji.” you whispered, though the giggle that escaped ruined the effect.

“Guess Santa’s the lucky one this year, don’t you think?” he murmured.

You bit your lip, shaking your head but unable to hide the smile that crept across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer as he looked at you. “But you love me anyway.”

“Merry Christmas, babe.” Toji murmured, stealing a quick kiss.

“Merry Christmas, love.” you whispered back, heart full and cheeks still warm.

══════════════════

TOJI SAID HE PLANNED EVERYTHING. And knowing how much you trusted your husband, you do believe him. He hasn’t ever failed you before, after all. Your husband wasn’t going to fail you now either. He said he’s going to make it happen and he will. 

The night before Christmas was serene, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of branches as the tree swayed slightly under the weight of its ornaments. 

The vibrant living room glowed softly, bathed in the colorful twinkle of Christmas lights that reflected off the shiny ribbons and bows of some of the presents you had already wrapped and bought for Megumi and each other. All Toji has to do now is add the other ones you bought for Megumi.

You had just finished cleaning up after dinner, your feet padding lightly across the wooden floor as you straighten a few stray decorations. A hum of curiosity pulled you toward the living room, and when you peeked around the corner, you couldn’t hold back a small smile from appearing on your pinkish lips.

There he was— Fushiguro Toji, crouched by the tree, fully dressed in a Santa Claus suit. The red fabric clung to his massively broad frame, the white trim looking comically out of place against his rugged demeanor. 

The bright red hat was askew on his head, barely covering his wild, dark hair, and the sight of him muttering multiple times under his breath while adjusting a precariously balanced present was nothing short of endearing.

“Damn this tree’s too small.” Toji grumbled, carefully shoving a particularly large box further under the branches. “How the hell does Santa Claus even do this without knocking everything over? Like, this is just an insane operation for a break in. Mission impossible even!”

You stifled a laugh, leaning against the doorway as you crossed your arms. “You’re really committing to this Santa Claus thing, huh?”

Toji glanced up sharply, his green eyes narrowing at you in mock irritation before softening into a lopsided smirk. You sighed, smiling as he enjoys taking in the sight of you like this. He has never thought he would ever have something as enjoyable as this life. And he always has you to thank for it.

“Caught me, babe.” he said, straightening up and dusting his hands off. “Santa Claus really had to work harder for this. And I gotta commit like he does, babe. I mean, this is harder than it looks, you know.”

You stepped into the room, your gaze sweeping over the scene. “You’re supposed to look jolly, not grumpy, love. Kids don’t want an angry Santa Claus.”

Toji snorted, tugging at the crooked hat and tossing it onto the couch. “You’re lucky I even agreed to wear this, babe.” he said, gesturing at the suit with a faint grimace. “This thing’s itchy as hell. How the hell did people wear this without having to scratch everywhere? Even my crotch feels itchy.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to adjust one of the presents he’d just placed. “You’re not exactly selling the magic of Christmas, love.”

He leaned against the arm of the couch, his smirk turning sly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m doing pretty good. The kid’s gonna love it in the morning. He’s going to have fun about Santa bringing in lotsssss of cool presents.”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “And what about me? Does Santa Claus have any surprises for me? I mean….I should get gifts too, right?”

Toji’s grin widened as he pushed off the couch and sauntered toward you, his voice dropping to a playful, sensual murmur. “Actually, yeah. Look up, babe.”

Your eyes followed his gaze, landing on the tiny sprig of mistletoe hanging above your heads. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You looked at him with so much adoration, you couldn’t help it. He just made you feel giddy every single day. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

He took another step closer, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe. But I’m also a hardworking Santa Claus. And Santa likes to get paid for his trouble. I’m sure this pretty lady in front of him will ease his troubles.”

You rolled your eyes playfully once more, your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Naughty Santa, aren’t you?” you muttered, leaning up just enough to close the gap between you. “What about Mrs. Claus?”

“Don’t have one.” He smiles down at you, his thumb pressing against your lips. “Would you wanna volunteer to be one, pretty woman?”

You laughed aloud at his words. “Shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?”

“Well, if you’d let me, then I will.” He grins at you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you.”

“Good. Santa’s happy about that.”

“Well, we only want that, don’t we?” You smiled at him.

“Hm, very great for securing your kid a spot on my gift list.”

You giggled at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous, future Mrs. Claus.” 

You laughed at his words again, which made him very happy. Your husband Toji happily pressed hands forward and found your waist as he met you halfway, his sly lips brushing against yours in a passionate kiss that was far too warm for such a chilly night. 

You pushed deeper, kissing him back, pulling him closer to you. When you finally pulled back to take a breath, his grin was smug as it was shameless, his bright  green eyes gleaming with the endless joy that comes with having you as his beloved. 

“Best payment I’ve ever gotten. By far.” he murmured, his voice soft but smug.

You laughed, swatting at his chest as you stepped away. “Go finish your job, Santa Claus. There’s still a tree that needs all the presents to set up for the good kid.”

He chuckled, watching you with a lingering smile as you walked away. “Yes, ma’am. But don’t think this is over.” he called after you, his tone full of promise.

“I look forward to it, Santa!”

══════════════════

OF COURSE YOU’LL NEVER FORGET ABOUT LAST NIGHT. You could still feel your legs sore and your throat full of his pleasurable bites. But that wasn’t important right now, even though, of course it felt really good. Santa was really good with blessings. But that wasn’t the point. 

You could feel your cheeks turn redder and your ears more scarlet. You tried to calm yourself down as you continued to clear out stuff in the kitchen. The cookies were more important. You had guests coming over.

Of course, on the other side of the wall, the living room was alive with Megumi’s excited giggles and the joyful chaos of wrapping paper flying in every direction.  His precious little voice carried as he marveled at each gift, holding up toys and books like treasures. 

You peeked at him from the kitchen, your heart swelling at how happy he was. Your son’s joys were the reason you always worked so hard at the prosecutor’s office. And he was, genuinely, the happiest little boy. And that made everything feel like it paid off.

You were in the middle of arranging cookies on a festive plate when you felt it: a pair of strong arms sliding around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. The scent of pine and the faintest trace of cologne told you exactly who it was before he even spoke.

“Toji, love.” you started, a hint of exasperation in your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Mmm nothing.” he murmured against your ear, his voice rich and teasing. He grins slowly as he catches a peak of the hickeys from your side, hidden in the cardigan. “Just came to say thank you for, you know... last night.”

Your hands froze, the cookie you were holding slipping onto the counter as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were just trying to forget about it now but the images started to flood your head once more as your husband nibbles against your ear.

“Toji, please.” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the doorway to make sure Megumi was too busy with his presents to overhear. The last thing you need is to traumatize your little son.“Not now.”

But Fushiguro Toji, as always, was undeterred. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. He hums against your skin, bright eyes looking at you with wanton affection.

“What? I’m just saying Santa Claus didn’t just get a kiss under the mistletoe. I mean he enjoyed it really well too—”

You spin your head toward him, your bright eyes wide as you whisper with embarrassment. “Will you stop? Love, our son’s on the other side of the wall and—”

Toji only grinned, his hold on you tightening slightly as he leaned in closer. “Come on, sweetheart. Admit it. Santa Claus always deserves a little something extra for working so hard, don’t you think?”

“You sly fox of a husband.” you hissed, swatting at his arm as your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. “You are impossible. I swear, Toji.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re all embarrassed like this, babe.” he teased, nuzzling the side of your neck in a way that made your heart skip. “But I wasn’t lying, you know. Best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Your heart melted at his words, even as you tried to maintain your composure. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, love.” you muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as a small smile crept onto your face. “Otherwise, it’d be a different story.”

Toji shifted, leaning back just enough to study your beautiful expressions. His bright green eyes were soft, a rare tenderness shining in them that made your breath catch. The air of joy blossoming in his chest ever so fondly when he looks at you more. 

“Lucky, huh?” he said, a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing. “Nah. I’m the luckiest guy every day I wake up to you. Every day, every minute, every second. Every day. For forever. I’m the luckiest guy on earth, babe.”

Your face burned hotter, and you turned back to the cookies to hide your expression from him. You could feel your heart making flips and jumps against the wall of your chest. He’s always so good at making you feel this way. 

You were really going to be overwhelmed for all your life with how much he always makes you feel the universe with his love and tenderness. You were always going to be falling in love with this man over and over again like this. You sighed, admitting defeat to him. 

 “You’re ridiculous, love.” you mumbled, but the warmth blossoming in your chest betrayed your words. “Really….”

He couldn’t help but chuckled again, reaching around you to snag a cookie off the plate. You gasp as you try to stop him, but he lifts it up and you pout at him, knowing you can’t reach it. He snickers at you. You turn back and continue putting away the other cookies.

“That’s why you love me, babe.” Toji said, his voice smooth and teasing as he took another bite of the cookie, his smirk practically glowing with satisfaction. 

Before you could muster a response, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple in a kiss so gentle it made your heart flutter. “Don’t work too hard. Megumi and I are waiting for you, okay? Still got some presents left for us to open.”

You watched him stroll back into the living room, his broad frame relaxed, his laughter already mingling with Megumi’s excited chatter. His voice carried back to you, warm and playful, as he greeted your son again, seamlessly joining him in exploring his new toys. 

The sound of Megumi’s giggles and Toji’s deep chuckles filled the house, creating a melody that could warm even the coldest snowy, winter morning. It was what you wanted to wake up to every single day. It was all you could ever want for all of time.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, leaning back against the counter as a soft smile tugged at your lips. It was uncontrollable, this joy, this love that bubbled up in your chest. This was a love that had a place to go and blossom here in this place, in this family. In this life you have.

Ridiculous, you thought with a shake of your head. Toji was ridiculous. But he was also your, the most precious of men who made even the simplest moments unforgettable, who filled your life with laughter, warmth, and love.

And your precious Megumi. Your sweet, bright boy, was the perfect little light who completed the picture. Everything about life made sense when you met Toji and had Megumi together. Life began when you had this. And you knew he would agree with that sentiment.

You looked out at the scene before you, the two of them sprawled on the floor amid wrapping paper and toys, Megumi pointing animatedly at something as Toji nodded with exaggerated seriousness.

It was so small, so ordinary—and yet it was everything. It meant the world to you. No, you shook your head. It meant the universe to you. And you would never trade this for anything in the world.

You felt it all in that moment: gratitude, contentment, and a profound sense of love. How lucky you were, to have this life, this family. This was your everything. And no matter how many lifetimes you could dream of, you knew there would never be anything more beautiful than this.

“Babe, Megumi wants his mommy!” Toji’s voice called from the living room, pulling you from your thoughts.

You chuckled, pushing off the counter and heading toward the sound of your favorite voices. “Coming, love!”

As you stepped into the living room, Megumi beamed up at you, his hands full of his latest toy, while Toji looked over with a smirk that was both mischievous and affectionate. You settled in beside them, feeling their warmth wrap around you like a hug. 

Life wasn’t just great to live—it was perfect. 

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

══════════════════

TOJI'S TAKING ALL THE OPPORTUNITIES HE CAN GET. But if you were being honest, so were you. Last night wasn't enough for you to get your fill. When your husband is someone like Toji, how could you?

The house was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the floorboards as the winter wind pressed against the walls.

Megumi had been tucked into bed after a long, laughter-filled Christmas dinner, his tiny snores signaling that he was sound asleep. The evening had been perfect—filled with warmth, love, and memories you’d cherish forever.

Now, it was just the two of you.

Toji leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching as you pulled off the festive sweater you'd worn all day. His gaze was heavy, but not with exhaustion—it was something else, something that made your skin tingle.

"You finally sitting still for once?" he teased, his voice low, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I was waiting for you to catch up."

That was all the invitation he needed. Toji crossed the room in a few long strides, his arms circling your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours almost immediately, hungry, but unhurried. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, and for once, it felt like you did.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and eventually settling at your hips, holding you firmly against him. The heat between you both grew, sparking like the fire you’d left burning in the living room.

"I’ve been waiting all day for this, babe." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with need.

"Me too." you admitted, your breath hitching as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses that made your knees weak.

The world outside didn’t matter anymore. Not the snow piling up on the windowsill, not the mess of dishes waiting in the kitchen, and certainly not the clock ticking down the last hours of Christmas Day. All that mattered was the way Toji made you feel. You always feel so seen, loved, desired when it comes to your beloved husband.

He guided you toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second. The night was yours, a stolen moment of intimacy in the chaos of life.

And as his lips found yours again, you knew this was the best gift you could have asked for—time together, just the two of you, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms.

Toji’s arm slid right back around your neck, firm yet careful, pulling you closer as his lips claimed yours once more. The way he touched you sent shivers cascading down your spine, every sensation heightened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

His grip was confident, possessive, and it made your pulse quicken as pleasure rippled through you like a rising tide. Each kiss, each graze of his hands against your skin, ignited something deep within you, leaving no room for anything else but the heat building between you.

He knew exactly how to unravel you, how to make you melt under his touch, and he didn’t hold back. He never holds back. Not when it was you he has to make love to. Making love to you was his church. It was his patronage. It was his repentance, it was his atonement. It was his salvation. His love for you was his salvation.

“Toji…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of breathlessness and yearning.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and intense, filled with something raw and unspoken. His thumb brushed gently along your jawline as his other arm stayed firmly around your neck, keeping you grounded in the moment.

“You doin' so good, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

The way he looked at you, the way he held you. Everything about it was overwhelming in the best way. Your body responded instinctively, arching into him as the pleasure coursed through every nerve, building higher with each kiss, each touch, each whispered word.

Time seemed to blur as he continued, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment with you. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. This was all there was right now, just the two of you, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of each other.

Toji’s lips trailed down to your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. He knew exactly where to kiss, where to linger, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand caressed your side, sliding over the curves he loved to touch.

The pressure of his arm around your neck wasn’t rough, but good enough to make you feel the tension of his touch against your flesh. Everything about his touch, it was deliberate, possessive, reminding you that he wanted every inch of you, body and soul.

Your hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going. The sensations rolled through you like waves, each one stronger than the last, your body responding to his every move. You could feel the heat of him against you, the tension between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“Toji…” you murmured again, your voice trembling with need.

“Hmm?” He didn’t stop, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that made your breath hitch. “Say it again, babe.” he whispered, his tone dark and teasing, sending a fresh jolt of desire through you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, and the low chuckle that escaped his lips vibrated against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. The sound was rich, deep, and filled with promise, igniting a fire inside you that grew with every passing second.

His lips trailed along your jawline, slow and deliberate, before finding the sensitive curve of your neck. He lingered there, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch.

Your body press instinctively closer to him. The warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth against your skin, left you trembling, a quiet gasp spilling from your lips.

His hand slid lower, the roughness of his palm contrasting deliciously against your soft skin. His touch was teasing at first, featherlight, exploring, testing your limits.

But then it grew bolder, more certain, as he found the places that made you quiver beneath him. Every brush of his fingertips sent sparks shooting through your body, the intensity of it building with each moment.

You arched into him, desperate for more, the ache between you growing unbearable. A soft moan escaped you, unbidden but unstoppable, and the sound seemed to ignite something in him.

He let out another low, satisfied laugh, his breath hot against your neck as he murmured, “You sound so good, baby. Don’t stop.”

The pleasure rolled through you like a tidal wave, crashing over every part of you until all you could feel was him. It was all his touch, his heat, his weight against you.

The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you locked in this intimate dance, your bodies moving together in perfect, unspoken harmony.

Your skin grew slick with sweat, the heat between you almost unbearable but so, so good. Every movement, every touch, every kiss only pulled you deeper into him, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.

“Toji…” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes smoldering with desire as he leaned in close.

“I’ve got you, babe. I got you.” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion.

And with those words, he claimed your lips again, pouring every ounce of his passion into the kiss. His hand tangled in your hair, his other still exploring, holding you firmly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Toji’s breath hitched as he stilled, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours. The heat of your body wrapped tightly around him, the soft, rhythmic flutter of your walls making him groan low in his throat.

It was almost too much for you, how big he was, how whole you feel when he fit you to the hilt. Everything about it the way you felt, the way your body seemed to pulse and cling to him, drawing him deeper into the moment. It all just felt too good.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, anchoring himself, trying to hold onto the frayed edges of his control. A thought flickered in his mind, unbidden and primal: Can I even last long with this?

The idea sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t need to move—didn’t need to thrust or grind or do anything but stay right where he was, utterly consumed by the way you felt around him.

The subtle contractions of your body, the way you tightened around him and the way he fluttered tightly against your walls, that was all enough to drive him mad. You were still as you were before, you were paradise in every sense of the word.

“Toji…love....oh—” you whispered, your voice a mix of need and wonder, your nails dragging lightly down his back. The sound of his name on your lips only made it harder for him to hold back.

“Shit, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”

He pressed his forehead harder against yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he tried to wrestle with the overwhelming pleasure. Your moans can only grow as he pushed in and out in a more passionate speed.

“I swear… I could come just like this, babe.” he admitted, his voice low and ragged. “The way you’re squeezing me so good, babe… you feel so damn good.”

The confession sent a shiver through you, your body responding instinctively, and he groaned again, his fingers digging into your hips as if to ground himself. He wanted to move, to chase that inevitable high.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose the sheer intensity of the moment—didn’t want to lose the way it felt to just be inside you, connected in every way. He still needed to last a little bit more, he wanted this moment to last.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he murmured, “You’re perfect. You know that?” His voice was raw, filled with both reverence and desperation.

And as he stayed there, lost in the heat and intimacy, he wondered if he could ever get enough of this—of you. Every sensation was heightened, every second stretching into eternity, until nothing else existed but him.

The overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. In his arms, you felt completely unraveled, utterly cherished, and entirely his. The world outside faded completely—just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of your shared space.

Toji’s movements grew more deliberate, his bruised lips finding your own again as he deepened the kiss, his arm around your neck keeping you anchored to him. His tongue wrestling against yours as he tried to thrust deeper inside your mouth, earning a groan from your throat.

The way he held you, the way he touched you—it wasn’t just desire; it was love, raw and unfiltered, pouring into every moment.

Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure he brought you, and you clung to him, lost in the heat of the moment. Toji pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his voice low and husky when he finally spoke.

“You’re mine, babe.” he whispered, the words heavy with emotion and promise.

His calloused hand brushing your cheek as his eyes met yours. And in that moment, you knew there was no place you’d rather be than here, with him, wrapped up in the intensity of his love.

"Always." You whispered back to him.

He felt satisfied with that as he pushed deeper into you.

You couldn't speak words anymore by the end of that.

The world was cold from the snowing echoes, but you were warm.

Warm in the pleasure of the husband you loved the most.

══════════════════

epilogue

The room was still bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your breathing finally steady after what had been a Christmas evening full of all sorts of intimacy and bright warm laughter.

Fushiguro Toji, ever the opportunist, propped himself up on one elbow, the smirk on his face practically devilish as his fingers began tracing patterns on your bare shoulder.

“You know, babe.” he started, his voice low and teasing, “I’m thinking Santa deserves a little overtime bonus for all his hard work tonight.”

You turned your head, arching a brow as you caught the glint in his eye. “Overtime? Didn’t we just finish the main shift? Both last night and tonight?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of energy left, babe.” he murmured, leaning in to nip playfully at your ear. “The question is… do you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, maybe to tease him back, but the sound of soft footsteps in the hallway made you both freeze. Your eyes darted toward the door, which creaked open just enough to reveal a mop of messy black hair and the outline of a sleepy little boy clutching his favorite stuffed animal.

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice was tiny, wobbling just enough to tug at your heartstrings. “I had a nightmare…”

Toji let out a low groan, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he muttered, “Of course you did, kid. Of course you did.”

“Shush!” you hissed, elbowing him lightly before sitting up and pulling the blanket around yourself. “Come here, sweetheart.” you said softly, patting the edge of the bed.

Megumi shuffled in, his little feet barely making a sound as he climbed up onto the bed and wriggled his way into the space between you and Toji. He immediately buried his face against your side, his stuffed animal squished between the two of you.

“What happened, bud?” you asked, stroking his charcoal hair gently.

“There was a big, scary monster…” Megumi mumbled, his voice muffled against your side. “It chased me, and it almost got me.”

You looked at your husband who sighed back at you. Toji pushed himself up onto one elbow, running a hand through his disheveled hair, looking towards his little son.

“A monster, huh?” he asked, his tone light but laced with mock seriousness. “Did it look like a giant turkey? ‘Cause I told you eating all that stuffing was a risky move.”

Megumi pulled his face away just long enough to glare at his dad, his little brow furrowed in unimpressed indignation. “No, Dad.” he said with a hint of exasperation. “It wasn’t a turkey. It was scary!”

“Scarier than me?” Toji teased, flexing his arm dramatically as if that would somehow settle the matter.

You shot him a look, biting back a laugh. “Toji, love. Please.” you warned softly, shaking your head.

“Okay, okay.” Toji relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s hair. “Listen, kid, no monsters are getting past me. You know that, right? They take one look at your old man and run for the hills.”

Megumi’s little body relaxed against you, his small hand clutching tightly at your shirt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Toji ruffled his hair. “Promise. Now get some sleep. You’ve got another day of playing with all those presents tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about being too tired.”

Megumi let out a sleepy little hum of agreement, his breathing evening out as he drifted off within minutes. Toji flopped back onto his pillow with a long sigh, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“So, what do you think? Nightmare slayer and round-two initiator all in one night? I’m a man of many talents.”

You smirked, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re also a man with a very tired wife and a son snoring between us. Maybe tomorrow, Toji.”

Toji groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “Tomorrow? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you settled back down, pulling the blanket up over the three of you. “Goodnight, Santa.” you teased, nudging him lightly.

Toji huffed but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips as he turned to wrap an arm protectively over both you and Megumi. He looked at you both warmly.

“Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas to me." he muttered, his voice soft and warm. And despite his earlier grumbling, you could feel the contentment radiating from him.

For Fushiguro Toji, there was no better gift than this—his family, safe and sound, wrapped in the warmth of a love he’d never stop cherishing. Life was great.

[wrotebymii]

MAYBE ITS ME?… | Date Everything x gn!reader

Summary: You aren’t sure why but almost every dateable hates you and you’re starting to wonder if you’re the problem.

Warning: I’m a little sad due to my seasonal depression so you get this! Angst, social anxiety, socially awkward, very self deprecating Doug is working over time. Not edited.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST | READ ME

It’s driving you and all the objects in your home up the wall. You aren’t sure why but almost everyone hates you.

Everyone from Lux, and Rebel to Rainey, Betty, Dunk, Hoove, Kopi, Keyes, hell even Celia can’t look you in the eye due to the overwhelming complaints she’s been getting!

The nail in the coffin was getting thrown out of the Breaker Box club, you still can feel the shock in your arm when Volt grabbed you out the door. You were shaking and starring wide eyed at the breaker closet that Doug surely would’ve appeared if Reggie didn’t.

You couldn’t hear him, lost in your own thoughts when you cut off his passive aggressive pity party for you by…taking the dateviators off.

It still had charge left but you felt so tired. You don’t know what you were doing wrong, maybe you came off too strong or said something that was hurtful despite you just trying to fit in. Similar to what Tony said in his workshops.

Changed to fit what you thought they’d want in love or even friendship. Though, it doesn’t matter now cause almost all of your household objects hate your guts.

You curled in your spot, head tucked in your knees with your eyes peering over to stare at the glasses you held by the frame with your pointer and thumb tipping it up and down.

Maybe the hacker guy that gave you these would take them back, or maybe you can return them to David without getting accused and arrested by the government?

You just know one thing…

You don’t want to put them back on.

You tried to got back to your mundane life before realizing that everything around you is alive. But it started to make you paranoid and self conscious. Like you couldn’t live in your comfort space anymore.

You swore to Sam that the water was hot one second then cold then hot again, the coffee didn’t taste as good, you tripping on air, zapping yourself when you plugged a charger in, the food going spoiled even though you got it a day ago, the piano playing loud keys randomly, your white clothes getting stained right out of the wash, and now your comfort blanket wasn’t feeling so comforting.

You’ve had it.

One night you were laidback on the now springy uncomfortable bed, venting to Sam about how you need to get out of the house—she offered you her place for the time being. Understanding about your weird struggling relationships.

However. Out of all the people you’ve made hate you, one still remained the same throughout it all and never inconvenienced you.

Dorian. His friendship status didn’t waver at any moment of your—very fast—conversations. He found you rather interesting…respectable. When you met the firt time with Skylar he knew you’d try to get along with everyone, knew how you’d change yourself even to get everyone to like you. You were kind, thoughtful, and a little pathetic but in a charming way.

Currently, he thinks he needs to initiate the conversation this time.

You were shuffling through Dirk clothes when you heard Sam’s car honk outside. Quickly you stuff your luggage with things you knew weren’t sentient and rushed downstairs and opened the door.

Or well…tried too. Each time you turn the top lock then the bottom it shuts again. With a frustrate groan you knock your head on the front of the door, a hand still on the knob.

“Open, Dorian…” You whisper, you mind reeling in the fact that you might’ve made even Dorian upset with you. You try to open it. You curse loudly when he it doesn’t budge

You turn on your heel, leaving the luggage there as you head to your office, opening the junk drawer Jerry and searching for those fucking glasses. It was in the far back with a little dust on them. You put them on, walking pass Skylar trying to warily greet you and straight to Dorian at the front door.

He’s in his typical pose. Arms folded and chest pushed up with a ‘taking no shits’ expression. It reminds you of a conversation you had with him where you said he’d make a great bodyguard or bouncer if he were human. He had cracked a tiny smile and said that just being a door for this house was enough.

“Dorian-“

“Don’ say nothing. Let me speak.” He says, you tsk and roll you eyes but don’t say anything else.

“I don’ think you running away from your home is a good idea fro-“ You wave a hand stopping him.

“They all hate me”

“Not all-“

“Then they likely will” You voice is stern, but there’s a sadness laced in the words. He doesn’t respond to that letting you rant.

“I’m over feeling like trash in my own damn house. I need to leave, so open!” You yell, you don’t care if you’re being watched by Sam from outside or anyone from the living room.

“It’s dangerous out ther-“

“It’s better than here.” There’s a long pause.

“You’know…” Dorian starts as you’re about to take off the glasses, you glance at him. “If it means an’thing—I think we’re still friends.”

The confession makes you want to sob but you grit your teeth, look ahead at Sam’s vehicle.

“Respectfully, Dorian…I wish I never got these glasses…”

Your words stung but he doesn’t show it. You know being angry with him will likely end the same as it did with everyone else, but he remains still for a moment longer then steps aside. Letting you leave.

You toss the dateviator somewhere and walk away. Dorian closes, staring blankly at the glasses that landed in the middle of the walkway. He ignores the whispering in every room—some confusion, some even cheering

He huffs bitterly, arms still crossed and up against his chest. Dorian is ever in balance and composed, he takes his job serious and to not let any detractions get to him. However, this situation is getting out of hand even for him. He’ll have to get an appointment with Mayor Celia layer, but for now he regains his position and awaits your arrival.

How ever long that would be.

[jaysbaefie]

noona | sjy (2/2)

synopsis: in which your little brothers best friend can’t keep his feelings and true intentions a secret anymore.

genre: brothers best friend to lovers

pairing: little brothers best friendljake x older afab reader

warnings: sad!jake, petty!jake, degrading, light dubcon, light fondling, manhandling, oral (m.rec and f.rec), unprotected p in v, forced confession of feelings, choking, jake eats his own cum…overstimulation, fingering, pussy slapping, creampie, almost getting caught (again). that’s it….i think.

wc: 5.1k

read part 1 part 2

a/n: i didn’t think id pop out w a part 2 for this fic but here i am… i was procrastinating w my other ones so i decided to do smth w little to no plot and just filth. anyways.. hope u enjoy! notes reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

──── ୨୧ ────

weeks went by and you'd had enough.

the guilt was eating you alive, and every time jake touched you when sunghoon was nearby, your heart nearly stopped. it was reckless, dangerous and completely insane.

your heart ached whenever you saw jake and sunghoon hang out, seeing their friendship. you wondered how sunghoon would react if he found out that his best friend was fooling around with his older sister.

you couldn't bear the thought of your brother looking at you differently, so you made a decision.

that night jake was over, as he always was. you watched the two boys play games on the living room couch, standing afar as your cleaned up in the kitchen.

your parents had bid their goodnights, heading upstairs to go to sleep leaving you, sunghoon and jake alone downstairs.

"hey! you said you'd cover me!" sunghoon grunts, his eyebrows furrowed as he squints his eyes—focusing on the screen ahead.

"i was getting attacked! i had to protect myself!"

"and your ass still died. what was the point of that."

the two argued playfully amongst each other, the thought of them not being friends because of you ached you.

time passes by, you loiter in the kitchen—pretending to do work on your laptop.

"noona, you can go to sleep you know. i know you're bored," you heard sunghoon say to you, peering back to see you sitting at one of the barstools in the kitchen.

you give him a soft smile, shaking your head. "it's no big deal, i have to stay up anyways. have to finish off these papers."

he nods, adjusting his head set. jake looks over, your eyes widening when he smirks at you—biting at his bottom lip. you quickly avert your eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

jake had gotten much bolder with his actions, however, nothing too intimate had happened ever since the kitchen scene a few weeks ago.

he wasn't as touchy, but his words had gotten bolder.

he always found ways to lean in too close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured things that made your face burn. "you smell good today, noona." or "you know, i have dreams about you. wanna know what they're about?" and when you pushed him away, he only chuckled, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

if you dropped something, he'd pick it up and hold it out—only to yank it back when you reached for it. "use your manners, noona. say please."

"please?"

his smirk widens, "good girl, noona."

if you were cooking, he'd stand behind you, arms caging you in as he reached for something. "careful, wouldn't want to burn yourself." he'd rub himself up against your butt, letting you feel how hard he was for you. but he never did more than brushing up against you or the occasional lingering touches.

it was almost like he was riling you up, teasing you so you'd snap.

when sunghoon was in his room with his headphones on, you pulled jake aside into the hallway. sunghoon had said goodnight, insisting that jake stay over since it was past midnight. jake had agreed, a dark smile on his face as his eyes raked up and down your figure—tongue jutting out to quickly swipe over his lips.

his usual cocky smirk was already forming, like he knew exactly why you wanted to talk.

"jake, we have to stop."

he blinked at you, amused. "stop what, noona?"

you swallowed, your stomach twisting. "this. whatever this is. it's wrong."

his smirk faltered for a second before his expression darkened. he stepped closer, forcing you back against the wall, trapping you between his arms. you tried not to shiver when you felt his breath against your skin.

"you think you can just cut me off like that?" he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "like i'm some bad habit you need to quit?"

you turned your face away, refusing to meet his gaze. "i—jake, i mean it. this is over."

he scoffed. "bullshit."

your eyes snapped back to him, widening as his fingers trailed along your arm. "i know you, noona. i know how you sound when you're turned on. i know how you taste when you're falling apart under me. and i definitely know how you look when you're pretending you don't want me." his hand suddenly slid between your thighs, over your shorts, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

you gasped, pushing at his chest. "j-jake, stop—sunghoon is upstairs!"

his smirk returned, but this time it was cruel. "exactly. so why haven't you screamed for him yet?"

you froze.

your mouth opened, but no words came out.

his grip tightened on your hip. "you could call him right now. tell him everything. tell him what a perv i am, how i've been touching you when he's not looking, how i licked your pretty cunt until you were shaking in the kitchen." he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "but you won't, will you?"

your breathing was ragged. "jake—"

"because you like it, noona." his fingers pressed harder, making your legs clench involuntarily. "you like how dirty this is. how wrong it feels. you say we need to stop, but your body?" he chuckled, sliding his knee between your thighs. "your body says otherwise."

he squeezes your hip, pushing you down so you grinded against his knee. you held in a moan, pursing your lips as you feel jake get tougher with his actions.

tears pricked at your eyes. whether it was from frustration, guilt, or something else entirely, you didn't know. "this isn't fair," you whispered.

jake pulled back slightly, tilting his head as he studied you. then, to your horror, his smirk completely disappeared. for the first time, he looked... genuinely hurt.

"you think this was just a game to me?" his voice was quiet, almost disappointed. "you think i did all this just to fuck around and piss you off?"

jake was hurt, he felt like you didn't even know him. he was never the type of guy that fooled around with girls, and you knew that. he thought he had made it clear how much he liked you, and only you.

you didn't know how to answer, standing there speechless.

jake clenched his jaw, his hands dropping from your body. his warmth disappeared, replaced by an unsettling emptiness.

"fine," he muttered, stepping back. "if that's what you want."

you felt like you could finally breathe again. but the victory was short-lived.

because the very next day, everything changed.

jake ignored you completely. no teasing touches. no lingering glances. no stolen moments in the hallway. it should've felt like relief, but instead, it felt like loss.

and the worst part? he was still around.

he still showed up at your house every day, still hung out with sunghoon like nothing had happened—but now, he acted like you didn't exist. and it was killing you.

although you hate to admit that you missed him and his advances, you were thankful that it had ended.

but just when you thought you were free, just when you started convincing yourself that maybe this was for the best.

jake reminds you why you could never escape him.

it happened late one night. a week had gone by since jake had pretended as if you didn't exist, you were slowly coming to terms with it.

you were in the kitchen alone, getting a glass of water, when suddenly, the room darkened. the air shifted, and before you could turn around—a familiar voice whispered against the shell of your ear.

"miss me yet, noona?"

your heart stopped.

and that was when you realized. this wasn't over. not even close. and in fact, it'll never be over.

your breath hitched as jake's hands found your waist, his grip firm, possessive—like he had every right to touch you.

"j-jake," you whispered breathlessly, your fingers tightening around the glass in your hand. you should push him away, should scream for sunghoon, should do anything but melt into him like you seemed to be doing.

but your body betrayed you.

he chuckled darkly, his nose grazing the side of your neck making you shiver in delight. "you thought i was done with you?" his fingers slid down to the hem of your shirt, teasingly brushing against your skin. "you think you can ignore this?"

his free hand covered yours, plucking the glass from your grip and setting it aside on the counter. the moment it left your grasp, he spun you around, pressing your back against the cool marble of the counters.

you mind races with flashbacks from weeks ago, when jake had his head between your legs and his tongue in you—making you writhe in pleasure. your chest heaved as you finally met his gaze—dark, hungry, filled with something dangerous.

"i was trying to be nice," he murmured, dragging his fingers down the dip of your throat, over your collarbone, down to the top button of your pajama shirt. "but you don't want nice, do you, noona?"

you looked up at him with pleading eyes, "you're a lot stronger than i thought you were, noona," he starts, his hand grabbing a hold of your breast making you whine. "i thought you'd break in a few days, but seems like you were getting used to my absence. can't have that now, can we?"

you swallowed hard, eyes darting to the doorway. "s-sunghoon is upstairs," you reminded him, voice barely above a breath.

jake smirked, popping the first button open. "then you better be quiet."

your stomach twisted as another button came undone, then another, his fingers deliberately slow, teasing.

"jake," you tried again, but suddenly, his lips were on yours—hot, demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs.

your hands instinctively flew to his shoulders, but whether to push him away or pull him closer, you weren't sure. it didn't matter. he took the decision from you, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you, letting you feel just how much he wanted this.

a muffled whimper escaped your throat when he rolled his hips into you, your core throbbing at the friction.

"fuck," he groaned against your lips, one hand slipping under your shirt to splay across your bare waist. "you have no idea how much i missed this."

"we—we can't," you breathed, even as your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging him closer.

"we already are," he murmured, teeth grazing your jaw before trailing down to your neck. you gasped when he sucked at the sensitive spot just below your ear, your body arching into his as heat coiled deep in your stomach.

"so sensitive," he mused, his lips curving against your skin. "you missed me too, didn't you, noona?"

you hated that he was right. hated that you had missed this—his touch, his voice, the way he made you feel alive.

but before you could admit it, before you could even think of responding, his hand was dipping lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts.

your breath hitched.

"jake," you gasped, your knees nearly giving out when his fingers brushed against your clothed heat. he groans at the dampness he found, his other hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"look at you," he murmured, eyes dark with need. "so fucking wet for me." you let out a soft whimper, and that was all it took for his restraint to snap.

"you're going to be a good girl, right noona?" he pants softly, his hand slipping out of your shorts. you almost whine at the loss, missing his touch where you need it the most.

you nod mindlessly, looking up at him to catch the dark look in his eyes. his lips pull into an almost evil smirk, "then you're going to have to apologize to me, noona. you hurt my feelings," he fake pouts.

you gape at him, your mouth opening to apologize only for jake to slip in two of his fingers past your lips. you gag around his fingers, not adjusting to the sudden intrusion in your mouth.

he stares down at you, his breath hitching when he pumps his fingers slowly into your mouth.

"nu uh, noona. that's not how i want my apology," he begins, his mouth pulled into a lazy smirk. he slowly pulls his fingers out, a trail of saliva connecting your mouth and his digits. he rubs his spit covered fingers over your lips messily, his face pulled into a pained look as he holds in a moan. "you don't need to use your mouth, but your going to let me use your mouth. yeah?"

your eyes widen at his words, swallowing harshly before you're nodding your head. it felt as if you didn't have control over your own actions.

he grins at your obedience, his hands tangling it into your hair before he's pushing you down to your knees slowly.

you sink down, coming face to face with jake's crotch—your eyes widening when you see the large tent in his pants. jake smirks, tilting your chin up.

"c'mon, take it out."

your hands fumble with his pajama pants, pulling them down along with his briefs. you gasp when his cock springs free, thick, flushed, already leaking. your eyes flick up to meet his, but he doesn't give you time to marvel or breathe—his hand is already fisting in your hair again, pulling your head closer.

"open," he mutters, and when you hesitate, he tightens his grip, yanking your head back. "don't make me ask again, noona."

your lips part, and jake doesn't wait. he slides his cock into your mouth with one slow, brutal thrust, groaning low in his throat when he hits the back of it. your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging in, but he doesn't ease up—he rolls his hips, feeding more of himself into your throat until you're gagging, tears stinging your eyes.

"this is what you wanted?" he grits out, in pure bliss that the woman he had wanted for half of his life was taking him in to her mouth. "just my cock, right? that's all i was to you, yeah?"

you try to shake your head, try to speak around him, but he just holds you there, his other hand coming down to cup your jaw, thumb smearing at the tears running down your cheeks.

"don't lie now," he growls. "you said it yourself. you thought i didn't give a fuck about you. you thought i was just using you."

he pulls out just enough for you to suck in a shaky breath before slamming back in, your moan muffled, choked, sinful.

"you're older than me, right?" he spits, voice bitter. "supposed to be the mature one. then why the fuck are you acting like a scared little girl?"

you look up at him, ruined. your jaw aching, drool trailing down your chin—and jake just smiles. not soft. cruel.

he could feel the familiar coil in his stomach tighten, but this wasn't the way he wanted to cum for you.

"you hurt me, noona," he whispers, finally pulling out completely. you gasp, throat sore, but he doesn't let you rest. he grabs you by the arms and yanks you to your feet, pushing you hard against the counter.

"bend over."

"jake—" you choke, blinking through the fog of tears and lust. "we shouldn't—sunghoon—"

"you think i give a fuck about sunghoon right now?" he hisses, dragging your shorts down roughly, letting them pool around your ankles. "you think he'd care about protecting his slutty sister who lies about what we have?"

you flinch, but you don't stop him—not when he kicks your legs apart, not when he presses the head of his cock right against your dripping entrance.

"say it," he snaps, one hand gripping your hip while the other holds your hair in a tight, punishing fist. "say i'm not just a fuck. beg me to forgive you." you hold in a mewl as his grip on your hair gets tighter, the crown of your head touching his chest.

you bite your lip, shame and heat colliding in your chest, but you say it anyway—voice trembling, broken.

"you're not just a fuck," you whisper. "i'm sorry, jake—please, i didn't mean it. i thought you didn't care...i was scared."

he goes still for a beat, his grip on you relaxing before his chest presses against your back. you hear the shift in his breath.

and then he thrusts into you so hard the air is knocked out of your lungs.

"you should be scared," he hisses against your ear. "scared of how much i fucking want you. scared of what i'll do when you try to run again."

you cry out, biting your own wrist to keep quiet as he starts to pound into you, fast, rough, relentless. you could feel yourself convulse around his girth, your velvety walls sucking him in like a suction.

"mine," he growls with every thrust, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. "mine. you hear me?"

you nod, gasping his name, body trembling from the intensity. it's overwhelming—the pace, the anger, the feeling behind every snap of his hips.

"say it," he demands again, thrusting particularly hard.

"i'm yours," you sob, gripping the edge of the counter like your life depends on it. "jake, i'm yours, i swear—"

"damn right you are."

he grabs your throat from behind, turning your face just enough so he can kiss you—deep, messy, almost violent with how badly he wants to consume you.

"no more ignoring me," he pants against your lips. "no more pretending this isn't real. you understand?" you nod frantically, unable to speak, unable to think—just feel.

and when his hand slides between your thighs, rubbing fast, precise circles over your clit, your whole body locks up. you could feel that familiar feeling tighten up in your lower stomach, your body shaking with every thrust he delivers.

"cum for me, noona," he whispers. "make a mess. and don't you dare try to hide it."

"jake—jake, i—" your voice breaks into a whimper, hips jerking as his fingers circle tighter, rougher.

"go on," he pants, cock driving into you so deep you can't breathe. "cum all over my cock like the slut you said you weren't."

you sob into your arm, your entire body tightening as the knot in your stomach finally snaps. pleasure crashes over you like a wave—sharp, hot, almost unbearable. you clench around him, trembling as you come hard, your release soaking the base of his cock, dripping down your thighs, coating his fingers.

jake lets out a strangled groan at the feeling, his hips stuttering. "fuck, fuck—you feel that?" he growls, voice cracking. "so fucking tight when you cum for me. you were made for this."

his rhythm falters, becoming erratic. you know he's close—the grip on your hips turns bruising, his breath uneven as he drives into you with punishing force.

"where?" he growls, leaning over you, his chest flush against your back. "tell me where, noona. say it. beg for it."

you turn your head slightly, eyes glassy as you whisper, "inside. jake, please—want you to cum inside me."

he curses under his breath, his hands shaking as he fucks you harder—desperate now, his control gone.

"say it again," he snarls, voice wrecked.

"come inside me," you cry, your knees threatening to give out. "need you, jake. need to feel you."

that's all it takes.

with a guttural groan, he slams in deep one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you. his entire body shudders as he comes, filling you up with thick, hot spurts that you swear you can feel leaking out even before he's pulled out.

he stays buried in you, breathing hard, one hand gripping your hip, the other fisted in your hair as he presses his forehead against the back of your shoulder. you're both shaking, sweat-slicked and ruined, your legs barely able to hold you up.

but jake doesn't move—not for a long moment. when he finally does, it's slow, careful, like he's afraid of letting go. he pulls out with a hiss, watching the way his cum spills from your swollen cunt, dripping down your thighs onto the kitchen floor.

his jaw clenches.

he gently turns you around, lifts you up onto the counter, and cups your face between his hands—his voice lower, quieter, but still rough with leftover anger.

"you really think i didn't care?" he murmurs, brows furrowed as he looks into your eyes. "you think i could fuck you like that and not be in love with you?"

your breath catches at his sudden confession.

"you ignored me," you whisper, still dazed.

"because i was hurt," he growls. "because hearing you call yourself a toy—saying i was just using you—fucked me up, noona. i've been in love with you, and you thought it was just my dick talking."

he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"you're mine," he whispers, softer now. "and i'm yours. whether sunghoon likes it or not."

you swallow hard, your hand rising to rest on his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart.

"...i didn't mean it," you whisper. "i was scared. you're younger, and—i thought i was making a mistake."

he kisses you—slow, breathless, a stark contrast to how he'd fucked you minutes ago. and when he pulls away, he's smirking again, cocky and flushed and still so mad.

"you did make a mistake," he says. "and you're going to make it up to me." his hands slip beneath your thighs, dragging you toward the edge of the counter again.

"starting now."

his hands are already back on you before you can breathe—dragging you down the counter, legs parted, chest heaving. he doesn't even give you a moment to recover. you're still dripping with his cum when he spreads you open, gaze locked on your wrecked, swollen pussy.

"look at this mess," he growls, thumb smearing the mix of your release and his across your folds. "you look better like this. ruined. mine."

you gasp, hips jerking at the overstimulation, but he just chuckles darkly, grabbing your thighs to yank you closer until your ass is barely on the counter.

"you made me wait," he sneers, his tone dropping. "you ran your mouth. called me a kid. said i was just using you. and now look at you."

you try to respond, but he presses two fingers to your lips again, "no. you don't get to talk right now. just sit there and take it."

then he's dropping to his knees between your legs, and you barely manage to get a word out before his tongue replaces his fingers—licking up every drop of his cum that's still leaking out of you. he moans like he's starved, eating you out through the overstimulation, not stopping even when your legs tremble around his head.

"fuck—jake, too much—" you sob, fisting his hair, but he just growls into your cunt, locking his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. his tongue runs up and down your slit, flattening it where you need it most.

"this pussy's mine," he mutters against your clit, slapping it lightly with his tongue, making you cry out. "mine to ruin. mine to clean up. you don't get to tell me when i'm done." he continues the pattern, licking figure 8s on your clit as his fingers pry into you slowly—teasing you.

and he doesn't stop until you're falling apart again, legs shaking, tears streaking your cheeks as you cum a second time with a broken scream, biting down on your hand to muffle it—sunghoon still upstairs.

he stands up slowly, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, eyes wild. his cock is hard again, flushed and angry-looking, already twitching against his stomach.

"turn around," he orders, his eyes wild as he stares down at you with hunger.

you hesitate—wrecked, overstimulated—but he grabs your hips and flips you over himself, bending you back over the counter like you weigh nothing.

"you wanted rough?" he pants, lining himself up again. "you wanted to act like i was just some horny little kid with a crush?"

you try to speak but scream instead when he slams into you in one brutal thrust.

"jake—"

he wraps his hand around your throat from behind, yanking you upright against his chest. you gasp at the feeling, his grip on your throat now bruising as you struggle for air. 

"say it again," he hisses in your ear. "say my name like that again."

"j-jake," you sob, your voice breaking as he fucks into you with punishing force.

he leans down, biting your shoulder hard enough to bruise. "you're never calling me a kid again. i'm the only one who fucks you like this. the only one who makes you this dumb."

his other hand slides down, slapping your clit repeatedly without mercy, and your whole body jolts.

"gonna cum again, noona?" he pants. "fucking pathetic. creaming around my cock again when you said we couldn't. when you said i didn't mean it." your body trembles as jake forces your third high out of you, your cunt convulsing around him pathetically.

you cry out, tears falling freely now, your body on fire, collapsing in on itself with every thrust.

"beg for it," he growls. "beg me to fill you up again."

"jake, please—" you gasp, clawing at the marble. "fill me up. need it. need you."

"yeah?" he groans, his rhythm faltering as you tighten around him again. "say you're mine. say you love this."

"i'm yours," you cry, so close to breaking. "i love it—love when you fuck me like this—i'm yours, jake, only yours."

he lets out a low, desperate moan, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "that's right. my noona. my pussy. mine."

his hips slam into you once, twice more—and then he's spilling inside you again, groaning through gritted teeth, his entire body curling over yours like he's trying to bury himself so deep you'll never forget.

you collapse against the counter, boneless and shaking, his cum dripping out of you all over again as you relish in the feeling of your third high.

he leans down, kissing your shoulder softly now—contrasting the bite he left minutes ago—and whispers, "never again. don't you ever say i don't mean it."

he pulls you back up into his arms, pressing soft kisses behind your ear now, your body still trembling.

"...you okay?" he finally asks, quieter now. "too much?" you nod slowly, clinging to him. "no. not too much."

just jake. your jake. four years younger and somehow still the only one who's ever made you feel like this. you don't know how long you stood there, pressed against jake's chest, his arms tight around you as if he couldn't bear to let go.

your legs barely worked, still trembling from the aftermath, and you knew you looked wrecked—shirt open, hair tangled, neck littered with blooming marks. you were both soaked in sweat, your thighs sticky, his cum dripping slowly down your leg.

jake kissed your temple softly, breath still ragged. "i should clean you up," he murmured. "but if i touch you again, i'm not gonna stop."

you leaned your head back against his shoulder, exhausted. "don't think i can take another round anyway."

he chuckled, but it was laced with something darker—possessiveness still simmering just beneath the surface. "you'll take what i give you next time. and you'll say thank you."

you didn't get the chance to respond because that's when you heard it.

a door creaking open upstairs.

both of you froze.

footsteps.

"shit," you breathed, panic setting in as the reality of your situation crashed down.

sunghoon.

your little brother.

he was awake and if he came down and saw this you two would be screwed.

"move," jake whispered harshly, grabbing a dishtowel from the counter and tossing it over the wet mess you'd left behind. "go to the bathroom. now."

you scrambled to button your shirt, tugging your shorts up with shaking hands, nearly falling in the process. jake tucked himself away quickly, grabbing his hoodie from the kitchen chair and pulling it over his head just as the stairs creaked again.

you slipped down the hallway barefoot, heart pounding in your throat, ducking into the bathroom and locking the door with a soft click.

two seconds later, you heard sunghoon's voice from the kitchen.

"jake?"

"yo," jake replied, voice smooth—so effortlessly casual you wanted to scream.

"what are you doing down here?"

"water," jake said, cracking open the fridge to grab a bottle "couldn't sleep."

sunghoon hummed, still half asleep, "you good?"

jake laughed, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. "never better, hyung." you covered your mouth to keep from making a sound.

"you coming back up?" sunghoon asked, voice groggy with sleep as he reaches for the bottle of water that jake had offered him.

"in a bit."

they stood there in silence for a moment before you heard the footsteps retreat. the stairs creaked again. the door shut.

you waited a beat longer—just to be safe—before cracking the door open. jake was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, head tilted slightly.

his eyes met yours. slow. hungry.

you looked like hell—still flushed, lips swollen, hair a mess.

and jake?

jake looked like he'd do it all over again if he had five more minutes alone with you.

"you okay?" he asked, voice quiet now—sincere. you nodded, stepping closer, until he reached out and tugged you into his arms.

"you scared the shit out of me," you mumbled into his chest.

"you scare me every time you act like this is something i'm not serious about."

you froze.

jake pulled back slightly, his hands gentle now as he cupped your jaw. "i'm not just fucking you, noona. i've never just been fucking you."

your chest ached at the truth in his voice. raw and exposed.

"i know," you whispered, finally. "i believe you." he smiled—small, but genuine. "good. because next time you call me a kid, i'll fuck you and fill you so you have mine."

your breath hitched, but this time it wasn't from fear or shame—just need. you kissed him—soft, slow, the kind of kiss that promised this wasn't over.

because now you knew, it would never be over.

and god help you, you didn't want it to be.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[tobeholyistobeempty]

husband john price who goes to the end of the earth when his wife gets captured by an enemy group for leverage. husband john price who is still haunted by it, even when you’re back safe in his arms.

He doesn’t hear you come in.

Not over the silence. Not over the creak of leather beneath his elbows or the slow crackle of the fire in the hearth. The study is dim — warm, yes, but not alive. A space that once held meaning. Now it just holds him.

You don’t say a word. Just pad across the hardwood with gentle steps. His eyes are cast toward the fire — half-burnt logs, amber glow flickering across the hard line of his jaw and mingling with the smoke of his cigar. He hasn’t shaved in days. Not since long before he got you back. Hasn’t even thought about it. You know, because you counted each time he moved.

Three. Each to the kitchen, then back.

You pause for a moment, watching the grief calcify in his silence.

He looks like he’s been carved down to bone by fear and sharpened again by rage. The kind of rage only a man like him could carry. Cold. Surgical. The kind that doesn’t explode. It eats.

There’s a bottle of whiskey on the table next to him, half gone. You wonder how much of it he poured into the hollow that had your name carved into it. How many nights he drank your ghost down just to keep breathing.

You stop in front of him. No words yet.

Just you — bare legs, one of his dress shirts curtaining your frame, sleeves rolled up past the elbows. It smells like him. Cologne and smoke and something older. The scent of a man who nearly lost his world and hasn’t quite figured out how to let it back in without crucifying himself with the hurt.

“John,” you murmur softly.

He looks up.

And Christ — you weren’t ready for the way he looks at you. Not because he’s crying. He’s not. He’s past that. But because his expression is starved. Hollowed out. Like he spent every second of your absence chewing through every scenario that didn’t end with you in front of him, wearing his clothes and looking at him like you never left.

“I’m here,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

He sets his cigar down, hand reaching out — rough palm sliding along your thigh like he’s checking for something, proof maybe, or pulse. You step between his knees without being asked, fingers finding the back of his neck, thumb brushing scruff made coarse by time.

His forehead presses to your stomach. Just rests there.

You can feel the breath he drags in — shaky, uneven, filled with everything he hasn’t said in the seven days he spent chasing hell to get you back.

“I should’ve gotten there sooner,” he says. His voice sounds like smoke and splinters. “I—”

“You got there.” You trace the age on his skin. He holds you tighter for it. “You found me.”

“Not a goddamn thing would’ve prevented that.”

You don’t answer that — just hold his head in your hands, willing your fingers to grow roots. Like the only thing you can offer now is proof of life.

He doesn’t ask you to forgive him for the days it took to reach you. Doesn’t apologize over and over for something he knows you'd never ever blame him for. It’s military. You know the job. The risks that often reap the rewards. And you — you know better than to tell him you’re fine. Because fine is the word people use when everything inside them is still bleeding. And besides, he isn’t really asking if you’re okay.

He’s asking if you’re still his.

So you climb into his lap, straddling his thighs. Not to fuck — not to forget. But to exist. With him. Inside the silence. Inside the ache. Inside the echo of what might’ve been lost if he hadn’t fought like hell to get to you.

“I had plans,” he murmurs, curling his lips into your neck. “For after. For now. Thought about what I’d say when you walked through the door. About how I’d ask if you wanted to get out of this life. Find something quieter. Something that doesn’t strip the good from our skin.”

You shift, press your forehead to his. Let the smoke on his exhales stick to yours. Let the ache burn through your throat.

“And now?”

He kisses you. “Now I just want to feel you breathe.”

[brawberryz]

⎯⎯ㅤSay you'll never leave me

Batfam Yan! × Negleted Idol! Reader

| Platonic |

Note / English is not my first language / Inspired by the anime "Oshi No Ko" / M.List

TW / Yandere behaviors, Toxic relationships, emotional dependency, neglect, violence, blood, death, murder, mentions of sex (not explicit), abandonment, stalking, harassment, daddy issues, Dark themes

What is love?

That's what you've always wondered: was it really as good as people said it was?

Is true love the same as fake love? You didn't know

You never experienced any kind of love from your family

The people who were supposed to care for you and protect you just treated you like garbage

The people who were supposed to be there for you when you needed them most abandoned you as soon as they could

Since you were little, you knew none of them liked you, but you could pretend they loved you

You could lie, lie about your life, lie about your feelings

Lies tasted better than the truth, because lying made you look better in people's eyes

Lies didn't hurt, truths did

You are the perfect liar

And those lies got you to where you were now, everyone loved (name)

The perfect idol, you were in a small group of idols, but your charisma and affection for your fans took you to the top

Your face was everywhere, there wasn't a single person on the planet who didn't know your name or face

And even when you were still alive You foolishly wanted your family to notice you, you became an idol out of spite.

You thought if you became famous they would be proud of you.

That he would be proud of you.

For as long as you can remember, you fought for your father's acceptance.

You wanted him to notice that you existed, to look at you with the same affection you looked at your other siblings.

But it never happened that way. You thought it was because you were weak.

Everyone else was so unique and talented.

And you were just (name). The only thing that stood out about you was the fact that you had the last name 'Wayne'.

But then you were a nobody.

But on stage, you could forget all your worries. You could feel that people loved you.

They praised you, loved you, and supported you.

Even though you knew it was fake, it was all always fake.

They only loved the perfect (name), the one who never made mistakes and was always smiling.

You should be perfect. Your job as an idol was to give the fans what they wanted.

Your feelings didn't matter; you had to give people what they wanted, even if it killed you.

You knew all the admiration was only superficial, but it still felt so good.

For the first time, you felt loved, even if it was fake.

You made bad decisions throughout your life, from personal to romantic.

You ended up pregnant after sleeping with a stranger. You thought you'd finally found the love of your life.

But all he did was use your body for pleasure.

And even though you knew he never loved you and only used you, you knew there was a little bit of love in it.

Or so you wanted to think, so you wouldn't feel stupid.

But being an idol and being pregnant wasn't easy.

Your agency decided to hide everything. It would be terrible if one of their idols was pregnant.

It would ruin your entire reputation.

They couldn't allow that. One of they best idols was hated.

You wanted to call Bruce, tell him everything that happened.

But you were too cowardly.

What if he was disappointed?

Maybe he'd think you called him to take advantage of him.

Maybe he'd tell you you were an idiot for the things you did; you were too young.

You knew it was a risky decision, but you decided to keep the baby.

Although apparently it wasn't a baby, but twins.

You were happy because you felt that after so much time, you wouldn't be alone anymore.

You would be able to start a family; that was what you always wanted.

Months later, your babies were born. You had never felt so happy in your life.

That day, you swore you would protect them with your life.

For the first time, you experienced what love was, and this time, it wasn't fake.

You're so cute, Aqua!"

You said laughing, squeezing one of he chubby cheeks.

You decided to retire from show business for a while; you wanted to dedicate all your time to your children.

You didn't want them to feel the same way you did.

You would be a better version of them.

"Oh!" You felt a small push on your arm and could see Ruby looking at you with those eyes of hers. They were so similar, yet so different from you. "You're very pretty too, Ruby. The cutest girl in the world!"

You hugged them both with all your strength. Everything you'd ever dreamed of was now yours.

For the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to feel loved.

This love wasn't fake; it was real.

Here, you didn't need to lie or pretend.

The doorbell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Uh? I don't remember ordering anything..."

You said, getting up from the couch.

You left Aqua and Ruby in the living room as you headed for the door.

But Aqua was too stubborn and decided to follow you. he felt something wasn't right.

You opened the door and found a strange man standing there, but you were surprised when you saw the flowers he was carrying. Perhaps it was a gift from your manager.

It wasn't uncommon for someone from your company to send you gifts to let them know you were okay.

But you could barely react when you felt something sharp enter your abdomen.

"M-Mom..."

Was all he could say when he saw the whole The blood in the hallway and the man with the knife in his hand

Apparently, one of your fans had found out you had children, that you had a family

And he couldn't stand that his 'innocent and tender' (name) had some kind of boyfriend or husband

So he decided to kill you as revenge

The man ran out of your apartment; you barely had the strength to close the door, and your body collapsed right there

Aqua ran to hug you even though he knew your blood was staining his body

You could only hug him tighter as you tried to reach the phone on the wall

Aqua saw you dial a number and how the brightness of your eyes grew dimmer when the voicemail rang

It seemed like not even in the midst of death could you count on your family

"Dad...?" You said, barely trying not to choke on your own blood. "I know you probably d-don't want to talk to me... and I understand, but..."

You could feel Aqua squeezing you tighter, trying to keep your blood from spilling out. You could see Ruby from the other side of the glass.

Her look of terror hurt you. It hurt to see how scared she looked.

And you understood. No child should see their mother die.

You barely gave her a weak smile. You wanted to go over and hug her, but your body could barely hold the phone.

"Please... take care of Aqua and Ruby. They're all I have." A long silence fell over the room, and only small sobs could be heard in the hallway. For the first time in your life, you were afraid of dying. "Dad... I'm scared... please take care of them."

Your voice grew fainter and fainter, the brightness in your eyes dimmed, and tears streamed down your face.

A small "I love you" was heard, but Aqua couldn't tell if you were saying it to him, Ruby, or the man you were talking to.

The phone fell to the floor, and Aqua could feel the soft beat of your heart stop.

Your body felt as cold as snow.

He see his mother die before his eyes, and he couldn't do anything.

That day, Aqua promised himself he would kill the man who did this to you.

And maybe he would seek revenge. Your own father didn't answer your call when you asked for help. What kind of family was that?!

The message was sent, and the only noise left in the room was Aqua's frantic breathing and Ruby's crying from the other side of the glass.

Bruce could only repeat the voicemail over and over again. All he had left of you was your voice pleading for help.

He was supposed to be Batman, a hero.

But he wasn't even able to save his own daughter. Maybe if he answered that call, you'd still be alive.

He thought if he pushed you away, you wouldn't have to suffer anything. Being a vigilante wasn't easy, and he thought if he kept you away from him, he wouldn't have to put you in danger.

But even so, now you were dead.

When you mentioned Aqua and Ruby, he didn't know what you meant, but when he found out you were pregnant and had children, he felt worse.

You were pregnant and you never told him!? It sounded so hypocritical, and he knew it, but he couldn't stand that you decided to hide something as important as that.

Why didn't you ever call him? Even though I knew he didn't call you, it was for a good reason.

He wanted to keep you away from any danger, and he was too cowardly to call you.

After so many years, what could I say to you?

He ignored you your whole life. Would you let him back into your life?

Would you still consider him family after all this time?

He was a coward, and he knew it.

He wanted to have you back in his arms and make up for lost time.

But now you were just a memory, a blurry memory because he couldn't even remember the sound of your laughter or your gaze.

Your voice was the only true sound of you he could remember now.

But he swore he'd make the guy who did this to you pay. Maybe this time he'd let go of the no-kill rule.

Meanwhile, the sound of the television in the living room filled the room.

There was no sound, just the reporter's voice as she said you'd been found dead in your apartment.

Your face appeared on the screen; no one could believe you were dead.

In everyone's head, they had different ways to make the man who did this suffer and torture him.

They knew it was hypocritical to worry about you now, but they loved you!

In their own way...

But there was still a little bit of affection for you.

Damian thought about using the Lazarus Pit to revive you. He knew the consequences, but he couldn't allow his older sister to be dead.

You were supposed to stay alive!

He and you are Wayne by blood, you can't die!

You can't leave him alone. You were so stupid to leave the mansion and become an idol.

But it's okay. He'll find the signature to revive you, and this time he won't let you go.

Jason thought about crushing that man's skull with his bare hands. He wasn't the best brother to you, and he knows it.

You used to get along, before the Joker killed him and then he was revived.

At that moment, he was filled with rage and felt like everyone had betrayed him.

And he pushed you away, thinking it was for the best.

He was afraid of breaking you. He had broken many things in his life, and you were the only thing he hadn't broken.

So he pushed you away out of fear and rejection, and right now, he regrets it so much.

He'll avenge his sister and kill anyone who dares to say anything about you.

Dick couldn't even process it. He was the older brother who held the family together.

But it was always very different. with you, ignoring your needs or forgetting you.

It wasn't on purpose! He swears.

He was just too caught up in his responsibilities that he put you aside.

He wanted to pretend it didn't affect him so much, but inside, he was devastated.

But he was going to make amends for his mistakes, but first, he had to take care of the bitch who dared to touch you.

Tim barely found out you died; his whole world fell apart. He wasn't even prepared for that.

Your death?

This couldn't be possible. How? When?

He had a plan for everything, but this?

This was simply out of his hands.

But he pushed himself and began to investigate more than any other detective. Your killer was good at hiding, but he was much smarter.

It wouldn't surprise anyone that he was the first to discover the culprit.

He liked psychological torture more than physical torture, so he knew he could have fun with it as soon as he got his hands on it.

They were a bad family, but they got better!

It wasn't easy for Aqua and Ruby to adapt to their new family either.

For them, Aqua and Ruby were the only thing closest to you.

They were so similar to you.

Although Ruby accepted the overprotectiveness and affection, Aqua denied it.

He knew their intentions, Aqua still hated them for all the harm they caused.

He was going to get revenge on the man who did this to you and on your family.

They didn't deserve you; they're all hypocrites and manipulators.

Aqua knew your whole family was crazy.

I just hoped they weren't crazy enough to revive you.

They would never do that, right?

Right...?

After a long time, I decided to post something again.

Artist's block was the worst thing that could have happened to me.

I don't know if I'll do a second part; I'm too lazy to do any kind of series. So, it's an open ending

:vvv

[kdh-tally]

Huntr/x and Saja Boys Headcannons!!!

This was requested (Here's a summary) : I was wondering if you could do an open world fanfic? Where the saja boys are able to return to the human world since they wouldnt be demons no longer (the defeat of gwi nam). The fansign scene left me STARVING. LIKEEE mystery x zoey and baby being the wingman (nonchalantly ofc) romance x mira x abby (YOU CAN DECIDE WHO GETS WITH MIRA BTW NO WORRIES ❤️) and ofc our NUMBER ONE JINU X RUMI

No idea how long this was but here's my first head cannon thingy :D

The Aftermath

Jinu, the sweet little self-sacrificing boy just shows up one day in the label lobby like hi ☺️☺️ and everyone freezes in place.

Rumi blinks and leaves the room.

Baby, the maknae (youngest member), is like “I’m not crying you’re crying shut up bro.”

The boys don’t question it too hard because they’re just happy he’s back. And now they get to keep playing the hot idol boy group. 

Not that they cared about their fans or anything…

(Spoiler: they love the idol life. They just pretend to be tired.)

Both Huntrix and Saja Boys are definitely under the same entertainment company now. Same building, Same dorm hall, Shared lounges and practice rooms.

This also means people keep taking other peoples stuff. 

Mira wanted to eat the ramen she left on the counter only 3 minutes ago? Too bad, Romance took the cup and left a sticky note: “sorry pinkie. u snooze u starve - R”

The girls didn’t even know when the boys were signed. 

“Wait, are you saying the weird tall guy who always takes my food is one of the Saja Boys??” Mira glances over at Bobby in confusion.

“We’ve been working above them this whole time!!??”

Rumi definitely avoided the whole label for WEEKS once she found out Jinu was alive again.

Abby saw her in the stairwell once when heading to dance practice and she legit LEAPT over the railing to avoid him seeing her.

There will be prank wars.

Rumi suggests it by accident one day, wanting to ensure that Gwi-Ma is sealed forever. “We should just move back into the dorms so we can spy on them.”

Zoey, seeing this as a way to have more fun, gets so hyped, "or we move in so we can BOTHER them!!"

Next thing you know, Huntrix is back in their old dorm and they’re not even subtle about their pranks.

Within the first week?

Baby’s toothbrush gets replaced with a glitter-coated pacifier.

Mystery wakes up to “Zoey was here ;P” written in red lipstick on his mirror. (He stares at it for a good five minutes before wiping it off.)

Jinu goes to work out one day in the company gym only to find that all the motivational posters have been replaced with an image of his head photoshopped onto a barbie doll....

The boys retaliate.

Romance reroutes the girls’ shower water to freezing cold.

Abby writes them a sweet apology note then leaves stink bombs under their couch cushions. (Mira is fuming, cause how DARE he mess with her couch???)

Baby? He would bake them cookies that taste amazing but are actually mild laxatives. He says “oopsie” but is smiling too hard.

Daily Interactions That Would Definitely Happen

Dance Practice:

Somehow both groups would be scheduled to use the practice room at the same time.

Zoey and Mystery would argue over who gets to use the bluetooth speaker first.

Rumi walking in, seeing Jinu sweaty from practice, walking OUT.

Abby quietly waits to stretch but then gets dragged into a Mira vs Romance (she's getting him back for stealing her ramen).

Company Lounge:

Baby would be snacking mid-meeting, sharing with some Zoey (his fellow rapper) and not offering Mystery anything just to start some trouble.

Rumi chooses to sit on the farthest end of the couch from Jinu but he moves closer anyway.

“Mind if I sit here?”

"Um- no! I don't know. Yo-you can do whateeeeeever you want... Heh"

Recording Studio:

Zoey overhears Mystery’s guide vocal and straight up complains. “Ugh. Why is he good at everything.”

He just smirks in the booth (he heard her). She’s blushing. He knows.

Abby helps Mira rehearse her lines in the hallway. Romance pops in with a “need help, pinkie?” and gets hit with her script binder.

Little Scenes

Baby constantly catching Zoey and Mystery coming up with lyrics together in one of the solo-practice rooms. He'd shake his head and walk by, “Not my business.”

(It becomes his business. He’s taking mental notes as to how to set them up.)

Late-night rooftop talks between Rumi and Jinu.

Both of them still haven’t completely come to terms with their demon (and half-demon) heritage.

She’s still so unsure about everything but he's incredibly devoted to her.

“Even when I disappeared I still remember how I felt about you. I mean, I literally gave you my soul” he lets out a small laugh

“Shut up before I cry, you idiot.” (she's already crying into his hoodie)

Romance tries to convince Abby to dye his hair a different colour so that only he matches with Mira.

The Fans

The fans believe the whole “Huntrix vs Saja Boys” rivalry was just a clever concept planned out since the Saja Boys debut.

“Whoa, two groups with an epic fantasy backstory??”

No one knows what actually happened.

They think Jinu’s re-appearance is just him coming back from a long hiatus after health complications.

Little do they know he literally reincarnated.

Fansign Events

Mystery x Zoey Moments (Constant Sarcasm)

A fan is literally spewing so many questions at them “Your concept is sooo realistic. How did you learn to hold swords like that?”

Zoey -> “Extensive training.”

Mystery -> “Yeah. In the mountains. With wolves.”

Zoey -> “That’s why you’re always barking at people huh?"

“I don’t bark at the fans-”

“There’s an hour long youtube compilation of you just-”

Anyways…

A fan brings Mystery a vampire plushie and he just stares at it.

“Do I… give off vampire?”

Zoey shrugs, “I mean, you got the pale skin, hidden eyes, sharp teeth for biting your fans. It’s a fair assumption.”

The fan squeals

Rumi x Jinu (Secret Soulmates)

A fan asks the two “Rumi, you’ve worked with Jinu before right?”

“You could say that.” she smiles while signing their album.

She really means “We literally fought a huge magical demon fire thing side-by-side and he sacrificed himself for me.”

Jinu signs an album with “I’ll protect you forever 😉” and winks at a fan.

Rumi gives him a NASTY side eye and playfully whispers at the fan “He’s not even that charming.”

She is beet red. 

The fan is dying of laughter.

Most fans have a theory that they were cast as rivals in a music video storyline that never ended up being released.

Mira x Romance x Abby Triangle (Pink Trio)

I feel like fans would call them Pink Crayons or something like that cause they all have pink hair.

Fan: “What’s your favorite memory between both groups?”

Abby -> “When we survived our first tour.”

Romance -> “When we survived our first battle-”

Mira, while grinning at the fan, KICKS HIS SHIN UNDER THE TABLE

Romance -> “I MEANT fan battle. On Twitter. With hashtags. Obviously.”

Abby smiles so kindly at fans that they start calling him a “gentle giant.”

Baby Being a single wingman & Secret Keeper

Fans: “What’s it like sharing a company with Huntrix?”

“Loud. Dangerous. Very cursed. I mean—cozy.”

He’s so calm, seeing as he’s the only one who wasn’t being shipped.

He didn’t mind watching his other group members flirting all the time (maybe just a little bit…)

“You know Mystery sleeps like he’s guarding a portal to hell. Kidding. Unless…?”

The fans know he’s the comedic relief between both groups.

Zombie Apocalypse?

Fan: “What would you do in a zombie apocalypse?”

Zoey -> “Take Mira and Rumi and run.”

Mystery -> “I’d already have a plan.”

Abby -> “I’d distract the zombies with my gorgeous muscles.” Proceeds to flex.

Jinu -> “Obviously I’m saving my pets first,”

Rumi -> “Your pets? You still haven’t named them??”

Jinu -> “It takes timeeeeee”

Mira -> “Grabbing my couch, grabbing zoey and running.”

Rumi -> “What about me 🥺”

Mira -> “Jinu won’t let you die so i’m not that worried”

Baby -> “I am the apocalypse.”

Romance -> “What does that even mean–”