#Balloons to Heaven Day

[thelofian]

Daily Booster Table (TTCC DBT) for 2024-08-06, Activi-Tuesday, 🚜 Farmworker Appreciation Day · 🎈 Balloons to Heaven Day

Thank you again, Smirky Flippengadget! Also, 100th post on Tumblr!

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[baldval]

VALENTINE'S DAY W HAZBIN!₊˚⊹♡

characters: vox, charlie, valentino, lucifer, adam, lute, alastor

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, slightly suggestive content if you're reading adam.

VOX:

𖹭 the place is absolutely decorated when you get up in the morning.

𖹭 i'm talking heart balloons, flowers, and rose petals all across the floor.

𖹭 when you come into the living room, he's still in his jammies and sitting on the couch.

𖹭 you loved when he looked like that, so carefree, a contrast from his usual self.

𖹭 "Vox, what's all this?" you ask smiling

𖹭 "it's all for you, obviously."

𖹭 he stands up and walks towards you, he lifts you up and spins you around.

𖹭 you place your hands on his chest as he gently lowers you back to the floor.

𖹭 "you deserve the entire world," he whispers.

𖹭 he plants a kiss on your lips and you instantly blush.

𖹭 with a foolish smile, he wishes you a happy Valentine's Day.

𖹭 you give him lots of kisses, leaving marks all across the screen.

𖹭 you say, "I have something for you."

𖹭 "you do?"

𖹭 "duh" you chuckle

𖹭 you were aware that Vox had his eye on this watch.

𖹭 it had this gorgeous crimsom strap that matched his tie. 𖹭 when he notices it, all he does is look at you. 𖹭 love obscuring his vision 𖹭 he's amazed that you're his. 𖹭 and he feels quite fortunate. 𖹭 he carefully places the watch on the counter. 𖹭 then gives you a kiss so intense you almost feel like you're actually in heaven.

CHARLIE:

𖹭 when you walk in to your room, there are roses on your desk.

𖹭 with an enormous chocolate box of course

𖹭 and a, quite long, love letter

𖹭 the fact that she can't wait to just see you and be able to actually hold you

𖹭 you're grinning broadly to yourself.

𖹭 and you joyfully shove chocolate after chocolate into your lips.

𖹭 she doesn't meet you in the lobby, like you thought she would.

𖹭 she appears at your room.

𖹭 "hi, babe," she exclaims, excited.

𖹭 she approaches and greets you with a kiss.

𖹭 "thank you so much for everything. you say to her, "I have something for you too, you know."

𖹭 she is unable to remove her lips from yours.

𖹭 you take something out of a desk drawer as you pull her into your lap. 𖹭 you pry it open, and she lets out a half-gasp.

𖹭 you were able to get her a unique, gorgeous necklace. 𖹭 at the center is a quite shiny heart. 𖹭 you help her put it on, and the chain fits neatly around her clavicle. 𖹭 she has what is probably the biggest smile you've ever seen. 𖹭 from now on you notice, she never, ever removes the necklace.

VALENTINO:

𖹭 extravagant king.

𖹭 his name is literally Valentine so of course he'll take the day off for you.

𖹭 you and him are hand in hand on a pier.

𖹭 he's obviously wearing his best clothes, and of course you are too.

𖹭 before you know it, it's just the two of you on a small yacht.

𖹭 and the necessary employees, but they're not the main focus.

𖹭 he lavishes you with presents

𖹭 chocolate, that perfect piece of jewelry, and a tiny plush animal that he says reminded you of him

𖹭 you share a meal on the balcony while chatting and having fun.

𖹭 all while playing footsie beneath the table.

𖹭 he seems to be focusing solely on you when you talk to him.

𖹭 because he really is, staring at you with adoration.

𖹭 with your backs against each other, you sit in the living room.

𖹭 your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers comb through your hair

𖹭 he breathes steadily and deeply.

𖹭 "i wouldn't really mind if this was all we did for the rest of our lives," he says

𖹭 you plant a kiss on his shoulder while gazing out to sea.

𖹭 "that wouldn't bother me either,"

𖹭 in some way, he draws you even nearer to him.

𖹭 he kisses your face all over

𖹭 "well that's great. since you're everything to me."

LUCIFER:

𖹭 truly a hopeless romantic

𖹭 his pissing in his underwear while waiting for you.

𖹭 you open the door and say hello to him.

𖹭 the ceiling and walls are illuminated by candlelight, creating a dim atmosphere.

𖹭 there are rose petals all over the path that leads to the living room.

𖹭 you walk slowly towards him.

𖹭 he's kinda just standing there.

𖹭 and it's pretty obvious he's nervous.

𖹭 he grabs hold of your hands and draws you in.

𖹭 "hey," he says, his voice cracking right away.

𖹭 "i missed you," you say

𖹭 he murmurs back, "yeah, I missed you too, so much."

𖹭 for a small instant, he remains silent.

𖹭 but he goes on after that.

"i love you so much, and i know we've talked about how we both want to get married. and, i'll be honest, i can't imagine my life without you, and i'm just so... so in love with you, and I'm sorry, I'm rambling, it's just-" he stops suddenly, taking a deep breath.

𖹭 as he drops to one knee, his hands follow your hips and sides. 𖹭 he takes out a tiny velvet box from inside his coat. 𖹭 you have mentioned getting married before. 𖹭 and you are well aware that he is pretty much your soulmate. 𖹭 and it's Valentine's Day, so of course, he's popping the question. 𖹭 and you naturally answer: "yes". 𖹭 he stands up rapidly, your lips colliding with his. 𖹭 he tightens his grasp around the small of your back. 𖹭 he will always hold onto you.

ADAM:

𖹭 the sun began to set on valentine's day.

𖹭 adam, as charming as they come, is dressed to impress.

𖹭 he strutted alongside you as you walked towards a bench.

𖹭 the bench had this incredible view of the sea.

𖹭 adam sat down right beside you, your thighs touching.

𖹭 the times where adam was in silence were not many, yet always impactful.

𖹭 you stared at the sun as he stared at you.

𖹭 his eyes were fixated on your face, analysing your features.

𖹭 "why are you looking at me like that?" you're blushing.

𖹭 "i got something for you." he avoids your gaze now.

𖹭 clearly, adam is not used to vulnerability.

𖹭 and there was something about him being with you that just made him feel seen.

𖹭 he takes out a small box.

𖹭 "it's nothing really" he says as you open it.

𖹭 inside there's a mixtape.

𖹭 you read the names of the songs, not recognising any.

𖹭 "are these yours?" he nods.

𖹭 "the last one is named after you, actually"

𖹭 you look at him, eyes wide open, surprised at his gesture.

𖹭 with a sly smile and a playful roll of your eyes, you leaned in to steal a kiss, your heart fluttering with excitement.

𖹭 "who knew the first guy to ever exist would be such a romantic?" you teased, unable to hide the fondness in your voice.

𖹭 "you should play the mixtape as we fuc-"

𖹭 "of course you had to ruin it" you chuckle as he smirks.

𖹭 he wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest.

LUTE:

𖹭 she gives you several quick kisses to wake you up.

𖹭 "hey, sleepyhead. i need you up.

𖹭 you blink away the sleepiness, as she continues to plant lips on your cheeks and jaw.

𖹭 "come on, babe, we have a reservation," she whines.

𖹭 "a reservation, huh?"

𖹭 "yes, please get up right now."

𖹭 she puts on a sharp dress shirt and matching dress pants.

𖹭 she gives you a bouquet of your favorite flower as you meet her at the door.

𖹭 she takes one of the flowers, clips it, and tucks it behind your ear.

𖹭 you then walk to a close cafe, arm in arm.

𖹭 it isn't really that fancy but it is beautiful.

𖹭 the place is filled with tulips and it smells like what you figured spring would smell like.

𖹭 in a quiet space, a table is already prepared for the two of you.

𖹭 you two laugh while eating breakfast.

𖹭 you two could chat for hours on end and never get bored.

ALASTOR:

𖹭 he's just getting started with all of this relationship stuff.

𖹭 he had no one to share valentine's with before to this year.

𖹭 thus, he is anxious and perplexed.

𖹭 but of course he will do everything in his power to hide it, keeping his smile to appear calm.

𖹭 after work, he brings a bouquet home with him.

𖹭 they are your favourite colour and flower.

𖹭 because of course he knows every single thing that you love.

𖹭 and he brings cake instead of chocolate.

𖹭 "aw, Alastor." you blush

𖹭 "well, i didn't find any chocolate boxes shaped like hearts, but i did find a cake shaped like a heart."

𖹭 you chuckle

𖹭 but it doesn't truly bother you

𖹭 quietly, he says, "i made sure to get your favorite flavor, and i swear there's no human parts in this"

𖹭 "it may not be much, but it is what I could find,"

𖹭 you interrupted him with a kiss.

𖹭 "Alastor" you say his name and his eyes flutter.

𖹭 "i don't think you could ever guess how happy you make me"

𖹭 he feels like his heart is trying to burst out of his chest. 𖹭 he draws you into a close embrace. 𖹭 you spend the evening eating cake and snuggling on the couch.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: SHOKO (feat. The Boys)

A/N: This took an entirely different route than I expected when I first started dribbling it. This was a fun one 🤭

C/W: Cuckholding, Mature, 18+

Fact: You are the hottest woman alive.

Fact: Shoko is no better than a man.

Shoko is no better than a man because she has used you — your pictures, your smile, your tight hugs — as her personal spank bank.

Truthfully, she can’t really pinpoint the moment you broke her brain.

All she remembers is that there was an inflection point in time. Before meeting you. And after meeting you.

And the funniest part of it all is that you two have nothing in common.

Shoko is a sorcerer at Jujutsu Tech. You are a normie at University of Tokyo.

Shoko can count on one hand how many people she can tolerate. People flock to you in droves. And you like it.

Shoko is red wine and cigarettes. You are champagne and birthday cake.

So how the hell did a bubble gum, pretty pink, girly girl, princess work her way into Shoko’s life? And take permanent residence in a little (extremely large) part of her brain?

Not to mention the havoc you are wreaking in her heart. Whatever is left of the cold, shriveled plumbing system keeping her alive.

When was it exactly?

Shoko lights another cigarette on her short 2 mile walk home. You have a habit of making her burn through her vices.

Was it the night you went out dancing?

When the dress you wore made Shoko see God?

You grinded every part of your mind-altering curves on her, and Shoko left sopping wet. At home she immediately reached for her vibrator. Unable to look herself in the eye for a full day after that.

Or maybe it was the time you fell asleep curled up in her lap. Wearing one of her old ratty softball shirts, smelling like her shampoo. Small, rhythmic breaths flowing from your lips.

You looked like the missing puzzle piece in Shoko’s life.

No, no.

It’s definitely was the time you came barreling into her apartment with balloons and flowers and cupcakes that were too sweet. All because Shoko had finally mastered her reversed curse technique before the prodigal sons.

You can barely even grasp the concept of curses. And why would you?

A soft, gentle soul like you couldn’t muster enough negativity to form a curse.

You live in the clouds. Among the angels. You can’t see curses and yet — somehow —you’re the most supernatural person in any room.

She’s completely, fully, idiotically smitten with you.

And so is everybody else.

You pretty, unaware little thing. You have the two strongest sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech and their personal medic wrapped around your dainty fingers and you have no idea.

Suguru? He stares. Vision sharper than a hawk. He watches you talk, eat, walk, text, think. Suguru anticipates your next breath and would kiss oxygen into your mouth if he could. Even still, despite how taken he is, Suguru is the best at concealing his puppy love.

Satoru is the absolute worst.

Limitless goes off the second you step into a room. And Satoru rarely clicks off his technique otherwise. Even when it’s just Shoko or Suguru around.

He all but chains you to his body. He’s always lifting you, hugging you, carrying you, holding your hand, holding your hair. Satoru would crawl inside of your body and live there, if he could.

Then there’s Shoko.

Who seethes when anyone looks your way. But also masturbates to the thought of other people touching you.

A fucking mess of a conundrum, right?

The first time it happened was about 8 months ago. Definitely one too many glasses of Cabernet were poured. You two were gabbing on the phone. Exchanging the best and worst sex you’ve had to date.

And you. In that melodic, breathy, gossamer thin voice of yours that belongs in Heaven’s choir started saying the dirtiest things. About how cock-drunk you were. How you begged and pleaded for more. Swallowed cum like it was your only sustenance. And squirted all over your lover, only to kiss it off his face after.

Shoko touched herself until she came right then and there. On the phone. You unknowingly talking her through her one of the most satisfying orgasms of her life.

Since then it’s been a horrible habit she’s given into time and time again.

And who’s to say? Maybe it’s from constantly being in the shadows of Suguru’s Sun and Satoru’s Moon that there’s comfort in watching from the side lines?

Maybe she’s found the sweet pleasure in that pain and it’s manifested as her lust for others having their way with you? And her blind infatuation with you?

No, wait.

Not blind.

With you it’s like she has the Six Eyes. And with you, so does everyone else.

Shoko drags in a long, exasperated breath. Pausing just outside her apartment entrance, stomping out the last of her menthol.

If the time she spent mulling over you in her mind could be converted caloric energy - she’d be a supermodel by now.

Whatever.

Today’s the best day of the week. Friday.

Which means when Shoko opens her door, you’re going to be fussing about the kitchen. Cooking some kind of dessert for Movie Night.

The Boys usually trip over themselves getting to Shoko’s apartment after classes. But there’s always an idyllic 15 minutes where Shoko has you all to herself.

15 minutes in Heaven. Like she’s a damn middle school girl.

Shoko opens her door and nearly flatlines.

You’re evil.

An evil, mean, cruel tease.

You KNOW anyone with eyes would have a stroke at the site of you.

Fully bent over at the waist, rummaging through pots and pans. Not a single blemish on your silky smooth skin. Your lilac boy shorts could not BE any tighter. And of course, they’re just short enough to not cover the plump shelf of your lower ass cheeks.

Shoko’s hands start twitching. Like she’s going through withdrawal.

You pop back up with a triumphant “there it is!” An empty small pot in your hands. And Shoko thinks she’ll have to add a heart attack to her growing list of ailments.

Your matching lilac tank top is egregiously and deliciously small. The sliver of tummy between the hem of the top and waist of your shorts could bring civilizations to collapse.

Not to mention that the apartment is cold. And your nipples are so painfully responsive.

Sin.

You are sin.

Wrapped in the most beautiful frame of a woman.

“Babe!! You’re already home. I let myself in because the icing for these cupcakes takes forever to get right.”

You flash your Colgate smile, ensnaring Shoko in your trap.

“You’re going to give Satoru and Suguru a heart attack.” Her, you’re going to give her a heart attack.

“Hmm? Why do you say that?” So non-chalant. So oblivious.

Shoko gestures to your outfit. Attempting to mirror your nonchalance. But, ironically, she can feel her face tumbling down the descending shades of red.

Genuine confusion weaves though your features and she almost screams.

“Shoko please. You know they don’t see me that way!”

Everyone, gorgeous. EVERYONE. Sees you that way.

Before she could edge another word out, the familiar hum of Limitless buzzing inward splits Shoko’s thoughts in half.

Dammit, they’re early.

“Daddy’s Home!”

Satoru charges straight at you because of course he would.

“Satoru!!!” You’re a plaything in his arms. Legs tightening around his waist.

Shoko would pay an inordinate amount of money to trade places with him.

She watches through an envy-green screen. How easily Satoru spins you and tosses you on the kitchen counter. Situating himself between your soft thighs.

How would your body bounce against his hips thrusting into you?

“You have to taste this, pretty boy.”

Tsk. He’s not THAT pretty.

Both Shoko and Suguru watch through parted lips as you shove half a cupcake into Satoru’s mouth. Neither of you miss how his tongue flicks between your fingers. Or how his hips lean closer to your barely clothed flower.

He lets out an exaggerated groan. “Fucking, perfect. I could eat your cupcake..all night.”

“You perv.”

You laugh and shove Satoru back from between your legs. Then turn in Shoko’s direction.

Silently curving your index finger forward, you beckon. Both Shoko and Suguru start toward you like well-trained, love-struck pets.

“No pouting Suguru, you’re pretty too. And up next.”

And Shoko’s shoulders sink like the child who is picked last for dodge ball teams.

Her eyes trail Suguru’s back - wishing to every God she was born with a technique allowing her to take over a host’s body.

“Me next.” He settles between your legs.

Suguru, the master of subtlety. Everyone but you can pick up on the strain in his baritone.

There’s something so painfully sensual about the way he grips both of your thighs. Your skin is so smooth, so pliant under his large hands. Waiting on your fingers to invade his mouth.

How pretty would your lips look like wrapped around his fingers? Do your cheeks hollow out when you suck on something larger?

Shoko crosses her right foot over the left. As if jamming her thighs together would stop the growing pool of lust between her legs.

“Alright babe, best for last. I have something for you too.”

Suguru takes his time pulling away from the warmth of your core. And Shoko has to strap her mind to her body to keep from sprinting at you.

Eventually, she nestles between your legs and is at eye level with your pert nipples. Immediately caught in a trance. So close to her mouth.

“Blushing so much!” Your thumb pulls Shoko’s focus back to earth.

Blushing so much because she wants to watch her best friends fuck you. Then lick your cunt clean after they’re done.

“I’m not, what’s my surprise?”

“So demanding.” You giggle. Your palm takes away Shoko’s view of your perky, hard nipples.

“Open.”

Shoko’s jaw hangs at your command. Cold glass hits her lips before the full bodied, decadent Cabernet does.

Red wine. Because she hates sweets.

You’re as thoughtful as you are beautiful and everything you do is a turn on.

“Mmmm,” Shoko hums and you gift her vision back.

“Amazing, right?” You take your own sip, maintaining eye contact.

Shoko’s eyes fall to your lips. And how you roll the wine over your tongue. Savoring each drop.

How would your tongue feel rolling around her mouth? Her neck? Her nipple? What kind of sounds would you make if her tongue rolled around your petals? Your clit? What do you taste—

“Movie time?” You break Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s daze.

All three of them scramble around you. Grabbing your cupcakes, snacks and wine to settle in on Shoko’s huge sectional couch.

You drape your body over Satoru and Suguru’s lap. A little loose limbed kitten. Shoko situates herself on the long arm of her chair.

Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything you do in the the most permanent part of her mind.

You nuzzle your cheek into Suguru’s thigh. His forearm immediately drops in front of his crotch. Undoubtedly to avoid spearing you with his manhood.

“Play with my hair, Suguru?”

“Yes. Of course.”

His free hand weaves into your hair. The soft, decadent moan you exhale sent visible shudders down their spines.

Shoko’s eyes laser to Satoru’s hands. His eyes haven’t touched the screen since the movie began. His grasp encompasses your entire back thighs. Slowly gliding them up to the delicate mounds of your ass.

“God that feels amazing.”

Satoru’s Adams Apple drags along the column of his throat. “Yeah?”

“So good.”

You deepen the arch in your back and the physical restraint Satoru imposes on himself is visible.

The only person watching the movie is you.

And the room tilts on its axis the moment you melt deeper into the boys’ hands. Their names, quiet praise, seep from your lips.

Satoru and Suguru exchange hooded gazes.

As if to commiserate about how fucking hot you are. And how it’s taking active awareness of every single muscle to not do vulgar things to you.

Not even a backward glance Shoko’s way.

Again.

Leaving Shoko out of the conversation. Again.

She angrily tosses a blanket over her lap. Frustration bubbling up her throat. Her fingers clumsily fumble with her zipper. She’s pissed. Angry. Fucking jealous.

And so turned on she might crawl out of her skin if she doesn’t touch herself this goddamn second.

Shoko’s fingers are ice cold against her warm, wet clit. It’s agonizing. How incredible the pressure feels.

You look delicious. So small between their laps. Far too tiny to handle them both.

But God it would be so hot.

It would be so fucking hot. To watch you choke all over Suguru’s cock. Slobber into his lap. All while Satoru bullies his length into your soft, dewy pussy. Helpless. Overstimulated.

Getting used like the pretty Barbie doll you are.

And the way they touch you, so brazenly, in front of her.

Like Shoko’s presence isn’t even remotely threatening. She isn’t any competition for their big hands and broad shoulders. Masculine frames. That’s why she’s just sitting there. Pathetic. Rubbing herself dumb just watching.

She would be so happy, so fucking eager to lap you clean. Pet your swollen, abused folds when they’re done with you. Hump a pillow while she sucks your nipples. You’d moan and whine and squirm under her touch.

Would you beg? Or laugh at how pitiful she is? Getting off to remnants of you when the Boys have had their way?

Shoko accidentally choking on her own drool draws almost everyone’s attention to her. The hand that was molesting her sensitive bud freezes.

Suguru’s eyes flicker back down to you, sleeping beauty.

Their coordinated touch lulled you to bed. Satoru’s eyes linger on Shoko long enough to make her simmer under his gaze. She blinks back to the movie, credits now scrolling up the screen.

How long was Shoko day dreaming?

“Let’s get her to bed.” Suguru gently pulls you onto his chest. You sleepily drape your arms around his neck.

Satoru follows close behind him into Shoko’s room. Because putting the smallest little kitten to bed is a two person job.

Shoko scrambles to zip up her pants and swipe the last of her arousal on the blanket. She gets to the doorway and watches the Boys dote over you in a way that makes them slightly more endearing.

You wake up long enough to murmur goodnight. Floating your arms in the air so the boys can bring their hugs to you. Both of them place quick pecks on your forehead. Leaving you with the cutest, most content smile on your sleepy face.

At least Suguru can hold it together. He weaves out of Shoko’s room quickly.

Satoru, however, keeps stopping along the 10 foot pace to the doorway to just stare. As if a monster from your nightmares will pop up the second he leaves you alone.

Shoko snorts, arms crossing her chest. “Put it back in your pants, yes?”

“Look who is talking.” Sly grin pulls across Satoru’s perfect, blinding teeth. Shoko could punch him right now.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ieiri. I have the fucking six eyes. What do you think I’m talking about.”

Satoru wires around Shoko’s stunned body.

He and Suguru are out of her apartment before she can bat her eyelashes 5 times.

Shoko all but sprints to the kitchen. She gulps the rest of her red wine. Something. Anything to burn Satoru’s comment out of her mind. And to put out the desperate flame between her legs.

You’re in her bed.

She’s just been masturbating watching her two best friends touch you.

One of her best friends is FULLY aware of this all.

Her hands shakenly pour another, head sized glass of Cabernet. Which is doing absolutely nothing for how lusty she feels right now. And everything to destroy her self control.

Why does she have to sit on the sidelines?

Why do they get access to you that she doesn’t?

She downs the last few drops of red wine. Storming back to her room. She’s going to confront this once and for all.

You’re strewn over her bed like a silk scarf. Rolling, tender hills of flesh. Valleys of feminine curves. Shoko grips both of your dainty wrists. Tossing you onto your back.

Sleepy groans bubble out of you. Your eyes lazily slide open. Not an ounce of concern on your face. Full of trust. Even though Shoko is glaring down at you like she wants to crawl in your skin.

“Bad dream?”

“No.” Shoko is kurt. Angry. Jealous.

“What is it?”

“I just…” Moonlight is kissing your face in the way Shoko wants to.

“T-The boys,” Your eyes flutter expectantly. Nose crinkling in fuzzy confusion.

“The-the boys always get to touch you. And pick you up. And tuck you in. And kiss you. And-and I-im just…”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Shoko hears her heart stop beating.

What did you just ask? So casually. As if you didn’t just catapult her into another dimension.

“H-huh? What?” Shoko didn’t hear you right.

There’s no way.

“I asked if you want to kiss me.” Something other than innocence lines your voice. And it pets Shoko’s flame

“I—I uh. M-. Yes.”

“So kiss me.”

Only one second of shocked hesitation passes before Shoko crashes her lips into yours.

Of course your lips taste like this. Marshmallow soft. Cotton candy sweet. Mini explosions of pleasure surge in all directions of her body.

“God,” Shoko groans, bringing the back of your head impossibly closer to her.

Melting into the soft hills and rolls of your sweet tongue. Shoko whines into your mouth like the desperate puppy she is. She’s drunk. Intoxicated. And it has nothing to do with the wine.

Do you know that?

Have you always known?

How does anyone ever make it out of their embrace with you with their wits about them?

“Baby,” you sigh into Shoko’s swollen lips.

Her hands tremble against your waist. Twitching to explore. Dying to map every inch of your body.

She lets out little, staccato moans of protest when you pull away.

“Feel better?”

Your starry eyes sparkle between Shoko’s. Sleepy, pretty smile playing on your puffy lips.

Shoko nods wordlessly. You’ve already stolen her logic and her heart. Might as well add her voice to the list.

You place a chaste kiss on Shoko’s lips before cocooning underneath the sheets.

Like you didn’t just make her fall in love.

“Goodnight, baby.”

PART. II

[mrrharper]

Masked Muscle

“Okay, now put it on” Chris threw the balaclava and the black t-shirt towards his boyfriend Jake, who was sitting on their bed.

“You’re sure about this?” He was clearly not sold on the idea of role play in the bedroom, but he agreed to do it anyway. He was surprised when Chris approached him earlier that day and asked if he’d be willing to dress up as a Russian thug because it really turned him on. But he decided to play along. And now Chris was standing next to him, a shit-eating grin on his face. He was enjoying himself already.

He watched as Jake took off his hoodie and tank top, then put on the t-shirt and face mask. Jake had a slim build, with muscles visible but not bulky, so the large t-shirt was looking kinda baggy on him.

"You sure you bought the right one? This looks like a skirt on me." Jake commented, but Chris wasn't really listening.

"Everything's fine, don't worry about it." He shrugged off his boyfriend's comments and waited for him to put on the balaclava. When he did he took a step closer.

"You look great, babe" He said, and saw Jake's eyebrows rise a bit, but he saw a glimpse of a smile under the face mask.

Then the fun started.

Chris took a step backward, as he saw that the process was beginning. Jake suddenly stopped moving, now standing still, and all his muscles started expanding. His shoulders and chest quickly filled out thew t-shirt, which now hugged his upper body tightly. His arms turned form sticks to beefy guns, with bulky biceps covered in veins. His slim stomach gets covered in muscle, same with his legs that turned into tree trunks.

The entire transformation lasted only a minute or so, and after was done Jake looked at Chris confused.

"Chris... Chris, babe, what... what happened?" He asked, his voice unsteady and anxious.

"Nothing you have to worry about, Jake. I'm just making sure you're prepared for your 'role play' later" He still has a smug smirk on his face, because he knew what was coming next.

Jake was hit with a sudden headache. A painful feeling, as if his brain was squeezed. He groaned and leaned against the wall, hoping it would pass quickly.

"Holy shit... uuuugh... blyat" he murmured to himself "Wait... blyat? Vat? I no speak... Nyet, vat is happen? Chris, vat is happen to me?"

Jake, now speaking with a heavy and thick Russian accent, turned towards Chris, his expression quickly shifting from surprise to aggression. But Chris didn't even flinch, he was in control of the situation the entire time.

"Stop whining, Sasha. You're not here to complain, you're here to obey!" When he called him 'Sasha', Jake's eyes glazed over for a moment and he froze. A few seconds later he was back, but it was not Jake.

"Da, boss. Sasha here to work and make dirty job for boss" He stood straight, almost like a soldier, and puffed out his chest, clearly wanting to show off his muscles. Chris was in heaven. He took a step closer.

"Yes, my loyal brute. You will do exactly as I say, without hesitation."

"Da, no hesitation, nyet. Only strong and obey you, boss" Sasha's voice was deeper that Jake's, he grunted more and was clearly struggling with English vocabulary.

"Oh yeah" Chris growled as he stood inches from Sasha, hunger in his eyes. "Flex for me, brute"

"Da, boss" Sasha nodded and lifted his arms into a double biceps pose. His muscles ballooned, with biceps the size of footballs.

"I strong muscle, boss use Sasha strong muscle" The Russian grunted as he flexed.

"Oh, I will use them, don't you worry" Chris drawled in response, ready to play.

[rinhaler]

And if I Change My Mind it's Far Too Late

All you want to do is celebrate your best friends birthday. But you can't even find him. Why are things so weird tonight?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ best friend!rin itoshi x f!reader

Genre: friends2lovers ++ porn !! Notes: I'm so late for rinnie's birthday I suck lmao !! enjoy tho Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, drug use!(weed), dubcon, slight shotgunning?, friends to lovers ♡, rin is angsty!, weed paranoia, love bites ♡, dacryphilia ♡, pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart) ♡, he licks ur messy panties, makeshift gag on u! (the panties), spit + drool, pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight hair pulling, overstimming ♡, calls ur pussy 'she' ♡, reader is a crybaby ♡, spanks ur pussy once !, oral fixation, praise ♡, use of 'good girl' ♡, slight degradation (slut), pussy job ♡, vaginal sex, mating press, dumbification ♡, creampie ♡. Words: 13.3k

—

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

Sae Itoshi’s words have been rattling around your brain for the last thirty minutes. It’s late, late enough that the night sky above you is nought but a black abyss. The city lights pollute the infinite void above you and scare the stars enough to dim their shine.

Not a single twinkle can be seen as your feet come together and you look up, almost craving an answer from the heaven’s. All you receive in turn is an obsidian silence.

There’s a pang of dread writhing through your body as you continue to roam the desolate streets, weaving through alleyways as you see stores and restaurants that have been abandoned for the evening as the proprietor’s rest and recuperate for the day to follow. When the streets are lit by a blue sky and blazing sun and showcase a slew of potential customers that can be invited in to shop, or sit and gorge themselves on a sickly sweet dessert or a hearty meal.

It's 2am.

Everyone should be safely indoors, whether sleeping soundly or curled up with a hot drink and a cosy book; or even the sound of fictitious characters chattering about nothing in particular as a blue light from a screen fills the room and helps the audience feel a little less alone.

That’s what you should be doing.

Letting a false reality consume you in the safety of your own home instead of walking through the city like this. You have a cake in your hand and a balloon wrapped around your wrist, you’ve never felt lonelier.

A group of men emerge from an alleyway and your heart freezes. You know that you shouldn’t be out at night, alone. But nothing happens. A mere glance in your direction before they continue on their way, and you emit a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

That stab of fear is the catalyst to convince you to go home, turning on your heel as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Your strides become brisker as you think about being followed. Your mind intent on terrifying you despite nothing really happening.

It’s the terror of the dark, the unknown of that abyssal sky.

Is this the same view that Rin has, right now? You wonder if he’s cold, blanketed in the bitterness of the Autumn air with the same paranoia wracking through your body and bubbling beneath your skin as you traverse through the city.

He could be anywhere, after all.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It hurts as you reflect on all of the text messages you’d sent him leading up to your visit. Sae looked less than pleased to see you at such an unholy hour. In hindsight, you should have just stayed home. But you had the grandiose idea to surprise him and spend the night with him, despite not being invited.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if you were.

You assumed he was asleep when you didn’t receive a reply. But now it seems he’s actively ignoring you. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, though you suppose you’ll never know until he decides to get in touch.

Sae’s befuddled expression is cemented in your mind as you recall him drinking in the sight of you despite being irritated that you showed up unannounced. The way you stood with the cake and balloon must have surprised him, but you didn’t let it dissuade you.

“It’s a birthday tradition.”

“You’ve only known him for three months, how can you have a—”

“How do you think traditions get started? There’s always a first.”

He rolled his eyes at you, hard. But despite his desperate attempt of hiding it, there was an obvious smirk on his face as you spoke. It was childish, but charming, hearing you say something so innocent so brazenly. And still, his brief enchantment from your declaration couldn’t alter the facts.

He isn’t here.

I don’t know where he is, but he isn’t here.

It makes you worry that he’s grown tired of you. It isn’t like he wanted to be your friend, anyway. You forced that title upon him, and he just decided not to reject you.

That must count for something at least.

You think so, anyway.

He’s been in your life for a mere three months, and still, you can’t imagine your days without him in it anymore. You started working in the music section of a department store four months ago, and Rin was hired just a month later.

What he lacks in desire to communicate with anyone, he makes up for in his musical knowledge. You can’t fathom why else he was hired. A few of the other applicants might have been better suited, but you think your manager might have believed Rin to be the least trouble. He’s reserved and does his job well.

Immediately, you were instructed to show him the ropes despite only having a month’s extra experience at your disposal. Your boss had trained you, but seemed he was too lazy to offer the same to Rin. Why explain himself twice when he can just make you do it?

You don’t begrudge him, though. It gave you an excuse to talk to him, after all. He slowly but surely began to let you in, not that you gave him much choice. You’d always greet him excitedly as your workday began together, or you’d bring him his favourite coffee if you started a little later.

The possibility of a workplace crush wasn’t lost on you, but that’s all it was. It wasn’t obvious enough for him to comment on, or perhaps he simply didn’t care. After a few weeks of working with him, you thought he must be used to it. He was never short of female attention, despite never feeding into it.

He might find it easy to ignore when he receives it so often. You didn’t outwardly flirt with him. You were just a little nicer to him than your other colleagues. It became clear he wasn’t interested, though. You assumed he simply didn’t find you attractive or maybe he already had a girlfriend.

The latter, now, you know isn’t the case and now you… have a boyfriend… of your own. You’re happy to just be friends with him, you get along well. Even though he’s so blasé, you have fun with him at work.

You smirk when girls enter expecting to do nothing more than browse, and then they wind up listening to him explain facts about different bands they obviously aren’t interested in. He doesn’t even realise they’re fawning over him as they end up losing themselves to the allure of his dulcet tones and the glimmer of his dreamy teal eyes.

He’ll ring them up with a record and hand them a receipt, and you’ve lost count of how many times they give the receipt back with their phone numbers scribbled on. He always pockets them, carelessly, until given the opportunity to discard of them.

“You aren’t gonna call her?” you’d ask.

“I did my job, why would I need to call her?”

His monotone speech always leaves you wondering the truth.

Is he truly oblivious to it, or is he just pretending to be?

Your approach at work, however, is different. While he ignores flirting, you welcome it. Selling records isn’t a difficult task, people browsing often know what they want. And still, older men love talking down to you. It’s a daily occurrence when you’re on the clock, they get off on it. You aren’t sure how Rin feels about it, he seldom interferes.

You’ll flutter your lashes and flaunt your chest as a man whose wife doesn’t appreciate him anymore ogles you and tells you a thing or two, or ten, about his favourite bands that: “You’ve probably never heard of.”

The light in their eye is evident as their cocks stir in their pants while you pout and nod along to whatever they tell you. You throw a few compliments and act clueless as they prattle on and on. And, it’s funny how unique and profound they think they are for liking specific bands they’re certain you know nothing about.

And, sure, maybe the first dozen times you were a little out of your depth. But the more lecherous customers you got, the more you realised, they all listen to the same shit and you could probably recite the things they want to say to you right back at them.

You don’t, though, you remain compliant and interested and so wholly enthralled in them. Because that is how you make sales. Letting a sad old man think a hot young thing half their age is even a little interested in them. It’s easy, and it works. It’s easy to manipulate someone when you pretend they’re the coolest and most intriguing customer you’ve had all day.

Rin has spoilt a few sales for you since he started but it never dampens your mood. He doesn’t do it intentionally, of course, and it always leaves you grinning or snickering at the expense of the poor sap who thought you were putty in his hand.

You know a little about music, your taste has certainly broadened since you began working here. But Rin is almost entirely responsible for that. You know a little, but Rin knows a lot. And while you’re flirting up a storm, if you’re in close proximity to Rin, he’ll join in on the conversation. The older men tend to avoid him because somehow he happens to know the same, if not more, about the music they think they know everything about.

Somehow, Rin possesses more musical prowess than they could ever dream of, despite their age. He’s younger, but he’ll have more passion in him than they ever will.

You admire him, truly.

You like music, but Rin loves it. 

When the store is empty, he’ll introduce you to music you’d never heard and smile when he finds something you know you’ll be listening to on your walk home. And in turn you’d play pop songs you assumed he’d hate but he’d actually compliment and enjoy. He isn’t pretentious, he doesn’t think one genre is better than another.

He just loves music.

You think about your shifts together as you continue to head home. Maybe he has more interest in those girls than he lets on. Maybe that’s where he is right now. There’s a chance he isn’t being pulled into the all-consuming dread of the night sky like you. He’s hooking up as a birthday treat. You find your thoughts spiralling, wondering what type of girls he’s into and what it would take to be the girl that Rin Itoshi finds worthy of a chance.

And soon enough, you jolt as you feel your phone buzz against your hip. It’s sitting snuggly in the pocket of your sweatpants. The string from the balloon begins to pull and twang as it bounces from your wrist, you skilfully transfer the cake you’re holding in one hand to the other as you fish it out of your pocket.

Before you can fully digest the push notification of a spam email on your home screen, your screensaver is plunged into darkness. Your eyes widen as you’re met with an accept and decline button from an incoming call. You aren’t sure how to feel when you see Rin Itoshi in bold letters at the top of the screen. Relief flows through you, but so does worry.

And still, you answer.

“Hey.” he says, plainly. He isn’t the type of person you’re used to having phone calls with. You know he’s more of a texter, though his responses are dry. It’s enough to make plans and communicate with him easily.

“Hey…” you say, trailing off. It feels ominous. A call at 2am out of the blue from a guy that’s been ignoring you while you’re walking through the city is bound to leave you a little anxious. The sooner you get home, the better. “… Happy birthday.” you say, even now, there’s a smile on your face. It’s small, but he hears it.

“Thanks.” he says, coolly. You can’t fathom why he’d call you if he doesn’t actually want to talk to you. “You already said it at midnight, though.”

“Yeah… I wanted to say it again. You didn’t reply.” you remind him, gently. A beat of silence goes by before he speaks again.

“I know,” he responds, quietly. “I’m at the skate park.”

“Oh.” you say, not having expected that response. But, thinking about it now, it seems far more obvious than him hooking up with a random girl. You clear your throat, standing outside of your apartment as you find a way to continue the conversation. “… are you having fun?”

“I guess.” he tells you, clearing his throat. “Sae said you came over.”

“Y-Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t home. It was… dumb.”

“It’s fine,” he says calmly. You can’t help but wonder if he agrees that it’s dumb or not, though it’s a fruitless thought to have. You know Rin well enough to know he won’t elaborate. You begin to pace back and forth, your heart pounding as you wait for the inevitable end of the conversation. “Come over.”

You stop, again, unsure if you heard him right. The smile on your face begins to widen as you hear him say it in your mind again and again. He wants you there, he wants to spend the early hours of his birthday with you.

The skatepark isn’t far from where you live. A ten minute walk, fifteen at most. Though with the pep in your step as you begin to head over there, you wouldn’t be surprised if you make it there in five.

“Are you sure?” you ask, in spite of it being too late. He’s already extended the invite and you’ll be there in no time flat. You can’t help but feel strange about the entire situation, though. It’s almost eerie how things are panning out. First he was ignoring your texts and now he’s calling you for the first time in a long time and inviting you to hang out.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to see you.” he informs you. You feel your face begin to warm up, and you bite your lip in appreciation. “It’s dark, I’m by the half pipe.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a few. Bye.”

He doesn’t say it back, simply ending the call as you venture towards your destination. The orange tint of the city soon becoming a distant memory as you nervously approach the outskirts of town.

—

The sound of wheels rolling against the wooden half pipe is louder than anything you’ve heard before as you approach. You don’t say anything, wondering if he’ll see you despite it being pitch black. You look up at the sky as you get closer, the light pollution has become a fast-fading memory as the stars dazzle a little brighter now.

His actions begin to slow as you approach, the wheels stopping completely as he finally sees you. He looks at you, carefully, shielding his eyes from the outer glow from the distant streetlights surrounding your body. One eye scrunches closed until you stand beside him. He towers above you, intimidating you with little effort. He tries to soften his expression, but his eyes struggle to adjust.

“Happy birthday… again.”

“Thanks, again.” he smiles a little. “You even got cake… Did you bring anything to eat it with?”

“No, because I thought you’d be at home. Why are you even—”

“It’s fine, I can take it home.” he tells you, taking the cake from your grip before you can react.

He sets it down on the ground, gesturing for you to follow him as he walks a little up the curve. You follow him, and he effortlessly raises you by your hips until you’re sitting comfortably on the flat surface. You’re thankful it’s so dark, you hope he’s unable to see how flustered you’ve become. You pout as you attempt to take shallow breaths and sweat begins to bead at your hairline.

You compose yourself as he hands the cake back to you, and he hoists himself up to sit by your side. He watches you as you shuffle your body, facing him head on with your legs crossed, and he immediately follows suit.

“A cake and a balloon, you went all out.” he says nonchalantly. You aren’t sure how to react until you see a slight smile play on his lips.

“I didn’t get you a gift.”

“That’s okay, this is more than you needed to do.” he explains. You move the cake out of your way before sliding closer to him, you untie the balloon from your own wrist and attach it to his. You can tell he wants to object, but you feel slight a slight note of pity emanating from him as you proceed.

He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“How long do I have to keep this on for?” he wonders.

“The entire day, you’ve gotta sleep with this on.” you tease him, he laughs a little in turn before it falls deathly silent again. You shuck the little backpack you’ve been wearing off before opening the front compartment, rummaging through it to find what you’re searching for. “I didn’t bring candles… but maybe this can count for your gift.” you start.

He watches you, smirking happily as you retrieve a blunt and a lighter from your bag. You move the backpack aside and pull the cake closer. He continues to stare as you remove the plastic covering from the entirely chocolate cake, taking it from your hands as you hold the blunt between your lips. You light it, taking a hard drag before gently exhaling. His eyes close softly as you aim directly for his face, backing away slightly out of the line of fire. He opens them again, though, watching as you poke the blunt through the centre of the cake. The orange embers still burning as the wind blows.

“… Oh that’s gonna be gross if any ash gets on it.” you laugh. “It was a cute idea in my head.”

“Yeah, it’ll be disgusting.” he reiterates, quickly pulling the joint out from the middle before perching it between his lips. “This tastes like chocolate now.”

“That was my plan all along.” you grin. He takes a few more drags as you place the plastic packaging back over the cake, setting it aside once more. You reach your hand out as he hands it back to you, the balloon attached to him lagging along with him.

You can’t put a finger on why things seem to be so awkward between you. Maybe there’s a lingering feeling of hurt as you contemplate why he didn’t respond to your texts. It’s taking everything in you to not wish him a happy birthday for the fourth time.

Instead, you fuel the silence by smoking more and more. It’s not the strongest stuff you’ve ever had, but there’s a second one in your bag so you don’t feel guilty about smoking more than you probably should. He doesn’t say anything, and you’ve decided to keep your eyes firmly closed in a bid to ignore how weirdly uncomfortable things seem to be.

“Oh!” you exclaim, eyes shooting open quickly. It almost scares Rin, his body froze for a moment but you hadn’t realised in your excitement. “Did you make a wish?”

“What?” he raises an eyebrow, perplexed. It’s scary how similar he and his brother look. It’s the same expression Sae had offered you when you arrived at his apartment tonight.

“When you smoked… because it’s like your candle. So you should make a wish!” you explain, but you’re met with a continuous stare as he seems to be trying to unfurl the mess that is your train of thought. It makes perfect sense in your mind, but given his expression, you wonder if you just spoke another language. His incredulity fades and is soon replaced by an amused sneer.

“Are you high already?” he laughs.

“Oh… maybe. It has been a while.” you giggle.

Soon enough, you’re both laughing uncontrollably. Tears begin to stream down your face, and it only makes him laugh harder. And the sight of him so utterly entertained makes you laugh harder. It’s so rare to see him smile, let alone laugh. It’s hurting your stomach; you hold your sides as you allow yourself to fall backwards and carry on cackling.

“This— I didn’t think— It wasn’t supposed to be strong!” you struggle to explain, immediately bursting into laughter once again. He tries to keep composed but is soon laughing alongside you. He combs his fingers through his hair before using the sleeves of his hoodie to wipe away his own tears.

“It’s not. You’re just a lightweight.” he notes. He slowly moves, allowing his back to rest against the metal framing before throwing his hood up, tucking his knees into his chest. He’s still smiling, though, your silly outburst still at the forefront of his mind.

You sit upright again, your laughter finally beginning to subside as you look at him. His smile fades as yours does. And now, you’re both nervous. What went wrong? Why are things so weird? And then, you feel it brewing. Regardless of how badly you want to choke it down, you can’t seem to help yourself.

“Happy birthday.” you almost whisper, echoing his body language as you lean against the railing nearest to you. He scoffs lightly, but with a wide, cheesy grin on his face before looking at you again.

“You’ve said it four times now. I think you’re happier about my birthday than I am.”

“I think I am, too.” you giggle, biting your lip again as you look down at your knees. You quickly shake it away, remembering where you are and who you’re with. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know! I love being friends with you, Rin. And I’ve been excited to celebrate today with you. And we get to do it from pretty much the start!”

He goes quiet, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away uncomfortably. You gulp, nervously, almost retreating into your own body as you hug your legs tightly. He can barely bring himself to look at you, though you see his eyes occasionally flicker to the ever shortening blunt in your hand.

That’s when you decide to approach him, crawling towards him on your hands and knees like a demure, weak kitten desperate for approval. You hold it out for him, and he accepts it, slowly. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you look out to the distant city. It’s beautiful, from here. It looks so lively.

“… Why did you come here, tonight?” you wonder, hoping a gentle probe will provide some kind of insight to his mental state.

Your head slowly rotates as you look at him. Even in the darkness, his eyes shimmer brilliantly. Instead of anything of substance, though, his shoulders merely shrug. You decide not to pry any further. He isn’t the type you can force information out of, he’ll only give it willingly.

You know that well, even with only knowing him for three months. And because of that, your heart skips a beat as you hear him take a shallow breath, clearly wrestling with telling you something. Anything that may make things clearer to you.

“I— I suppose I had a feeling,” he pauses, taking another drag before letting his head thud gently backwards against the metal railing. “You were gonna try and do something like this.”

“… I didn’t know you would be so against it. I’m sorry.”

“No it’s fine,” he continues. “It doesn’t matter, we’re here now. Thank you for the balloon, and the cake. And this.” he says as he gestures to the blunt in his hand.

You feel a little at ease, now. Without saying a lot he’s said enough. Knowing the type of guy that Rin Itoshi is, you should have known he wouldn’t want anyone to make a fuss about his birthday. He’s reserved and low key, he’s an introvert, of course he wouldn’t want a fuss for his birthday.

And still, there’s a gnawing unease.

You’re a little forceful with your friendship, and you’re under no illusions that it’s likely annoying for him. But he’s never outright ignored you before. He holds no issue with telling you when you’re bothering him or he wants to be left alone, you’d never push his buttons on purpose.

But tonight…

There’s a tension between you that you can’t seem to place, and he seems intent on ignoring.

“… Rin?” you start. “Why did you ignore my texts?”

He shuffles uncomfortably, you even hear him clear his throat before taking another drag. And after he exhales, it’s followed by a disappointed sigh. Your anxiety spikes. What have you done wrong? It must be something to make him act like this. It’s so out of character to the Rin you know.

But maybe that’s the problem.

You barely know him.

Maybe this is the Rin you don’t know.

“… Do we have to discuss this now?”

—

You’ve almost forgotten where you are.

You’ve almost forgotten who you’re with as the calmness envelops you.

There’s a palpable tension between the two of you that you can’t seem to pinpoint or address. You’re high, stupidly so. And still logical enough to not poke the angsty bear that is Rin Itoshi. You’ve been lying on your back, admiring the starry sky as you contemplate why things are the way they are with your favourite co-worker.

He’s more than that, though.

You think he might be your best friend.

Is there a set amount of time that needs to be spent before addressing him as such? Three months doesn’t feel like a lot, but the time you’ve known him hasn’t just been shifts.

The days you’d meet him at work soon turned into times you’d spend commuting there with him. Instead of taking the bus home you’d walk with him. When you’d bring him coffee he’d start to return the favour by buying you your favourite snacks from the bakery.

Instead of walking near your apartment he’d walk you all of the way to the door. And eventually, he’d come in. After the first time he accidentally fell asleep on your couch, he’d spend the night purposefully. You’ve spent countless nights getting high together at your place, and soon enough you’d be doing the same at his apartment.

You didn’t know what a big deal it was that he introduced you to his older brother until he told you how strained their relationship had been in the past. But they live together, now, and they seem fine. Whether Sae likes you is still up for debate, but he’s joined in when you’re getting stoned together in the front room and arguing with his brother about which music you should play. Their tastes are similar, but things vary when getting down to the specifics.

Their parents taste has affected their own, Rin favouring his mother’s whilst Sae prefers his father’s.

Three months ago you could barely pry his name out of him. But now, you’re drowning in the overwhelming sky that looms over you thinking about all of the time you’ve spent together. You’ve known how much you enjoy being with him since that very first day, though you aren’t quite sure if he feels the same way.

“I’m hungry.” you say aloud rather than to yourself like you’d intended. You sit upright when you hear Rin begin to shuffle, too, realising he’d been reflecting in the obsidian mirror above him, too. He stares at you, expressionless. “Are you ma—” you want to ask him if he’s feeling some type of way about you, but you’re interrupted by a loud rumble from his stomach.

“Fuck.” he sighs.

“… Should we eat the cake?” you wonder. You can’t hide the devious grin on your face as you enjoy Rin’s cool exterior being foiled by the all too human need of hunger. You don’t even wait for him to answer, pulling the cake closer for the umpteenth time before removing the packaging. He grimaces as you break off a chunk with your thumb and forefinger, crumbs tumbling off as you lift it into your mouth. And you moan, obscenely, as the sugary sweetness encases your tongue. “Oh my God that’s good. Try some!” you encourage him.

“… fuck it.” he rolls his eyes, dragging himself closer to the cake before copying you. His eyes roll, again, this time into the back of his head as he begins to satiate his hunger.

You both continue to eat, silently, savouring the flavour of the cake you so expertly chose. It’s hard, being like this. Because you know that usually you’d be chattering away about other employees you work with even though Rin doesn’t care about gossip. He’ll listen to you intently while he eats and before you know it his plate is clean while you’re struggling to understand how he eats so fast.

But tonight, you’re silent.

All of your thoughts remain trapped in your mind as you eat. Bite after bite as it crumbles and messes beneath you and tarnishes the hollow wood beneath you.

And it’s funny, you’re the one who’s usually watching Rin as you talk and talk until you’ve run out of steam. But tonight, you can barely look at him. The same can’t be said for him, though. You see him looking at you a few times when you dare to offer a glance his way, but just as quickly, you avert your eyes.

He doesn’t, though.

He eats slowly, admiring you as you eat the cake you’d so kindly purchased for him. He can’t ignore how crestfallen you look, and yet, there’s still a radiance about you. The outer glow of the city lights barely halos around you like you are some kind of angel. The gentle yet biting breeze of the September sky billows through your hair that you’d messily tucked away into a low bun.

His intense turquoise eyes only leave you for fractions of a second when he needs to blink. He isn’t sure why he’s staring, but he’s putting it down to being stoned. It’s almost like an anchor, watching you attentively as you embrace the rich, sugary taste that you can’t seem to get enough of. While he feels like he’s moving in slow motion, his consumption slow and steady.

He chuckles lightly as he sees a small piece of cake fall from your fingers and you desperately try to bite at it. It’s too late, however, and you simply huff as you look at it beside you. He smirks, again, when he sees that you’ve accidentally smudged chocolate on the corner of your lip.

Your head jerks as he whistles quickly, like a dog owner summons the attention of their pet. He closes the distance between you as you leans in close to you, your heart rate heightening as you note how close his face is to yours. His throat bulges as he swallows the cake he’d been eating, and your eyes drop to his lips. You can’t even bring yourself to smile when you note a few gentle streaks of chocolate that have stained between the creases, you only feel your stomach sink when you look back into his eyes and realise he’s been watching you stare.

He leans in closer, and your eyes flutter shut. Though they soon open again when you fail to register the press of his lips on your own. He wipes the smudge from your face and shows the chocolate residue to you.

He’s paralysed you.

As much as you want to smile, to laugh awkwardly at what a fool you’ve made of yourself, you can’t. You’re frozen in place as you watch him. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him gently wetting his tongue with a deliberate curl of his tongue. His eyes bore into yours without faltering as his lips pucker around his thumb, making sure there isn’t a single trace of chocolate still there.

He grins, seeing the quick puff of breath you exhale in desperation. Your eyes flicker around, a feeble attempt of looking anywhere but at him. You squeak, quietly, as his sultry tone breaks the overwhelming silence between you.

“I’m not usually a chocolate fan,” he tells you before grabbing another chunk of cake. “But this is really good.”

“… M-Maybe it’s because you’re high?” you respond after wracking your mind for something to say in turn. You can’t wrap your head around what that was. You’ve never seen him like this before.

He’s wordlessly decided he’s blaming everything on being high.

Maybe you can, too.

“… Rin?” you speak, plucking up the courage from somewhere as you dare to whisper his name. He looks at you, briefly, before rolling his eyes. He knows. Of course he already knows what you’re about to ask him. He keeps avoiding the question that you’re yearning for an answer for.

“Don’t.” he tells you.

“But—”

“Just… don’t.” he commands, though his voice loses the assertiveness it had previously. He looks at you, and you swear you feel your heart twist in your chest as you see what you can only deduct as disappointment looming in his eyes. He looks at your backpack, again, and back at you. “… did you bring more weed?”

—

You lie side by side as you take turns passing the blunt between one another. He does all he can to focus on the sky, even when he feels your eyes on him. Your head turns, chin almost resting on your shoulder as you stare. You stare brazenly just as he did before.

And still, he won’t look at you.

He takes a long drag and doesn’t exhale, his lips slightly ajar as he allows a thin trail of smoke to dance from between his lips. And you stare on, longingly, as you wonder what’s going on inside that head of his.

You wish you could crawl inside of him and burrow your way into his brain. There’s nothing more you want right now than to nestle through brain matter until you reach the uncertain core at the centre of everything. The dismal part of his brain that’s so secretive and yet so inviting.

What does he want from you?

He turns his head as he passes the blunt to you, though he stutters backwards a little when he notices you were already looking at him. A soft ‘tch’ leaves him before you take it from him.

“Quit it.” he warns you, though there’s no malice or intent in it. He looks at you softly, and your own harsh gaze becomes gentler. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” he tells you. Your breath hitches as he speaks, but you can’t bring yourself to respond.

Your eyes close as his fingers begin to tenderly caress your cheeks, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“You’re so… fragile.” he says. Your eyes shoot open, at that. He laughs a little, though it’s barely noticeable, and it doesn’t deter him from his careful touch. He means it, you can feel it in the way he’s being with you. He’s toying with you as if you were made of glass. And if that’s how he feels, you wonder why he’s doing this at all.

“Rin?”

“Don’t.”

“No… why did you invite me out here?” you ask, hoping to disarm him. His expression that had hardened so quickly is gone in a blink, an earnest smile takes over him instead. He withdraws his hand, and now, you’ve never felt colder.

“I wanted to see you, that’s all.” he explains.

And it’s enough, it should be enough. It’s an answer to your question and yet it gives you so little. You’re starved, though. What he gives you isn’t enough, it’s never enough. You’ve made do for so long with useless scraps that you forgot what it feels like to truly be satiated, you want to eat him alive. You’d devour him whole, tear meat from the bone with ravenous fangs if it meant you could finally be satisfied. But as soon as your lips part, you close them once more.

You no longer have the energy, your body can’t be sustained from pitiful scraps any longer.

“Things are weird.” he mumbles. You nod, agreeing, and he looks at you wistfully. “I don’t want them to be.”

“… I don’t know how to fix it, Rin.” you confess.

He clears his throat, a little surprised by your answer before he looks up at the sky again. You follow suit, wondering what he could be thinking about this time.

“Why didn’t you get me a gift?” he cuts through the sharp, agonising quiet with something you really hadn’t expected him to say. Almost in unison, you’re looking at one another yet again. Your eyes narrow, though his face remains stoic. You aren’t sure why, really. You love giving gifts, but perhaps a small part of you thought he wouldn’t appreciate one from you.

And maybe a smaller part of you thought he might not deserve one.

“I thought you didn’t care?”

“I don’t,” he nods, agreeing with the sentiment. “But you bought a cake, and a balloon. I was wondering why a gift is where you draw the line.”

“It wasn’t about drawing the line.” you tell him, rolling onto your side so you can face him directly. He doesn’t do the same, but he gingerly pulls the joint from your fingers before smoking a little more. “I didn’t know what to get you.” you lie, and he knows it too. He doesn’t shy away from making it clear, either, scoffing at your pitiful excuse.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” he says through an exhale, smoke escaping his lungs and entering the atmosphere as he talks. “You make notes of things you see while you’re shopping you think your other friends might like.”

“You’re not like my other friends.”

“… I guess.”

“You didn’t even want to see me tonight and you only invited me here because you felt bad, right? If I’d gotten you a gift, you would have hated it. I don’t know why… but I know you wouldn’t have been happy no matter what I bought for you.”

He pauses, a chilled breath revealing the true cruelty of the autumnal air shudders by his teeth. You want to shiver, and yet you’re forcing yourself not to. Regardless of how awkward the night has been, you don’t want it to end. You don’t want to give him a reason to send you home so you can part ways, the growing issue between you never becoming resolved.

“You’re probably right,” he smirks, “But I think you would have gotten me something nice. You’re thoughtful.”

And with that, the urgent need to shiver through the cold has subsided. His words seemingly enough to warm you. It’s sweet, and simple, and it makes you realise how easily pleased you are. You worry that there might be something wrong with you. He says one nice thing about you and you’re satisfied.

It’s embarrassing.

“What would you have wanted?” you ask, meekly.

“… I don’t know.” he shrugs. And, really, you shouldn’t have expected anything less than this. He’s aloof, an enigma you’re too simple to explore. You can’t delve into his mind because you don’t understand how someone can come to be so standoffish and reserved. “Maybe something to drink.” he hints.

“There’s flavoured water in my bag.” you smile.

“What flavour?”

“Strawberry,”

“Meh…” he thinks, debating whether he wants to drink it or not. “Ugh… I’ve got cotton mouth. Why did you buy flavoured?”

“Because I like it! And, again, I assumed we’d be doing this at your place.” you smile, teeth chattering unintentionally as you’re reminded what season you’re in. He looks over his shoulder as he hears you, watching as you try to hide how uncomfortable you are. He grabs the water bottle from your bag before sitting upright properly.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“N-No, I’m fine. It’s okay.” you nod. He shakes his head, quickly untying the balloon from his wrist before attaching it to your backpack so that he can pull his hoodie off. Your breathing staggers as his t-shirt rides up along with it, exposing his toned musculature before he hands it to you. “You didn’t have to give me this…” you tell him quietly, hugging it against your body as you enjoy the warmth of his own body heat.

He doesn’t say anything, he just waits patiently for you to put it on. His face scrunches at the taste of the water, but continues to drink it eagerly. There’s no better option, right now, and the dryness of his mouth is almost enough to make him choke.

“Thanks.” you smile after bundling yourself up in his hoodie. He nods curtly, handing the water bottle to you. You open your mouth repeatedly as you try and determine if your mouth is equally as dry before you begin to chug gratefully.

“All I wanted for my birthday this year was to lose my virginity.” he says, bluntly. He starts laughing as you choke on your drink, sputtering wildly and using the sleeve of his hoodie to dab up the droplets on your chin. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You’re a virgin? No you’re not, you’re fucking lying!” you reply. He laughs again as you sit fully upright and face him so that you can question him more.

“Why am I a liar?”

“B-Because! Oh my God, you have girls hitting on you at work every single day. And you don’t, I don’t know, you don’t have virgin energy.”

“Girls don’t hit on me.”

“Ohhhh I hate you, you suck. They do, are you fucking with me right now? They do!” you bark back angrily. An amused smirk remains fixated on his face as he can see your temper begin to boil over.

“Even if they did hit on me, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna have sex with them.”

“I actually hate you.” you bemoan, “This is fucked up because I can’t prove it either way. But you’re lying, I know you are!”

“Whatever helps you through this, sweetheart.” he grins, snatching the water bottle back from you. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, at how you’ve seized up from a simple little pet name. But you aren’t frozen for long, thawing out quickly from your simmering temper.

Whether this is a harmless little prank to tease you is now irrelevant, because all you can think about is what a head fuck he is. And, as much as you both might prefer, you can’t blame it on weed. Maybe if this animosity had started after you’d been smoking together, but he was ignoring you before.

And that’s when you’re brought back to it.

“Why were you ignoring my fucking texts, Rin?” you ask, harshly. And now, it’s enough for him to choke on the drink. Maybe he’s never heard you be so assertive, before. Maybe it’s because he thought you were having a harmless joke around. Nothing tonight has been harmless, though. It’s all been weird, uncomfortable, palpable.

Whether intentional or not, he’s forcing you to suffer and refusing to tell you why.

“If you don’t wanna be my friend anymore, fine, whatever. But this is fucked up, so just tell me.” you explain, voice trembling as you do. You aren’t cold, anymore, but your throat feels like it’s about to close.

“… You’re so fucking stupid.” he mutters. Twisting the lid on and off your bottle repeatedly before he shoves it aggressively back in your bag. “Do you really not get it?”

“Don’t call me that, asshole.” you snipe back.

“I don’t want to be your fucking friend.” he responds. Your stomach drops and you fight to hold back tears, failing miserably as they silently roll down your cheeks. He watches on, his aggressive expression faltering as he watches you try and wipe them away quickly.

“That’s… shitty.” you sniffle. “That’s all you had to say. You didn’t have to invite me out here and embarrass me.”

“You don’t get it.” he interjects. He shuffles closer to you, and you scramble to evade him. You want to grab your bag and run from here. From him. But as you try and hit him, push him away, he grabs your wrists and stares at you with a desperation you’ve never encountered with him before. “You’re— you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“… Huh? You ignored my texts because I have a boyfriend? What are you—”

“Listen to what I’m saying, you’re not stupid but you’re acting it because you’re riled up.” he tells you, calmly. You struggle in his hold once more, but his grip remains firm. “I didn’t want… you… fussing about my birthday. Because you have a boyfriend.”

You’re stumped. As much as you want to yell and argue what he’s saying, you can’t. He isn’t making sense and you do feel stupid, now. He’s saying words that don’t mean anything, words that are irrelevant to what you’re discussing to deflect from what you’re asking.

Has he always been like this?

You don’t know, really. You don’t know if you’ve been carrying this so-called friendship on your back and filling in the blank awkward silences with chatter about nothing. But you thought you were more than this. You thought he was smarter than this. He’s intellectual and carries himself confidently, and yet, in this moment, you can’t help but think he’s a coward.

“You sound like a fucking idiot right now.” you scowl. “Ignoring me because I wanted to celebrate your birthday because I have a boyfriend? What kind of stupid reason is that?”

His lips tighten to a straight line and porcelain skin turns pink, you can see it even encased in the darkness of the early morning sky. You can see his eyes shake as he looks at you. He wants to say something but he’s fighting against it. You can tell, he’s holding back words he wants to say as he searches for something less confrontational to tell you.

But he can’t.

For once in his life, he can’t.

“Why are you with him?” he asks, bluntly. You’re taken aback, so much so that you laugh. It’s short, and makes his anger burn further in him as he watches your reaction. “Do you even love him? Scratch that, do you even like him?”

“Fuck you, Rin. That’s none of your business!”

“You don’t, do you?” he laughs, only now it’s at your expense. It feels patronising and mean. But he can’t help himself. You hadn’t hesitated to laugh at him, only in your disbelief. But he’s being cruel. He’s doing it on purpose. “You can’t even lie to yourself. Why are you with him?”

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Rin.” you tell him. You mean it, too. You’re trembling and you remember you’re wrapped up in his hoodie. It feels suffocating to have the warmth of cotton that had been keeping him comfortable now clinging to your skin. “Why are you being like this?”

You say flames lick behind his irises before they’re extinguished, his furious glare being doused by a glossy sheen as tears silently fall from your eyes and roll down your now sodden cheeks.

He pulls you nearer to him by the material of his hoodie, his large hand encasing your face as he tries to force you to look at him. You turn your head roughly, defiant in your pursuit of making a stand.

“Hey.” he says, it’s abrasive and stabs through you. Your soaking eyes stare into his, and he gently wipes your ever falling tears with a gentle rub of his thumbs. He smiles, a little, and you feel dizzy. Your brain is fried as his mood changes once again. “You really don’t get it?”

You blink, shaking your head.

Deep down, you know. You have a niggling feeling that you know why he’s being like this, but you worry you’re overthinking things. There must be something simpler, something likelier than what you’re delusionally imagining.

“H-He dumped me.” you say almost breathlessly. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t dare interrupt. He’s engaged, and honestly, you don’t think he’s been more eager to listen to anything you’ve said before. “He said…”

“Go on.”

“… ‘You forget who your boyfriend is. You spend more time with Rin than you do with me.’ I— he’s right. I have more fun with you at work than I ever did on dates with him.”

“Why were you with him?” he asks, his face moving closer to your own.

“Because… the guy I like… liked… doesn’t feel the same way.”

“You don’t like him anymore?” he wonders, looking between your eyes and your lips. You shake your head gently, and you see a small slither of saliva slip down his throat. “Why not?”

“I—” you breathe softly, acutely aware of how close he is to you, now. You aren’t imagining things, are you? Is this really happening? He’s been a mess tonight, you can’t trust him and you certainly can’t trust your own judgement. He’s just teasing you.

He’s just teasing you.

“Why are you asking me this, Rin?” you whisper.

“I think you know why.”

“Tell me, please.”

He grunts, there’s a little force behind his hand as he cups the side of your face. You yelp as he closes the distance between you both, slotting his lips against your own as he pours his feelings into your first kiss. You don’t even register as he moves you so that your back is flat against hollow wood, almost towering above you as he cages you below.

You lose yourself to the dizzying feeling of finally experiencing his lips on yours for the very first time. Something you’ve wanted, maybe, since the moment you set eyes on him.

But you never thought it would happen. Not ever, and definitely not like this. He pulls away for a moment, admiring how drunk you look from one little kiss before he realises he can’t bear to part from you. You mewl into another intoxicating kiss and he moans into your mouth.

“I’ve been crazy about you for ages,” he mumbles. You bite your lip as his begin to travel along your cheek and kiss across your jawline. And you moan, unashamedly as he decorates your neck in sloppy open mouthed kisses and sucks his signature into delicate skin. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I shouldn’t have ignored you…” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“I-It’s okay,” you whimper. “I get it, now!”

“That prick didn’t deserve you. You’re too good for him, knew that the minute he came by the store.” he tells you. He grabs your face roughly and kisses you messily. He stops, and it’s abrupt, as he looks into your eyes yet again. “Couldn’t fucking stand it whenever he came in. And whenever you talked about him. Were you trying to make me jealous?”

You nod, giggling before he kisses you again. “I guess— it worked?”

“Yeah, princess. It worked.” he grins before kissing you again, lips reattaching to your neck as he mindlessly ruts his hips against your clothed core. “Didn’t wanna risk letting you make a big deal about my birthday ‘cause I knew I’d fall too hard for you, fuck, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“W-Wait…” you stutter through a moan. “Were you lying about… the only thing you want for your birthday?”

He smirks, looking around before he looks back at you. His smile is devilish, you cock your head as you look up at him.

“Do you want to find out?”

You look around just as he did, knowing nothing could deter you from this before looking up at him again. And, without hesitating, you nod again. He bares his teeth with a smile, the happiest you’ve ever seen him, before he stands on his knees. You don’t move, watching him in awe as deft fingers curl into the waistline of your joggers, pulling them down along with your racy black panties.

He separates them from the grey material of your sweats, studying them intently. You see thoughts swirling behind his eyes but can’t decipher them. Though your face soon flushes with an unbearable warmth as you witness him studying the gusset of the black lace, his thumb gently prodding the pooling slickness that had gathered there.

“Cute.” he grins.

You squeak and cover your face as his tongue leaves his mouth, slowly licking up the seat of your panties to taste you. He moans, unabashedly as he savours your essence, he hovers over you again and moves your hands away. You’re panting, eyes stuttering as you struggle to decide where you should be looking. He doesn’t let you look anywhere but at him.

“Taste.” he commands, balling up the material before carefully slotting it betwixt your swollen lips. You’re drooling, instantly, not having expected this from him. And already, you’ve decided.

He isn’t a fucking virgin.

“Your slutty little panties taste sweet. I’m sure the real thing is even better.” he muses, sinking his head lower before, pushing up your hoodie and vest to expose your midriff.

He kisses gently down your sternum before slowly, purposefully, oh so delicately kissing your mons. Teal irises stringently stare as he does. Your body is pliant, and you allow him without question to hike your leg over his shoulder. A harsh spit of saliva hits your clit, and you can’t help but moan. Whether it was the feeling, the sound, or watching him do it, you aren’t sure. But he grins, cockily, clearly pleased with himself before he tormentingly strokes the pads of his index and middle finger across your swollen clit.

“Mmpf,” you keen, the black lace still filling your orifice and preventing you from speaking. You’ve never experienced this, before. You’re used to being used as a toy to please men you’re with. Your pleasure always coming second to their own. You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten head. And those guys had experience.

Maybe he is a virgin.

Maybe he thinks he needs to be generous because that’s what he’s been told…

“C’mere,” he mutters before reaching upwards, yanking the saliva drenched panties from between your lips. He moans as you look at him with a heavy-lidded stare and spit slicken lips. Strings of drool trickling from your lips and some still attached to your panties has his cock stirring further. He holds his eyes closed, for a beat longer than necessary, before looking at you again. “I want to hear how good you feel.”

And with that, your eyes are rolling back into your head as he finally latches his lips to your sensitive clit. He suckles and licks across it like he was put on this earth with the sole purpose of making you cum. He worships your throbbing bead like his tongue was designed with your pleasure in mind.

You card your fingers through his dark hair, yanking lightly when he makes you feel just right. He moans, boisterously, humming into your folds as he makes a point of savouring your delicate flesh. And at this point, you don’t know which of you is enjoying this more.

He moves a little, giving himself room to make a show of licking his fingers before slowly sliding them into your tight heat. Your voice echoes as he curls them, his long, dextrous fingers delving to depths you hadn’t realised existed. His arm wraps tightly around your thigh as you struggle to adapt to such blinding pleasure, desperate to wriggle away from him but his hold remains firm.

“Just relax, baby,” he hums before diving into your flesh once more. His tongue darts quickly, keeping pointed as he swipes it across your pulsing bead. You can’t help but squirm, entirely at the mercy of his mouth and fingers and completely unwilling to let you go. “Mmmpf, you’re so sweet, princess. Could do this all day.”

“F—uuuuuck, it’s too much. I c-can’t—”

“Yeah you can, just want you to feel good. So let go.”

You’re breathless as he maintains focus on your folds. You can’t help but whimper and whine as he slurps and suctions around your overstimulated clit, his fingers working in tandem to help aid in achieving your eventual demise.

It’s better than anything you’ve ever felt from a man before. It might even be better than anything you’ve ever done to yourself.

And still, you’re resisting.

Maybe in your weed addled mind you can’t help but swirl in a vortex of paranoia and confusion. It’s odd, the entire night spent with Rin Itoshi has been uncomfortable and strange and you can’t quite believe how things have ended up.

Your so-called best friend has his face buried between your legs, inflicting a heightened pleasure you’ve never felt before after such an intense exchange of words. You’re resisting it, resisting him, because it doesn’t feel real.

Did you get too high?

“Baby,” he muses. “Are you nervous?”

“N-No,” you respond, your entire body jolting and shivering as the freezing air tangles with your risen tension and building arousal. You won’t be able to hang on for much longer, of that, you’re sure. Not with the way his fingers are sunken and toying with your g-spot. Whether you want to or not, you’re soon to unfurl.

“Cum for me, princess, please.” he begs, “I’ve wait so long to be with you, like this. Don’t let me down, now.”

“Oh, f-fuck, Rin.” you gasp, legs spasming as your back arches as you’re forced into an explosive orgasm. Your moaning and whining resounds throughout the skatepark, and any passersby will undoubtedly hear you as you hit your untimely undoing.

He doesn’t let up, though, continuing to pump his fingers and lick your pulsing clit. You’re too delirious to notice the cocky smile on his face as he works you through the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire fucking life.

You’re breathless, resting on your elbows as you look down at him. And you all but cry as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart, utterly enamoured by the way it pulsates and clenches around nothing after being worked how he knows you’ve always deserved.

“T-That wasn’t— your first time… w-was it?” you ask gingerly, still panting as tears continuously roll down your cheeks.

He lets go, then, crawling up your body to kiss your face and lick up the tears you couldn’t help but shed. He squeezes your cheeks until your lips pucker, sloppily kissing you with an adventurous tongue. It doesn’t last, though, looking over his shoulder and down your body to guide his hand to your feminine warmth once more. You yelp as you feel a light spank, before he rubs you again.

You shake your head, but he nods in response.

“Rin, please…” you breathe.

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking pretty your perfect little pussy is? I think she wants to cum again, you were so noisy the first time, princess. You can handle one more f’me.”

Your eyes cross as his fingers slot inside of your drooling cunt yet again, the heel of his palm massaging your spent clit again as he sets a brutal pace with his fingers.

“So fucking cute, baby. Such a pretty cry-baby f’me, so gorgeous. Does it feel that good?” he asks.

“Y-Yes, God, yes, Rin. S’good!” you tell him.

He kisses you, again, silencing your whining tone and swallowing your precious mewling that he can’t seem to suffocate. Even with his lips on yours, you can’t help but break away. He moans with you, faux sympathy or genuine pleasure, you can’t tell. But the way your precious little voice rushes straight to his cock can’t be denied. It’s taking everything he has to not hump himself against you, knowing he won’t last a single second if he attempts to pleasure himself as well as you.

You’re barely conscious as he continues, your toes curl as you feel him target the spongey spot inside you which lead to your downfall mere moments ago. Your eyes continue to water, tears spilling into your hairline as you can’t seem to process and navigate the absolute bliss he’s forcing upon you. But you accept it, gratefully. The thought of disappointing him on his birthday has left you a pliable little doll for him to do as he pleases.

He’s had you on such a pedestal and you hadn’t even known it. You’ve unintentionally flaunted your relationship in front of him that you didn’t even know he cared about, leaving him in turmoil and dread as he thought about what things he was doing to you when it should have been him instead.

But he wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t win you over because your heart lay elsewhere. Rin Itoshi knew more so than you that a little prick like your ex would never be good enough for you. He couldn’t satisfy, he couldn’t win your heart.

Rin can do both.

Rin has done both.

“How many guys have made you cry from just their fingers?” he asks, whispering in your ear. Subdued whispers of his gravelly tone rush straight to your cunt, an outpour of slick slowly leaking out of your overstimulated slot and coating his greedy fingers. “Messy little pussy, so pretty, princess. If you’re crying from my fingers, imagine how my cock will feel.”

The thought alone has you creaming for him. Even he looks surprised as your body begins to jolt as the pressure begins to abate from what had been your building peak. He watches in awe as you cum gloriously and gift his fingers your sweet, pearlescent sheen. His fingering wanes and slows as you come down, though your body is still wracked with aftershocks.

And he withdraws them, almost bringing them to his own mouth before deciding against it. He spreads your mouth open carefully before massaging your essence onto your own tongue.

“Suck, baby. Good girls clean up their mess,” he nods.

You grab his hand with both of yours to keep it steady, bobbing your head along with length of his digits as you display what you’re capable of with your mouth. You drool copiously, strings dangling from your chin as you keep your eyes firmly fixated on his. The act of demeaning yourself for his enjoyment has your pussy clenching, oozing more slick as you revel in his pleasure.

“You’re such a little slut,” he smiles, and you can’t help but giggle around his fingers.

He offers a slight laugh, though it’s breathy and barely there. You amuse him, but you’ve always amused him. He’s in disbelief that this is happening, just as you are. But being high is giving him a confidence he’d never dream of if he were sober. You can’t quite believe you’re finally doing this with him. But he can’t believe you even contemplated this with him.

He's spent nights alone fantasising about being intimate with you like this. Making you cum from his tongue and helping you ride his cock as you both cum in unison and feel a blinding love and pleasure neither of you have ever felt as you explore each other’s bodies. Nights when that alone would suffice and he’d have to clean up the mess he’d made of himself with an old t-shirt and spare sock.

And that would be followed by mornings you’d greet him with a happy go lucky smile, not a single solitary idea in your head of the depravity he feels when he thinks about you laid bare for him. You’d been utterly clueless about how desperately he longed to feel you wrapped around him, screaming his name while he made you feel what he was certain no other man could.

How could he want to see you for his birthday, spoiling him rotten and behaving like a girlfriend should when you had already dedicated yourself to another man? He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to put his foot down, he was desperate to set a boundary and maybe cut you out of his life for good because his feelings were getting more intense than he thought he could feasibly control.

But, alas, he’s never been able to resist you.

He read your text messages over and over and over again until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He had to talk to you. He had to hear your voice. If he’d known being aloof with you would have gotten you to this point. Suckling on his fingers like a girl trying to impress and so desperate to please her first ever crush, he would have done it sooner.

He allows you a few more seconds to taste yourself, to suck his digits like a cock you’ve longed to worship since the dawn of time, before he withdraws them. You pout, but watch as he stands on his knees and pulls down his pants enough to free his aching length. His thick member springing from their confines and slapping against his t-shirt, a messy stain soon to be born there and visible for all to see.

He doesn’t care, though.

He moans as the relief from the release surges through him and glances down at you triumphantly. You can’t even look at him, your eyes glued to his thick length as it flexes and dribbles desperately. He’s cut, and he’s beautiful. You wouldn’t hesitate to choke on his length if he forced it down your throat.

“Do you want it?” he asks, grabbing and squeezing at the base before he tugs himself slowly. “Spread your pretty legs open f’me.”

You nod, doing as you’re told as you bare your cunt on full display. He doesn’t enter you, though, sandwiching his cock between your sticky folds.

It’s euphoric, for him, feeling your lewd folds kiss him repeatedly as he rocks his hips slowly. His perfect, pretty tip nudging against your swollen pearl again and again. He knows it’s enough to get him off, so he makes sure to go slow. Though, your hopeless expression and pathetic mewling could mutually be the end of him.

“P-Put it in.” you tell him, only to be met with a string of disappointed tuts.

“Is it my birthday or yours?” he asks rhetorically, “You didn’t even ask nicely. Knew you were a little brat, but thought you’d have some manners when you wanna make my birthday so special.”

“Fuck, Rinnie, ‘m sorry,” you apologise, biting your lips as he looks down at you with a bemused glare. “J-Just, unf. You’re so big. W-Wanna feel you inside. Just wanna make you feel good.” you tell him, a feeble attempt of explaining yourself. Your wanton desire is too much to handle, you think you might pass out if you don’t feel him inside of you.

He bends down, kissing your cheek carefully before he guides his cock to your clenching entrance.

You yelp as he dips in the tip before taking it out just as quickly. He repeats it, again and again. And then slides in deeper. He withdraws, and then deeper. He repeats, until he’s deeper. And without warning, he stabs his length into you, entirely, filling your throat and lungs with nothing but him.

He chuckles as you become accommodated to his thickness, lip wobbling as you realise you’ve truly never felt something so overpowering inside of you before. Other lovers, toys, nothing has ever compared to him.

“I love you,” you whimper pathetically before your eyes shoot open in realisation. You screw your eyes shut, hoping he hadn’t heard you. But of course, your voice is crystalline, and he hangs on each and every word you say.

“I just put it in, princess, is it making you a little dumb already? Fuck, you’re so fucking cute.” he kisses you fervently, his readiness to tease you eclipsed by the feeling, the realisation, that you’re wrapped around him just as he’d dreamed about. “You’re so tight, fuck, feels like you’re gonna break me.”

“Fuck, Rin…”

“I love you,” he blushes, pushing your legs into a mating press as he begins to fuck down and hard into you. You’re can barely form a coherent word, let alone a thought. But, you don’t care. You’re happy to turn your brain off after hearing that. He loves you, he really loves you.

Your tongues tangle as he pounds into you, so rough and deep you fear you might suffocate. But you’re brought to life, revitalised again and again and again as he whispers pathetically against your lips.

“I love you, l love you, IloveyouIloveyou—” every fibre of his being wills him to stop, telling him that he’s embarrassing himself. But how can that be true when each utterance of his adoration has your pliant body and addled mind squeezing his cock for all it’s worth?

Your cute little cunt so enamoured by three simple words that she’s trying to milk his cock of everything. It’s yours, it’s what you deserve, it’s what you’ve earnt for unknowingly being his girl for so many months. Each battering of his cock in your unprotected cunt leaves a bruising ache on the back of your weary legs.

He hopes he isn’t hurting you, you’re barely cognizant enough to verbalise a single syllable. And yet, somehow, you repeat his words back to him like a doting, braindead toy.

“L-Love, I love— you— Rinnie!” you manage. It’s all he needs. It’s all either of you need as his cockhead continues to knock against your g-spot and your tightness swallows him and cuddles him like he never knew he needed.

But he did know.

He’s known for so long that being in your embrace and fucking every thought out of your pretty little head would make him feel like a man reborn. Because, at the end of the day, he’s got you. He’ll always have you to find comfort in. Whether it be the warmth of your gentle hold while his head rests in your chest, ear angled to hear how your heart beats for him. Or like this. Using your perfect little walls to make you keen for him, his pretty little plaything he can empty himself inside of until you’re both spouting nothing but sweet nothings to each other.

It's for your benefit, as well as his.

You need the release just as he does.

You’ve been pent up for so long and hadn’t even realised it. But you will, now. You now know how it feels to have your body fucked into bliss and incoherent, you know how it feels to make love rather than be a flesh toy for whatever man you choose to fill the emptiness inside of you.

No more.

That will no longer suffice.

Nothing will compare to how it feels to be with Rin Itoshi. You know it as well as he does. His forehead rests against your own as he chases his release, his heart racing as even in his intoxicated mind, he’s acutely aware of what is about to happen.

Of what you are going to let him do.

He’s going to cum inside his best friend.

“C-Can I? Please, baby, let me fill you up.” he begs.

“No… not yet. Feels so good, Rin, I don’t want it to stop.” you explain. And it’s a little selfish, you can’t deny that. You’re angling for your third orgasm of this tryst. You can’t help but think of daybreak approaching and how you both might come to your senses as you’re bathed in the glow of daylight.

You’ve said I love you to each other but what does that really mean? It means you’re turned on and despite it being true, things are different when you’re sober and you sleep on mistakes you may or may not have made. A post coital world may be one in which you can’t make eye contact anymore because… how can best friends do that?

How can you explore each other so intimately and still maintain a friendship that isn’t uncomfortable, each silence that passes by may rot your consciousness of how his nose crinkles when he moans or how you sucked on his fingers like a bonafide whore just because you were lost in the moment? Things can’t be normal after that. You hold back tears as you think solemnly that this might be the last nice memory you have of each other.

And you wrap your arms around his neck, determined not to let him go and keep this nice moment as a memory you can cherish forever. One where he made you feel pleasure you didn’t know a best friend could, you didn’t know anyone could. He’s been waiting to do this with you, and you were blind to it.

You can’t help but wish things weren’t so complicated, but he can’t hold on for much longer. Even slowing his thrusts, even stopping completely, he knows he can’t hold off for much longer.

“Please, princess, I’m aching here…” he mumbles, his lips slotting against yours so perfectly, so deliciously, you can deny him no more. You nod, slowly, tears spilling over as you approach the beginning of the end. A coil tightening in your stomach as he really lets go. He uses his build to his advantage as he strives to help you attain a vision of heaven for the third and final time, his own paradisical freefall waiting in the wings.

“Mmmmmpf… fuu-uuu-uuuck, Rin! R-Rin!”

“Just like that baby, just like that. Hah~ fuck, such a good girl. So fucking pretty. You cum like an angel, fuck. Can I cum inside? Baby, please, I can’t pull out. You’re too fucking tight. Need to do it here. N-Need to give you it like this—”

He cuts himself off, unable to wait for permission as the dam blocking him bursts. He cums messily, loudly, as he spurts a thick, backed up load into you. Even with your hips angled, there’s too much to keep contained. Excess sperm leaks out of your spent hole as it twitches and oozes, and he continues to thrust into you. Even with his cock softening, he can’t seem to help himself. He keeps going, hissing and whining from a depraved, masochistic pleasure.

Even in darkness, you see how red his face has become. You put it down to overexertion, and it’s partly true. But as he unsheathes his cock, he can’t help but feel a concoction of pride and unadulterated joy as he sees your combined coupling completely soak his length.

He pants as he rolls off you, moving his head to the side as he cups your face again to make out with you. And you reciprocate, half-heartedly, as you feel the end is nigh. He quickly tucks himself into his sweats, while you dress yourself in your panties and sweats.

You feel dirty.

Lewd fluids trickle out of you and ruin your clothes, and you can’t help but feel how you always do after a hook up.

Used.

Only this time, it’s worse. You got carried away, and you’re about to lose your best friend because of it. Any thought of salvaging things dies a swift death in your mind as you think about things logically. Things can’t go back to the way they are, now. Not with burden adding tension to what was meant to be a stress-free friendship.

And still, you want to try.

You want to try and save what’s left of your friendship.

“… S-So… you definitely weren’t a virgin.” you try to joke lightly, your rigid body easing slightly when you hear him laugh.

“No, sorry. I was fucking with you, it was dumb.” he smirks. “Are you okay? Was it… okay? It sounded like you liked it.”

“Yeah… yeah. It was really… f-fun.” your lip wobbles before you start to cry, prompting him to sit up abruptly with a look of unbridled concern as he watches you sob.

“Shit, was it bad? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away, I guess? Please don’t cry.”

“N-No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you sob. “It’s just— w-well— what am I meant to do now?! T-Taking your virginity was meant to be your birthday gift and you lied!” you force yourself to laugh through your tears, hoping your excuse will be enough to hide your true feelings for now.

“Oh,” he exhales a sigh of relief, scratching the back of his neck. “You scared me.” he almost scowls, but a soft smile still plays on his features.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine, there’s something else I want if you’re so worried about a gift for me.” he looks at you calmly as your entire face relaxes. You cock your head, curious about what he’s got in mind. He scoffs, lightly, almost in disbelief that you can’t figure it out. “I want my… best friend… to be my girlfriend.”

“… what?!” you practically scream, tears flowing harder as you wonder if you heard him right. He laughs, again, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as you continue to cry.

“Maybe you are dumber than I gave you credit for. I’ve been crazy about you for months, we just had sex and I told you I love you. You’re really surprised that I want to do that again and make you mine, officially?”

You dab at your tears with the sleeves of his hoodie, starting to laugh a little as he smiles at you. You sigh, exasperated. Your whole body is spent and you’re emotionally drained.

“I thought you were gonna think this was a mistake, G-God, I wasn’t expecting this at all.” you explain.

“Clearly,” he grins. “Well? Are you gonna be my girlfriend?”

“Oh! Y-Yeah! Of course!” you smile. His arms wrap around you, and you’ve never felt safer. You burst into a fit of laughter as he repeatedly kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, everywhere.

You lie comfortably in his arms as the two of you look up at the sky together, for the final time that night. If it weren't for the cold, you’re sure you could fall asleep like this. And it’s at that moment, you realise, just how much time has passed. The obsidian sky is no longer suffocating you, the secrets and desires you’ve held only brave enough to be exposed whilst shrouded by the shadows along with your shame for daring to hold them.

The earliest inklings of the true morning sky are breaking through the darkness. The world is about to resume as it does each day, people waking up and going about their lives. You need to sleep, but not now, not like this. You’ll go home, with Rin, as you have so many times before.

And through confessions you believed shouldn’t dared be uttered, things have changed. Things have changed in a way you hadn’t expected.

You lie comfortably in Rin’s arms, your head on his chest as he breathes gently and peacefully. His eyes closed as he savours in the euphoria he feels for all that has transpired.

Things have changed, and everything is better now.

—

© 2024 rinhaler

—

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Request on Wattpad - “Could u write on where y/n is a friend of Sam and colby and they invite her to a party with the intention to seduce her at said party, so the whole night they flirt with y/n and tease and touch her. When they notice that she's all riled up and confused they invite her upstairs and shit gets freakydeakey, like pure filth and name calling and stuffAnd they mostly focus on her but like that thing where they're like "you got your fun, now it's our turn to get our fun" I hope it makes sense”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, alcohol drinking, pot smoking, unprotected sex with both Sam and Colby, creampie, choking, biting, sexual inuendos, praising, dirty talk, heavy teasing, filth filth and filth

Since Halloween is coming up… I’ll do a costume party.. you’re welcome so there is slight references to the devil and other stuff like that.

Word Count: 5.7k | not really edited yet

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You put in your headband that had your white feathery halo attached to the top of it and looked in the mirror, "Hey, mick? You almost ready?"

You applied your red lipstick, pressing your lips together a few times before leaning back up, "They guys told us not to be late."

"The guys can wait, not like our lives revolve around them anyway." Mick says walking into the room.

Your life actually did revolve around them, you liked them. Both. A lot. But no one really knows it. They really can't. So you play it off, "You're obviously not as excited for this party as I am, so what gives?"

She lays on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, "Rough day, I guess. I need to get drunk, so.." she jumps up, her tinted pigtails bouncing as she does, "I'm excited for alcohol."

Your phone dings and you pull it out from your purse, smiling as you see it's a selfie that Sam sent of him and Colby, Hurry up and get here. We can't wait to see what costume we'll be taking off of you tonight

You roll your eyes, replying, Don't threaten me with a good time, with three added laughing faces.

It was always joke, after joke, after joke. You just wish they would finally give in to you being their girlfriend, hell, you'd even settle for being their little play thing at this point.

Colby pops up in the group chat, only one way to find out if he's joking. Get your ass hereeee!!

You bit your lip, on my way.

You were getting your hopes up, at this point you were excited for alcohol, too. But then again, alcohol, with them looking as hot as they do, probably not a good mix.

But as Colby said, there's only one way to really find out.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You arrive at the house, and it's absolutely decked out. Orange lights, pumpkins lit on each step leading up to the door, and of course the music is loud as shit.

"They really go all out, don't they?" Mick says leaning into you as you walk up the steps. You laugh slightly and look at her, "They hunt ghosts for a living, Mick. Of course they do."

She laughs and shakes her head, "Yeah, you're right." You make your way to the door that's open and has people flowing in and out of it.

"I'm going to go find a drink, you want one?" She yells to you as she looks around. You nod, "yes please and actually mix it with something."

She laughs as she walks away and you stand there, dressed in your white lingerie, mini skirt, and heels as you try to find someone you actually care to talk to.

Your small angel wings run against your arms and your heels click against the balloon filled floor as you walk.

"Hey angel."

You smirk, you'd know that voice any day, "Sam." You say turning around. He holds out an alcohol filled blood bag, "Thirsty?"

You slide it from his grasp and look at it, then back to him dressed up as a vampire, "Fitting. Very fitting." He smirks and looks you up and down and before he says anything, Colby walks up behind you, "Are you lost?"

You turn and look at him confused, "Am I what?"

"Heaven is a long, long way from here." Colby smirks slowly and your face softens as you laugh, "Ah, that's a good one, Colby. Thank you."

He looks you up and down, "Damn." He glances at Sam, "fitting isn't it?"

You look at Sam, "Huh?" He shakes his head, "Don't worry about that right now, sweetheart."

"Have you guys been drinking already?" You raise your eyebrows and look between them. They both smile and look at each other, nodding while they laugh.

"I need to catch up." You mumble as you push your way through the crowded house, trying to even catch a glimpse of Mick.

"Finally. I've been waiting for my drink." You sigh as you rest your hands on the counter, the bag Sam gave you still in your grasp.

Mick nods towards it, "where did that come from?"

You look at her and look down, "Oh. Yeah, Sam gave this to me." You shrug and toss it down on the counter, thinking about it quickly before opening it and drinking it.

"Oh my god, what the hell is in these?" You make a face and quickly chase it with a shot of something that isn't alcohol.

"That is cranberry juice and vodka." Sam says walking up beside you to make himself another drink. You look over at him, fighting back a smile, "You forgot the cranberry juice."

Mick hands you a drink before she walks away, and to your surprise, it's actually mixed very well, "Thanks."

Sam gives you the side eye with a smirk, "Lightweight."

You want to grab him and kiss him. His smirk drives you insane, along with Colby's.

And speaking of the devil, or to be specific, demon, "So what time do you have to be back in heaven?"

"Are these going to continue all night long?" You spin around, resting your lower back against the counter as you stand between them.

"Depends on how long that costume stays on for." Colby winks at you before walking away with Sam. You watch them as they move away, looking back at you with smirks on their lips.

You bit down on your cup to keep yourself from any embarrassment that might leave your lips. You quickly finish that one and spin around, their eyes still on you, as you pour yourself a drink.

You find Mick, grabbing her and dragging her over to the beer pong table, "Let's get this party started."

"Who wants to play us in pong?" Mick yells, getting almost everyone's attention.

"We will." A tall guy dressed as the joker says as his friend who is dressed as Batman stands next to him, eyeing you up and down.

"Isn't that perfect?" Mick says looking the joker up and down, "Harley Quinn, nice to meet'cha."

You take a long sip of your drink, turning towards the table and grabbing one of the pong balls, mumbling quietly, "Let's go."

You turn to Batman and hand him the other ball, "We'll shoot for first shot, yeah?"

"Anything for you, angel." He winks behind his mask and he walks over to the other side. Honestly, you loved it when Colby made the angel jokes, but from anyone else, you wanted to puke.

You shoot first, sinking your shot and Batman misses.

"We go first." You get your ball out of the cup and joker hands Mick hers and she giggles, already tipsy, "Thank you, Mr. joker."

You roll your eyes and you go to shoot. You feel both sets of eyes on you, and it wasn't from Batman or joker.

It was from the demon and the vampire who are sitting on the stairs watching your movements. You tried not to let them under your skin, blocking them out, and you sink your shot, Mick's following right behind hours.

"Two in one. We win." You hold your hands up, "Boom."

"What the hell?" Batman says and the crowd cheers for you and Mick. You glance up, Sam and Colby smiling and cheering for you as well.

"Rematch." Joker says extending his arm out, "But we get first shots this time."

You motion to the table, "All yours."

Joker sinks his, Batman doesn't. So you and Mick drink.

You and her shoot, both making it, so you get balls back. Soon enough, you knock them down to two cups, balls back again, and you win the game. You lean forward, resting your palms flat on the table, "Wanna go again?"

Batman tilts his head, "We can do this all night, angel."

And there it is, the ick.

You lean up, "I'm just going to get another drink quick. Mick, go for me." You walked away, heading over to the counter where the alcohol sits.

"So, I take it there's no curfew in heaven, huh?" Colby says walking up beside you. He leans down, resting his elbows and forearms on the countertop and you smile, "Actually, instead of being home at ten, I have to be home at 11."

Colby looks over at the clock on the stove, "looks like you got plenty of time to have fun then." He winks and rests his hand on your lower back as he stands up, "Find me later, we can have a dance before you descend back up to the pearly gates."

He stops and leans back in, "Sam too, can't make him too jealous."

You turn around, ready to ask him what he means, but he's already talking to other people. Your eyes move to the stairs and Sam is sitting there staring at you with a smile. He waves to you and you hold your hand up, in a very confused state.

They couldn't be serious. You shake your head, pouting your cup full of liquor before walking back over to the pong table.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You stumble over to the counter, resting your cup down as you debate on getting another cup. As you go to reach for the almost empty bottle, a voice makes you stop, "You sure you want more?"

You turn around and Sam's body is inches away from yours, "I feel like I kinda need it."

His hand reaches out to play with the crystal beads on your mini skirt, "You know this doesn't cover much right?"

You smirk, "Yeah, it's more for decoration, really." You look up at him, "You'd only know that if you were looking."

"Can't help but stare at the angel who decided to bless our party with her beautiful appearance." He reaches around you grabbing your cup and finishing what you had left in it.

"Hey." You whine out and take your empty cup back, "Not nice."

"I'm a vampire babe, who said I was nice?" He winks, sliding his hand slowly off of your body as he walks away, not giving you a chance to say anything else.

"Babe?" You question to yourself and turn back around slowly. You just wanted to be drunk at this point, you couldn't handle another 'joke' from them, at least if you were hammered you might at least laugh.

You perk your head up, remember what Colby said about finding him for a dance. You smirked slowly as you made your way around, asking if anyone has seen Colby, having no luck.

You make your way out back by the pool area, looking around before you see him sitting with a few other people. They're all passing around a blunt and you watch as Colby takes a hit, tilting his head back to slowly let the smoke roll out.

He brings his head back up, smirking as he sees you. You go to turn away but he calls your name, getting the other people to as well.

You walk over, freezing when you see Sam lean forward from behind the wall, "Look who it is." Sam smirks up at you, "Hey, angel, what can we do for ya."

You smile slightly, feeling awkward as you stand there with everyone's eyes on you, "I was looking for Colby, actually."

Colby raises his eyebrows, "Oh, shit." He smirks and hands the blunt to Corey, "What's up?"

"I need to talk to you." Your eyes move onto Sam. His eyes are squinted as he watches Colby get up and walk over to you. His hand rests right below your wings as he leads you back inside, "What can I do for you?"

"You said about a dance, well I'm here to give it to you." You stop and turn to him and he looks you up and down, eyes meeting yours, "That all you're going to give?"

You take a deep breath, huffing as you push past him and make your way to the downstairs bathroom. Colby follows behind you, "Hey, wait. Slow down."

You glance back at him, shaking your head as you push the door open. He quickly stops you from shutting it and pushes his way in, "I thought you wanted to dance?"

You drop your arms with a sigh, hands slapping your bare thighs, "I-I.." you groan, "Colby." You lay your hands on your face, "I like you, okay? And I like Sam. A lot."

He smirks but doesn't say anything.

After staring at him for a few seconds, you scoff, "Is that a, you don't like me back, because if you don't then I sho-" you go to walk out but he wraps his arm around the front if you and pushes you against the counter, "Did I say I didn't like you back?"

His lips are inches from yours and you've never had a stronger urge to kiss him than right now.

He leans his head back, shaking it slightly with a smile, "Sam will get jealous."

"What the fuck does that even mean? You guys are so weird when it comes to me, I thought I made it pretty clea-"

Colby leans in, pressing his lips to yours, "That's all you're going to get for right now."

"Wh-"

"It's very ironic you dressed as an angel, you know that?" His voice cuts you off, "Dressing up as one of the most pure things in the world, and yet.. you really aren't that much of an angel, are you?"

You shake your head, completely captivated by him and he lets out a low chuckle, "How can you expect to be an angel when you want both of us inside of you?"

His words make you grip his slightly undone black button up, "Colby.." you whimper out and he blows out air, "We should probably get out there.. you know before Sam comes and busts down the door."

"Wait so-"

"Just relax for a little bit and have fun, babe. You deserve it."

He steps back, releasing your hips from his grasp, "Come on, you owe me a dance." He bites his lip as he pulls you to him as he opens the door.

You stop, jumping slightly as you see Sam leaning against the wall across the small hallway, "What's going on in here?"

"Don't worry, man." Colby walks up to him, whispering something into his ear as he grabs his shoulder. A smile slowly grows on Sam's face, "Alright."

You look between them and Sam walks over to you, "Find me when you're done dancing with Colby."

He walks away, making his way to the alcohol counter and Colby wraps his arm around your waist, "Come on."

You make your way to the dance floor as someone puts on Dance (A$$) by Big Shawn. Colby yells along with everyone else and you get right into it.

Colby's hands pressing on your thighs as he grinds into you. He spins you around to face him, pulling you closer. You close your eyes, tilting your head back as you all yell out, "stop..." you look at Colby and you both smirk and say, "Now make that motherfucker hammertime like.."

You start dancing with him again, and soon enough, Sam makes his way in and you dance with him, like you were doing with Colby.

You turn around, grinding your ass on Sam as Colby holds you from the front.

"This what you wanted?" Sam asks lowly into your ear. You nod as you tilt your head back onto his shoulder and look at Colby, "Uh huh."

Sam chuckles lowly into your ear at your response, "Well prove that this little costume doesn't mean anything." His hand slides down between your legs that are on either side of Colby's leg.

You whimper out, worried that people will see and Colby reads you and leans in, "They're all too drunk to care, babe."

Sam presses his fingers hard to your clit and you grind down onto his hand that rests on Colby's, "You put on such an innocent facade, but.." Sam clicks his tongue, "We both know you're more of a devil than a saint."

You nod, completely giving into them, but that wasn't enough.

"Catch you in a bit, angel." Sam moves his hand away and steps away as the song ends. Colby grips your chin between his thumb and the side of his pointer finger, "Told ya."

They walk away, leaving you flustered on the dance floor, bodies bump into you as you stand there in a shocked state.

"Oh my god." Mick says walking up to you. You turn your attention to her, in hopes she didn't just see what happened, "What? What happened?"

"That fucking joker is macking on another Harley Quinn." She pouts, obviously drunk, "Fuck him. Let's dance please."

You weren't sure if you could, but you didn't really have a choice, plus, it wouldn't hurt to prove them right with what they think.

Innocent.

Please. You've went into buildings with them when there was a high chance of getting caught. You summon demons with them, you are far from innocent, or so you thought.

The more you thought about what they meant, it just hurt your head, so you let the music drown it out, take over.

Soon you're dancing as close as you can with Mick.

Your body rolling with here, you guys were the life of the party, until you realized that the people you were dancing for aren't there anymore.

You step back, huffing as you go get another drink. As you're drinking it, you feel a very familiar presence move behind you and lean down, "How about you meet us upstairs, hmm?"

Sam takes your cup, downing the little bit you had left, "This way, angel." He runs his hand down your arm and pulls you with him.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask confused, unsure if your dream was about to become a reality, "Sam?"

He glances back at you, smirking as he wraps his arm around your waist, "a different kind of heaven, sweetheart."

You bit your lip as you're walked into his room. He closes the door and you feel a hand slide up your chest and slowly and gently wrap around your neck, "Glad you could make it. You're way past curfew anyway."

You look at Sam, who's standing there watching Colby whisper to you as his grip on your neck grows tighter, "Looks like you'll be joining us in hell, won't ya?"

He walks you over to the bed, making you get on your knees, your back still pressed against his chest. Sam moves to his knees in front of you, brushing hair from your face, "Do you like it when Colby has his hand around your neck?"

You try to nod, but fail, so you whimper out a quiet, "Yes."

"Your innocent look makes me want to take you downstairs so every time can hear just how much of a whore for us you actually are." Sam traces your bottom lip with his thump and you part them.

His thumb slowly slides in between your lips and you close them around it, swirling your tongue and his own lips part slightly as he lets out a quiet gasp, "See this, Colby? Fuck.."

"I can see right through her act, Sam." Colby leaning, nipping your ear, "The way she looks at you. The way I catch her staring at me.. I know she wants to be our little play thing."

"Please?" You whimper out and reach out for Sam, but Colby stops you, "You've had your fun tonight, now it's our turn."

He lets go of your neck and pushes you to Sam. Your hands rest on his shoulders as his hands tightly grip your waist, "We were never joking, y/n."

He leans in to press his lips against your neck and you close your eyes, "Mm." He leans back, gently grazing his fake fangs over your skin, "We've always wanted you."

Colby leans in, kissing the other side of your neck, his demon horns rubbing against your head, "We've always talked about this."

You reach a hand up to lay it on the back of Colby's head, moaning out quietly as he bites down.

"Just never knew the right time." Sam leans back and scans over your face, "Until we seen you walk through that door in this lustful little costume, knowing exactly what you were doing."

He leans in, moving his lips with yours in a slow fashion.

"You know what you do to us, don't you, baby?" Colby pulls you away from Sam and makes you look at him, raising his eyebrows, indicating he wants you to respond.

"Yes." You nod and he tilts his head, "Yes what? Use your words, baby."

"I know what I do to you both." You look into his eyes and he smirks, "Tell us." You bite your lip taking a deep breath as you let out a soft moan at Sam's hand on your thinly covered pussy.

"I tease you." You admit, "I turn you on."

"That you fucking do." Sam says leaning in closer, "tell us how you want us to treat you.”

"L-like a whore." You whimper out as Sam slips his fingers between your costume and skin, "Is that what you want?"

Colby unzips your body suit as you nod, "Yes, yes. Please." You moan as Sam slips two fingers into you.

"Tell us how." Colby slips your straps down your shoulders, making sure to leave your wings on you. His hands slide to your boobs, kneading them.

"Fuck me." You tilt your head back to rest onto his shoulder, "Use me."

"Planned on it, angel." Sam whispers as he pulls his fingers out, "Lay back."

You lay back and their hands roam up and down your body slowly, "Should we take this off?" Sam glances up at Colby and he nods, "she's playing with satan's houseboys tonight."

His words make your stomach do a flip and your eyes move constantly between them as they take off your white bodysuit, leaving you naked in nothing but your wings and halo.

"Sam.." you whimper out as you reach for him with one hand, "Colby.." as you reach for him with your other, "Please?"

They both move to either side of you, Colby's hand slowly working its way in between your legs. Sam hooks his arm under your leg, holding it open as Colby rubs his fingers up and down your needy cunt, "She's so fucking wet."

"She probably always is for us." Sam leans in, rubbing his nose gently up and down your cheek, "Aren't ya?"?

You nod, "Always."

Colby dips his fingers in, slowly curling them as he watches your eyes flutter closed, "Keep them open."

Your eyes snap open and you fight to keep them open as he thrusts his fingers in and out. Sam's hand slides over, pressing little circles onto your clit, "You gonna cum for us?"

You nod, arching your back, "Yes, yes yes."

"She's such a little slut." Colby says lowly was he leans down to take your one nipple into his mouth. Sam follows his actions with your other one, causing your brain to become fuzzy.

You gasp, laying your hands on the back of their heads, moaning as you clench around Colby's fingers, "Fuckfuck, y-yes."

"There ya go, baby." Sam moves to kiss up your neck, leaving a trail of tiny hickies to prove to everyone that you're really not an angel after all.

Colby pulls his hand so he can stand up, "I want that mouth of hers right now." Colby undoes his pants, pushing them down to get rid of them.

You watch as he moves over, pulling you up to you're on your knees. He leans round you, looking at Sam, "You want her on your face?"

"Fuck, come here." He lays back, gripping your hips to guide you over to where he wants you. Colby moves down by Sam's legs, gripping your chin so he can tilt your head up, "Sit down, whore."

You bite your lip, smirking slightly as you let your hips rest down. Your nails dig into the fabric of Sam's pants as his tongue slips into you.

Colby strokes his cock a few times as he watch your face scrunch up with the pleasure from being eaten out by Sam, "You're so fucking sexy. Now open those slutty little lips for me."

Your lips part, a moan escaping as you look up at him, waiting for his cock to slip past them. His own lip pulls between his teeth, muffling a moan as he slides his cock in as far as it will go.

"Have at it, angel." He winks down at you. You moan against him as you bring your right hand up, wrapping it around his cock. You start to bob your head, moaning out as Sam pulls your hips down to him more.

Colby brushes hair from your face, holding the sides of your head with his hands, "That's it, baby. Fuck.." Colby tilts his head down, watching you devour his cock.

You clench around Sam's tongue, your moans muffled by Colby's cock as you cum.

"Y/n.." Colby moans out, "Fuck, fuck. Cum on his face, that's it. Good girl." Your eyes move up to him, indicating that you liked it.

He smirks, moaning lowly as he shakes his head slightly, "Fuck, angel. You keep looking at me like that and I'll cum." He pulls his cock out and moves down to press his lips to yours, "We don't want that yet."

You reach up, grabbing his shirt as Sam gets you to cum again.

"Fuck, again? Sam must really be doing a number on you, huh?" Colby chuckles as he kisses you, swallowing your moan with ease.

"Fuck." Sam pulls away with a sigh, "Colby, you need to taste her."

"Do you want me between those legs next?" Colby tilts your head up to look at him and you nod, "Yes, Colby."

He smirks, "lay down."

You move off of Sam and lay on your back across the bed so your head is handing slightly off the edge. Colby moves in between your legs, pushing them open and not wasting another second.

His lips attach to your clit, sucking as your neck arches off the bed, "Oh fuck." You grip the blanket below you, pulling as Colby eats you out.

Sam watches as he gets himself ready then steps towards you, tapping the head of his cock of your lips.

You open your eyes, moaning out as he glides his cock into your mouth. He groans and lays a hand on your head, "Oh, angel."

Colby digs his fingers into your hips as he groans against you. You dig your heels into his back as you clench around his tongue.

"Be a good little slut and cum for Colby." Sam says, "We know you want to."

Sam's words push you over the edge, spilling yourself onto Colby. Your moans are muffled as Sam's cock is pushed and held into your mouth.

Your eyes roll back and your chest is rising and falling quickly.

"Again, wouldn't be fair that you came for me twice and him once." Sam chuckles but it's quickly turns into a moan as you hallow out your cheeks.

"F-fuck.." he gasps and reaches down to play with your boobs, kneading them and pinching and pulling at your nipples.

"Cum for Colby, whore." Sam's voice is low and raspy, you can tell his trying not to cum himself, "Fuck." He pulls his cock out, bending down to kiss you as you finally reach that second orgasm from Colby.

"You want first go?" Colby looks at Sam as he crawls up your body. Your eyes move to Sam and his meet yours, "I'd be honored to ruin her first."

Your heart skips a beat and Colby leans down, kissing you. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue before he stands up.

You feel Sam grab your ankles and flip you around so you're on your stomach. He brings your hips up, teasingly sliding his cock up and down your achingly wet cunt.

Colby moves down to your eye level, "I want everyone at this party to hear those pretty little slutty sounds.

You nod, gasping as Sam pushes his cock into you fully. His grip on your hips is harsh, "Oh shit." He slowly pulls out and slowly pushes back in, feeling how well you hug his cock with the walls of your pussy, "shit."

Your head falls down, resting on the bed as you arch your back, pushing your hips up and back, "Fuck, Sam."

"That feel good?" Colby asks, "let everyone know."

You let out a loud moan, lifting your head up to look at Colby as Sam rails into you from behind, "Fuck." You practically scream, already clenching his cock, "Oh my god."

Colby chuckles, cupping your cheeks with his hands, "Let Sam know how good it feels, angel.”

Sam groans, pulling your hips back to meet his as he pushes fully inside, resting there, "Tell me, baby."

"You feel so good." You say quickly.

"Louder." Sam and Colby say in unison and Sam starts to thrust again, a smirk plastered on his lips.

"Sam!" You scream out, "you feel so good."

"Cum for him, then it's my turn with you." Colby leans in, slowly making out with you, "you're being such a good little slut."

You push your hips back, rocking them as you cum, moans being ripped from your lips left and right, "Fuck, fuck fuck."

Sam slows his thrusts down, pulling out as he tells you to turn around. You sluggishly pull away from Colby and spin around to face Sam.

You feel Colby's hands slide up your legs and over your achy slit before gripping your hips. You take Sam's cock into your mouth before he can tell you.

"Good fucking girl, angel." He moans out breathless, "Fucking hell."

Colby moans deeply as he slips his cock into you, "Shit, I wanna cum already."

You moan around Sam's cock and he nods, "Uh huh."

Colby quickly builds up into a punishing pace. You let out choked moans as your eyes roll back. Sam pulls his cock out, handing down to eye level like Colby did, "Tell em. Let them hear how good we make you feel, angel."

Sam bushes hair from your face, and lifts your head so he can wrap his hand around your neck, "Tell Colby, baby. Tell us how much of a slut you are for us."

"I'm your slut." You whimper out and Sam shakes his head, "Louder, angel."

You swallow as Sam's grip on your throat tightens, "I'm your fucking slut. Whore. Fucking shit, Colby you feel so good."

Colby groans, "Fuck, again. Say it again."

"I-I'm your whore." You lock eyes with Sam, "I'm your fucking slut."

"That a girl." Sam presses his lips to your forehead and looks at Colby who nods at him.

"We're going to cum together, okay." Sam rubs your cheek, "hold it for us until we say."

You nod and gasp as he lets go of your throat, standing up to put his cock back into your mouth. Both Sam and Colby are thrusting into you, Colby harder than Sam.

You're a mess between both of them, wanting to collapse but you're trying so hard to hold it together.

"I'm filling this pussy. Sam can tomorrow." Colby groans and you moan around Sam's cock.

"Fuck, colbs, I don't think I can last any longer." Sam groans, "Fuck, she's so fucking good."

"Wish we would have done this sooner." Colby moans and his thrusts get sloppy, along with Sam's. You feel their cocks twitching inside of you and you taste Sam as he runs down your tongue and down your throat.

You suck him clean, moaning together as he pulls out. Colby pushes his cock in deeper here pulling out, "Fuck, is she okay?"

Your body falls onto the bed slowly as your chest rises and falls fast, "Mhm."

"Need you to tell us, angel." Sam whispers as he runs a hand over your forehead. You opened your eyes and look at him, "I've always wanted this. I'm great."

Sam smirks and looks at Colby, "Think we should call it a night?"

Colby shrugs, "I mean, if she's up here, I'm up here."

Sam agrees, "You're more scary than I am so you go kick these people out." Colby chuckles as he slips his pants back on, "Already on it."

Sam works at getting you cleaned up, taking off your wings and halo and setting them down with your bodysuit, "Did such a good job." He presses his lips to your forehead.

"Never knew if you guys were always joking around like you usually do." You whisper as you shift around in the bed, finding a comfortable position.

He shrugs, "At first it was, but then we got to talking and we both like you.. and we know you like us, we picked up in that a while ago."

You laugh slightly, body starting to ache, "Well I'm happy that it happened."

He nods and sits down next to you, "Us, too."

Colby walks back in, "Alright, where were we?"

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Happy House || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: This is a happy house, we’re happy here, right?

Warnings: infidelity, toxic Coryo, mild violence, if there’s anything else lmk!

Wc: 505

Divider by @firefly-graphics

In the quiet morning light that filtered through the windows of the grand dining hall, your family sat at the polished mahogany table, seemingly the picture of domestic bliss.

Coriolanus, his chiseled features etched with a façade of contentment, sat at the head of the table, his newspaper spread before him. Balanced on his lap, was your three year old daughter, her tiny hands occupied with a toy.

You sat opposite him, watching the scene with a practiced smile, your eyes betraying none of the turmoil that churned within you. You sipped at your coffee slowly, your eyes moving to your eldest as he shovels spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth, oblivious to the tension that hung in the air.

As if on cue, the nanny entered the room, cradling the youngest member of the Snow family in her arms. Your heart twisted at the sight of the woman, the nanny’s eyes darting to Coriolanus, who met her gaze with a knowing look. You forced herself to smile as you took the baby girl into your arms, your fingers tracing the delicate features you had come to love despite the circumstances of your birth.

“Look who’s awake,” You softly say to your daughter with a bright expression as she smiles up at you. But as you look up, you catch Coriolanus beckon the young woman over to him. It was the subtle exchanges between Coriolanus and the nanny that made your blood run cold.

A glance here, a lingering touch there—each movement a betrayal that cut deeper than any knife. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the facade you presented to the world.

Later that day, as your family made a public appearance, you plastered on your most convincing smile, your hand resting lightly on Coriolanus’s arm as you both posed for the cameras. Lucky Flickerman’s question about another baby drew a forced chuckle from your lips, “Maybe not for a while,” You responded, feeling the venomous look Coriolanus shot you from your peripheral.

It wasn’t until you were alone in the privacy of you solar that the facade finally crumbled. Coriolanus’s anger boiled over at your comment, his words cutting like shards of glass. Your own fury matched his, your heart pounding in your chest as you dared to confront him about his infidelity.

“What do you mean ‘maybe not for a while’?” Coriolanus’s voice sliced through the tense silence, his anger simmering just beneath the surface .

Your bristled at his tone, your own frustration bubbling over. “What do you think I mean, Coriolanus? We already have three children to care for, and I’m not eager to bring another into this mess. I’m not a baby machine for heaven’s sake.”

Coriolanus’s jaw clenched, his gaze darkening. “Mess? Is that what you think of our family?” You shot back, “It’s what you’ve made it,” your voice tinged with bitterness. “You think I don’t know about your affairs? About the way you’ve been sneaking around with my servants behind my back?”

Coriolanus’s eyes flashed with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. “How dare you accuse me of such things? You know nothing!” “I know enough,” You retorted, your own anger rising. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way you touch her when you think no one is watching.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Coriolanus scoffed, but there was a hint of unease in his voice. “Is it, Coriolanus?” Your voice was sharp as you enunciated his full name, your eyes narrowing as you met his gaze head-on. “You can deny it all you want, but I’m not blind, I’m not stupid. I see what’s happening, and I won’t stand for it any longer.”

Coriolanus’s face twisted with rage, his hands trembling with suppressed fury. “How dare you speak to me like that? I am your husband, and you will show me the respect I deserve!”

“Respect?” You laughed bitterly, your heart pounding in your chest. “You lost any right to my respect the moment you betrayed our marriage vows-“ Your words were cut off when Coriolanus grabs your forearm, harshly pulling you close to him as you felt his breath fanning your features, your breath catching in your throat as you struggled to comprehend the betrayal.

Before you could react, the doors to the solar swung open, revealing your children and the nanny, frozen in the threshold. Your heart sank as you watched Coriolanus hastily release his tight grip on you, plastering on a false smile as he turned to his son with outstretched arms.

“My boy,” he said, his voice strained. “Shall we go play outside?” With a final glance in your direction, Coriolanus left the room, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces of your reality. As the nanny awkwardly averted her gaze, you gathered your daughters close, your voice trembling with suppressed rage.

“Next time,” you said to the nanny, not bothering to look at her, your voice tinged with bitterness, “you should knock before entering a closed room. Understood?”

The nanny nodded mutely, her eyes downcast as you led your children away from the shattered remnants of your once-happy home. But deep within you, you knew that the facade they presented to the world could only hold for so long before the truth tore your family apart at the seams.

[lvandrskies]

— from eden

synopsis: eve found a snake in her garden, and then fell in love with the fruit it offered.

tags: god au, past lives, soul bonds, angst, smut

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (fem. receiving), corruption kink if u squint, character death

word count: 18.3k

m.list

a/n: if you've read this before, it's because i deleted my old account and then decided to come back. as a disclaimer, religion is pretty broad in this fic. "god" in this fic is not god from the christian/catholic religion. also !! thank u @yeonjunszn for betaing this last year, love u pookie!! <33 [photo creds]. MINORS DNI

❝all the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.❞

When God created the universe, he first created light. He separated the light from darkness and called them “Day” and “Night”. Then He made the sky, separating the water with a dome to keep it in two separate places. Then he made the sun and the stars, weaving his essence to light up his beautiful creation to help guide those who will soon live on it. Then He created animals, for both the sky and the water. He blessed them and told them to live in the sea and the sky, to fill the ocean and the earth with bustling cycles of life.

On the last day, he created humans. He created man and woman, and told them to have children so they may produce their own descendants to walk over earth and bring everything into their control. The first two humans he created were Adam and Eve.

He provided them with an abundance of fruits and grains for them to eat in a beautiful garden he called Eden.

In the garden of Eden, they were to fall in love and create many children. Adam was the first one to fall in love with Eve, and she pliantly went along with it. 

But, something in Eve felt… empty. Like Adam was not the one she was to be with. Adam was not the one she was to share this beautiful, vast, garden with. But, she wasn’t sure who she was to share this with. Eve knew she couldn’t delve much more into the unsettling pit in her stomach at the thought of her fate already sealed by Adam’s side, as it was not smart to defy God. 

“God knows best,” she would tell herself as she lay with Adam in the garden of Eden.

________________

I’m dying.

If the blood flowing around him wasn’t enough of a tell, or the way his sight blurs in and out. The heavy rain pelting against his dying body is a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt of the universe trying to save him and wash the red sticky liquid away. His breathing is shallow, hitched. He feels the urge to cry, to mourn the life he’s no longer going to be able to have. He was so close to reaching his goals too, and now they’re all washed up and ruined, like trash washing back up on the shores of beaches he visits. Or, in just a short while it’ll be visited.

“I’m sorry, m—” Chan chokes. “Mom. I did everything I could.”

Just as he is about to slip into eternal sleep, a bright light opens up in the sky. It’s blinding, and warm? 

Why is it so warm? Is this heaven?

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on his body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in the road. The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. His entire body relaxes, and he feels himself being pushed further into his body, into his own mind.

Is this really what dying feels like?

—

Chan wakes up in a hospital room. 

His body is aching, and his head is filled with an uncomfortable pressure. Breathing hurts, and he’s sure his ribs are broken. The machine that’s keeping track of his vitals beeps rhythmically, and he lets out a, albeit pained, sigh of relief at it. 

He looks up at the ceiling, like he was looking up towards the heavens and thanking whatever God was gracious enough to let him keep living. 

“Ah! You’re awake!” A voice says, cheerily. A woman in her late thirties is standing in the doorway. Her slick black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, a few strands falling into her face from being up for what Chan presumes to be hours. “I’m your nurse, Eunkyung. I’ll go grab the doctor.” Chan barely has the chance to respond before the nurse leaves, the sound of her shoes squeaking steadily quieting as she hurries down the hallway.

The doctor follows her into the room a few minutes later, inspecting his eyes and the nasty bruising around his ribcage. “Do you remember your name?”

“Bang Chan,” he answers. “Do you know how I got here?”

“You walked yourself here, do you not remember?” The doctor asks, bewilderment encasing his wrinkled face. “You were a sight to see. I don’t know what kind of God has your back but, you should have died last night. It’s quite literally a miracle.”

Chan’s head pounds at the doctor’s words, and he flinches. He pinches the bridge of his nose as an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“We’ll keep you here for another day or two to see how you’re feeling. Do you have any family we can call?”

“Oh, uh,” Chan looks down at his scraped hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. My emergency contact should be Seo Changbin, though.”

Changbin does make it up to the hospital that same night, with Han Jisung bounding in right behind him. Changbin and Jisung aren’t one to shy away from theatrics, so when they finally enter the room, the younger of the two is loudly shouting in distress as he practically launches himself onto the bed to lay with Chan. 

“Oh, my precious hyung! I can’t believe you almost died!” He wails out, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and obnoxiously crying out, the sound of his faux wails echoing into the room and piercing Chan’s eardrums and racking his brain even more. 

“Ah, Sung. I love you, but please don’t yell. My head feels like it’s splitting.” He whines out, pinching the bridge of his nose once again. 

“Yeah, the doctor said you have a pretty nasty concussion,” Changbin says. Chan nods, trying his best to move his shoulders to shake the younger boy off, but to no avail. Han Jisung is glued to his side, no matter how much pain it’s bringing to his ribs, but he eventually decides to give up and relaxes in the younger’s hold. Before he can fully relax, though, boney knuckles are making contact with his bicep, which then makes him groan and lurch up, shooting more pain into his torso. He opens his eyes to see that the worry is wiped clean off Changbin’s features, and instead replaced with a feign look of anger. “You idiot! How could you get yourself hit by a car!” Chan flinches at the rising level in the man’s voice. 

“Did we forget that I said my head hurts?” Chan whines. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was crossing the street and then the next thing I know I’m laying in the middle of the road.”

“The doctor said you walked here,” Jisung says. “How did you even manage to do that, hyung?”

“Funny thing is, I don’t even remember doing it.”

— 

Chan’s discharged after three days, and given a stern order from Ms. Eunkyung to “take it easy” until his head fully clears. He chuckles to himself, because he knows he’s not exactly going to follow that order. 

Not if he wants food on the table. 

Speaking of food; his fridge is empty. Save for a stick of butter, a gallon of milk Chan is more than a hundred percent sure is expired, and a singular tomato staring at him pitifully. Even the tomato looks like it’s on its last leg, too. He cringes.

Suddenly, his head starts pounding again. He groans, shutting the fridge door and stumbling to his couch where he throws himself down on it. He lets out a pained whine as the pressure in his head builds, and he’s almost convinced his head is going to explode.

“Am I dying for real this time?” Chan whispers to himself. The pressure feels almost familiar, like how it did when he was dying because soon it’s encasing his entire body again and his eyes slip closed.

—

When Chan awakes again, he feels so far away, like he’s not fully in his body.

He must have taken a harder hit to the head than he thought. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone when he moved to his bed. He thinks maybe he should call Minho over to watch him in case he passes out like that again. Maybe he really is dying this time.

Fuck. This isn’t entirely how he wants to go out. Alone, in his shitty apartment with no one around, barely any food in the fridge and nothing to his name that can be tied to any sort of legacy.

Though, he isn’t surprised he’s dying this way. It’s just his luck.

“Can you stop thinking so loud?”

What the fuck.

That was his voice. But he’s sure he wasn’t talking. 

“Oh you mortals and your need to constantly think, think, think!” He feels his palm hit against his temple. 

What..

“You’re not dead, kid. Well, not until I leave this vessel,” He says… to himself. He sighs. “I’m a god. Gotta say, you decided to go and get yourself killed at just the perfect time too. I didn’t even have to find you.”

What?!

“Don’t yell! You echo in my head and it’s giving me a headache!” The god scoffs, rubbing at his temples. “I’ll explain it to you in a second I just…” just then, Chan’s stomach growls and the god groans. “I’m fucking starving. When’s the last time you ate? You mortals love treating your bodies like shit.”

I ate… Wait, what time is it?

“It’s the next morning,” the god responds. 

The next morning?!

“Yes! Gods, stop yelling!” Cato shrieks, gently knocking his fists on the top of his head in an attempt to quiet the human in their shared consciousness. “You were out for quite a while. I was convinced I completely shoved you out of your body. Just my luck I got someone who holds on, though. Tsk.” Chan watches as the god moves his body to sit up in his bed, swinging his legs over to firmly plant them on the ground. He groans, his body is sore and his joints are aching. Chan groans too, still able to feel everything. Just a little more dulled, but he still feels that incessant knot in his neck he’s never been able to get rid of. “You really let this thing get this rickety? How old are you?”

Twenty five.

“So young,” the god says, an almost mournful tone in his voice as he stretches his (their?) arms above his head. He walks out of the tiny bedroom and into the main apartment. “Cute place,” he chuckles. Chan doesn’t respond, as he watches the god look around the small apartment and take in everything. The god’s curious gaze lands on his stack of records, old vinyls he’s collected since he was about fourteen. “Nice collection.”

Thanks. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?

“After I feed myself,” the god quips. “So impatient.” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen. Chan doesn’t miss the grimace that paints across his face as the god stares at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

Don’t roll my eyes at me.

“I’m piloting this plane right now, so they’re my eyes.” The god snaps. 

Can you at least tell me your name?

“Cato,” the god responds as he opens the fridge. Cato lets out an indignant sound at the sight. The same stick of butter, expired milk, and pathetic tomato are glaring back at them once again. “You have no food, you useless man! How are we supposed to eat!”

I haven’t had the time to go grocery shopping. 

“How have you not died earlier?” Cato asks, sarcastically. 

You’re so not funny.

“It’s still a sensitive topic, I see,” Cato quirks his eyebrows. “Where can we get food?”

There’s a convenience store down the street I usually go to when I’m in between groceries.

“Is this your definition of in between groceries?”

Shut up. I’m a busy guy. 

Cato doesn’t respond as he goes and gets himself dressed. He pauses putting on the tee shirt he chose to look in the mirror the human has hanging on his wall. He’s bruised heavily on his torso and his face is scraped up. He and the god both grimace at the damage done to his body. “How did you even manage to do this?”

It’s not like I was playing chicken with the car. It just happened.

“You got hit? And they didn’t take you to the hospital?” Cato presses down on the bruise along his ribcage, which sends a sharp pain to crawl up his spine. Chan whimpers quietly in his head at the touch. Cato whimpers out loud. “That’s why I had to walk us there myself.”

That’s usually what entails in a hit and run. Stop touching it! That hurts. Wait – you were the one that took me to the hospital?

“Yeah. I was in a lot of pain… You can feel that?” Cato asks, eyebrow raised as he looks in the mirror. He presses on it again. Chan lets out a whine.

Yes. It hurts. A lot. My ribs are broken. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s what the doctor said. At the hospital. That you walked me to.

“You lost a lot of blood last night,” Cato says. “I don’t know how I managed to heal your cracked skull but not the bruises and your ribs. But also, this isn’t just your body you stupid mortal. It’s mine, too.” Chan sighs, annoyed.

Maybe they weren’t life threatening? 

“No, it’s not that,” Cato murmurs. He places a finger on his chin, eyebrows scrunched as he racks his brain (or, his borrowed brain) for an answer. His stomach growls again. “Oh, man. I can barely think. Food first, everything else later. Oh, and try not to talk to me. I don’t wanna look like a weirdo talking to myself on the street.”

You could just not respond out loud.

Go fuck yourself.

Walking to the convenience store was quick. The cold winds nip at Cato’s nose, painting it a delicate shade of red by the time he enters the store. The heat from inside the building wraps him in a hug, thawing his frozen nose and hands as he steps in almost instantly. The store itself is small, maybe four aisles at best with a line of freezers and fridges lining the back wall. There’s a table with a microwave and two two-seater tables next to it. 

Cute.

The old lady that owns it gives me a discount because I help her stock sometimes. 

That’s called a job. 

I don’t work here. 

But you do — whatever I’m not arguing with a stupid mortal. 

Didn’t know God can get hangry. 

I’m not “God”, I’m a God. Did you not hear me when I made that exact distinction when you woke up earlier?

I see I’ve hit a nerve.

It’s like if I called you an animal when you’re a human. It’s rude. 

To whom?

To me! And to the big man himself, but that’s not who we’re concerned about right now.

Sorry, God.

Are you not going to apologize to me?

No.

“Fucking mortals.” Cato whispers under his breath as he walks the aisles.

I heard that. 

You were meant to!

“Chan?” a soft, pretty voice speaks out from next to him. Cato whips his head to find a girl. She has a look of uncertainty on her face, but once she realizes it actually is who she thought, a bright smile paints across her angelic face. “Hey! Missed you in class yesterday.”

Cato stands there, shell shocked. His mouth drops open and he’s standing there, gawking at her for a full ten seconds. For some reason, after seeing this girl, a hole feels as if it’s torn open in his chest, where his heart should be. It’s painful. Raw, carnal pain shoots through his chest and it makes his eye twitch.

Answer her, idiot! Don’t make me look stupid!

“Oh!” Cato sounds out, plastering a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, you…”

Y/n. Her name is y/n.

Y/n. Why does that sound so…familiar?

“Hey?” You say, confusion lacing your voice. The confusion is wiped away once your eyes settle on the scrapes along his jawline and eyebrow, concern replacing it instead. An attentive hand reaches up and carasses against his cheek, and both Cato and Chan have stopped breathing. They both can feel how their cheeks heat up at your touch. Cato has half a mind to flinch away, and he does. Your hand retracts immediately, your mouth pulling to the side in regret for accidentally hurting him. In truth, you didn’t touch him. But the heat of your hand so close to his skin felt as if it was burning. Your pretty eyes are filled to the brim with worry, and you ask, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just took a pretty nasty fall last night,” Cato responds, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “That's why I wasn’t in class yesterday. Had to go to the hospital and get my head checked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay, though!” You respond, your bright smile coming back to your face, though it is tainted with worry still. “Since you missed class, we were partnered together for a project. Maybe we can meet and I can go over the notes and the project with you? Or I can just… send them to you.”

Tell her we can meet tonight. 

What happened to ‘taking it easy’?

Chan only laughs in response.

“I’m down to meet you tonight, if that’s okay.” Cato smiles down at you. 

“Yeah, for sure!” You chirp. “I’ll see you at your studio tonight, then? I get off work at seven!” 

Studio?

Y/n and I major in music production. 

“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Cato responds. You give him a wave goodbye, making your way up to the cashier to check out your things. Cato was so in shock he didn’t even notice you were carrying anything. 

His stomach growls. He groans quietly. 

For someone who had such a sense of urgency over eating, you sure are taking a long time to get something to eat. 

Will you shut the fuck up?

________________

❝i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door.❞

As Eve bore child after child for Adam, for the earth, that pit she so desperately tried to bury in her stomach grew bigger. More insistent. She watches as more and more of her children experience many things she didn’t get to; exploring, meeting, falling in love with who they choose and so on and so forth. 

As much as she hates to say it, let alone even let it into her heart, she resents her children. She resents Adam. She resents the life that the strings of fate have weaved for her, as she watches her children experience the freewill that God gifted them. Yet she and Adam are forced to simply be their means to an end, to push their future generations along so the human race may flourish. 

As she sits in the garden, weaving a crown of flowers and singing a song she does not think has been orchestrated yet, the stream she sits in front of singing quietly with her, a snake slithers up to her. It’s beautiful brown scales and equally as beautiful brown, slitted eyes glint etherally in the early morning sun. She extends a gentle hand towards it, its forked tongue stretching out to slide across her fingers curiously. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, watching with her own curiosity as he climbs up her forearm and upwards so its head rests gently against her naked shoulder. 

She goes back to weaving the stems, the soft melody she hums lulling the snake to sleep against her shoulder.

________________

So, I’m… your vessel?

“Correct,” Cato responds, watching the electric kettle impatiently. Cato had finally decided on food after you left, a bowl of ramen and a couple seaweed snack packages he managed to find in Chan’s desolate cabinet. Seriously, why doesn’t this guy have any sense of care for himself? “Every God and angel has a vessel on earth in case we need to come down.”

Can you just not come down in the way you look?

“No. Our heavenly form will drive an ordinary person insane,” the god lets out a small noise of glee once the kettle settles, indicating it’s finally done heating the water. Humans, as stupid as they can be sometimes (he’s looking at Chan, specifically), they sure have made quite a few amazing inventions. Just like this kettle. He’s absolutely enamored with it. “We originally weren’t supposed to have access to earth. We were just supposed to observe from the heavens.”

But?

“But, there’s just some things the Big Man dangles in front of you and you take the bait,” Cato pours the water in the bowl of ramen, watching as the spices he added immediately dissolve in the scolding liquid. He chuckles in amusement to himself as he recloses the paper lid, laying a pair of chopsticks over it to keep it closed. “Hey, how long should this sit for?”

Like two or three minutes. What do you mean by bait?

“A lot of god’s fell in love with mortals on earth,” Cato answers. “You ever read any Greek mythology stories? Apollo and Hyacinthus. Eros and Psyche. So on and so forth.”

I mean, yeah, but, I didn’t think they were real or anything.

“Oh, they’re definitely real,” the god chuckles. “Apollo and I are friends, actually.”

No way! So, like, is every God from every religion real, then?

“Yeah.” Cato shrugs. He takes the chopsticks off and rips the paper cover off of the bowl, excitedly using the chopsticks to stir the broth and noodles around.

So, why did you come to earth?

Cato pauses. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot, frozen in real time as he stares dumbfounded into the bowl of noodles. Why… Why did he come to earth?

Hello? Earth to Cato? Your food is gonna get cold.

“Oh, right,” Cato shakes his head to rid him of his internal struggle. “I… I don’t know why I came to earth. I don’t seem to remember.” He manages to make his way to Chan’s kitchen table, which is just a small round table with two rickety chairs in the corner of his living room.

So do vessels usually die before god’s possess them?

“No, not usually – ah! Fuck, that’s still hot,” Cato whines, sticking his burned tongue out and waving air onto it with his fingers. Chan’s laugh echoes in his head, and he makes an offended noise from the back of his throat as he continues fanning his tongue.

So, me dying the same time you came down was just… pure luck? 

“Yeah,” Cato makes sure to blow cold air onto the noodles this time. “I mean, lucky for me. Not so much for you.”

What’s gonna happen when you leave?

“You’ll probably die.”

But you healed me? Shouldn’t that stay when you leave?

Cato shrugs. “Don’t know. You’re technically not even supposed to be conscious like this, either. I’m supposed to have full control of your vessel if I possess it.” 

Comforting.

It’s silent after that. Cato is grateful Chan has stopped playing twenty questions. It gives Cato’s one track mind a way to fully focus on his food and not about the fact that he does not remember why he’s even here in the first place. But it’s not like he can just go back up to the heavens and ask someone. As annoying as he is, he quite likes the human that’s his vessel. It’s a shame that once the god is done on earth, Chan’s fatal wounds will most likely come back full force.

Cato hopes he’s able to leave fast enough to not have to witness it.

After Cato ate, Chan was insistent on switching when it came time for his meet with you later in the evening. It took a lot of bickering back and forth, but once Chan got it through the stubborn god’s head that you would know something was off with him (that didn’t have to do with his head injury) the second Cato opened his, in Chan’s words, “big dumb mouth”.

“Why do we have to pass out to switch?” Chan asks as he steps out of the shower. 

Do you always have this many questions? Gods, I feel like I’m speaking to a toddler. 

Chan copies his words in a silly voice, rolling his eyes as he does so. “Sue me for wanting to know how to work my body with someone else camping in it.” 

The way you said that just sounds so… weird. 

“And a god possessing a human body is just a regular Tuesday, right?” the human jokes. 

For us, yeah. 

“Shut the fuck up, Cato,” Chan chuckles, shaking his head in faux annoyance. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and runs his fingers through his thick curls. For some reason his stomach is buzzing at the thought of being in his studio with you. 

Why are you so nervous to see y/n?

Chan’s cheeks heat up. “I’m not,” he mutters.

You know I can feel everything, right?

Chan doesn’t respond, too afraid that his voice might way to just how flustered he is. It’s true he finds you very attractive, and your personalities mesh well together. You both have a lot in common and since the day he met you he’s felt a weird, otherworldly pull towards you. “You said her name was familiar to you. Why?” Cato doesn’t respond for a minute, and Chan almost wonders if the god even heard him ask. “Cato?”

I… I don’t know. Just when you said it it just felt like deja vu for some reason. How long have you been friends?

“Since she started college,” Chan replies. “She’s like two years below me.”

Chan doesn’t miss the weird boulder that settles in his stomach. But for some reason, it feels distant. Like it’s not his boulder.

________________

❝apollo showed me the sun. told me not to fly too close or else i would be one with the people on the land.❞

The snake visited Eve in the garden everyday, in the same spot, resting its head on her naked shoulder as she weaved crown after crown of flowers every day, humming the same tune. It became a routine, and then it became something for Eve to look forward to. She finally had something for herself! Adam was out every day for most of it hunting so Eve spent a lot of time with this serpent. 

She couldn’t place her finger on why, but when she was alone, weaving her flowers, with the snake on her shoulder, she’d talk. Like word vomit, she vented about her unhappiness in the garden and her jealousy towards her children being able to explore the vast earth and experience things she will never have the privilege to. For she was cursed to stay here, day after day, weaving her flowers in the garden, and bearing more and more children for a man she felt absolutely nothing for. Even the garden, once vibrant and vast to Eve, was now growing dull and shrinking in on her. She feels trapped, she’d say. Her world was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

“Why me?” She asked the snake one day. “Why did I have to be the first one made? Why do I have to carry this responsibility? Why wasn’t I asked first? Where’s my freewill?” 

The snake nuzzles its head, like it was gesturing that it was listening to her. “I wish you were a person,” Eve whispered. “Maybe then I’d have someone who gets me.”

The serpent nuzzles its head again. Eve’s eyes well with hot tears. 

She’s so lonely. 

________________

Chan is reeling. 

It’s hotter in his studio than usual. It’s definitely not because you’re alone with him in his studio and for some reason that’s making him more flustered than usual. Definitely not. He’s definitely not noticing the perfume you used, or the way your fingers flit over your laptop keys almost elegantly, the click of the keys echoing in his ears. He also most definitely was not looking at how your thighs look sitting in his extra chair, or how your dainty necklace falls on your neck, the charm brushing against the low collar of your tee shirt. 

You’re sweating profusely right now. Calm down, you pervert.

Shut up, Cato. I feel like I can barely breathe right now. 

Yeah, I know. That’s why I said calm down, pervert. Did you not hear me?

“Are you okay, Chan?” You ask him, concern washing over your pretty features as he tugs on the collar of his shirt for the fourth time in thirty seconds. “Do you want to cut this short and meet another day? You don’t look so good.” 

Chan all but stops breathing when your delicate hand reaches up and presses gently against his forehead. Your hand is cold, and it works to cool his heated skin almost immediately. His eyes fall close, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m okay,” he says, opening his eyes again and giving you a gentle smile. He watches as your cheeks flush the slightest bit. “Just needed a second is all.”

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You say, closing your laptop as an excuse to not look at him for a second. Chan nods, and then it’s quiet for a minute. Neither of you know how to act around each other. Sure, you were friends but you weren’t best friends. Chan and you also never really hung out one on one, it was really always you, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung or anyone else in your classes. While he didn’t consider everyone to be his friends, always keeping to his close knit circle, he did know a lot of people, and those people also happened to know you. So it was never the right time to get to know you. “So… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” You puff your cheek out, shyly. Chan can’t help but let the smile stretch across his face.

“What’s there about me you wanna know?” He asks. Your cheeks flush again, and you scramble to keep your hands busy, opting to twirl your pen between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “We’ve known each other for so long but I don’t think we’ve ever really had the chance to actually know each other.”

He nods. “You’re right,” he sucks in a breath, letting his gaze fall towards his desktop as he thinks of what to tell you. “Well, I was born in Australia.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you giggle. “You and Felix talk about it all the time. What’s it like there?”

“Hot,” he chuckles, shrugging. “It’s beautiful, really. All my family is still there so there’s… like this part of me that’s still there with them, if you get what I’m trying to say.” Chan lets out another breathy laugh, suddenly embarrassed. 

“I think I do,” you say, nodding your head. “Like a piece of you is missing because it’s back home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Chan says. “I miss it sometimes.”

“I bet. It must have been hard moving here all by yourself.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know, as much as Australia is my home, this is also home, you know? I love what I do and I’ve found my people. So it makes up for the part of me I left at home,” you both nod along to his words, small smiles shyly turning up your mouths. “What about you?”

“Well,” you sigh, still twiddling with the pen. Your leg starts shaking. “I’m from here.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Chan copies your words, which brings out a giggle from you. His heart lurches. 

I felt that. 

Shut up. 

“I don’t know, I…” you trail off, letting yourself think of what you wanna say. “My moms a school teacher and my dads a realtor, so we’re well off on my dad’s money. They’re kinda the… traditional, married at nineteen, had me at twenty, church every sunday, and have a certain plan for their daughter kind of people.”

“And?”

You shrug. “For the most part I went along with what they wanted me to do. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend that I’ll one day have to marry and continue the cycle,” Chan doesn’t miss the way his eye twitches at the mention of a boyfriend. “But, I really rocked the boat when I said I wanted to go into music production.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s… Well they say it’s unrealistic,” you sigh. “I’ve always loved music, and when my perfect, middle class family life got to be too much pressure to uphold, it comforted me. I taught myself all the instruments I know.”

“Impressive.” He chuckles. 

“Right?” You giggle along with him. Chan decides he really likes that sound. “But, they expected me to almost go into something… I don’t know, easy? Something that will let me rely on Seojun when we eventually get married.” 

“Do you want to get married?” Chan asks, eyebrow raising a little. Your fingers stop twiddling with the pen and your leg goes still for just a second before it picks up again. 

“Honestly? No,” you say. “It’s just not something I feel like is for me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but I don’t need a piece of paper or an expensive ring to solidify that I love them and they love me.”

“How long have you been with Seojun?” Chan almost feels the bile that coats the man’s name as he says it. 

“Three years,” you answer. “My dad is business partners with his dad and we met at a company party and it just kind of… I don’t know, happened.” You shrug.

“Is he in college too?” You nod your head yes.

“He’s in finance,” you glance over at him. “He’s actually almost done. He’ll be working under his dad after he graduates. His dad is also paying for his real estate classes after he graduates so he can sell commercial properties.” 

It’s quiet again, and your leg is still shaking. Your face, now pointedly looking away from him, holds a sort of… loneliness. And almost a hint of regret for even saying what you did out loud. 

Don’t ask that. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan interrupts the heavy silence, and pointedly ignoring Cato’s warning. You hum, letting yourself look at him again. The loneliness he saw on your face floods your eyes. It’s almost overwhelming. “And you can tell me if I’ve crossed the line and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

Don’t ask that. 

“What is it?”

“Do you… like Seojun?” 

And you asked it. I cannot believe you.

Your face falls, but it doesn’t morph into anger like he thought it would. You don’t yell at him, or tell him to mind his business and storm out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting you to lash out at him like that, though. Call it anxiety, he guesses. Instead, that loneliness intensifies — if that was even possible. You’re quiet for a minute, almost like you were deciding to lie to him or if you were about to spill something he’s not sure he — or you — would know what to do with.

“He’s nice,” you settle on. “We don’t have that much in common, but he treats me well.” 

I don’t like that answer. 

Neither do I.

Chan only nods, though.

“Should we get back to it, then?” You ask, your mouth turned into a tight lipped smile. 

“Yeah.” He smiles.

You both delve into a rhythm of bouncing ideas off each other, and the building almost obsessively on the idea you both really like. Chan doesn’t know why he hasn’t worked with you before this, you’re so smart and your ideas are so unique and full of life. He can really see your love for music and the creative process behind making it. His heart flutters a bit at the thought that you both share this pure love for music in the same way.

“Do you wanna maybe meet again tomorrow?” You ask as you pack up your stuff. By the time you both decide to call it quits, it’s nearing one in the morning. He walks with you to your dorm, and he can’t help but smile shyly at the hopeful look in your angelic eyes. You're holding onto your tote bags strap that sits comfortably on your shoulder. He sees you shiver a little, and then only notices the pathetic little jacket you decided to wear despite it being less than forty degrees outside. He fights giving you his jacket. He would, normally without hesitation, but after learning you have a boyfriend he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries, no matter how cute he thinks you would look swimming in his hoodie.

Down boy, down.

Will you stop?

I’ll stop when you stop being such a male.

“We can go to the cafe on campus after class,” Chan suggests. You nod, giving him a bigger smile at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your eyes glint with excitement as you nod your head. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do.” He reassures you as you open the main door to your dorm and walk in. He waves to you from outside and then steps off the porch, walking down the lit walkway, unable to erase the smile from his face.

You like her.

“Shut up,” he sputters out. “She’s always been in my sights, and I always thought she was cute. We just never had the chance to bond like that before. Changbin or Jisung are always usually with us, or my other friends.”

Too bad she’s someone else’s.

Chan rolls his eyes. Quietly, though, he wonders what would have happened had he met you before you met Seojun. Would you be his? Would you be happier with him?

Cato heard those too.

________________

❝didn’t know my world was dark until you came.❞

Eve sits in her usual spot, weaving her flowers once more. It’s another day, but this time she’s by herself. The snake hasn’t showed up yet, but she hopes it's on its way now. She tries not to let herself get too upset over not having her usual companion today, but she can’t help it. This newfound routine of her weaving flowers and talking to the snake while he rested peacefully on her arm has brought her more happiness than anything else in the garden – even the entire world – could.

So when a day turns into two, and then turns into three, then seven, her mood worsens. Even Adam, as unobservant as he is, noticed her change in mood. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong though, of course he doesn’t. As much as he claims to love her, to cherish her with his entire earthly being and his heavenly soul, he never seems to notice her until he wants to bend her over in the grass and give her another baby. Or two. Or three.

On the eighth day, when Eve is back at her favorite spot, weaving flower stems, a frown on her lips, a man approaches from out of the brush. It’s a man she has never seen before, but he is beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes and pretty brown hair to match with them, he gives her a gentle smile. “Hi,” he says. “You might not recognize me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eve says, on guard. She’s covering her body, cautious. “You’re not one of my children. So who are you?”

“I– I’m the snake,” he says. “My name is Cato. I’m a god.”

“Cato,” Eve repeats, the name swirling around her tongue pleasantly. “That means all-knowing.”

“Yes.”

“So, why did you come to me as a snake and not as yourself, Cato?” She asks, sitting up straighter against the tree behind her. “Why not show yourself to me from the start instead of deceiving me?”

“Forgive me, my dear,” he bows his head in apology. “I did not have an earthly body, and my heavenly form would have scared you. I transformed myself into a snake to meet you, and until my earthly body was ready. I am sorry for tricking you.” His eyes, his beautiful eyes, shine with genuine regret.

“What do you want from me?” She asks.

“Forgive me if I sound weird,” he starts. “But I was there when God made you. You are so beautiful, I will never understand how he did not make you an angel. Alas, I fell for you. And then before I could say anything, he sent you down here with Adam. And I had no way of meeting you anymore.” 

“You…” she trails off. “Fell? For me?”

“Yes, my angel,” he says, walking closer and settling himself on his knees before her. “I fell for you. You have my heart. And if you let me, I would love to have yours.” The god takes her delicate hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles. His hands engulf hers, long, spindly fingers holding hers with such love, such gentleness that she’s never felt from Adam’s rough, calloused hands. 

She finds her heart fluttering at his honey coated words.

________________

When Chan gets home from dropping you off at your dorm, he remembers to send you a quick text before he retires into bed. 

When he sleeps that night, he dreams. He dreams of him, in an earlier time, walking with you through a beautiful garden.

Your cream colored dress encases your body so elegantly, and the way you wore your hair out of your face yet still cascading down your back makes you look so… ethereal. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

He wakes up in the morning, confused. The sadness he felt within the dream stays with him as he gets ready for the day, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable, and he tries to get it to go away by saying to himself in the bathroom mirror, “it’s just a dream. Why are you so upset about it?”

Upset about what?

“Oh,” Chan says, startled by Cato’s questioning voice in his head. “Just… A weird dream. It’s nothing.”

Whatever you say, human.

Chan doesn’t respond, brushing his teeth in a tense, perturbed, silence.

—

Classes were dragging. He’s unable to fully pay attention to what his professors are saying because he can’t get the dream out of his head. Why did it feel so… real? And familiar? Like it's actually happened before? And the loneliness in your eyes from the dream matched the loneliness he saw in them last night when you were talking about Seojun. 

Your thinking is echoing and it’s annoying me. What was the dream about?

A nicer way of asking “what’s wrong” is just asking what’s wrong, you know.

Chan’s eyes roll, but he doesn’t do it himself.

Don’t roll my eyes for me, I’m the one in control right now.

Sorry, I just had to show you my annoyance somehow. 

This time, Chan does roll his eyes. 

“Hyung?” Minho whispers from next to him, tapping his pen against the older man’s forearm. “Are you okay? You keep rolling your eyes.”

Damn, were they that dramatic?

Roll your eyes quieter next time, idiot.

You’re the idiot.

“I’m okay,” Chan reassures quietly. “Just trying to keep them from falling shut.”

“Did you not get enough sleep again? Do I need to start coming over and knocking you out?” Minho balls his hand into a fist, and it takes everything in Chan to not laugh at his friends' antics. Before he can respond, though, their professor clears his throat in annoyance, giving them a glare from his spot in front of the lecture hall. They exchange embarrassed glances before going back to listening to the lecture. 

He quickly makes eye contact with you from a few seats in front of him, and he watches in amusement as you scramble to face completely forward, flustered that he caught you staring at him. He exhales a laugh at your antics, shaking his head slightly as he goes back to typing on his laptop.

Cute. 

Yeah.

After class ends, and Chan’s packing up his stuff, you walk up to him, your tote bag over your shoulder, giving him a shy smile.  “You ready?” 

Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, and he tries not to notice how his cheeks flush at his younger friends' antics. “Yeah, let’s go,” he responds. He turns to Minho, who’s giving him a raised eyebrow. “See you around, Min.”

“Yeah,” the younger male responds. “Bye, y/n!” He waves her a goodbye, of which you copy quite excitedly. The corner of Chan’s lip turns up into a small smile at your antics towards the other male. He knows that out of their whole group, you seem to be closest with Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, always seeing you three together in passing. He wonders if you two will start getting closer, even after the project is finished. He hopes so. He doesn’t think he can go about just being casual to each other – especially after last night's conversation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to shake his head a bit in response. 

Good going, idiot.

Shut up, Cato. As if you’ve done any better with her. Remember the convenience store?

This isn’t about me right now.

He fights rolling his eyes. “No reason,” he answers you. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

The cafe he took you to is the one right across the street from the building your class was held in. It used to be a house, now repurposed as a cafe, and it has the perfect homey feel to it to help you feel comfortable and relaxed as you picked a seat in one of the upstairs rooms that has a couple tables in each of them for a little more privacy. The morning sun is shining brightly into the window, and Chan can’t help but let out a small chuckle to himself as he watches the way you squint from the sun as you try and look out the window. “Should I close the blind?” He asks as he sits across from you, pushing your tea to your side. 

“No,” you say as you happily pick up the cup. You blow on your tea to cool it down, and Chan can’t help but let his smile grow at the way your cheeks puff out dramatically when you blow on the drink. “I like sunbathing. Minho’s cats and I will lay on our bellies together in front of the big windows in his living room.”

“I’d love to see that sometime,” he laughs out. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush and you giggle shyly in response. “I’m sure Min has a plethora of pictures of it.”

“Don’t tell him I told you but,” you start, taking a sip of your tea. “He joins us.”

“Somehow I really don’t doubt that.”

You fall into a rhythm once more over your project, and after a couple hours, you both decide to take a break. 

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You ask him out of nowhere, now sipping on a second cup of tea. Chan chokes on his coffee, but he quickly covers it up by clearing his throat.

Cato laughs. Nice one.

Shut the fuck up, Cato.

“No, I’m not,” Chan answers, taking a more cautious sip now. “I’ve never actually been in a serious relationship.”

“Oh?” you say, quizzically. “So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“No, I have.” He answers, his cheeks heating. He doesn’t understand why he’s so flustered with your questions, even if they did come out of nowhere. Well, he does understand why. He just doesn’t wanna say it out loud. 

They weren’t y/n, though, right, Channie boy?

Cato, I swear to God.

Don’t bring the Big Man into this.

“But?” You inquire.

“But,” he copies. “They just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, y/n?” The teasing lilt to his voice causes you to stammer out, falling (rather cutely) over your words, trying your best to come up with a reason. Chan chuckles at the rattled expression on your face.

You know why she’s asking.

I don’t.

Don’t be stupid, Chan.

Chan fights a scoff at the god’s words, not wanting to give you the wrong impression. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to explain who’s camping in his consciousness with him without taking a trip to the nearest psych ward. 

‘Man claims God lives in him’ has been a headline I’ve seen too much in the time humans have existed.

I wonder why.

Before Chan can continue the conversation he has with you (more like redirect it so he doesn’t have to admit to his commitment issues), something – or someone – catches your attention from behind him. The way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a flash of disdain that goes away as fast as it showed up cause Chan to turn around. A man is seating himself in the room across the hall, a blonde girl at his side as they laugh at something the man says. He turns back around to see that you’re still looking at them. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s Seojun,” you say. Chan’s stomach drops, turning back around at the exact time Seojun turns to look at the two of you. Something flashes across the other man’s face, but it’s gone before Chan can even fully register what it is.

Seojun turns to the blonde next to him, before he turns back and starts walking towards their table. Seojun is… wow, is he tall. And buff. Chan almost feels intimated.

Oh great, here comes the jolly green giant.

Chan has to force himself to not laugh at Cato’s comment as he turns back to you. You give him a weird face, which he decides to ignore.

Cato, please.

I’m just saying. Why is God so unfair when he makes you humans? He could have given Seojun’s extra height to you.

Stop it!

No one needs to be that tall is all I’m saying.

“What are you doing here, babe?” Seojun asks as he stands next to you at the table, a rushed lilt to his voice. Almost like he’S panicking. Chan watches your face as it drops, the tight lipped smile you give to your boyfriend is clear to no one but him. “Who’s this?”

“This is Chan,” you answer. “He’s my partner for a project.”

“Hey. I’m her boyfriend, Seojun,” the other man says, outstretching his hand for Chan to take. He does, giving it a firm shake and a quick head nod in greeting. “Though, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

Arrogant.

Tell me about it.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty,” Chan responds, the snark in his voice subtle enough that it seems like a genuine compliment. “She said you were in finance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Seojun answers. “It’s gonna help out a lot, money wise. This girl right here wants a big wedding. Isn’t that right, babe?” 

Chan’s eye twitches as he looks to you for your response. Your smile is that of discomfort, tight lipped as you rigidly nod your head, not making eye contact with Chan.

“Who are you with?” You ask, changing the subject as you strain your neck to look into the next room. “Is that Aecha?”

Seojun’s face drops. “Oh, uh, no. That's my project partner,” he answers quickly. “We have a business plan due in a couple weeks so we’re meeting to get it done early.”

“Oh, okay,” you say simply. Your eyes stay on the girl in the other room, squinting a little in suspicion.“I didn’t know you had a project.”

“Yeah,” Seojun rubs his neck, almost nervously. “Well, I should get back to her. I’ll leave you two alone, now. Don’t forget about the dinner with our parents tomorrow.”

“How could I,” you mutter as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

Chan’s almost grateful that Seojun didn’t kiss you. It seems you look grateful he didn’t, too. He can’t help but notice the way your mood instantly sours after Seojun leaves, though you try not to show it too much. You give him a forced smile. “Shall we continue with our project then?” You ask him, your voice pitches higher towards the end, and Chan knows you’re uncomfortable.

I don’t like him.

Neither do I.

________________

❝i could die in your arms.❞

Eve is giggling.

She’s resting her head on the soft grass that encases her body, the edges of the blades tickling against her naked waist. Cato lays next to her, chuckling along with her. “So,” she starts as she sits up on her side, picking a flower from the field and rolling it between her fingers gently. “If your name means all-knowing… Does that mean you’re a god of knowledge?”

Cato quiets. Eerily quiet. In the short time Eve has known him as his humanly self, he is never short of words. He always has a story or a joke to tell, Eve wonders how his puny human lungs can even hold that much air for him to talk so much. So, for him to go as quiet as he did, she worries. 

“Did I say something to upset you?” she asks, her delicate fingers stopping its movements. He also sits up on his side, letting his long fingers brush through the front of her hair as a small smile encases his beautiful face. 

“No, my angel,” he responds. “You could never do anything to upset me,” his thumb swiped gently across her bottom lip, and then down her chin before his hand fell back to his side. Eve feels her face heat up. “I’m not the god of knowledge, as you might think. Actually… I’m a calamity god.”

Eve doesn’t respond. “Like… the flood? That kind of calamity?”

He nods. “I was ordered to flood the earth myself.”

“It killed everyone…” Eve whispers, widened eyes filled with tears. “Why?”

“God is…” Cato trails, unsure if he should continue. His eyes, so beautiful and such a deep color, cascade down to glare at the grass blades dancing in the wind, unbeknownst to them that a god is staring them down with a look of disdain on his expression. Eve can see the regret and the anger in his eyes as he stares down at the earth beneath them. Eve wishes she can rid him of the hatred he feels for himself.

He doesn’t have to say anything, though. Because Eve knows how God is. She knows how He is all too well. For she, too, has been forced to be things she does not wish to be, solely because the person who created her says so. Her own eyes well with tears. Tears of anger and sadness, for both her and Cato. She doesn’t think anyone on this damned planet will ever understand them the way they do each other.

“Did you want to?” She asks. Cato shakes his head.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he adds. “It’s what I was created for. To bring destruction.”

“I think you’re more than what you were meant for.” She says, a smile on her face. 

Eve doesn’t expect it, but the god starts crying. And as he cries, she cradles him in her arms, brushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You are good, Cato,” she whispers in his ear, letting her lips ghost gently against the shell of it. “It does not matter what you have done, you are good.”

She presses a gentle kiss to his temple as his wails echo in the garden.

________________

Chan doesn’t hear from you all weekend. You weren’t in class Friday morning, and you haven’t answered any of his messages since before your dinner with your parents. He hasn’t thought much of it. He assumed you had a late night on Thursday and just skipped class the next morning because you were nursing a hangover. 

“Hey, have you heard from y/n?” Minho asks him Monday afternoon, when their whole group is sitting at a table in the cafeteria. “I’m only asking because you two have been… close recently.”

His cheeks flush as he watches his other friends look at him with widened eyes and agape mouths. “Uh, no I haven’t. I was actually just gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Didn’t she have dinner with her parents on Thursday?” Jeongin asks. Chan nods in response. “Last I heard from her was when she was asking me which outfit was appropriate for the dinner, she didn’t seem like she wanted to go, though.”

“Yeah, she was texting our group chat during it and she wasn’t having a very good time. But she never usually does with her parents involved.” Hyunjin adds, taking a bite of his noodles. 

“What group chat? I didn’t get anything in our group chat,” Jisung whines, opening his phone to double check. 

“Me, y/n, Minho hyung and Felix all have a separate group chat together,” Hyunjin answers casually. “She was texting in there.”

Chan tunes them out as Jisung and Changbin start whining that they want a group chat with you, but all Chan can focus on is how you’ve gone completely silent since Wednesday. 

“Hey, hyung,” Felix says, getting the older man’s attention by waving his small hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about y/n. She’s okay. She goes ghost like this sometimes, especially after an event with her parents. She’ll come back around soon, she just needs to recharge.”

“Are you mad at her for not answering you?” Minho questions, eyebrow raised. The younger male looked as if he was waiting for Chan to answer the wrong way. 

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Chan shakes his head in response. “I was just worried. We’ve just… been talking a lot recently and I wasn’t sure if I did something to upset her or anything.”

“I don’t think you could ever do anything to upset her.” Felix mutters, and Chan watches in confusion as he and Hyunjin both share a knowing look with one another. Minho elbows Hyunjin in the ribs. 

It means she likes you, idiot. 

Do you know how to be nice?

Chan doesn’t get any response from you until Tuesday night. A simple “can i come over?” was all you sent him.

Now, he’s panickedly cleaning his apartment while he waits anxiously for you. 

Why don’t you clean like this on a normal day?

“Because,” Chan grunts as he scrubs at a particular stain in his bowl. “I’m a busy guy and don’t have time to keep up with things regularly.” 

Just as Cato is about to respond, there's a knock on the front door. Chan stops in his tracks, hurriedly rinsing the bowl and adding the last couple of dishes into one side of the sink to hide them as he runs to answer the door, clumsily drying his hands on his pants. When he opens the door, you’re standing there, glaring at the space where the door was a second ago. “Hey,” he says, which snaps you out of your trance to look up at him. 

“Hi,” you answer softly, smiling. Though it doesn’t match the defeated look in your eyes. “Can I come in?”

Chan nods, stepping aside as you walk into his apartment. He follows you to his couch, where you both sit on opposite ends. Your legs immediately go up, knees pressing against your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. You’re not making eye contact with Chan, and it makes his stomach hollow in anxiety. You look so sad it almost feels like it’s creeping into his bones, souring his mood and ramping up his anxiety as he sees you cave in on yourself from the other end of his couch. He watches as you bat away tears, rolling your eyes in annoyance as they fill your pretty eyes. 

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Chan asks softly, scooting himself closer to you. He crosses his legs on his couch and turns his body to you, giving you a softened, welcoming look. The hand that isn’t propping his head against the back of the couch is twitching on his legs to reach out, to hold yours to comfort you. But he doesn’t want to over step and make you uncomfortable. You don’t answer, seemingly falling back into a spaced out trance, if the unfocus in your eyes is anything to go by. He lets his finger gently rub against your shin to get your attention, and he watches as your eyes fill with tears once more as you look up at him. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip. “Just… wanted to see you.”

Chan doesn’t believe it, giving you a raised eyebrow. “Just to see me?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing. “I missed you is all,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile. “I got used to seeing you all the time now.”

Chan’s cheeks flush, and he tries not to let his smile get too dopey as his heart flutters at your words. 

Oh! You pathetic man. 

Stop. 

“How was the dinner with your parents?” Chan asks. You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your throat as you look away from him. “Was it bad?”

You’re quiet. You look as if you want to say something, the words on the tip of your tongue and threatening to spill over. But you hesitate. You’re biting your tongue as you contemplate your next words. It almost concerns him. 

“If I do something,” you start quietly. “Would you be mad?”

Chan’s eyebrows scrunch, his head tilting to the side in question. “What is it?”

“Can I try something?” Eve asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between Cato’s mouth and his pretty dark eyes. Cato nods, watching in nervous anticipation as Eve climbs over his lap, plush thighs on either side of his lips as she leans in and ghosts her lips against his. 

Cato catches her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. It raises goosebumps to their skin, and their heartbeats quicken. Eve’s belly erupts in butterflies, climbing up her throat and she lets out a small sound. Cato hands find home at her waist, the pads of his fingers indenting her skin as he squeezes gently.

You finally look at him, eyes flitting down the length of his face, stopping at his mouth before looking at him again. Your gaze flickers between his mouth and his eyes before you lean forward, your nose ghosting against his as your lips meet. Chan responds immediately, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.

It’s shy, yet so electric. The butterflies you feel in your stomach are intense, prickling up your back and making you light headed. It isn’t long before you're clamoring across the couch and into Chan’s lap. His hands slide down your waist before he wraps his arms around your back, caging you into his body. He keeps his mouth working against yours, and can’t help the way his cock jumps when your hips shift a little, pressing your clothed core against him. Your hands hold his face, your thumb brushing against the apples of his cheeks every once and a while. His heart swells at the noises you make as you shyly start to grind yourself down against him, wanting to feel him more and more against you.

Should you really be doing that?

Doing what?

Kissing someone who isn’t yours.

“Wait,” Chan says as he pulls back. He has to swallow the groan that’s threatening to escape his throat as he takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are red, lips swollen and spit slick. You already look so fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. He feels like he’s going crazy. “What about Seojun?”

“What about Adam?” Cato asks Eve as he breaks away, his fingers rubbing circles on her hips. 

“It was never Seojun,” You respond, shaking your head. Your thumb swipes against his cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Chan.”

“It was never Adam,” Eve responds, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders. “I waited for you for so long, Cato.”

“Since the day I met you,” you continued, breathless. Somehow, your cheeks turn redder. He doesn’t think you could look more angelic than right now. “I’ve wanted you.”

“Since the day I came into existence,” Eve sighs out. Cato thinks she looks absolutely ethereal this way. “I’ve waited for you.”

Cato can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as he leans up to kiss her again.

Chan doesn’t respond, only placing a hand at the back of your neck and pulling you back down to him. He kisses you again, this time a little more desperate, a little more aggressive. You whine, letting your lips fall open so his tongue can explore inside your mouth. Your mouths work in perfect sync with one another, a desperate, needy, rhythm that says more than any words in the English and Korean lexicon could ever say. He can’t explain the way he feels while he’s kissing you, but he feels as if clouds are filling his head.

His hands move back to your hips, helping you to grind down against his hardened cock, and he doesn’t miss the way your whines sound more and more breathy each time he moves you against him. “Have you ever had sex before?” He asks you.

“No,” you say. “No one’s ever touched me, either.”

“You mean, in the three years you’ve been with Seojun, he hasn’t fucked you once?” Chan asks, eyebrows furrowing and a sense of pride filling his chest. You shake your head. “Why?”

“I didn’t want him to.” You whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist as he stands up from his couch, carrying you into his bedroom and gently placing you atop his sheets. 

Cato lays her naked body gently on her back in the soft grass. She looks so pretty like this, some of hair still laying softly over her shoulders and the rest blending beautifully with the grass, eyes widened in curiosity. “I got you, my love,” he says in a gentle voice as he crawls over her. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He thinks this sight alone is enough to be painted and framed in a gallery. Eve, splayed out like this for him with her ruddy cheeks and widened eyes. It was a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

He kisses her again before letting his mouth move from her own to her cheek, jaw, then down her neck, biting softly on his way down. 

Chan unbuttons your jeans, and you help him with getting them off your legs and onto his floor. He takes off your shirt and bra next, leaving you only in your underwear. He crawls over you, his thigh slotting in between your legs and ghosting against your clothed cunt. “Let me take care of you, my love.” 

He kisses your lips once more before he places a kiss on your cheek, then along your jaw, then down the expense of your neck, leaving pretty purple marks along the way. He stops at your breasts, ghosting his mouth around one nipple before taking it into his mouth. His free hand comes to tweak the other, softly pinching and rubbing along the top of it while his mouth works at the other. Your hand weaves its way into his soft curls, pushing them off his forehead so you can see what he’s doing better. He almost moans at the feeling of your hips bucking up to slide your cunt against his thigh. 

“Just like that, angel,” he mutters against your skin. You whine, your fingers almost kneading the top of his head. He presses his thigh more into your core, giving you more friction that makes your sensitive body jolt and your breath hitch.

He doesn’t stay long at your breasts, opting to let his kisses and marks trail down your torso, right to your hips. He settles onto his stomach, hands holding the under part of your hips as he takes in the sight of your cunt. A wet patch has soaked through your underwear, sticking to your lips and outlining the shape of you. He presses a gentle kiss against the wet patch, and he doesn’t miss the way your hips jolt back. “Chan,” You whine. 

“Yes?” He coos, freeing a hand from under you and letting his pointer finger gently ghost along your cunt. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more pressure from his finger but he pulls it away. “You have to tell me what you want, angel. Wiggling your hips isn’t gonna help me know what you want.”

He watches in adoration as your cheeks flush yet again, your eyes darting to look everywhere but at him as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “Please, touch me.” Your words come out so breathy, so desperate, it makes Chan’s head want to explode. He gives you a smile.

“Anything for you, my love,” he responds before he sits back up on his knees, letting his fingers grab ahold of the waistband of your panties and sliding them slowly down your legs with your help. They fall somewhere on the edge of the bed behind him, but it’s not something he’s concerned about as the musky smell of your cunt hits his nose again as he lays back down. Your cunt glistens so prettily for him, and he forces himself to hold in a moan. “You’re so pretty.” 

His fingers slide up and down between your swollen lips, and you let out small whines whenever his fingers rub a teasing circle against your clit that’s peeking out between your slit. He kisses along your inner thighs, across your mound as he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance. 

Cato kisses along Eve’s thighs, before he gives a broad swipe of his tongue up the expense of her cunt. She gasps, hips twitching. “Has he ever done this to you?”

“No,” Eve sighs out as Cato gives another broad swipe. “He barely touches me.” Cato doesn’t respond, letting his tongue circle around Eve’s clit, which elicits a moan to fall from her pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry, my angel,” Cato says. “I’ll show you just how a man should love you.”

Your walls clench around his finger, and he places gentle kisses against your sensitive nub, whispering, “Relax, baby. I got you.” Your body deflates when you let out the breath you were holding, your own hand falling towards the hand that’s gripping onto your hip. You intertwine your fingers together, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze as he crooks his finger up into that spongy spot that has your back arching slightly and a gasp falling from your pretty lips. His mouth attaches itself to your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and feverish kitten licks. Your hand squeezes his as shy moans involuntarily fall from your lips at his ministrations. 

He feels his cock pulsing at each sound you let out, and he can’t help but grind his hips down onto the bed for some friction of his own. “Chan, more, please,” you whine out, bucking your hips into his face. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, scissoring you open as his mouth continues at your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance slowly, making sure to hook up when he plunges back in. You’re so tight around his fingers, and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought of you taking his cock, sucking him into your warm walls. The fact that no one has ever touched you – not even your own boyfriend – and that he has the honor of being your first is driving him up a wall.

Only he gets to see you this way. Only he gets to hear your whiny moans, and only he gets to see the pretty way your body reacts to his touch. He can't help but let his fingers get a little faster, a little more prominent in the way they press against that sweet spot that has the coil tightening in the pit of your belly. “Chan.”

“You gonna cum, angel?” He asks against your pussy, keeping his steady yet harsh rhythm of his fingers plunging into your hole. You let out a hum as your response, and he can’t help but smile against your cunt. He keeps his mouth on your clit, his eyes rolling back as you let out another moan, your hips bucking to feel more, more, more. You clench around his fingers, your pretty sounds are strangled as your body clenches up, and that’s when he knows to remove his mouth from your clit, watching your face as your jaw slacks, and your body writhes so prettily under him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He slows his fingers, helping you ride out your high on his fingers. You feel so much more wet than before, and it takes every ounce of control Chan has to not dive back in and overstimulate you, drive you to another one. And another one. Until you’re spent and begging for him to stop, yet pushing him closer to continue.

Next time.

He moves up your body, and kisses you again. You let out a whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, your own essence covering your chin from his own as he licks into your mouth. You use your legs to redirect him, so his clothed cock lines up with your dripping pussy as he grinds his hips down against you. You shiver, still sensitive from just a second ago. “I want you,” you whisper. He pulls away, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Cause if you’re actually not ready, tell me. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ve waited for you long enough,” you answer, rutting your hips up against him. He sucks in a breath. “Please?”

Chan only nods as he climbs off you to discard his clothes to the floor. The bruising on his side hasn’t fully gone away, but it’s not as bad as it was last week. “Was that from your fall?” You ask him as he climbs over you again, your delicate fingers ghosting over his ribcage. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at your hand. “I didn’t actually fall, though. I got hit by a car.” 

“I know.”

Chan gives you a double take, eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agape in confusion. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You know?”

“Yeah, I was with Changbin and Jisung when he got the call,” you respond, still giggling. “I just figured you said you fell to not worry me.”

Yeah, we can go with that. Really I was just saving you the embarrassment. Who gets hit by cars these days?

Don’t ruin this, Cato. 

Chan only chuckles softly, his smile widening and crinkling his eyes in such a pretty way. You can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks to bring his face down with yours. He kisses you back quickly, letting you take the lead as he opens your legs and maneuvers himself so his cock can glide along your slit. You lift your legs more, letting the head of his cock catch along your entrance. “Please,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m ready.”

Chan moves a hand down to guide the tip of his cock into your entrance, and he goes slow as he sheathes himself inside. You tense up, the pressure a foreign feeling. “Relax,” he whispers, kissing along your cheek and down your jaw. A small whine leaves your mouth and he stills his hips immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt it just… feels full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, letting himself move again. One his hips are touching yours, you can fully feel him snugly inside you. You feel so full, and it’s so overwhelming but so addictive at the same time. It feels as if you were molded to fit him. He gives an experimental movement, and your hands immediately go to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You can move.” He kisses you, distracting you as he pulls out and then plunges back in again. He keeps it at a slow rhythm at first, letting you get used to the feeling before he gradually starts speeding up. You were so tight around him, your velvety walls welcoming him in with each time the head of his cock ghosts along that spongy part that has the breath punched out of you again and again.

“You feel so good, angel,” he grunts against your neck. “Like you were made for me.” You can only choke out a moan in response, nails raking over his shoulders. He intertwines his fingers with yours above your head, and he digs his face further into your neck as he places wet kisses along it. 

Cato intertwined his fingers with Eve’s as he slowly moved his hips. “You’re mine?” Cato asked.

“Yours. I’m yours,” Eve gasped in response.“I love you.” Cato can only smile as he dips his head down to capture her lips in a messy kiss.

Chan keeps a steady pace, making sure to angle himself upwards when he thrusts back in. He hits deep, stretching you around his cock and every time he’s at the hilt, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The breathy moans you let out at each thrust sends Chan deeper and deeper into the clouds, mind hazy and senses full of you. You’re everywhere, it seems, encasing his body in yours as the whole world melts away. He about loses his hold on himself when your quivering walls start clenching around him, greedily sucking him back in. His thrusts speed up, his one hand letting go of yours and finding home under your head, a fist full of hair as he brings your body as close to his as possible. The feel of your breasts pressing against his chest grounds him a bit, and he lets out a strained moan from the back of his throat.

“Cum in me,” you manage to say in between strangled sounds. “I want it, please.”

“Just a little more,” Chan grunts out. “Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, angel.”

Chan’s hips still, his cum shooting into you and painting your walls. He moans, whiney, as he shoves his face back into your neck. Your hands move to his hair, raking through it as you whisper in his ear. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

—

You spend the night at Chan’s house, only sending a simple message to your group chat with Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix where you were staying and that you were okay. Your simple message respectively blows up the group chat, with Felix and Hyunjin practically screaming to tell them details, and then Minho crashing into your world like a meteor with one single question.

Did you break up with Seojun?

You decided not to answer that question (because you haven’t), only texting back that you’ll explain when you get back to class on Friday and then shakily put your phone down on the coffee table. You look over towards the kitchen to see Chan’s back towards you, the sizzling of the food in the pan the only sound filling the apartment. You can’t help but smile at the sight. You uncross your legs from the couch, walking into the kitchen area and standing behind Chan. Your arms wrap lovingly around his waist, your cheek pressing into his back and you feel his body relax into your hold. He turns down the stove and turns around in your hold, a smile adorning his features as he places a kiss against your lips.

“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” you say as he pulls away from you. “I didn’t want to face Ryujin’s interrogation yet.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to face mine,” Chan says, raising his eyebrow at you. You smile sheepishly at him, your gaze tearing away from his. He lifts your chin up, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What happened?”

You sigh, pulling your body away. You run your hand over your face as you lean against the counter behind you. Chan does the same on the opposite side, giving you an expectant look as he waits for you to start talking. “I found out Seojun was cheating on me. At the dinner.” You say, voice a little shaky.

Chan pauses, and his stomach drops. Seojun was cheating?

Don’t act as if you aren’t happy to hear that. 

I’m not happy! That’s awful!

You know what I mean, you idiot. You’re happy he’s out of the way now.

Chan doesn’t respond to Cato, focusing his attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he responds, his arm stretching over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “It happens. Sad thing is, I can’t even say I’m surprised. Looking back, it makes a lot of sense.”

Chan’s eyebrow furrows. “Did… you break up with him?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I… haven’t yet.” 

And you slept with her. 

“You… You haven’t?” He asks, confusion painting across his face. “Why?”

“I— I was going to,” you start. “I just… I wanted to see you first,”

“y/n,” Chan says, voice shaky. “Am I a rebound?”

You shake your head vigorously, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No! No, I really wasn’t planning on last night happening at all. I wanted to break up with him first but I just… I don’t know, I had to see you first.”

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “About wanting to be with me as long as you said?” 

“Yes,” you nod. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Hyunjin or Felix. Even Minho. They know how I feel about you.”

Chan’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. On one hand, the selfish hand, he’s over the moon he had you in his bed last night, and he’s still a bit drunk off your words from last night. But, on the other hand, he wants to send you on your way, to give himself, and you, some space. He can’t believe he didn’t prod further about what you meant last night. He just assumed by your confession, you had already broken it off with Seojun.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably go.” 

“Call me when you break it off with Seojun, okay?” Chan finally says, nodding his head. His heart clenches as he sees a tear fall down your face. “We’ll talk about us after that.”

The silence that replaces the apartment after you leave is deafening. 

Chan?

“Not now, Cato,” Chan replies, shaking his head. He can feel a migraine coming on, his eyes becoming sore and sensitive to the bright lights of his kitchen. “Shit,” a pained whimper falls from his throat as he massages his eyes. “I think I need to call someone.” 

I remember why I came to Earth.

“Can it wait until later, please?” Chan winces, annoyance mixing with the pain in his voice. “My head is fucking splitting.”

Chan…

“Cato, for fucks sake, please!” He yells, which makes his head pound even more. “I can’t figure out your problem right now.”

Cato doesn’t respond.

Chan calls Minho, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea, but he knew Jisung and Changbin would be loud and dramatic and he really didn’t want that right now. Minho is quiet, and he knows what to do when Chan is under the weather. 

The younger male is quick to arrive, immediately shoving pain pills into Chan’s hand and ordering him to take them. “Were you making something?” Minho asks as he points to the pan. 

“Oh, yeah,” Chan said from the couch. His head feels as if it can explode. “I was making y/n and I breakfast when—” he stops himself, looking over through his lashes at the other man. 

“I already know,” Minho says. “So, where is she?”

“Uh, well,” Chan starts, having to take a second to will away the urge to vomit. “I slept with her…”

“And?”

“She never broke up with Seojun before we did.” Minho sighs, shaking his head as he joins the brunette on the couch. 

“I told her she needed to do that first,” Minho responds. “She’s just as impulsive as Han Jisung. Worse than Han Jisung, actually.”

Chan wants to chuckle, but his head is somehow getting worse. His body starts aching again, as if the bruises are coming back. And suddenly it hurts to breathe. “Min,” he grunts out. “Min, I think we need to go to the hospital.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Chan?

I feel like I’m fucking dying again. 

Chan collapses to the floor, and when Minho slides down with him does he notice the blood pooling and staining the rug underneath the older man’s head. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Hold on, hyung. I’m calling for help.”

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on Chan’s body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in his living room. He starts to panic, lungs starting to work overtime as Minho calls the emergency hotline from somewhere in the room.

Cato, what’s going on?

Your… Your injuries are coming back. 

A white, blinding light floods Chan’s vision from the ceiling, and he feels a pull from the light. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Cato?

I’m getting taken back, Chan.

Cato! Don’t leave me!

The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. He feels like a layer of his skin is being peeled away as the pressure in his head worsens, and Cato’s voice gets farther and farther away.

“Ca—” Chan tries to call out to him, but he passes out before he could.

I’m dying.

________________

❝took my breath from my open mouth, never known how it broke me down.❞

Cato and Eve snuck around under Adam’s nose after that fateful morning in the garden. Always meeting at the spot where they first met, making love to the song of the stream whenever they could. It felt different with Cato. It felt… good. Like lying with this man wasn’t a chore, but something she felt was their way of bonding. Connecting. She didn’t give a damn what God said. 

She was not made for Adam. She and the god, Cato, were weaved from the same essence that brought them life — a single soul split into two different beings. And by lying with him, it strengthened that. She was his, as he was hers. 

Cato was such a gentle lover, compared to Adam (if you could even call Adam a lover). Cato took her into his arms and worshiped her body as if she was a Goddess herself. The way his fingers indented her skin on her hips when his head was in between her thighs, lapping at her nectar, had her seeing stars. She found God in a lover, and the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet on her tongue.

Eve was happy.

That happiness didn't last long, though. And she was foolish to think it would.

She swore Adam went out to hunt that day, she saw him off. So, how he managed to find Eve at the stream hanging off a cock that wasn’t his, she’ll never know.

Adam told God right away.

Cato was ripped from her before she could even get to her knees. Before she could beg. She watched as a bright light encased Cato’s earthly body from the heavens, the light so blinding she’s forced to look to the ground if she still wished to keep her sight. She wailed that day, a mantra of inhuman, throat curdling sounds ripped from deep within her core as she punched her fists into the soil. 

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She howled. Adam stood behind her, face stoic as he watched Eve mourn the loss of her lover. 

“It’s what you deserve,” Adam spits. “You’re lucky I’m gracious enough to let you live. Your pretty face would be one with stone if I was anyone else.”

Eve’s crying stopped then. The garden of Eden was silent, not even the stream was brave enough to sing. Everything was dead still, a simmering animosity burned brightly just under the surface of Eve’s plush skin. Adam’s stoicism fell as he caught the look on his wife’s face. 

It was that of pure, unadulterated rage.

“I should have strung you up to that tree when I had the chance.” The venom drips from her words and poisons Adam’s veins the second they hit him.

—

“You weren’t supposed to tempt Eve,” God’s commanding voice boomed across the heavens. Cato sat on his knees, wrists and ankles chained to the marble ground. Different god’s sat around, watching the serpent intently, curious as to what was to happen to him. “You weren’t even supposed to make yourself known to her.”

“I told you why I was going to Earth,” Cato responded, voice tired. “I told you I fell for someone.”

“And that person was not supposed to be Eve!” Thunder cracked angrily across the sky. Murmurs erupted among the other gods. “You have tainted her, driven her off her path to her purpose.”

“Her purpose?” Cato repeated, indignant. “Her purpose is to be a breeding cow for a man who can’t even bother to see her as his equal?”

“And you were equals?” God laughed, a bellowing, boom laugh at the lesser god’s foolishness. “You’re a god, Cato. A heavenly entity that simple mortals can barely fathom the concept of. And you think Eve and you are equals?”

“I love her.”

Whispers of “love her?” echo through the chamber. 

“She’s not yours to love!” God’s angry voice silenced the whispers, a tense stillness crushing Cato and pressing on his lungs. “You know I have to punish you.” 

“Punish me all you wish,” Cato spat. “It will never deter how I feel for Eve.”

“Oh, my sweet child, it will.”

— 

Cato wakes to cold biting at his skin. It’s so cold, so so cold. His eyes open to gray skies and heavy snow sprinkling along his cheeks. Snow covered trees line the horizon of his bleary vision, head pounding and body aching. He moves his fingers, feeling under the layer of snow and making way to the dead grass underneath. 

He’s on Earth.

He tries to sit up, but his chest is burning and he’s having a hard time moving his arms. He feels like his body is being held down by a cinder block, unable to move himself from his spot. 

“General Bang!” A voice shouts, muffled. He moves his head to find the voice, but a face comes into his line of vision as he looks right. “General Bang! You’re badly injured, don’t move. Wagon! I need a wagon!” 

“What happened?” Cato whispers out, and the man grabs one of his hands from the snow. “Who are you?”

“It’s Hwang!” the man yells. “Hwang Hyunjin, do you remember?” 

Cato wasn't able to respond as his eyes fell heavy and then closed.

When he awakes again, he is in a tent. He shoots up in a panic, looking around the space. A sharp pain shoots through his chest, making him groan and his elbows give out. “Hey, easy,” the same man says as he helps Cato lay back down. Hyunjin. His long black hair is tied up out of his face, a look of relief washing over it as he settles back down in the chair next to Cato’s cot. “You got a pretty nasty gash across your chest. It’s a miracle you didn’t die out there, Chan.”

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

“I mean a dozen other men died from the same wound,” Hyunjin responds. “Your guardian angel is really looking out for you.”

“What happened?”

“Did you hit your head? We’re in a war,” Hyunjin responds, his eyebrows furrowed. “This was the most brutal battle we’ve fought in three years. How hard did you hit your head?”

Chan’s memories of the past couple years flash in Cato’s mind – like a short synopsis of what his vessel has been up to before he took over. Cato realizes that at that moment, Chan was dead. Cato was the sole entity keeping this body alive.

But why?

“Pretty hard, I guess,” Cato chuckles in response. “Does that mean… we won?”

“You bet your ass we did,” a smirk spreads across the male’s mouth. “We lost a lot of good men out there, though. Not looking forward to letting their wives know they’re widows now,” Cato nods his head, his gaze flitting around the ceiling of the medical tent. Hyunjin nudges his arm again, a grin on his face. “Are you gonna go back to y/n?”

A pulse shoots throughout his entire body at the mention of your name, a sinking feeling in his stomach that’s accompanied by the racing of his heart. He only shrugs. “If she’ll have me.”

“I don’t think she’d have anyone else.”

—

The war ends, and the troops all come back home. And Cato finds himself in front of a beautiful castle. Memories of Chan courting you for years flash in his mind. He seemed to have really adored you. Cato feels a twinge in his heart at the thought that Chan will never be able to experience being with you. 

But, to Cato, you give him an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he already knew you. Like he already knew your body, your soul, like the back of his hand. So, when he visits you after three long years, and you were already taken by another man, his heart shatters. For Chan, and for another unknown reason he doesn’t think he’s ready to explore.

He still walks with you in the garden that day. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

Cato doesn’t respond, only letting his eyes flicker around your face, sadness overtaking his gaze. You both stare at one another, so close to each other. It’s quiet, between you two. Not tense, but not comfortable either.

His eyes widen in shock when you lean up to kiss his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, letting his hands cup your cheeks. You pull away after a second though, tears pulling into your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… needed to know what it felt like to kiss you.”

You turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the garden with the taste of you still on his lips.

Cato is sentenced to live a life next to the reincarnation of Eve, always at his fingertips but never having the right to have her. Chan’s soul was with him for every single one. Each life is a punishment, a test. Each time he gives into his temptation of having Eve to himself, of dancing along that line with her, he is ripped from his mortal body and Chan’s own soul is torn with him. 

Chan dies every time.

Again. And again. And again. And again. For millennia, Cato is subjected to always losing Eve in the most brutal of ways just as he finally thinks he has her for himself. As soon as he lies with her, he is forced to leave her soon after.

He can never escape it.

________________

❝i won’t die for love, but ever since i met you, you could have my heart and I would break it for you.❞

Cato sits on his knees in a desolate chamber. It’s deathly still, and eerily silent. The only sound is his breathing – which is slowed. His wrists, bound in enchanted steel cuffs, sit chained to the ground in front of where he sits on his knees. His hair lays on his shoulders, dirty and knotted. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here ��� it could be months. It could be centuries.

He doesn’t think he cares anymore.

Chan is dead. He has to be. There’s no way he managed to survive the way Cato was ripped out of him like that. He hasn’t survived it in any of the lifetimes Cato spent using his body. 

It was cruel — the way Cato and Chan are subjected to this, lifetime after lifetime, a never ending cycle of Chan losing his life before he can even turn thirty all because Cato fell for someone he had no business falling for. He grimaces to himself, shaking his head in defeat as he remembers the way Chan was crying out for him when he was ripped from his subconsciousness. 

“When are you ever going to learn?” A voice echoes in the chamber. God.

“I do not wish to speak of this.” Cato snaps.

“Don’t you wish to see how Chan is doing?” God asks, snapping his fingers. A gateway to Earth opens under Cato, and he watches in horror as medics work on his dying body in the middle of his living room floor. “He’s still holding on. For now.”

Cato looks away, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to see Chan like that. Not when he knows he’s the cause of it.

Chan is going to die. Again.

“Please,” Cato whispers. “Please, kill me.”

“Kill you?” God repeats.

“Yes, fuck!” Cato spits, his shout echoing deafeningly throughout the empty chambers. The silence that refills the space is enough for the god to break, sobs racking through his body from where he is chained. “I can’t do this anymore. Let Chan live, and let me die. Please.”

God does not respond, only watching as the calamity god wails, a mixture of snot and tears pooling on the concrete from under them. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Is that what you truly want?”

Cato can only nod his head. “Chan’s life, for my mortality,” he responds, still crying. “I can’t keep watching him die.”

“You know that means he might not be reincarnated,” God says. “The only reason Chan is a living soul on earth was for you to use him as your vessel. He’s not needed after that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cato shakes his head. “That’s a better outcome than having to die before twenty six every single time.”

“How do you wish to go?”

“Like Icarus,” he doesn’t hesitate to respond. “I will fling myself into the sun.”

________________

Walking away from Chan has to be the hardest thing you’ve done.

You genuinely weren’t planning on sleeping with him the night before. You don’t know what took over you. It just happened. That’s not to say you regret it, though. Because you don’t. While you’ve never slept with someone before, laying underneath Chan felt so… right. Even if it is wrong from a moral standpoint. But, it felt otherworldly. Not just because the sex was good, but you felt as if it was meant to happen. You and Chan were meant to happen. As cliche as it is, and you cringe thinking of it, you wholeheartedly believe you and Chan were written in the stars, destined to find each other in this life. And the next. Nothing has felt more clear than being with him, and you use that as courage to knock on Seojun’s door.

When he opens it, he’s still in his sleep clothes. “Did I wake you?” You ask, voice and face void of any emotion.

“Kinda,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I just came to say that I know you’re cheating on me,” you start. His eyes widen in quick panic, and he’s about to respond when you put your hand up to stop him as you shake your head. “I just want to tell you that we’re even. And it’s over.”

“You cheated on me?” Seojun repeats, indignation in his voice. “You fucking whore!”

“Yeah, save it, Seojun,” You scoff, shaking your head. “I already know about Aecha so you have no room to take a moral fucking high ground. Just nod and say okay and shut the door with what little dignity you have still intact.”

“Y/n?” A voice echoes from behind Seojun. His mother walks up behind him, a cup in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed. “Did you just say you cheated on my son? Do your parents know what you did?”

“I also said he cheated, too, so,” you shrug. Her mouth drops open, her face scrunching up in anger. It looks as if she’s about to scream at you before you continue, “I’ll leave your stuff with Aecha.”

You don’t let either of them speak as you turn around and walk down the stairs and out onto the street. You pull out your phone, about to call Chan and let him know you’re on your way back when Felix’s contact name pops up on your screen. You slide to answer, placing the phone against your ear. “I know what you’re gonna say, but I just broke up with Seojun and I’m–”

“You need to get to the hospital right now, y’n,” Felix cuts you off, his voice shaking. “Chan had an accident, and he might not make it.”

Your phone falls from your hand.

________________

God’s of all origins gather around in the chambers to witness Cato’s execution. Everyone is whispering anxiously amongst one another. One deity stands silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at where Cato is chained intently. His heart is heavy, having to watch his dearest friend kill himself in the worst way possible.

“Have you spoken to him yet, Apollo?” Artemis asks as she walks up behind him. “I’m sure he would love to see you one more time.”

“What am I to even say?” Apollo asks. “Nothing I say will change his mind, you know how stubborn he is, that bastard.”

“It still must hurt,” Artemis responds. “You’ve been in love with him since the day he was created. I know it must kill you to see the torture he’s gone through.”

“There is nothing I can do about it,” Apollo shakes his head. “I love him, but it hurts more to see him be thrown back to earth again and again. It’s better this way.”

“He will live on in your heart,” his sister assures, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to put yourself through the torture of seeing this.”

“After a millennia of divine punishment, Cato, god of calamity, has decided to take his life,” God’s booming voice echoes through the chamber, silencing everyone in an instant. “He will join Icarus in the deep sea below.”

Hushed whispers resound once again through the chambers, all of them having remembered watching the man’s wax wings melt from the flaming star and plummeting to his death in the never ending, and unforgiving seas. 

Cato does not look up at anyone, not even to God himself. He does not speak, nor does he try to beg for forgiveness. He’s tired. He’s so tired. 

God stands next to him, a hand on his shoulder as two angels unlock the shackles from his wrists and ankles. “Chan will wake up once you have hit the seas. You have my word.” Cato only nods in response.

And as he launches himself towards the sun, the burning heat of it burning at his skin and singing his feathered wings, he wails. He wails and screams, mourning his love for Eve and the time he’s spent being tortured with her almost in his grasp. Truly, he thinks death is better than being without her. The sun dries his tears, and it brings him a dark sense of comfort. And when his wings are all but ash, and he’s falling into awaiting waters, he smiles.

Apollo cries quietly as the god’s body is swallowed by the dark blue seas.

________________

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

© lvandrskies — all rights reserved. no reposting.

[jenscx]

FACE TO FACE — bang jeemin x f!reader

being stuck in a hello kitty mascot costume isn’t one of jeemin’s proudest moments.

TAGS — fluff, zero angst, jeemin!centric, crackfic, very silly and cute, strangers to lovers, mentions of other izna members

WORDCOUNT — 3.9k

jeemin doesn’t really know how she got here. well, she does, but she doesn’t understand what spiritual being from above deluded her into agreeing to such a situation. the situation being— trapped under the scorching sun, in a humid and dark costume. and not just any costume! a hello kitty mascot costume.

you could blame it on jeemin, say that it was her choice, but it’s all because of koko asking her at three in the morning. she was groggy from waking up in the middle of the night and even more weary when the japanese girl begged for her help. and maybe it was her fault for not clarifying with koko what help she needed. but still!

it’s painful being in the costume. jeemin can feel her clothes sticking to her body grossly, sweat dripping down her skin, and her bangs stuck against her forehead. not to mention she has to hand out balloons and act like the happiest cat alive. honestly, everything made sense now; how koko had the money to constantly treat her to food. she knows it’s because the girl had spent hours in this cat costume. jeemin wants to rip off the bright red bow attached to hello kitty.

(but that would be unsightly. especially when children are around. jeemin thinks she’ll do it in the changing rooms.)

the only thing saving her from insanity is the fact that the kids around her are very cute. the way their eyes light up and they tug on her huge arm to ask for a balloon… it pulls jeemin away from the thoughts of homicide.

also, koko had a good reason to ditch her. she had a dance recital at the end of the month, and she was swarmed with practices to attend and jeemin would always support her friend. hence, jeemin’s stuck spending her weekends as hello kitty. not to mention all the snacks koko has bought for jeemin, so can she really complain?

wrong. she can. being stuck in a ‘friendly’ cat costume apparently meant that she was unable to fight back against angry parents and screaming children. not that she was going to anyway, but she would like the choice. she would just stare at them as they yelled at her for not giving their child a red balloon— which jeemin doesn’t even understand! it’s a balloon, their child won’t suddenly die because she gave them a yellow one!

anyway, jeemin much prefers the blue balloon. its sky blue, her favourite colour. and even through the hazy eyes of hello kitty, jeemin finds the time to admire the colour. it’s wonderful! and maybe it’s crazy, but it’s just a balloon. she wants to use hello kitty’s massive paws to slap the parents who yell at her— okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch. but jeemin was sweaty, hot and frustrated. maybe if she was in a pochacco costume, she would like it more.

“unnie— it’s hello kitty! hurry up!” jeemin hears a distant squeal and immediately groans. she appreciates the thick costume, knowing that anything she says or any sound she emits can’t be heard from the outside. the moment she turns around in the stupid fat costume, she spots a kid, probably around five to six years old, barreling at her. jeemin braces herself in case the kid crashes into her body.

“ah! kyujin, slow down!”

it’s a rather common scene; children being too excited, forcing their caretaker to sprint after them. but the uncommon part is that this kid’s unnie looks like a freaking angel that descended from the heavens.

jeemin takes back everything she said. this is the best day of her life. she loves this job. maybe everyone should just be a hello kitty mascot.

“unnie!” the girl, kyujin, whines and stomps her feet as her older sister catches up to her. jeemin can’t physically breathe. she’s about to crash out. oh no—

“what did i say about running like that?”

“it’s hello kitty!” kyujin straight up ignores her and heads towards jeemin. she awkwardly lifts up her nub of an arm to wave, but the sight of the pretty girl knocks the wind out of her lungs and she almost topples over.

jeemin tries her best to stabilise herself as kyujin waves back cutely.

the pretty girl stands behind kyujin, her hands resting on the kid’s shoulders and she inches closer to jeemin, who only resists the urge to back away.

“wow, must be hot in there,” the pretty girl frowns.

jeemin nods, or at least, tries her best to.

“can i have a balloon, hello kitty? oh, and a picture too!” kyujin asks. jeemin tries to gesture at the balloons all tied together that’s strapped to the costume. her breath hitches when the pretty girl reaches over and pulls one out, pink coloured, handing it to her sister. jeemin nearly faints.

as kyujin poses next to jeemin, the pretty girl snaps a bunch of photos. some sort of feeling akin to pride bubbles in jeemin’s stomach, knowing that the pretty girl would forever have a photo of her.

(that’s how you know she’s gone crazy.)

when kyujin gushes over the cute overalls of the costume, the pretty girl leans over, almost touching jeemin.

“can i have a balloon? i like hello kitty too,” she says in a hushed whisper. jeemin feels goosebumps rise along her skin just from her voice. and even through the shady eyes of hello kitty, jeemin can evidently tell that the girl was sculpted by the gods themselves. clearly they took their time with her. and when she pulls a balloon out for herself, jeemin gasps.

“the blue balloon’s cute, isn’t it?”

oh my god, jeemin might be falling in love right now.

she has to get married this instant— regardless of the hello kitty costume. hell, if the pretty girl likes hello kitty, jeemin would forever work in this dastardly amusement park. the girl looks so gorgeous and sweet in her cute ralph polo lauren shirt and denim shorts. she looked like she came from heaven. if someone told jeemin that the clouds parted for your arrival, she would believe it wholeheartedly.

“y/n unnie! i’m hungry!”

the pretty girl, who jeemin now knows is called y/n, turns to her sister and smiles adorably at her. jeemin doesn’t know what she would do if that smile was directed at her. it was like a ray of sunlight, shooting into her heart and lighting it on fire.

“okay sweetie, we can go get food,” you say, but before you leave, you hand your phone to kyujin and stand right next to jeemin. “help unnie take some pictures please.”

as kyujin lifts up the phone, jeemin feels your arms wrap around the neck (does hello kitty have a neck?) of her costume. jeemin only stands still, rooted to the ground and staring blankly at the camera. she can feel her heart racing, and she’s grateful for the thick suit that covers her, preventing you from feeling her pulse.

“one, two, three!” kyujin yells.

jeemin thinks she can die happy right now.

“thanks hello kitty,” you smile at her, “see you next time!”

despite the stuffy suit, perspiration dripping down her whole body, her limbs sore, jeemin still feels like the luckiest girl alive.

it’s one in the afternoon. jiyoon watches as jeemin loses her mind. she only wanted to head to the cafe to study. being friends with the employees get her discounts on drinks. and coincidentally her friends were also there. she’s just a bystander, one that accidentally walked in on her friend’s suffering. jeemin’s slumped over the table, incessantly mumbling about an angel, hello kitty and malatang. sarang and koko are right next to her, both frowning.

“are you okay?” jiyoon decides to ask cautiously.

jeemin slowly turns to look at her, “i think i’m in love.”

“uhm,” koko mutters, “i think this is my fault.”

what? was jeemin in love with koko? jiyoon blinks.

“well, you know how i have that performance coming up?” jiyoon nods, recalling koko talking about it previously. “i have a part-time job at this amusement park and i asked jeemin to take over for me just for a while! and i guess…”

jiyoon guffaws, “you fell in love there?!” she’s shocked, because this is bang jeemin. bang jeemin who’s antisocial and introverted, one of the reasons jiyoon likes her company. bang jeemin who has never gotten a crush before, deeming dating as her lowest priority. and that same bang jeemin is admitting that she’s fallen in love.

jeemin straightens up instantly, “love at first sight!”

the japanese girl fails to hide her smile as she confirms jiyoon’s suspicion, “she fell in love while wearing a hello kitty costume.”

“you’re out of your mind, bang jeemin. that’s actually insane.”

this tops anything jeemin has ever done. from falling over while doing a burpee, her voice cracking while giving a presentation, this beats everything. jeemin’s so stupid. jiyoon is so happy she can witness her downfall. it’s downright hilarious.

jeemin was truly the epitome of an oxymoron (place more emphasis on the moron part), a juxtaposition of a charming and beautiful girl, yet still so stupid and silly. jiyoon is usually in awe of how her mind works.

“she was like an angel! a true angel!” jeemin proclaims, “you guys don’t get it.”

sarang pats her back sympathetically, “it’s okay, we understand.”

jiyoon sure as hell doesn’t. but she wishes all the best for jeemin.

she’s in a similar situation like before— trapped under a heavy layer of fabric and her arms heavy. yet, she couldn’t be more excited. she was basically bouncing on feet while waiting around. if anyone saw jeemin, they would think she’s anticipating the queen’s arrival. well, you are a queen to jeemin. ugh, she kind of wishes she didn’t have to be in this stupid suit. then maybe you would see her face and fall in love with her!

jeemin thinks she’s pretty attractive herself. tall, fair skin, big round eyes. but no one has really approached her because of her quiet nature. today will be different though! jeemin will take the initiative in starting a conversation! it’ll be a little weird talking to you in the hello kitty costume but whatever. you said you like hello kitty anyway. that’s a win for jeemin. whatever she previously said about the character, throw it all out the window. only your opinion matters!

she watches eagerly as different people walk by, some stopping to take a photo with her and others just cooing at the mascot’s cuteness. jeemin tries to spot you out of the crowd of people, but it’s a little difficult to see past the netting of hello kitty’s eyes. jeemin’s head bumps uncomfortably against the top of the mascot. she wonders how koko has managed to fit herself in such a tight space while being taller than her. jeemin would proclaim to be quite flexible. she’s weak, but her limbs are really flexible. yet, the costume makes her neck crane unbearably.

just as a crowd of middle schoolers pass by, jeemin hears thundering footsteps again. her head perks up, knocking against the top of the mascot again, and she nearly falls over. both at the momentum and at the sight of kyujin running towards her.

“hello kitty!”

jeemin sports a wide smile, even if kyujin can’t see her. she tries her best to reach down, patting kyujin on her head.

“jang kyujin!” jeemin’s smile grows even bigger when she hears your voice, “what did i say about running?”

she watches as you jog up, panting and sweaty.

“sorry unnie— but it’s hello kitty!”

you have a lopsided grin on your face, clearly amused by your sister’s hyperactive behaviour. “we just saw hello kitty last week.”

“that’s too long!” kyujin whines. jeemin coos internally at the sight of the girl. she was just too cute! cuteness really does run in the family, evident from the silly smile on your face.

jeemin’s grateful for her face being covered. she wouldn’t know what expression’s on her right now.

like before, kyujin takes a balloon, white this time, and you whip out your phone to photograph her again.

when there’s a distant ringing of bells, kyujin perks up and instantly turns to you, eyes pleading.

“that’s the ice cream truck coming— unnie, can we please go?” kyujin begs. you hesitate, a speculating look on your face. your younger sister’s watery eyes and pouty lips always manage to sway your decisions. damnit. jeemin watches, humoured by kyujin’s plea.

“how about we wait here for the truck to come?” you ask, bending down to match kyujin’s height, “unnie’s feeling really hot right now.” jeemin watches the trickle of sweat glide down your neck. she feels seen.

kyujin frowns, “but i want ice cream now. and it’ll cool you up! just wait here, unnie. i can go get it myself!”

you’re a little shocked at her independence. when did your little sister grow up so quickly? and her insistent attitude only worked wonders to your reluctance.

“okay, jinnie. but be careful.” kyujin brightens up and immediately sprints to the ice cream truck. you sigh, keeping a close eye on her as she queues up.

turning your head, you make eye contact with the hello kitty mascot, who’s hellbent on staring at you.

“oh,” you giggle, jeemin thinks she’s ascended to heaven, “they grow up so fast, don’t they?”

jeemin tries her best to nod.

“anyway, isn’t it hot in there?” you ask, “i’m sweating just from looking at you.”

jeemin’s throat drys up as she thinks of a suitable reply. she had hyped herself up in the mirror before coming, claiming to be the one to start the conversation.

“uh, y-yes.” of course her voice cracks.

god, jeemin wishes the ground underneath her would just open up and swallow her whole. your eyes curve and twinkle with amusement.

“you’re a girl?”

“yes.”

you smile, “not fond of talking then?”

jeemin doesn’t mind if it’s you. she doesn’t say that though. it would just mortify her.

“i’m just tired.”

“aw, must be hard,” you coo. if it were anyone else, jeemin would think that those words were meant to mock her. but your sweet tone makes her gulp.

“yeah… i’m just doing this for a friend…”

“like a favour?”

“kind of.”

you redirect your gaze back to kyujin, who’s ordering now. jeemin feels a little saddened that your time with her is ending soon. she wishes kyujin would take a little longer at the counter.

“so is that friend going to come back? you’re not going to work here anymore?” you ask curiously. some deluded part of jeemin thinks you’re asking because you want to see her.

“yeah, she’s coming back.”

you nod, “well, it was nice chatting with you, hello kitty.” jeemin suddenly feels stupid in this suit. “i have to go now. bye!”

“uh, bye!”

jeemin watches as you hold kyujin’s small hand, thanking her for the ice cream. her dreamy gaze lingers on your back as you walk away, mentally patting herself on the shoulder for managing to carry a conversation with you. an awkward one, yes, but still a conversation. she can’t wait to brag to her friends.

which sane person would go to their job on their day-off, jeemin doesn’t know. but that was what koko had proposed. she gawked as koko brought her and their whole friend group to the amusement park. the girl had professed that she missed the place and it would be a good way to spend time with each other before everyone got swarmed with their own extracurriculars.

but before she could even disagree to come, koko had mentioned offhandedly, “maybe your girl will be there.”

and jeemin had gone in a flash, picking out an outfit and doing her makeup. it was kind of comedic and endearing to see her so eager.

“uhm— unnie,” jungeun says, wide-eyed, “you look pretty today.” jeemin grins brightly, patting the younger girl’s head. her chest flared with pride and anticipation. hope had filled her veins, and she was desperate to see you today, bare without the hello kitty costume.

as their group headed into the park, koko and jeemin, as well-seasoned employees, brought them to the various roller coasters and rides. jeemin was pretty sure she lost most of her hearing sitting next to saebi.

“guys,” sarang whines, “i’m hungry.” jeemin instantly perks up, dragging her friends to the stalls that lined the park, full of snacks and beverages. koko just glances at her knowingly. the sanrio attraction was situated nearby, and jeemin could been seen craning her head to catch a glimpse of anyone that resembled you. like a true mastermind, jeemin forces everyone to sit down at the bench closest to the hello kitty booth, where the familiar mascot was.

as her friends gorge themselves with waffle cones, churros and corndogs, jeemin stays attentive. she doesn’t even indulge in their mindless conversation and instead keeps a watchful eye on the people passing by.

it’s only when her friends are finished and getting ready to leave, she hears a voice.

“—you’re a guy? what happened to the other girl?”

jeemin abruptly stands up, swerving her head. she sees you, awkwardly rubbing your neck as you talk to the hello kitty mascot. kyujin’s by your side, a balloon in her hand.

“go talk to her!” jiyoon shouts quietly, pushing jeemin towards you. collecting all the bravery in her bones, she inhales sharply and strides. she can feel the eyes of all her friends on her back.

“today’s her day-off?” she hears you say, “ah, seriously? okay, sorry for the trouble.” the hello kitty mascot just shakes their hands and walks away to another group of children.

just as you’re about to leave, jeemin feels a surge of desperation, and her hand reaches out to clasp your wrist. her heart races as you turn, an eyebrow raising at her.

“sorry— i’m…” she blurts out, “i’m sorry.”

she can feel her whole face turning red, and a sense of mortification blooms at your stunned expression.

“i’m the… i’m hello kitty,” jeemin says and it’s definitely not the best way to introduce herself. she watches as your face lights up in recognition of her voice.

“oh? hello kitty?”

“y-yeah, like… uhm, the person inside the hello kitty mascot? sorry, i’m bang jeemin.” she feels a little self-conscious the way kyujin is staring at her. damn, these kids always find a way to humiliate her further.

“do you want to sit down and talk? kyujin’s a little restless.”

she glances back at her table of friends, all who look suspiciously joyful. yeah, she’d much rather talk to you somewhere else. that way her friends couldn’t eavesdrop. jeemin thinks you look even prettier today. your face was glowing and bright. and she could admire your smile more closely without the film of plastic in between.

“y/n-ah,” jeemin’s never heard this voice before— feminine and comforting, her eyes land on a girl, shorter than her, approaching.

jeemin’s first thought is that this girl is incredibly pretty. her cat-like visuals next to you only accentuates your beauty even more. her second thought is that this girl is definitely your girlfriend, from the way her hand wraps around your waist so casually.

“mai unnie!” kyujin squeals.

suddenly, she feels way too out of place. her confidence dwindles and she can register the sympathy from her friends. jeemin tries to hide her obvious shock, but she’s certain it fails when kyujin frowns at her.

“hey, silly,” you greet, “do you mind if you take kyujin for a while?”

mai removes her hand from your waist (jeemin sighs, relieved), and takes kyujin’s hand.

as the two walk away, you lead jeemin to a nearby cafe. jeemin’s not even sure she wants to be here now. the dreadful thought of you already being taken looms over her, and it’s strange how she’s never visited that idea before. of course you would have a partner, who wouldn’t want to date you? now she just feels silly. silly, like what you called mai.

you find an empty table facing out the window. jeemin can feel her phone vibrating in her pocket, probably the group chat blowing up with messages. there was no doubt that they had witnessed that interaction.

“so,” you lean over the table, grinning, “hello kitty.”

jeemin nods bashfully.

“yeah, uhm… i wasn’t stalking you or anything… just recognised you.”

a complete lie.

“what a coincidence. i didn’t expect you to be so cute.”

what. pause. are you flirting with her?

jeemin’s heart constricts, both of glee and pain, knowing that you already had someone. she smiles faintly. she doesn’t want your pity flirtatious comments. it feels stifling.

“i thought you’d be working today,” you say when the silence stretches on, “you came here with friends?”

“uh, yeah. what about you?” she asks, trying to camouflage the itching need of knowing who that girl was.

you laugh, “it’s just kyujin, i mean, you know her. and mai, that girl just now.”

“mai?” jeemin repeats, edging you on.

“yeah, kyujin was telling her how fun the park is and she wanted to come too. it’s better having her around. she keeps kyujin in check, making it less stressful for me.”

jeemin feels a sense of hopelessness. mai seemed like a great person, she wouldn’t be able to compete with that. she already had kyujin’s favour!

“uhm…” she had to get out of here now. before she could embarrass herself, “i think my friends are calling me.”

you blink.

“you’re leaving now?”

“yeah,” she croaks out, an onslaught of tears ready to bawl out as she thinks about you and mai together again.

you pout, “can i get your number then? or instagram?”

jeemin wants to shake her head and say no, but denying your pleading eyes, akin to kyujin’s, can only be compared to ripping her heart out.

she shakily inputs her username in your search engine— only to find that it’s been in your history. her lips part slightly, a little appalled. bbangmin. right there. holy shit.

you glance at her unmoving figure. worried, you peek over the screen and gasp.

“oh my god— wait, okay,” you babble, “it’s not what it looks like.”

jeemin swallows harshly.

“i… okay just hear me out.”

“o-okay.”

“after our conversation i asked mai if she had a friend who works here and she said she knew someone,” you explain sheepishly, ”someone called koko? and then mai asked koko about it and we kind of connected the dots that the friend you were talking about was her.”

jeemin can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“and like, god, this is weird to say,” you grimace, “but koko told mai that her friend, jeemin, was helping her out and then i kind of stalked you— i’m sorry! but that’s why your username popped up…”

“you already knew what i looked like?”

you nod, “i’m so sorry…”

“no— it’s, it’s okay,” jeemin says, her heart racing a mile. you looked way too cute right now, blushing and nervous. her hands were trembling as you explained, and your interest could only mean one thing, right?

“i kind of lied just now,” she whispers, “i came here today to see you, like without the costume.”

your own eyes widen.

“oh. well.”

“yeah.”

you suddenly laugh, full of joy, “i can’t believe this.” jeemin feels the same. it’s so unbelievable that you also orchestrated a plan to find her.

“so, can i have your number?” you ask slyly.

jeemin has never typed faster in her life.

(“mai’s really just a friend by the way.”

“i didn’t say anything…!”

“c’mon, jeemin. i saw the way you were glaring at her just now. she’s really just a friend.”

“but kyujin likes her more than me…”

“does it matter when i like you the most?”)

[a-leg-without-fear]

The Miranda to His Ferdinand

this is actually the response to this ask from the lovely @yarrystyleeza!!! i was so frickin inspired and ended up writing this :)

Ship: College!Matt Murdock x f!Reader

Rating: 18+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots o' Shakespeare, kissing, suggestive material

Series: Request Fulfillment

Your dorm's mattress creaked as you and Matt settled on top. He sat to your left, braille script clutched in his hand, with his sunglasses tucked into his shirt collar and his hair ruffled after a long day. An easy smile settled over his full lips.

"What's the play, again?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked as a large hand swept over the front page of his script. Long fingers traced the raised bumps on the solid white pages.

"The Tempest," you replied with a sighed chuckle, "It's about a woman, Miranda, who's lived on an island her whole life, knowing only her father and their slave, Caliban. Ferdinand shipwrecks on their island, then he and Miranda fall in love. Typical Shakespeare stuff."

Matt laughed at your synopsis, shaking his head, "And you're auditioning for Miranda, I'm guessing?"

"Nope, Caliban," you snarked in return. Matt rolled his eyes as you stuck your tongue out at him.

"Alright, Caliban. Which scene are we reading?"

"The last part of Act Three, Scene One," you said, flipping your script to the correct page, "Should be page ten in your booklet."

Crinkling pages filled the comfortable silence between you. It was quick work to find the correct page, considering the section you'd be reading from was labeled "MIRANDA AUDITION." The booklet lay open in your palms as you scanned briefly through the lines. You could almost feel the adoration formed by the prose, the pure affection woven into the words. Shakespeare truly was a genius.

"Okay, page ten," Matt announced, breaking your silent reverence of The Bard. You cleared your throat.

"Right. Ready?" you asked as you straightened your posture. Matt nodded, gesturing for you to start. A deep breath filled your lungs, chest expanding like a balloon, as you tamped down your nerves.

"Do you love me?" you read from the script. You glanced at Matt out of the corner of your eye. His lips ticked up in the corners as he read his part.

"Oh heaven, oh earth, bear witness to this sound," he began, fingers rapidly skimming over the pages, "And crown what I profess with kind event if I speak true. If hollowly, invert what best is boded me to mischief. I, beyond all limit of what else in the world, do love, prize and honor you."

You couldn't breathe. Not when Matt's sightless gaze was fixed right between your eyes. Not when this profession of love came from him so earnestly. Not when your years of pining after him had finally bubbled to the surface.

"I-I am a fool," you stuttered. You shook your head, clearing the distracting thoughts, then tried again, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of."

Matt placed his free hand on your knee. Your heart pounded against your ribs, anticipation leaking into your blood like ink in water.

"Wherefore weep you?" he read softly. His dark eyes traced the space around your head. Almost searching, scouring for your answer in the planes of your face.

"At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer what I desire to give, and much less take what I shall die to want. But this is trifling. And all the more it seeks to hide itself, the bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning, and prompt me, plain and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow you may deny me, but I'll be your servant. Whether you will or no."

A tense silence fell over the two of you like a sudden burst of snow. Your pulse coursed rapidly under your heated skin. The weight of the line you'd read felt world-encompassing. Would he understand that it wasn't just you reading words? That the meaning behind them is what you felt?

"My mistress, dearest, and I thus humble ever," Matt whispered, a faint glance of understanding passing behind his eyes. You swallowed a lump the size of a baseball.

"My husband then?"

The hand nearly burning a hole in your knee wrapped its fingers around your own.

"Ay, with a heart as willing as bondage ever of freedom. Here's my hand," Matt breathed, fingers tangling with yours. Your breath caught behind your lips. This is happening.

"And mine, with my heart in it," you said shakily.

That same silence. Charged like the static before a lightning strike. Nearly choking you with how intense the moment felt. The pad of Matt's thumb rubbed circles into the back of your hand.

“Does Ferdinand get to kiss Miranda in this scene?” he asked, gaze landing on your lips. Your heart leapt like a horse over a hurdle. Swirls of anxiety and finally! chased each other through your mind.

“It-it’s not in the script, but I think ad-libbing is more than okay,” you said as your heartbeat roared in your ears. Matt’s signature, cocky smirk pulled at his lips.

His hand seemed to move in slow motion as it lifted from his braille script and cradled your jaw. Palm warm, almost searing, and calloused like you could barely believe. Yet you’d never felt anything softer. His thumb passed over your flushed cheek slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, before it caught on your bottom lip.

“Is this okay?” Matt asked, voice barely above a whisper, as his thumb pulled gently on your lip. A shudder rolled over your spine like rumbling thunder.

“Yes,” you uttered with a quick nod.

Before you could blink, his lips were pressed against yours. Lightning struck your mind and rendered you breathless. Shocks coursed through your veins. Your heart nearly stopped beating.

He was kissing you.

Matthew Michael fucking Murdock was kissing you.

You quickly reached out and clung to him like he was your lifeline. You didn’t want this moment to end. This singularity that felt impossible, your whole life building to this one kiss. 

Warm fingers carded through your hair and tangled in the strands. Matt pulled you closer, your chests pressed together. He swiped his tongue along your lips to silently ask permission. You more than welcomed the intrusion as an involuntary moan kicked up your throat, opening your mouth to grant him entrance. A groan of his own matched yours in kind. He licked into you like you were the first drop of water after a month in the desert. Drinking from you, clinging to you, almost desperate.

Your head was spinning. You could barely breathe. Your hands shook where they clung to Matt’s t-shirt.

And just like that, it was over. Matt parted from you like separating two strong magnets. His forehead rested against yours, heaving breaths puffing along your cheeks. You screwed your eyes shut at the loss of his lips on yours.

“I could… I could do that forever,” Matt laughed breathlessly. You grinned as you opened your eyes. His sightless gaze was fixed on you. Pure adoration flowed from his joyful expression, how his eyes crinkled in the corners and how his dimples dug into his cheeks. You couldn’t help but match his wide smile.

“Me too,” was your clever response. You inwardly groaned at your quick wit. Matt chuckled, placing a chaste kiss to your hairline.

“When’s your audition?” he asked, like how close he was didn’t render your mind completely useless. You took a moment to gather your deteriorating thoughts.

“Tonight. At eight,” you said. Matt hummed.

“And what time is it now?”

You glanced at the digital clock that sat on your nightstand. In bold, red letters, the clock displayed “4:48 pm.”

“Almost five,” you replied. Matt ran the tips of his nails over your scalp. Pulses of pleasure coursed through you, your head tipping back in his hands, as your eyes fluttered shut.

“I think that’s plenty of time to run the scene some more, don’t you think?” he suggested, voice a low rumble deep in his chest. All you could do was nod.

And if rehearsal ran long, who were you to object?

[stvolanis]

BIRTHDAY BOY

(one shot)

PAIRINGS: Elvis Presley x wife! Reader

WARNINGS: tooth rotting fluff! Not proofread, clingy reader, no use of y/n, slight angst (Elvis thinks reader forgot his birthday), surprise party, kissing, pet names, the Memphis mafia been goofballs

NSFW WARNINGS: p in v sex, oral (m receiving), slight ball play ig?, light choking, hair pulling, daddy kink (duhh), cream pie, breeding kink, lingerie

sorry if I missed anything!! And happy birthday to the king of rock n’ roll<3

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

The entire day you and Elvis’ Memphis mafia have been planning is birthday party. His dad even started helping out.

It was going to be spectacular. You’d ordered a large 5 layered cake with buttercream frosting and strawberries, and written on top in cursive was ‘long live the king’ with a little 25 under it.

The house was decorated in head to toe with gold and white streamers, balloons, confetti, and any other kind of decor you could imagine fit for the king of rock n’ roll.

Elvis Presley had been gone for a week, taking on an acting gig in Florida, Miami. You missed him dearly, but you knew he was coming home today. Every time he called one of the house phones who would always chat your ear off on how much he wanted to see you. You’d think he had separation anxiety (he does).

The warmth of his voice on the line brought endless smiles to your face, and his amazing voice made giggles erupt from your throat. Everything about him shined, inside and out. He was beautiful, and a very charismatic man.

He had a certain feel about him. In a way where everyone would stop what they were doing just to catch a glimpse of him. He could hold an entire rooms attention and keep it, and sometimes he didn’t even realize it. People looked at him as if he were a god, and hell, maybe he was.

Elvis was a giving man. If you knew him, then you’d know that he shined so bright, he made the people around him shine, too. And to Elvis, you shined the most. He adored you. Every little thing about you was imperfectly perfect to him in just the right ways.

Elvis was a good husband, despite what people in the press have said. He takes care of you more than he takes care of himself, and he does it with a smile on his face and love in his heart that he only holds for you.

Elvis always told you that you were his angel. You were sent by the heavens to watch over him, guide him and love him for all he is after his mother died. You healed him and changed a broken, distraught man into the brightest star.

But you knew it was the other way around.

You found each other in a hopeless state, but together you overcame it and helped each other. Elvis was always kind to you, even if you two had petty little arguments, he’d always make it up to you by showering you in kisses with little ‘I’m sorrys’. How could you not forgive him when he was the sweetest man you’d ever met?

He remembered every anniversary. Every birthday. Every Valentine’s Day. He showered you in gifts, attention, dates, and never shut up about you in the press. You were sure interviews were sick and tired of him ranting on about how ‘good of a wife’ you are like a lovesick puppy, but it filled you with butterflies knowing he held you in such high regards.

Elvis was your person, and you were his. You’d known that since the day you met, and the day he popped the big question on a Thursday night in Hawaii confirmed it. It’s been bliss since you’d known him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

But now, you sat nervously on the couch, biting down on your manicured nails nervously.

You hadn’t answered any of the 4 times Elvis has called you, and you knew he’d be worried by now. It was his birthday, and you felt bad because you didn’t want to upset him—but the surprise will be all worth it.

You wore his favorite outfit. A light blue, low cut dress that ended mid thigh, paired with black marry janes and white socks that sat a few inches below your knees. You also wore a white pearl necklace that acted as a light choker, and to top it all off, a silver chain sat secured gracefully on your neck that read ‘E.P’. A beautiful necklace your lover gifted to you for your 2nd anniversary.

But you wore a secret under your pretty little dress that Elvis would surely adore later tonight.

“Everyone, I just got word that Elvis is down the road, get in your places!” Gunner, a mutual friend of you and Elvis, shouted. You quickly took your place around the corner from the door, so you could be the first person he sees when he walks through the large entrance.

The lights were turned off and the room was silent as you heard booming footsteps come up the familiar stairs of Gracelands’ entrance.

You sucked in a breath of air as the door swung open, and you could already feel his suffocating presence in the house.

“Baby?! Where ya at?!” He yelled out, his voice laced with concern as he began to move towards the stairs, assuming you were in your shared bedroom. You giggled a little, and Elvis’ head snapped to your direction. You’d been caught.

“Surprise! Happy birthday, honey!” You yelled out, along with everyone else. Elvis let out a breath of air he’d been holding in for what felt like all day. No matter how many times he’s left home, weeks on end, you’d never gone not one day without calling him and tellin’ him all about your boring day without him around.

He drug a hand down his face with a groan, followed by a deep chuckle as your body collided with his in a tight hug. He kissed the top of your head, and finally, you’d felt his arms around you again. And it’s was as if all of his love visibly seeped into you.

“Was so worried, satin. Thought somethin’ bad happened to ya.” He huffed out with furrowed brows. You laughed as you cupped his face in your dainty hands. “Nothin’ bad happened, Elvis. Just wanted to give you a lil surprise is all.” You muttered as you brought his face down to your level, giving him the tenderest of kisses.

You tasted like vanilla on his tongue, mixed with cherry from the cherry lollipop you always had in your mouth. Elvis wasn’t sure how you hadn’t gotten a cavity from it yet. Your hair smelled like fresh rose water, and he knew it was from your annual bath-soakings full of the best rose petals money can buy and scented bath bombs.

You were warm against him, your small body molding and fitting perfectly against him. He loved you. God, did he love you. His baby. His love. His wife. The woman he plans to bear his children. He couldn’t get enough of you

“I got you a cake, Elvis.” You smiled up at him. You were the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Your smile was contagious to him, as he felt a grin spread across his face. “Yeah, lemme see it, baby.” He said.

You clapped your hands together, exited to see his reaction of the large cake, decorated to perfection. You took his large hand in yours and dragged him to where everyone else was in the dining room. On the table sat the cake, and Elvis felt his eyes widen at the mere heigh of it.

“Woah, that’s a lot of sugar, honey.” He chuckled out as he walked closer to take a good look. “Look at the top, El.” You urged. Like a good husband, he obliged and a chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“I love it, baby.” He said as he walked over and tightly hugged you, slightly lifting you off the ground in the process. “I’m glad! I hoped you would.” You said happily.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before the Memphis mafia swept him away from you. “Sharing is caring!” They yelled with loud boyish chuckles as they went to the pool room. Elvis mounted an ‘im sorry’, to which you merely giggled.

All throughout the night Elvis was occupied with his family and friends celebrating. You knew you shouldn’t, but you had to admit that you felt kind of neglected. In more ways than one.

He’d looked so unbelievably handsome all night, and you couldn’t help but become all hot and bothered as the night continued. You watched him play pool with his friends, his arms were exposed and fit. Elvis was no muscle maniac, but he had just the right amount for your mouth to start watering like a bitch in heat at the sight.

You finally built up enough courage to speak up about it as you walked over to where he stood in all his glory. His back was now facing you as you lightly gripped his arm to grab his attention, making him spin around to look at you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, his accent thick. You grew shy as his friends grazed in on the interaction, being nosy. You chewed on the bottom of your lip, and Elvis understood as he slightly leaned down is you could whisper into his ear. “M horny, Elvis.” You muttered, barely just loud enough for him to hear.

Elvis lightly hummed. “S that right?” He asked, and you nodded in confirmation. “Alright, don’t worry, sugar, I’ll take care of ya.” He stated.

“I’m done for the night, fellas.” He said as he tangled his fingers with yours, pulling you away from the group of men. They whistled knowingly, followed by a few hollers, making your cheeks flush red and bury yourself in Elvis’ side. He chuckled as his arm wrapped around you, walking up the stairs to your shared room.

He opened the door for you and flicked the lamp light on. “I got another surprise for you.” You muttered, shy under his gaze. He peered down at you. “Yeah? What is it, baby?” He asked, his breathing heavy.

You began to slide your dress off of your shoulders, below your breasts and down your hips before letting it fall to the floor beneath you. Elvis’ mouth watered at the sight and he felt his pants tighten uncomfortably, his slacks suddenly becoming too tight in his crotch area.

There you stood, in a baby pink lingerie set. Floral and lacy, nipples and pussy barely covered by flimsy fabric. Your thighs covered in garters with little pink flowers embroidered onto them delicately. What made Elvis go over the edge though, is when you turned around to show him your perky ass.

In cursive, sat nice and pretty was ‘Elvis Presley’.

He felt like he could cum in his pants right then and there.

“D-do you like it?” You asked, nervous at his silence. He scoffed. “Like it? Baby, i fuckin’ love it.” He said, spinning your around to face him before sliding his hands past your waist, down to your ass, tightly squeezing both of your ass cheeks.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him. “Yeah?” You whispered as his leaned down. “Fuck yes.” He muttered before his lips crashed down onto yours in a heated kiss.

It was sloppy as your tongues tangled with each other, you fighting for some kind of dominance that you knew Elvis wouldn’t allow. You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him groan, biting your lip in retaliation. His hands squeezing the fat of your ass tighter, gripping you impossibly closer to him.

“Let me make you feel good, Elvis.” You breathed out against his lips. He merely clicked his tongue. “Hm?” He asked again. Your legs rubbed together, slick coating both of your inner thighs.

“Please let me make you feel good, daddy.” You repeated, more desperately this time. He groaned in satisfaction. “Good girl, go ahead, baby.” He urged.

You dropped to your knees and watched as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them drop to the floor. You licked your lips at the sight of his leaking cock, standing hard and ready for you in any way you can take him. He was long and girthy, balls hung, seemingly painfully full. Your core ached to relieve him.

You licked around his tip before licking his slit that leaked slaty pre-cum, and his hiss was enough for you to suck his tip into your mouth. “Fuck!” He yelped out as you sucked harshly, before taking him deeper into your mouth.

You bobbed your head up and down, your hands reaching to fondle his aching balls. If there was one thing you knew how to do, it was giving mind blowing, other worldly head. Your little mouth drove Elvis beyond crazy, wether it be for talking shit or having his cock in it.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you effortlessly deep throated his cock, and you felt him throb in your mouth. You gagged around him, making him throw his head back and let out a desperate moan.

“Yess, fuck! Just like that, honey. Suckin’ your husbands cock so well. Takin’ such good care of me.” He breathed out. You knew he was about to cum as his fingers found their way in your large hair, gripping tightly. “M gonna cum, baby. Shit.” He moaned out.

Your mouth moved to suck one of his balls into your mouth and your hand moved quickly to stroke his needy cock. Your hand moved fast, your fist tight around him. It was all too much, the way your mouth sucked his balls in like a vacuum and your hand stroking his hand at a quickening pace.

His cum spurted from his cock, and your mouth shot up just in time to get it in your mouth. You sucked his tip, milking him of all the cum he had stored away in his heavy balls. “Holy fuck, you’re so fuckin’ good, soso good f’me.” He said, mouth hung agape as you released his tip with a loud ‘pop’.

You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show him the cum that rested on your tongue. He licked his lips and felt his cock harden again. “Swallow.” He said. And like the good little wife you are, you listened..

“Good girl. Now, getcha’ lil ass on the bed n’ bend over f’daddy.” He said as he helped you to your feet, slapping your ass playfully as you passed by him to the bed, making you giggle.

You bent over, legs spread enough so he could see the thin string covering your pussy that was now a darker shade of pink from your juices. “Look at you, all nice n pretty. All this for me, sweetheart?” He asked as he slipped the thin string to the side.

You nodded your head feverishly. “Yes, daddy. M’only wet f’you.” You muttered as you teased your ass into the air, pushing it towards him. He swatted your asses harshly, once, twice, before he lined himself to your entrance.

He teased his tip into you, making you groan. “Please, please, please—“ you chanted like it was a prayer. His hand snapped to your hair, leaning your head back. “You take what I give you, wife.” He muttered as he tenderly kissed your forehead.

“Yes, daddy, m’sorry.” You muttered out, gasping as you felt his cock enter you without warning. His tip kissed your cervix, and your mouth hung open, throat going dry. “Shit, so tight. Grippin’ my cock so good.” He huffed out.

“E-Elvis!” You whimpered out, the sting making your eyes water. His heart ached at the sound of you in any kind of pain. He peppered sweet kisses along your spine and on your shoulders in reassurance. “S okay, m’ gon’ take care of ya, don’t worry.” He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

Your stomach felt like it was doing summer salts and butterflies exploding in it all at once. You loved him more than words could ever describe and nothing in the world would ever change the way he made you feel, even 5 years deep into marriage, he still makes you fall in love with him all over again.

A wave of pleasure consumed you as you felt him re-enter you, picking up his pace at pounding into your throbbing cunt. “Elvis! Fuck! Just like that!” You moaned out.

Every time his hips slammed into yours, you released little ‘ahs’. The sound was like music to his ears. Knowing he was making you feel good, made him feel at least 20x better. If there was one thing he took pride in, it was pleasing his woman in every way he could.

“Gonna fill this lil pussy, you want that? Hm? Want me to fill you with my babies?” He asked, his hands gripped your hips. “Yes, yes, please! Need your cum in me, daddy!” You groaned.

He pulled out of you, flipping you around before re-entering you. “Wanna see you when we cum, yeah? Gon’ see ya beautiful fuckin’ face, honey.” He moaned out as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

He was pussy drunken and his mind was fuzzy as your walls squeezed him in a vice grip. He didn’t know how much longer he would last. “Daddy! M’gonna cum, fuck m’gonna cum!” Your voice high pitched, and your head thrown back. Elvis brought his hand up to your neck, squeezing your throat just enough to make you see stars when it was paired with his piercing cock.

“Need you.” You whimpered out, grabbing at his free hand. A thing you did that Elvis thought was the cutest thing, and adored so much, was that every time you came on his cock, you made sure to hold his hand. It comforted you and Elvis loved it as he reached his high. “I’m right here, satin. Gon’ fill this cunt.” He said, biting his lip.

“Oh!” You moaned out as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, covering Elvis’ lower abdomen in your vile juices just as he painted the inside of your walls white with his seed.

He fucked you through your orgasm, and you could feel each time his cock spurted out a new round of cum inside of you. His balls tightening as your sweet pussy milked him, and all he could think about was how nice and round you’ll be with his babies. The perfect wife.

Your hand reached up to lovingly cup his face, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his bitten lips.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[elementaryhallelujahs]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ strawberry lace

mdni, 18+ only

he’s always been cold on his birthdays, that much is a given. he expects the indoor parties and the alcohol blankets. he expects the raging hangovers the next day and the oily regret and the bitter realisation of one more year gone by; lingering in the air like the cold. 

what he doesn’t expect is to wake up on the other side of the world. 

the south side, that is. 

he’s never been one for spontaneous travel—not one to throw caution to the wind and say fuck it! and all that jazz. 

well, he wasn’t anyway. not before her. 

alex is a planner. alex is careful. alex wants to vet things and carefully structure everything. 

she does none of those things. 

she’s a whirlwind of all things frazzled and exciting and chaotic. she’s everything he’s not; everything he wants to be. 

and so when she begs and begs for a spontaneous birthday trip, (not for her birthday, it's for his birthday) he gives in for once. 

he’s 38. he counts as a middle-aged man, alex is sure of it. and yet with her he wants to chase his youth again and again. 

the morning of the fifth he wakes up in his own bed. 

the morning of the sixth he wakes up in fiji.

what’s more is that he wakes up in an inexplicably pink, princess bedroom. there are balloons—so so many balloons! pink and white and silver and the foil ones that spell “HAPPY BIRTHDAY AL” on the wall in front of him. and the moment he moves an inch, she jumps on him and smothers him with kisses. 

“there you are. i’ve been waiting!”

“waiting for?”

“for you to wake up!” she laughs. alex smiles in return and properly pulls her against him. “happy birthday, baby.”

her lips latch onto his, making him melt. 

her entire body is warm—not the kind of warm that comes from being in front of the radiator. she’s sunshine warm, like she’s already been outside before he’s even ventured away from the land of the dreaming. 

sleep makes his body melt into hers and alex happily nuzzles his face into her tits. 

“what’s all this?”

“do you like it?” she asks and presses a kiss into his messy hair. “i could only find pink balloons at first so i just went with the theme.”

“‘s all very cute. just like you.”

alex presses a kiss on her collarbone and inhales the sent of her skin—sunshine and strawberries and vanilla. utterly sweet. once he’s started, there’s no way he can bring himself to stop tasting her skin, breathing her in. drinking in her soft sounds and shivers and relishing the feel of her fingers digging into his bicep. 

alex hasn’t even properly opened his eyes yet and he knows he’s already in heaven. 

“stay,” he murmurs and finds her lips.

she lightly runs her fingers along his stubbly jaw, all the way to the nape of his neck, sinking them into his hair. then her hand runs lower, gingerly raking her nails down his bare back, making him shiver in delight.

warmth coils in his stomach. 

january is supposed to be cold and pine scented, it’s supposed to be stubborn remnants of christmas and bittersweet new years excitement. it’s never been warm, salty breeze and a sweet, sunshine girl in his arms. 

“stay in bed with you all day?” she giggles and tries to kiss him again. alex lets her chase his mouth, then smugly pulls back at the last minute.

“stay and keep me warm.”

“you’re plenty warm!”

now that his eyes are properly open, he takes her in inch by inch—first the red of her lips and then down her jaw, her chin, her neck… she’s clad in a bikini top: white lace, printed strawberries, a bow tied at the back. before she can even object, alex pulls on the string and the knot comes undone. 

“you’re like my little birthday gift, aren’t you? i get to unwrap all the layers.”

“mmm, is that what you’re doing now?” 

her already red lip becomes redder when she bites on it and throws her leg over his so his knee hovers just below her cunt. one movement and he’ll have her shaking under him. 

he takes his time though, time is what he has in abundance today. 

alex feels his skin tingle, every press of her skin against his is electric—little sparks dancing in the barely-there space between them. her breaths comes out in quick pants and her eyes roam over him. over his face and then his chest that’s devoid of any clothes. 

the only clothes he’s wearing are some cotton pyjamas. easy to discard. 

the bikini top falls apart and there she is, right under him now, back arching so she can brush her chest against his. get any friction on her nipples really. goosebumps rise on her skin wherever his fingers touch. 

“look at you,” alex breathes and swallows roughly. he feels a little drunk then, almost like he’s been intoxicated since the moment he woke up. “my beautiful, perfect girl,” alex hums. 

his kisses turn feverish as his lips move along the hollow of her throat, her collarbone. the heat in his stomach intensifies, his hand comes to rest on the back of her neck. he’s often used this position to hold her in place, to stop her from squirming but this time his hold is gentle. 

his mouth travels lower, ghostly kisses trailed down to her breast. 

she mewls when his tongue circles around her nipples.

it doesn’t take another second before her legs are around his middle and his big hands are gripping her thighs. rough, calloused fingers digging into soft flesh while she tugs at the hair at the nape of his neck and makes him groan. 

“oh, baby baby,” he breathes on her skin and lets her pull the pyjamas off him. “how am i supposed to let you go anywhere when you look like this.”

“don’t then,” she laughs. 

her hands trace his spine and alex feels his cock twitch in his boxers. he needs to be inside her right now, needs to feel her walls clenching around him. 

he also wants to taste her but they have all day for that. 

“want to be inside you,” alex groans when he feels the wetness between her legs. 

she tries to lightly grind onto his stomach, tries to get herself off even if it’s just a little bit. 

fuck she’s beautiful, and he doesn’t want to was poetic but the sunlight streaming in through the windows and onto her skin makes her look utterly luminous. 

as if in a daze, alex slides the waistband of her underwear off her hips and traces the exposed skin with his fingers. she moans something softly.

“i want you too, al. fuck! baby…”

they barely use their words after that. the room is far from silent though—it echoes with moans and sighs and the sound of her laughter when alex nips at her skin. it’s like a little rhythm—he bites softly and chases away the sting with a lick. he leaves a mark and then rewards her with a kiss. 

she doesn’t resist him at all when her underwear joins the heap on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

his hang inches between her legs and finds her clit, fingers rubbing lazily over it, almost in circles, slow at first and growing faster until she’s squirming for more—more friction and more of him and this and ecstasy and alex knows whatever he’s doing isn’t enough but just this once he wants to hear her beg. 

(oh, who is he kidding! he always wants to hear her beg and plead and show him how much she wants him.) 

“stop being a tease,” she whines and he laughs at her desperation.

finally, alex decides to end this misery. for her and for him. the need is driving him insane too. 

when the first thrust comes, slow and sensual—and without warning—her eyes roll back in her head. she whimpers something, curses softly and holds onto him, legs locking around him so she can take him in deeper. 

“shit baby…” he moans too. she’s squeezing him so tight. all he feels is her wetness and warmth. all he feels is his cock stretching her open. 

she closes her eyes and alex tuts. “open your eyes,” he nudges, “i want you to look at me when you cum.”

and so she obliges, looking him in the eye and moaning his name softly with each thrust, lifting her hips to meet his and grinding her clit on his stomach.

the pressure inside him builds with each thrust, his entire body feels charged and taut and a current runs right under his skin. 

under him, she’s as electric as a live wire. 

“look at what you do to me,” she moans and alex feels her thighs begin to tremble. 

she must be close now, she’s certainly acting like it—nails scratching his back, teeth softly sinking into his shoulder so she doesn’t scream loud enough for everyone to hear. (if it weren’t mid morning, he would have liked to make her scream. alex mentally marks it for later tonight.)

her hips thrust upwards, trying and failing to match him. she’s erratic, almost manic. there’s no rhythm to her movements, only lust and desire and so much want for him that he feels a wave of it run through his whole body. 

under him she shudders and cries out. 

“al, baby… gonna cum, f-fuck!”

he’s about to speak, about to tell her to let go but she’s already there. her body goes tense as alex feels her squeeze around him, so fucking tight that it tips him over the edge. 

alex thrusts into her as the orgasm hits him hard. ropes and ropes of his cum filling her up, spilling from the sides under the insides of her thighs are sticky and wet with slick. both their release combined dripping out of her. 

alex can’t help but drip a finger in the mess they’ve made and bring it up to her mouth. 

“taste us,” he says and shivers when she swirls her tongue around his fingers. 

he doesn’t know how long it takes them to comes down from the high. all he knows is that they stay like that, bodies locked together, him on top of her, breathing her in. the strawberry scent of her body lotion has dulled a bit now, replaced by sex and sweat. he makes absolutely no move to pull out, only adjusts himself so his entire weight isn’t on top of her. 

“happy birthday, al.” this time her voice comes out breathy and soft. it surrounds him, permeates through his skull and bounces around his brain. 

birthday. yes. his birthday. that’s what they’re here for. 

“mmm, thank you, darling. you’re my gift, aren’t you?” his mouth moves to hers again—another sultry, lazy kiss. another long minute passes. “the absolute best birthday gift i’ve ever had.”

“is that so?”

“would you like me to show you my gratitude?” alex smirks. 

and then he moves again to position his mouth between her legs.

[starlitmelanin]

happiest | jamal musiala

pairing - jamal × fem!reader

word count - 1.1k

warnings - none

summary - jamal has never seen you this happy, and it makes him realise just how much he loves seeing you like this.

jamal had never seen you quite this happy before.

it was like you were a different person, one he hadn't had the pleasure of meeting until now. and god, did he love this version of you.

the amusement park was bustling with people, the air filled with laughter, screams of excitement, and the smell of cotton candy. you were like a kid in a candy store, your eyes wide with wonder and a smile permanently plastered on your face. every little thing seemed to delight you, from the brightly coloured balloons to the whirling rides.

jamal stood back, watching you with a soft smile on his face.

there was something about seeing you so carefree, so genuinely happy, that made his heart feel oddly warm and... glowy. like he could stand here and soak up your happiness forever.

seeing you like this felt a little bit like heaven.

"come on, jamal!" you called out, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the nearest ride. "we have to try this one!"

he let himself be dragged along, unable to stop the chuckle that escaped his lips. you were like a whirlwind, a burst of energy that he couldn't resist. and honestly, he didn't want to.

you picked a ride that spun in dizzying circles, and jamal couldn't help but laugh as you squealed in delight, your hands thrown up in the air. he held onto the safety bar, watching you more than the ride itself. the way your hair flew around your face, the way your eyes sparkled with joy — it was heavenly.

"wasn't that amazing?" you asked breathlessly once the ride was over, your cheeks flushed with excitement.

jamal nodded, still catching his breath. "yeah, it was."

you grinned, your hand slipping into his again. "let's go find the next one."

the day went on like this, you leading him from one ride to another, your laughter ringing out over the noise of the park. jamal couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun, and it was all because of you.

as the sun began to set, the park lit up with twinkling lights, giving everything a magical glow. you had a cone of cotton candy in one hand, and you were trying to feed jamal pieces of it, giggling when he pretended to bite your fingers instead.

"stop it!" you laughed, swatting at him playfully.

"can't help it." he teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "you taste too sweet."

you rolled your eyes but couldn't avoid the blush that warmed your entire face. "you're such a dork."

jamal grinned, pulling you closer. "yeah, but i'm your dork."

you sighed dramatically, but there was a smile tugging at your lips. "i suppose i can live with that."

you continued to wander around the park, eventually finding a quiet spot near the ferris wheel. you sat down on a bench, and jamal wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

"this has been the best day ever," you said softly, resting your head on his shoulder.

"yeah?" he asked, glancing down at you.

you nodded, looking up at him with those pretty, sparkling eyes. "yeah. thank you, jamal."

he felt his heart swell at your words, and he couldn't help but lean down to kiss you gently. "anything for you, y/n."

you smiled against his lips, and for a moment, everything was perfect. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

"let's go on the ferris wheel," you suggested, breaking the silence.

jamal nodded, taking your hand as you stood up. you made your way over to the ferris wheel, and he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. heights weren't exactly his favourite thing, but he knew you loved them. and he'd do anything to see that smile on your face.

you climbed into the cabin, and jamal followed, sitting down beside you. as the wheel started to turn, he felt you slip your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"it's beautiful up here," you whispered, looking out at the park below.

jamal nodded, but his eyes were on you. "yeah, it is."

you glanced at him, a soft smile on your lips. "you're not even looking.

"i am," he said, squeezing your hand. "just at a different view."

you blushed, ducking your head. "you're such a sap."

"only for you," he admitted, leaning in to kiss your temple.

the ferris wheel reached its highest point, and for a moment, it felt like you were on top of the world. you looked out at the twinkling lights of the park, and jamal looked at you, his heart so full it felt like it might burst.

"i love you," he said softly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

you turned to him, your eyes wide with surprise. "what?"

“i love you," he repeated, his voice steady. "i've never seen you this happy, and it makes me realise just how much i love seeing you like this. i love you, y/n."

you stared at him for a moment, and then a slow smile spread across your face. "i love you too, jamal."

he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and he pulled you into a tight hug. you buried your face in his chest, and he could feel you slightly shaking with laughter — or maybe tears, he wasn't sure.

"thank you for today," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"anytime," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "anytime, baby."

the ferris wheel started to descend, and jamal held you close, soaking up every moment. he wanted to remember this day forever, the way you looked at him, the way you laughed, the way you said you loved him.

as the ride came to a stop, you both climbed out, hand in hand. you wandered around the park for a while longer, the night air cool against your skin. eventually, you found a spot to sit and watch the fireworks, your head resting on his shoulder. the fireworks exploded in a burst of colour, lighting up the sky. you watched in awe, and jamal watched you, his heart feeling insanely warm all over again.

"today was perfect." you said softly, your eyes still on the sky.

"yeah," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "it was."

you looked up at him, your eyes shining as you smiled sweetly.

and he knew that this was it.

this was what happiness felt like.

[prickly-paprikash]

Whoever you ship Mizu with, it is ultimately gay as fuck.

Mizu and Akemi? That's just two angry wlw's haunted by the image of one another who have been pushed into different but mirroring paths that will one day intertwine, and their anger and regret will balloon into a terrifying clash. Violent? Yes. Passionate? Extremely. Sexual Tension? Nuclear-level.

Mizu and Taigen? Mizu didn't really mind the other acts of sex in Madame Kaji's brothel until she got to the dudes fuckin, and her immediate thought was how close Taigen and his lips were during their tumble in their duel. It's very clear Mizu sees her relationship with Taigen as homoerotic, and has shown some interest in it. That's just trans masc x bottom bi, baby.

Mizu, Taigen and Akemi?

So. Fucking. G A Y.

There ain't no cis-het reading of Blue Eye Samurai, bucko. This shit's the purest crystal queer in the market. It ain't cloudy. It ain't distilled.

This show is raw, uncut Mizumphetamine. Mizu is the chemicals injected into the water that's making the freaking fags frogs gay.

Mizu's the baddest bitch around. Be in awe of this undying fuck's energy. She is 2023's top bitch magnet. She doesn't get bitches. She pins them down, strikes the fear of her in them, and wields a fucking sword made to slaughter the heavens.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Clown Without Pity [Pennywise x Reader]

Title: Clown Without Pity [Pennywise x Reader]

Synopsis: You used to be scared of clowns, but that was a long time ago.

For Horrorfest request:

Horrorfest request for random person being followed at a carnival by the lovely clown IT. They think he's just a normal clown at first. Until they see him later outside of the carnival. And then at a Halloween party.

Word count: 1400ish

notes: reader is scared of clowns, implications of death & general horror things, speeding down small town roads and other things you Should Not Do Because It's Irresponsible

The first time you see the clown, you smile. Not because he was particularly delightful–he looked like any other clown at any other carnival–but because he brought back memories. Distant, foggy, something you could see now with rose-tinted glasses:

When you were a child, you were scared of clowns. 

No, not just scared–terrified. There are memories, seen through the sweeter lens of adulthood that takes away the sharp edge of terror you once felt, of you clinging to your father’s leg; begging to leave a carnival, a work event, a birthday party, because there was that all-too-familiar terror looming just ahead—

A clown. 

Like the one at this carnival, handing out balloons to children who pass by. He looks like any clown you’ve ever seen, like the ones that used to have you squeezing your eyes shut until your parents sighed and carried you, sobbing, back to the car. 

White face. Red hair. An outfit with frills and puff-balls. A smile, a laugh (haw-haw-haw) and oh, my, he’s seen you staring.

He waves, cheerily.

You wave back, smile tight. 

Not because you’re scared–you are not a little kid anymore, for heaven’s sake–but because it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?

Clowns are meant for children.

–

The clown should not be standing across the street from the local liquor store, and yet, there he is, in all his costumed glory. 

He stands out like a sore thumb, and it’s a wonder no one else has pointed him out. Or that no cars honk at him as they whizz by, speeding but uncaring on Halloween night. The police force would be hanging out downtown, keeping an eye on the kids, not lurking by a party store tucked on a back road. 

He doesn’t move from his spot on the side of the road. He only stares straight ahead, eyes almost bulging, and even if he isn’t staring at you–is he?--you can’t help but tear your gaze away.

Because…

Something awfully nostalgic creeps into the back of your skull. A familiar feeling, itching along your scalp until it crawls across your jaw and down your chest; until you clench the paper bag in your arms, hearing it crinkle around the bottles of vodka you spent too much of your paycheck on.

An unwelcome sensation that makes you want to find your father and hide behind him even now, decades later—

Fear.

–

By the time you make it to the party, you’ve chided yourself ten times over for being silly. The clown was probably headed in to buy some booze of his own after a day working a children’s carnival. Handing out all those balloons and smiling at kids all day. He was probably waiting until it was safe to cross the road, and you caught him standing awkwardly.

Halloween night was making you stupid, that’s all. Well. That and the pre-gaming shot you did before you went to the carnival. Sure, sure, you were good to drive–that didn’t mean your thoughts weren’t a little loopy. A little silly.

Now? Now it was time to forget about clowns and childhood fears and get your Halloween party game on. 

Your costume wasn’t anything spectacular. A black dress and a slapped-on witch hat, a smear of green eyeshadow across your eyes and hastily applied eyeliner that you’d only remembered after pulling your car into the cul-de-sac.

Maybe next year you would put more thought into it, but on this night? You just wanted to get drunk, maybe dance, maybe meet someone cute and take them home.

Getting drunk and dancing was on the table for sure, at least. The vodka you brought is a favorite, and you turn to it again and again as the night goes on, until your head is fuzzy enough to make dancing to “Monster Mash” genuinely fun.

You don’t even mind that you haven’t found anyone to hook up with; there’s enough mingling going on that the crowd stuffed into the living room is a mix of couples and singles, groups of friends, groups of strangers, everyone sporting costumes of varying quality and care. 

Sexy nurses and Frankensteins and Harley Quinns; Marios and Hot Dogs and Draculas. Everyone drinking and dancing and having loud conversations that didn’t matter all that much. 

The costumes bleed together with every drink, until you’re not sure if you already talked to that sexy cat or maybe it was the handsome tiger that chatted you up, or maybe it wasn’t a cat at all, maybe your brain got confused with the guy dressed as Roger from 101 Dalmations (he carried a dalmatian plushie) and you’re starting to wonder if you should have someone call you an Uber when there’s a clown standing in the middle of the living room.

Oh but it’s not a clown, it’s the clown. The clown from the carnival, the clown from the street, the clown that is now standing perfectly still amidst a crowd of dancing, drunken strangers. His face looks sallow now, his eyes bigger, but his grin, his grin is the same. Wide and red and were his teeth always so sharp?

A trick of the light, you think, a trick of the booze; but you blink, and think, and blink again, but it remains the same no matter what. 

He’s just standing there. Staring and smiling. And he’s got a balloon–it hadn’t been there before–but no one else so much as stops and stares at this strange clown in a rotting gray suit (oh, oh it had been fine before, all cream and bright red) holding a balloon in the middle of the party.

No one else sees him.

But you do.

And he sees you, too.

Now, now, you feel fear. Not just any fear. That old fear, that childish fear, that starts from your toes and doesn’t stop until it’s prickling at your scalp. The fear that keeps you rooted to the spot. The fear that demands a mom or dad or older sibling with a few years on you, someone who knows enough about the world to keep all the awful things at bay.

“Mommy and daddy aren’t here to help you,” a voice says, and it’s with an awful sinking feeling that you see the clown's mouth move. It’s the clown. The clown is talking. But no one turns. No one else hears. Everyone else is dancing, laughing, carrying on like none of this is happening at all.

The tingling fear is cradled by a heavy dread that settles into your stomach, a dread that tells you the cold hard facts of life as you know it: 

You are alone with the clown in a crowded room and no one is going to help you. No one is going to help you, and you were right to be scared of clowns as a child, and maybe if you hadn’t talked yourself out of it, you wouldn’t be here.

You wouldn’t be standing frozen to the spot, watching as he takes a step forward–big and silly, he laughs as he does it, like he’s tiptoeing quietly to some secret place. As if he needs to be quiet, despite the fact that no one else can hear him or see him.

"I'm coming for you," he says, voice low, awful, despite the silliness of his exaggerated gestures.

He weaves around the party guests like they are hedges in some terrible human maze. And you, you can do nothing but watch as he spins, his mouth making exaggerated “Os” each time he almost rams into someone. 

"I'm getting closer," he says, and you want to run. But you can't. You're too scared. Scared like you used to be; scared in a way you haven't been in decades.

Maybe--

If you hadn’t stopped being afraid, maybe you wouldn’t have come to the party at all. His second sighting on the road would have sent you home, for the safety of the space underneath your bed covers, a night light protecting you all the way up those dark stairs. 

Your jaw wouldn’t be open in a silent cry for help that will not come. Tears would not be streaming down your cheeks, even as the clown does a little spin–”Ta da!”--on his journey across the room. The tears sting with smeared green eyeshadow.

But you are here. Stuck and trapped and damp urine runs down your leg. No one notices, no one sees. No one cares.

And the clown is getting closer. He could be here in two strides, you realize dimly, but he doesn’t want to hurry it along. He wants to take it slow. He wants you to stew–stew in your fear and anguish and the realization that you are a small, stupid insignificant thing and this clown (but It is not a clown) is stronger and older and–

Right in front of you now.