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peachdues · 17 days

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COMPASS / CHAPTER 2

bad boy!Sanemi ♢ modern gang AU

A/N: oh boy oh boy! It only took me four months to write this, and I still had to split it in half.

This is a very Sanemi-focused chapter. Enjoy seeing some other characters and everyone's favorite little brother. Smut enjoyers have no fear, there are plenty of references to sex this chapter, and the next installment will be fucking filthy. For now, enjoy pining bitch boy Sanemi, some humor, and a whole lot of self-hatred.

CW: 17k. MDNI. Morning-after awkwardness. Humor. Gang-related violence. Brief description of bones being broken. Gun violence. Masturbation. Somewhat explicit references to sex that occurred in the previous chapter. Mentions of blood. Angst.

chapter one // masterlist

Sanemi doesn’t remember ever having woken up as peacefully as he does that next morning, with you in his arms. His hands are resting against the curve of your spine, his fingers lightly tracing patterns into your skin even well before he’s fully aware of what he’s doing.

You’ve remained tangled up with him throughout the night, your legs intertwined and you, laid out against his torso. A small smear of your drool has dried on his skin, right beneath where your cheek is mashed between his pectorals where you snore softly.

If he could, he’d stay like this forever; warm and wrapped up in blankets that smell distinctly of you while you remain asleep on his chest. No outside world to speak of, no debts to collect or bones to smash. Nothing beyond the parameters of your bed, and the way your body fits so perfectly against his.

Sanemi is acutely aware of your mutual nudity. The luxurious feel of your bare skin pressed to his ushers in a flurry of images from the night before, each snap shot flashing through his mind, a montage of naked limbs and breathless moans.

He’d fucked you — though some small voice in his head quips that he’d done something more than just fucking, but he resolves to ignore that for now. Worse (was it?), he’d done it without using protection — and he came in you.

Whatever rule book he’d played by before, it no longer mattered. It’s been thoroughly shredded, cast aside along with every last fragment of common sense he’d had, its remnants strewn somewhere among his clothes where they lay discarded on your floor. He should feel horror; should feel guilt and shame for being so fucking reckless with you despite having committed to doing everything in his power to be more careful with you than he is with himself, and yet, Sanemi cannot seem to find a morsel of regret.

Instead, all he can feel is bliss. He can focus on nothing more than how warm you are, how your soft breasts are squished against his abdomen. How sweet your hair smells, how silky your skin is beneath his greedy fingertips. How badly he wants you again; selfishly. Completely.

And despite knowing he’s in the wrong, Sanemi can’t help but be struck at how right this feels. So right, in fact, that his body is quickly coming to life the longer he spends beneath you, his blood hot and full of need.

He shifts under you, gnashing his teeth together as your lower belly rubs right against his groin. His morning wood is almost painful, and he half contemplates waking you up to see if you’re willing to go for a second round, but he refrains. While it wouldn’t be out of the realm of reasonability for him to ask for more, given the events of the last twelve hours, he knows it wouldn’t be smart.

More importantly, Sanemi doesn’t want you thinking he feels entitled to your body — or your affection — now that he’s had a taste of both, no matter how addicted to you he is.

Gently, he untangles himself from you and lays you back against your pillows. Once he ensures the blankets are pulled up over you, he peels off the bed to search for his pants. He finds them a few feet away and tugs them on, though he leaves his belt unfastened. He forsakes his shirt, too, at least until you wake up, not wanting you to feel overexposed in your nudity while he’s fully dressed.

Sanemi quietly pads into your kitchen and begins fumbling around for your coffee machine. He pulls two mugs from your cabinet and finds your stash of coffee beans shoved on a random shelf, and he sets to work, doing his best to keep as quiet as he can.

He hears you stirring from the kitchen right as your mug of coffee finishes brewing.

He lingers in the doorway to the kitchen. “Hey.”

You sit up in your bed, clutching the blankets to your chest. His heart throbs. You’re beautiful like this, unfairly so, despite having just woken up. Your hair is a little messy, but your eyes are bright, and your bare skin glows softly in the morning light streaming through your windows.

“Hi,” you say shyly, eyes tracking him as he crosses the room, mug in hand. You gratefully accept the coffee he hands you, but you keep one hand fisted around your blanket, holding it tightly to your chest.

He grimaces. Even though Sanemi has now seen every inch of your body, you seem committed to shielding as much of it as possible from him.

Whether it’s out of insecurity or morning-after regret, he can’t say.

“I wanted to wait ‘til you got up before I left. Didn’t want you to think I just dipped.” Sanemi runs an awkward hand through his hair. “But now that you’re up, I can run down the street. Grab ya the morning after pill.”

At your questioning look, his cheeks redden. “Since — y’know —“

He gestures lamely at you, as though that somehow is enough of an explanation. But it’s apparently successful, because your eyes blow wide with understanding, a twin blush creeping up your neck.

“I don’t need it.” You squeak, ducking your head, your fingers tightening around your blanket.

Sanemi blinks. Great, he groans internally. He knew you were a virgin, but he’d assumed you knew the risks associated with fucking raw.

“Yeah, you do,” he corrects, and his stomach flips as the memory of last night — of how tightly you’d gripped him as he came, of your soft moan as you’d felt the first spurt of his cum fill you — flashes through his mind. “We didn’t use protection, and I assume you know how babies are made —“

“I don’t need it.”

Your insistence sets off alarm bells in his head. Maybe he should’ve explained to you his stance on children before he came in you, but he’ll be damned if he lets you baby trap him now.

No matter how in love with you he is.

“Yes, you do. I’m not lettin’ you get pregnant —“ he starts hotly, his temperament shifting into something dangerous.

With a huff, you reach over to your nightstand and yank on a drawer. You root around inside it for a moment before pulling free a small card lined with neat rows of pills.

You wave it at him, sarcastic. “No, I don’t, dumbass.” And you busy yourself with popping one of the pills free to swallow. “I’ve been on birth control since high school.”

Sanemi blinks. “But you’d never —“

You toss your pills back into your drawer with a groan. “You don’t need to be sexually active to be on birth control, Sanemi. It has other uses.” You chew on your lip as you stare down at the mug balanced between your legs. “My periods are horrible. It helps me manage them.”

He stares at your bedside table for a long moment, feeling decidedly stupid.

“I can still take it if it’ll make you feel better,” you offer. “But I’ve been consistent with taking my birth control for years.”

“Nah,” he clears his throat. “If you think the pill is enough, then that’s fine by me.”

Silence, tense and stiflingly awkward settles between you once more, and Sanemi feels damn near ready to jump out of his skin.

“Feel okay?” He asks after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.

You blush again. “I think so,” you pause and stretch, testing your limbs, though you manage to keep that blanket locked tight against your chest. “Maybe a little sore, but I guess that’s normal, right?”

“Yeah,” and to his embarrassment, Sanemi finds himself needing to clear his throat again to cover up the way his voice cracks. “Yeah, that’s not surprising.”

“What about you? Are you okay?”

Sanemi blinks. “Well — yeah.” It’s not a lie. Physically, he feels phenomenal. How he feels internally, however, is a whole separate matter, and it’s not one he’s particularly keen on exploring at the moment.

Absently, you tap your thumbs against the ceramic lip of your coffee mug. “So —,”

“—So,” he starts, but he falters just as you do, the two of you looking quickly away from one another in mutual embarrassment.

This would be far easier if you were just another hookup. He would’ve already left, would already be on another job, riding his post-sex high for the remainder of the day. He wouldn’t feel as he is now, full of doubt and oily shame for having to leave you now, naked and vulnerable as you are.

“I should go,” he finally offers after another unbearably awkward moment. The phone in his pocket is a burning weight he cannot ignore, one that’s started buzzing with an incessant demand that he answer; that he collect.

You nod, your gaze almost reproachful as you watch him retrieve the gun he’d laid on your kitchen table the night before and tuck it into his waistband.

“Will I hear from you?” Your voice is soft, almost imperceptibly so.

The guilt in Sanemi’s knotted stomach turns sour. He shouldn’t be surprised — he can’t be, really. Not when he knows you’ve heard the rumors of how he acts with other bed partners.

Still, your quiet, resigned assumption that he might treat you the same way — that he was satisfied with using your body and would now would fuck off and do whatever — stings.

“‘Course you will.” And he means it — and not just because he knows he said a lot of things last night while between your legs and damn near delirious with pleasure. He told you things he’d meant; things he doesn’t want you chalking up to passionate outbursts brought on by the heat of the moment.

But he also said things that probably mean he’s fucked himself over, and now, he needs to figure out what he’s going to do about it.

Sanemi fishes his shirt from its discarded place on your floor and tugs it over his head. He can feel your eyes tracking his every movement, and he feels near ready to burst into flames as he crosses the studio to your bed.

He stoops down to press one, soft kiss to your forehead. “‘Til next time.”

You don’t respond; you only remain there, sitting still in your bed, your sheets clutched to your chest. The scent of your hair ushers a flood of memories from only a few hours earlier, and the way they blur together make his head hurt and his heart ache.

Mine. He’d said to you, just before you shattered so prettily against your sheets as he fucked you. You’re fuckin’ mine.

Yeah, he thinks as he closes the door of your apartment behind him. Yeah, he’s fucked.

—

When he was a boy, Sanemi always imagined what it would be like to fly.

Life in the Silo was suffocating and he’d often found himself turning his face up toward the sky, savoring the wind as it rustled his hair and carried leaves off into horizons he would never see. He envied the pigeons that always clustered near the overfilled trash cans spilling out onto the streets, pecking at molded scraps of food because they could take off at any moment. One loud noise, one obnoxious asshole barreling through them, and they could launch right into the sky, their wings beating as they rode the breeze to seek out safer sidewalks.

He’d never join them; he knew that. But on his bike, Sanemi feels like the wind itself, and he supposes it’s the closest he’ll ever be to flying free.

He finds his bike where he always parks it – in a back alley behind your apartment, tucked behind a dumpster far out of sight. Straddled upon it, his helmet secure, he keys the ignition and it roars to life beneath him, its engine a steady rumble that echoes off the pavement. The moment he releases the clutch, he is soaring. He drives, the wind whipping at his clothes, his knuckles, until it sings in his blood and he feels weightless.

He tears down streets, darts between honking cars slowed on the freeway as he makes his calls, collects the Corps’ dues. And in those moments when he zips and speeds through throngs of traffic, sometimes narrowly avoiding clipping a side mirror or two, he can almost forget the magnitude of his royal fuck up with you.

Almost.

—

It’s nearly midnight when his bike gutters to a stop in front of the dingy shoebox he calls home. Not that this mildewed apartment complex has ever been anything close to such a thing, but it’s one of the few things in his life Sanemi can call his own.

No matter how shitty it is.

Deep down, he knows the closest thing to home is back at your apartment, likely wondering when the fuck he’ll shoot you a text. Not even he knows the answer to that; all he knows is that he hasn’t spoken to you since shutting your door behind him this morning, and he has no idea how to start if he did.

So, he doesn’t.

He doesn’t text you even as he strips himself of his clothes, readying for his shower. Nor does he so much as glance at his phone when he catches the whiff of you on his body as he kicks off his pants and underwear, the faint, lingering scent of your pleasure redirecting his blood flow straight to his cock.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to reach out — he does, very much so. He’s wanted to talk to you the moment your apartment building faded from view, his fingers itching to reach for the phone buried in his pocket and send you something, anything, so you might know that he has no intention of treating you like any of the others. Even if he ultimately decides that he can go no further with you, that last night can only be a one-time indulgence, he will give you the courtesy of telling you as much. It was the least you deserved.

Sanemi tries his best to keep thoughts of you and this wonderfully fucked situation at bay, focusing entirely on the way the water burns his skin, a thousand needles of flame licking at his face, his scalp, his back. He scrubs hard at his hair first, then his face. He leaves washing his body for last, unwilling to soap over whatever invisible marks still linger upon his skin, left behind by your hands and lips. Only when he cannot possibly procrastinate the task any longer does he pump a generous amount of soap into his palm, rubbing his hands together until it turns frothy and thick.

As he washes himself, Sanemi manages to avoid thinking of the way you touched him the night before, soft and tentative and yet passionate. He thinks he might just make it through without his mind wandering too far away, but then his fingers brush over the odd, raised lines of the mark branded between his shoulder blades. A sudden thread of images from the night before unspools in his mind: your hands, dropping from his hair down his back, resting over the ugly scar seared into his skin. Your nails, raking along his spine as you gasped his name. The flutter of your hands against his abdomen, exploring him; how they gripped his backside and pulled him hard into you.

An arm braces against the cold, sud-scummed tile of his shower and Sanemi’s forehead follows. Even the hot beat of the water can’t un-work the tension in his muscles, the way his body now demands to be reunited with you. He is powerless against this onslaught of memory; the flashes of you tangled up so perfectly with him; the scent of your hair. Your voice, God, your voice, sighing and moaning in his ear until he could focus on nothing but how to make you cry out louder, call his name –

With a frustrated grunt, Sanemi takes his stiffened cock in his hand and he works his frustration – and longing – out under the roaring spray of the shower until his spend washes with the soap bubbles down the drain.

—

Showered and dressed in nothing but his underwear, Sanemi paces his apartment.

It’s not that he regrets doing what he did with you – he doesn’t, not by any means. And that’s exactly what makes him so selfish.

Deep down, he’d wanted to be the one to do it – taking your virginity. For whatever reason, the universe decided to give him you, had brought you back into his life after years of him not sparing you so much as a passing thought. And he’d been weak, unable to stick to the code he’d sworn his blood, his body, to upholding. He’d broken it at the first opportunity, all but jumped at the chance of human connection after years of being starved for it, only to find that the first person he latched onto was also the one person who ever actually saw him; saw past the mask forged out of cruel rumors and his own blood-stained hands.

He should’ve known the moment you expressed anything more than mild interest in him that he was in danger. His impulses scream that he should run before the fallout of last night can catch up to him. To you.

Running is a temptation more dangerous than any of the heists or debt collections he’d ever carried out, even the one that left his face half-ripped open and bleeding. Dangerous not just by the amount of consideration he gives the idea of leaving the Corps and this rotting city behind, but dangerous because if he runs, he’s taking you with him. And that means exposing you not just to his enemies, but to all the consequences dealt to those who dare try and leave the Corps.

Sanemi paces and paces until he finally wears a tread into his shabby bedroom and collapses on his bed. He recites to himself the tenets of the Corps that he’d abandoned – namely, the rule for not getting attached – before a crude voice in his head sternly reminds him of the most important rule of all. The one even he doesn’t know if he can bend, let alone break.

Number one: once you’re in, you’re in.

No one leaves the Corps unless it’s in a body bag or because a higher-up forces your retirement, and the latter is usually reserved for those who survive bullets meant to kill. Those who will never be the same, if they even made it out of the hospital at all.

There is no room for deserters, and none are tolerated. Whispers of plots to abandon the Corps were sniffed out and reported, the conspirators dealt with severely. They usually fell back in line once the reminder of the fate that awaited them should they try was thoroughly beaten into them – usually by one of the Hashira (including him). And Sanemi has shattered his fair share of the bones of those starry-eyed juniors stupid enough to think they were the exception.

In any event, leaving itself was only half the battle. Evading capture was a whole separate beast. The Corps didn’t take well to losing its investments, so their recovery was entrusted only to one person: the most senior of the Hashira.

A man Sanemi only knew by surname and his massive, hulking size, reserved primarily for guarding the Boss and his family.

Himejima’s success rate in tracking down and dealing with deserters is perfect. The few who’d tried since Sanemi’s own initiation had managed on their own a few days at most before they were caught.

Bitterly, Sanemi supposes their wishes were granted, in a way. They did get out – but in a body bag, a bullet-shaped hole between their eyes.

Without fail, photos of their lifeless faces – blood soaked, portions of their skulls missing – were circulated through the Corps’ networks, popping up on phones from unknown numbers.

A warning. A reminder.

It is not just a risk – it is a guarantee, a nuclear bomb designed to snuff out any hope that other Corps members might follow in place. And even if he could try, Sanemi does not know how to ensure you won’t be caught in the blast zone. No Hashira has ever tried to escape, but he can imagine if any of them dared, they’d be made a bigger example out of than some rank-and-file Corps member. There is a mythos surrounding the Hashira even among the junior ranks, a sort of air that they carry. In his own days as a junior, he’d heard whispers comparing his now-equals to gods, because really, what else could not just survive, but prosper in a place that claims far more lives than it produces?

That very mystique is why he can almost guarantee his defection would be met with a retaliation proportionate to the level of his betrayal. There would be no quick end for him; it would be brutal and drawn-out, his death a kindness they would make him beg for.

No one leaves hell in one piece and Sanemi is no exception. He knows better than to think – than to wish – for different. The Corps will swallow him whole, suck the marrow from his bones and turn him to dust before that happens.

But as the memory of your skin beneath his fingertips and your lips moving with his beckons him to sleep, he’d be damned if he said the idea of trying wasn’t tempting as hell.

—

The days mount alongside Sanemi’s self-loathing until almost a week has passed without so much as a word from you – or him, for that matter.

It’s likely you’re only parroting his own radio silence, giving him space he’s made you think he needs. But the lack of your name above any notifications on his phone grates at him.

It’s hypocritical of him to be bothered at all, given that he could just as easily pick up his phone and shoot you a text or give you a call. He knows that. But he sulks all the same.

He sulks and sulks, his mood souring with every passing minute until not even his fellow Hashira risk triggering his bitchy attitude. Just when he thinks he might cave, might actually pick up his damn phone and put an end to the nonsense he’s created, Uzui dings him with a job, and all thoughts of you come to a grinding halt.

The job itself seemed straightforward enough: go to a pawn shop and collect on a payment owed by its broker. When the orders initially came through on his phone (always an unknown number, never the same one), Sanemi at first, was confused. He’s used to being called upon to help other Hashira on their jobs; used to being the extra muscle, the extra layer of intimidation needed to ensure promises were made good on. He looks terrifying; Sanemi knows this. His scars are just another weapon for the Corps to use, and it is not wasteful. Deals tended to go smoother, debts were paid, when they shook hands under the eye of the Corps’ boogeyman; the monster who’d come knocking should they forget their obligations.

Customers don’t know how to see past his scars. Not like you do, anyway.

But the job Uzui has sent him on isn’t like the others; for one, the obnoxious peacock isn’t accompanying him. Nor is the pawnshop broker in default yet on his payments, and the amount Sanemi’s been tasked with collecting isn’t particularly large. More perplexing, the instructions sent from the anonymous number were specific to direct him to pick up a burner car from Rengoku’s garage, an unusual command that made him click his tongue in annoyance. Sanemi doesn’t do cars.

It’s not his place to question orders, however, so he doesn’t. He merely picks up the piece of shit car from its designated spot and tries not to put his fist through the dash when he struggles to figure out how to drive the stupid thing. As it stands, Rengoku currently owes him a favor, and he’d rather not waste it by having him forgive damage Sanemi does to his inventory.

The ramshackle store he’s been forced to pay a visit to teeters right on the edge of the Western Wing — Kizuki territory.

Confusion gives way to suspicion the moment he steps inside the pawn shop. Throughout his gruff conversation with Uzui’s client, Sanemi is unable to shake the prickle at the back of his neck that only ever came from being watched.

Survival, as he’d learned, was in the details. It was about noticing the gaps between the counters, the foggy reflections in the display cases. He’s survived this long because he knew when a silent door had opened, could feel the slight shift in the air as it warmed a couple of degrees even when his back was turned.

It is these very observations, this very compulsion to be hyper vigilant every hour, every second of his life, that has Sanemi’s hand flying to the gun tucked into his hip the moment he sees the shadows in the glass ripple.

It’s drawn and cocked, his finger ready to jump the trigger without a moment of hesitation, but no one ever comes inside. If the pawnbroker is taken aback, he doesn’t show it, and tensely, Sanemi reholsters his gun, though he keeps an eye trained on the front door.

The moment he exits the pawn shop, Sanemi knows he’s being followed.

It starts with a pair of headlights that flash in his mirror. Though evening is rapidly approaching, it is still far too light outside for the lights to be necessary, and Sanemi isn’t stupid enough to think they’re trying to signal that something is wrong with the burner car, piece of shit though it is. Helpful drivers don’t lay on their horns and whoop taunts out their windows.

His suspicion is confirmed when a second car jerks over into the opposite lane and rides even next to the one tailing Sanemi. It lingers for a moment, keeping pace with the other car before it falls back behind it.

Well, he knows that move; they were talking. Plotting.

That’s when all the pomp and circumstance surrounding the job clicks into place. Small job though it was, Sanemi knows anyone ranked lower than him would’ve already been sporting a bullet hole in their head.

Really, he shouldn’t be surprised by the tail, and it’s even less of an oddity that he’d been instructed to take a car to pick up rather than his bike. Uzui had known he’d need the cover.

They keep their distance while Sanemi weighs his options. He could try and lose them, but Sanemi is far better at ditching tails when he’s on his bike. This body hunk of metal on the other hand is foreign, its dimensions unfamiliar. Survival meant taking risks only when there were no other options, and he’s not there. Not yet.

There’s a sharp pop and the glass on his side mirror shatters.

“Fuck.” His low growl slides out through clenched teeth. Sanemi throws his body down, willing the high back of his seat to give him the cover he needs.

It was a warning shot; the chase is up and now, the cats are ready to catch their prey.

The tires squeal over the pavement as he wrenches the steering wheel sharply to the left, gunning down a side alley nestled between the high rises of the business district. He’s too landlocked in civilian territory to risk anything more; he’ll have to try and lose them.

Good thing Sanemi knows these streets like the back of his hand. He can only pray his tails aren’t as wise.

They know he’s affiliated with the Corps but not who he is; if they had, there would be no play, no production. These are lower-ranked Kizuki members — pathetically named Demons — who think they’ve caught themselves a fun little Corps member to toy with.

Sanemi lays his foot out on the gas. He’s no fucking mouse, and he’ll be damned if he end up in their trap.

His eyes flick to the rear view mirror. All he can see are the two sets of blinding headlines rapidly gaining behind him.

He slams down on the accelerator as far as it will go, yanking the steering far to the right. The car Uzui had given him may look like a piece of shit, but right now, it’s his best shot at getting out of this in one piece. So far, Sanemi’s lifeline is holding fast, the tires squealing only slightly as he veers sharply off the freeway and flies down First Street.

Somewhere over the cantankerous hum of the engine, his phone rings.

“What.”

“Looks like you’ve got a demon on your tail, Shinazugawa.” A familiar voice intones through his speaker.

Sanemi smirks into the phone. “Two. You offerin’ to help, Uzui?”

There’s a crackly laugh on the other end. “Go south three blocks and take the first right. Gun through the light and then get down. It’s a straight road.”

Sanemi’s mouth thins. Three blocks south is Market Street, dangerously close to Center City — a hotbed of civilian activity, especially on a summer night like this.

“No innocents,” he warns. “We ain’t them.” The implication is clear: we only kill the bad guys.

A banal moral line, but they’ve got to draw one in the sand somewhere.

“Just focus on getting back to base without a bullet in your skull,” Uzui dismisses, but his tone loses that playful edge as it always does when he means business. “We’re stretched thin enough as it is.”

“I’m in this shit because of you.”

“And I’m the one getting you out of it.” Uzui finishes smoothly. “Be grateful I was tracking your ass.”

Sanemi doesn’t know if he likes the idea of having his movements scrutinized but he can’t worry about that right now. He clicks his phone off and tosses it to the side, not caring whether it lands on the passenger seat.

Right now, he needs to get the fuck out of here.

A deft twist of the steering wheel enables him to narrowly avoid smashing into a minivan that tries to ease into the intersection Sanemi guns through.

If he’d been hoping the pedestrian van might slow down his pursuers, he is bitterly disappointed. They pull the same stunt, the poor driver of the van laying on his horn that no one pays any heed toward.

He shakes it off; doesn’t matter. He just needs to drive.

An unfamiliar beep sounds, further fraying his nerves. His eyes find the gas on the dashboard, and Sanemi unleashes a new string of vicious swears as he realizes the low light is dinging its warning. Leave it to fucking Uzui to stick him not just with a piece of shit, but a piece of shit with a low gas tank.

Fuck, he hates driving cars. His bike allowed him to be far nimbler, to soar away from enemies as fast as the wind could take him. But his bike is back at the garage, so for now, he’s stuck with this lumbering hunk of rusted metal.

If by some miracle, it does its damn job and keeps him from having to make another unexplained trip to Tamayo to get a bullet fished out of his flesh, Sanemi swears he’ll never shit talk a car again.

Another sharp crack of gunfire rips through the evening air, and Sanemi grinds his teeth at the sound of his tail light shattering. They’re getting bold; Uzui’s assistance will mean jack shit if he doesn’t get to Market soon.

He whizzes by the signposts marking Central Avenue and Main; one more block to go.

Behind him, an engine revs and Sanemi doesn’t have to look in his rearview mirror to know the tail is nearly at his bumper. He shifts forward in his seat, ruching his shoulders up as he guns harder for Market, the demarcating stoplight growing closer, closer –

The light turns red but he does not slow; he sails through the intersection, jerking the car sharply to the right. The tires squeal and groan beneath him but the vehicle does not give. Turn cleared and hands glued firmly to the steering wheel, Sanemi throws himself to the side, ducking down below the dash.

A half second later and the telltale spray of bullets nearly shatters his eardrums.

Adrenaline vibrates in his veins, forces his foot down harder on the accelerator. He doesn’t dare breathe, and doesn’t think he could try even if he wanted to; the air is lodged in his throat, a bubble threatening to choke him. Though his ears ring, it is not enough to drown out the screeching of tires against pavement, nor does it muffle the sudden, sickening crunch of metal as the car tailing him veers off the road and slams into something hard. Half a heartbeat later, the other car meets the same fate.

The gunfire ceases for a moment and only the eerie echo of a horn lingers in the air, growing more distant with each inch he gains.

Sanemi counts the seconds. One, two –

Three gunshots fire in rapid succession, now much more muted than that first initial barrage. Only when they fade does Sanemi chance pushing himself up, allowing himself to return to his normal position the driver’s seat, the car’s speedometer hovering somewhere near eighty. Somewhere in the distance, Sanemi hears the familiar wail of police sirens, no doubt already speeding for the chaotic scene that just unfurled behind him. Swearing, he eases his frantic hurtle down Market Street, falling in line behind a string of traffic flooding out of a nearby baseball stadium, its attendees blissfully unaware of the violence that nearly followed him into their midst.

Three shots; three bodies between the cars behind him, now splattered across the interiors. Those final bullets were more a formality than anything; Sanemi suspects most if not all the car’s inhabitants had been killed in the initial blitz, but being in the Corps means being thorough. There are no survivors among enemies.

His phone bleats its shrill ring and Sanemi’s hand shakes as he lifts it to his ear.

“Clear.”

Uzui hangs up and Sanemi finally exhales.

—

He coasts back to base on fumes, but manages to sneak into a garage fashioned out of a converted warehouse, one made to store stolen vehicles like the one now guttering under the steering of his sweaty palms.

The car screeches to a stop the moment he guides it into the safe shadows of the garage, the door quickly lowered behind him by a greasy-haired Corps member whose name Sanemi can’t be fucked to remember. Fighting to quell the faint tremor lingering in his hands, Sanemi pitches himself out of the driver’s side of the car and throws the keys at the kid, kicking the door shut behind him.

Fuck, he hates when he’s rattled.

He swallows his anxiety, forces it back into whatever bottle it slipped free from as he crosses the alley toward the faintly glowing purple neon sign that marks his target location.

The Wisteria Tree is a deceptively whimsical name for the grungy den of iniquity that serves as Uzui’s homebase. The club is one of three located in the Silo and one of many that are operated throughout the city, each location ranging from cheap strip joints to upscale nightclubs, making Uzui the biggest money-maker among the Hashira. Sanemi supposes that makes sense; as long as humans have lived, there’s been a market for selling bodies.

At least Uzui takes care of his workers – pays them well, makes sure they’ve got the healthcare they need. He kept their bellies fed, and made sure Sanemi was on speed dial to take care of any customers who forgot that their dollars didn’t entitle them to rough up the merchandise.

Whores, some might call those who danced atop the sticky, sleek bars inside Uzui’s joints. Not Sanemi. Long ago, his mother had worked the streets of the Silo, trading her feeble body for spare change that she devoted to the baby boy her bastard husband had saddled her with. Sanemi’s birth had weakened her already fragile health; Genya’s arrival a few years later was the nail in her coffin, their mother being found dead on a sidestreet not three months after he’d been born, half-dressed and a crumpled twenty-dollar note in her hand.

Perhaps if she’d been employed by someone like Uzui, she would’ve lived. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t, and Sanemi had long-since learned that if he let himself mourn every life stamped out by the Silo, he’d never stop. Surviving meant letting bygones be bygones, so Sanemi locked away his sadness for his mother in the space between his ribs, right alongside his love for Genya and you.

And no matter; Uzui’s whores are all fiercely loyal to him and serve as the Corps’ best source of information in the City. People have a tendency to forget to watch their tongues when they believe themselves to be surrounded by nothing more than stupid whores.

Time and time again, that was their mistake.

It is dark inside The Wisteria House. The only light comes from clusters of strobing lights with colors that pulse and change in time with the beat thundering over the speakers, so loud that Sanemi can scarcely hear himself think. Though the night is young, the way the darkness inside the club swallows up any and all trace of the world outside its doors is enough to convince him he’s fallen down a rabbit hole into a land of perpetual midnight. Then again, the club thrives on sensory deprivation, relying on its ability to trick customers into thinking it’s still the wee hours of the morning, when alcohol flows freely and dollars rain from the ceilings to be tucked into the waistbands of non-existent thongs and the linings of jewel-crusted bras.

When people lose track of time, they lose track of their own inhibitions; it’s a smart business tactic on Uzui’s part. Already there are patrons lining the massive bar that sits in the center of the club’s main floor.

Stuffed far in the back behind the bar is a small hallway, nearly hidden from sight. Sanemi shoves his way back, stopping only before the unassuming door leading to the club proprietor’s office to allow the guards standing by to pat him down.

Uzui prefers the company of women to men, and it’s that preference that has Sanemi on edge. While he’s certainly never been shy around handsy women, Sanemi feels wrong allowing them to touch him, though protocol demands it.

Their hands aren’t yours.

The guards in question are two of Uzui’s favorite girls — Suma and Makio, if memory serves him correct. But neither are gentle as they search for wires Sanemi wouldn’t dream of being stupid enough to wear.

Rough hands dip into the pockets of his jacket, his pants, before sliding down his legs. “You wanna check between my ass cheeks, too?” Sanemi snaps irritably. “Or under my balls?”

“If you’re looking for someone to make you bend over, Shinazugawa, then you’ve come to the wrong place. Uzui doesn’t mix business and pleasure.” A gruff voice — Makio’s, he thinks — chuffs back.

He rolls his eyes. “Pleasure is his business.”

Neither woman bothers with an answer.

“Clean.” One confirms to the other. Sanemi does not allow himself to breathe until those hands withdraw from him.

Makio shoves open a door leading into Uzui’s office and waves him through. “Hina’s inside. Don’t linger.”

“Never do,” Sanemi grumbles, and he breezes past the two bodyguards without another word. The door swings shut behind him, muffling the thumping bass and grating dub music crackling through the club’s surrounding speakers.

For all the flashy glitz and seedy glamor of The Wisteria House, Uzui’s office is surprisingly subdued. Like the rest of the club, the small room is dark, but absent are the neon lights pulsating in time with overloud music. Instead, the office is lit by a handful of dimmed lamps and the few computer screens idly displaying the club’s logo.

A large desk stands at the back wall, flanked by one considerably smaller — more a repurposed table than anything. And behind the empty, high-backed leather computer chair neatly pushed in stands a large safe. Its door is an austere slate gray steel, one that gleams even in the muted overhead lights and takes up almost the entire back wall. The stout, wheel-turn lock looks untouched, and it’s just as much a silent brag that no one is stupid enough to fuck with it when they shouldn’t as it is a subtle dare that they try.

But Sanemi knows better.

It’s a decoy; no matter how much Uzui liked to make a spectacle of himself, he isn’t stupid enough to keep cash in such an obvious place. At least, not the type of cash that matters; not the kind Sanemi risked his neck to bring here.

Another notable thing about this hole notched in the back of the club’s sticky walls? How neat everything is. Unlike the rest of The Wisteria House, the floor here isn’t tacky from spilled alcohol and god knows what else. The surfaces of every desk, of every cabinet is free from dust and smudged fingerprints, everything properly in its place and out of sight.

It’s a rather stark contrast to the debauched chaos that plagues the rest of the club. If Sanemi were a betting man, he’d wager a fair amount of cash that the office’s tidiness had less to do with the club’s loudmouth owner, and more to do with the the pair of luminous violet eyes tracking his footsteps across the neatly swept floor.

“I’m glad to see you made it back in one piece, Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi snorts, but gives the woman seated behind the smaller side desk a tight nod. While Uzui may have expressed that sentiment with a hint of the dry sarcasm that he never dropped, Hinatsuru – the third of the silver-haired Hashira’s favored girls – was never anything short of genuine.

If he were honest, the pretty, dark-haired woman reminded him a great deal of his mother. Her face was kind in the same way Shizu’s had been, unhardened by the hollowness of her cheeks or the shadows beneath her eyes. And, just like his mother, she always found the time to spare him a soft smile, one that seemed far too out of place in the dump they’d had the misfortune of being born into.

But where Sanemi would have normally been a bit more subdued around her, the afternoon’s events had left him far too unsettled, and he cannot remember how to blunt his bite.

He only hopes she understands.

Crossing the space between the entryway and Uzui’s great, paper-covered desk, Sanemi pulls the envelope free from the inside of his jacket and dumps its contents over the desk’s surface. “Here’s his fuckin’ money.”

The stacks thump pathetically against the stained wood, and Sanemi feels no compunctions about selecting the one nearest the top and shoving it into his pocket. He doesn’t bother counting out the amount; he knows how Uzui demands to have his cash delivered. Bundles of twenties, a hundred bills per strap.

Sanemi’s brush with the enemy will cost his fellow Hashira two grand.

“Tell him I took my cut. If he’s got an issue with it, then he can go get shot at next time. I’m outta here.”

If Hinatsuru disapproves, she says nothing. “You’re not going to lie low?”

“Fuck that.” Sanemi is already halfway out the door, his beaten leather jacket slung over his shoulder. “I’m goin’ to Kasugai. If you need anything, make it someone else’s problem.”

He’s out the door before she can say goodbye.

—

Kasugai is the nearest dive bar firmly nestled within the Corps’ territory.

While he certainly has his vices (an entire contact list of them, at that), alcohol has never been one of them. But right now, the promise of a stiff drink is calling his name, and since he hasn’t been able to indulge in any of his past dalliances in the months since you became the only thing on his mind and heart, Sanemi is desperate for a distraction.

By no means is it a respectable joint, but Kasugai is full of Silo rats like him, which means it’s the closest thing to a safe house that he has, apart from base. Not that anywhere in this City is safe for someone like him, but Sanemi takes his silver linings when and where he can.

He coasts his bike to the alley behind the dive and kills the engine. The faint scent of oil and grease lingers in the air, signaling it needs to be serviced soon.

Great. He’ll be sure to pencil that in between smashing femurs and pathetically pining after you.

The back door opens filling the air with a sudden rush of stale beer and the loud, slurred voices of the bar’s patrons. His irritation flares at the thought of having to shoulder through a throng of sweat-stained bodies sardined inside, and Sanemi decides he needs to take some of his edge off before he reaches the sticky bar top inside. He’s in no particular mood to smash in anyone’s teeth.

Good thing he’d stopped to pick up a new pack of cigarettes on his way over; a few, quick puffs is sure to calm his agitation enough to allow him to avoid picking any unnecessary fights. Though he'd brazenly insisted to Hinatsuru that he didn’t care to lie low following the brush he’d had with the Kizuki, he knows better than to make a public spectacle of himself. If word got around that Sanemi Shinazugawa, the most brutal of the Corps’ Hashira, was getting drunk at shitty bars and starting brawls with the first scrappy asshole that made the mistake of looking at him the wrong way, more of those Demons would come sniffing, eager to make a name for themselves by taking him out.

And Sanemi has no intentions of turning his recklessness with you into a greater pattern. He still has some interest in living, after all.

He thumps the sealed carton of cigarettes against his palm, loosening the tobacco before flicking the lid open and thumbing one free. Stuffing the pack back into his jacket, Sanemi rummages through his pockets for his lighter. Once lit, he brings his cigarette to his lips and takes a long, indulgent drag. He holds in his breath for a moment, loosing it only when his lungs burn, the smoke curling delicately around his head.

The rush of nicotine eases some of the jitter in his limbs, quiets his racing thoughts. He needed this; if he can’t get his fix of you, then the cancerous little stick wedged between his lips is the next best thing. Puffing lightly on his cigarette, Sanemi pulls his phone free and flicks through his notifications. An update on a new shipment of fine jewelry from Iguro. A report from Genya’s school — his midterm grades. Gambling tickets that need collecting for Rengoku.

Not a single notification is from you. Just like the yesterday; just like the day before that.

Annoyed, he shoves his phone back into his pocket. Sanemi takes another harsh drag before flicking some of his ash to the ground. His irritable mood isn’t your fault, he knows; it has everything to do with his inability to make a fucking decision about if or how he moves forward with you.

I love you, Sanemi.

You’ve laid all your cards out on the table already; it’s his own damn fault he hasn’t figured out how to show his hand. So no, he can’t be surprised you haven’t reached out, considering he hasn’t been able to say a damn thing at all.

Since you’re already on his mind, he figures he might as well indulge himself and think about you some more; what you might be doing right then, on the other side of town. It’s Thursday, so you’ve already dealt with your weekly shipping orders, no doubt each box already inventoried, its contents swiftly organized and shelved. He wonders whether that new release he’s been waiting on has come in; the next installment in a series you’d turned him on to, one he’d stayed up for nearly a week straight devouring in the few precious moments of free time he’d squirreled away.

Do you feel his absence as keenly as he feels yours? Since that night, there have been no movie nights, no cheap, greasy takeout dinners that he usually insisted on paying for in light of your pitiful earnings and inability to cook for yourself. He wonders whether you’ve settled back into your pre-him routine of relying on cereal for sustenance, and his mood sours even further when he realizes you probably have. After all, you’ve never shown a particular interest in your own well-being, as evidenced by your inexplicable attraction to him.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be here. He’s not in any mood for watered down liquor, and he knows better than to try and drown his feelings into a glass. If he drinks, he’s liable to act like an idiot, calling you or showing up at your place without first taking all the precautions he normally does before opening you up to the risk of his presence.

No, drinking is the last thing he needs to be doing right now, no matter how it might dull some of his edge. And unfortunately for him, the only thing he truly wants is exactly what he can’t have.

He takes one last, heavy drag of his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. No sex and no booze; he really needs to come up with better vices.

A quick glance at his phone confirms it’s late and he should probably fuck off home before he lets temptation entice him any further. He eyes the date on his home screen and thinks about the inquiry he put in with that firm in that obsolete, faraway city.

He’ll need to pay it a visit soon; he’s got more shit to give them and, with any luck, a new account to open. But it’s been a few days since he’d received the confirmation that his query was under review, and the lack of response has him even more on edge.

If his ruse is discovered, after all, it’s not just him who’s fucked.

Sanemi leans against the solid body of his bike and retrieves his helmet. He’ll give them another couple of days to respond. In the meanwhile, he needs to come up with Plan B, C, Plan whatever-the-fuck to ensure that all his soul-shredding work doesn’t go to waste once a bullet gets shoved through his brain. And perhaps sometime in between all his violence and plotting, he’ll grow a pair and figure out what the hell he’s going to do about you.

—

Crunch.

“P-please! I’ll p-pay, I s-swear —“

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanemi dismisses. The skin on his knuckles split a while ago, but he’s long since stopped being able to feel the sting. “Heard it all before.”

Crimson spills down the man’s face, drips down his front from his nose, flattened on its side. His plea is garbled by the blood filling his mouth, quieting into a single, wet rasp as Sanemi socks his fist hard into his soft gut.

When it came time to collect on the Corps’ debts, Sanemi finds he no longer needs to think about the how. How he breaks bones; how exacts the vengeance of his fellow Hashira when their ventures were taken for granted. Even the crow bar or steel pipe that inevitably ended up in his hand felt like a mere extension of his body, every swing, every crush of metal into flesh, pure instinct. Slipping back into this cool detachment is easy; it is a transition ingrained into his bones, the product of having spent years contorting himself into the perfect toy soldier.

The man is still doubled over, choking and sputtering to catch his breath, when Sanemi throws him back against the wall.

Blood bubbles in the corner of his busted mouth. “P-please — tell Mr. Tomioka it was a b-bad bet, b-but the next one —“

“Mr. Tomioka said you could take that bad bet and shove it up your ass.” Not exactly how the dull waste of brain matter had put it, but close enough. “Where’s his money?”

The customer babbles some pitiful excuse Sanemi can’t be bothered to piece together. He takes note only of the number of stuttered syllables, none of which point to any drawer or lockbox, and all of which stack up to reveal the admission he’s so desperate not to make.

He doesn’t have the cash to fork over.

His hands are tied, then. Sanemi has to do what only he can.

Fingers tight around the man’s collar, Sanemi spins them away from the wall. The entire room shudders when he slams Tomioka’s bloodied patron down on his own desk, the wood creaking and groaning beneath the man’s mashed cheek.

Before he can finish moaning his pained grunt, Sanemi takes his right arm and twists it sharply behind his sweaty back.

“Fifty grand to The Striking Tide. One week.” He gets the man’s arm into position. “Last warning.”His target tenses beneath him, whimpering under the mounting pressure in his arm. “Or else the next time you see me, it’ll be at the Wisteria overpass.”

The answering gulp of fear is confirmation that he understands Sanemi’s threat. All those dumb enough to dip their toes in the Corps’ Acheron learn rather quickly that the Wisteria overpass is where bodies go to disappear. Perhaps the taunt is overkill; after all, fifty grand isn’t worth the bullet. But it’s effective, judging by the trickle of urine that puddles on floor by the man’s feet.

If he thinks that’s the extent of his warning, however, he’s sorely mistaken. Sanemi doesn’t deal in empty threats.

Sanemi’s grip tightens. The arm joint pops and the man begins to beg. He knows what comes next; what Sanemi means to do, as he wraps his hand around the man’s wrist.

Blood spatters across the desk as he coughs his last plea. “N-no —!”

But there’s nowhere to run; nothing the man can do but scream as Sanemi gives a single, harsh jerk, snapping the bone.

Message received; job done.

So, Sanemi takes and he takes, and with every job completed, he reminds himself that this is what he truly is. A monster. A fiend. Not someone who might build a better life elsewhere, who could live normally – peacefully.

Not someone who deserves to have you.

As usual, the numbness doesn’t set in until after he’s finished, while Sanemi scrubs blood from hands he knows will never fully be clean. It starts as a pit deep within his stomach, but it quickly blooms into a terrifying knot of twisted brambles that takes root in his veins. Before long, Sanemi is immune to the sting of cold water on his skin as he washes and washes, unable to hear the curses being spat in his direction by his bleeding, broken target with a hatred he can’t feel.

“Fifty grand.” Sanemi repeats as he departs. His final warning sounds faraway, a disembodied voice that does not feel entirely his own. “One week.”

That unfeeling continues seeping into his bones until he’s heavy with it. By the time his bike roars through the rusted shipyard buttressing the Silo, Sanemi can’t even feel the wind whipping at his face.

The numbness follows him inside the shitty box he hardly calls home and Sanemi knows he needs a fix, and fast. A monster with a conscience is one thing; one without is a nightmare he’d prefer to avoid.

Your face flashes through his mind and some of his paralysis eases, but Sanemi pushes you away. Not now; not while he’s like this.

Though the practice of slumping on his couch and reaching for his phone feels familiar, Sanemi does not dabble in old habits. That particular cure for the gaping, gnawing paralysis that’s taken him over is one Sanemi hasn’t had the stomach for even before you’d so sweetly offered yourself to him. Now that he’s had you, he is doomed never to go back, and right now, you’re not an option.

And so, Sanemi scrolls through the contacts on his phone, his eyes glazing over at the series of entries marked by random emojis denoting his past distractions. He almost gives up, but then his half-hearted perusal turns up one name that sticks out over all the others.

Sanemi’s thumb is tapping the phone icon before he can question whether he should. It’s been too long, anyway. More than three weeks, for that matter, so he’s due to make a call.

Besides, it would do him some good to hear the little bastard’s voice. Especially right now, when his head and heart are so delightfully fucked.

He waits only two rings when the other line answers.

“Aniki?”

“What are you doing?” Sanemi glances at the tiny clock on his microwave. “You just get outta class?”

It’s a question Sanemi already knows the answer to given that he has every detail of his little brother’s schedule committed firmly to memory, but it’s an easier opener than hey, I miss you, you little shit.

“Yeah,” Genya confirms and there’s a rustling on his end, like a bag being shifted between shoulders. “I’m on my way back to the dorms now, and then – uh, practice.”

Sanemi snorts into the speaker. “You don’t have practice on Wednesdays. Try again.”

While Sanemi knows he wields far more responsibility for Genya than most siblings would claim, he tries to toe the line between responsible older brother and overbearing parent as much as his paranoia will allow. So while he may know the first and last name of every person his brother associates with, their backgrounds, his teacher’s backgrounds, and every detail of his brother’s time at school, outwardly, Sanemi makes an effort to appear like he’s not butting too much into Genya’s life.

But he won’t tolerate lying; especially not when it comes to Genya’s activities. His safety.

His brother makes a disgruntled sound. “Well – I’m – we’re going to Tanjiro’s. For dinner. A few of us.”

Sanemi rolls his eyes. “Just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean I give a shit if you hang out with ‘im. As long as he ain’t gettin’ your ass in trouble.”

Not that Sanemi would be too concerned about Genya’s ability to handle himself – after all, his brother was raised in the Silo, just like him.

In his youth, Genya had been as hot-tempered as his older brother; prone to thinking his grievances had to be aired out through his fists. As Sanemi grew older, he realized how much Genya resembled his father when he had his fist cocked back, towering over some kid who’d run their mouth for too long. And while Genya hated the old man as much as he did, Sanemi couldn’t help but wonder if his brother’s resemblance to Kyogo had come from Sanemi himself.

At the rate his anger had been progressing, Genya was on the path to a one-way collision with the Corps, just as Sanemi had been. The difference, however, was that as much as Genya resembled their father when enraged, he’d always known his little brother had their mother’s heart; her gentleness. He never would have made it far in the Corps, and Sanemi would be damned if he’d had to bury his brother, too.

No matter how Genya idolized his elder brother, Sanemi would not allow him to follow in his footsteps.

It wasn’t long after that he started swiping brochures for different boarding schools from the city library. The moment their old man turned cold, Sanemi shipped his younger brother away.

Genya’s reproachfulness pulls Sanemi back out of his head. “He really is a good guy –”

“I told you, I don’t give a shit if you hang out with him as long as your grades stay up and you’re keepin’ your nose clean.” Sanemi crosses his kitchen and yanks open his fridge, eyes narrowed as he scans the half-bare shelf for something to distract him. “I just think he’s annoying.”

He settles on a beer and closes the door. Phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder, he twists the cap off and takes a hearty swig. “I wanna come up this weekend. See ya for a bit.” And to sweeten the pot, Sanemi adds, “Dinner on me. Anywhere you want.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “I – sure!”

Though his brother cannot see him, Sanemi frowns. “What, I can’t come see you all of a sudden? Too cool for me?”

“No!” Genya’s voice cracks slightly and for a moment, he sounds every bit the dumpling-faced, starry-eyed boy of Sanemi’s memory rather than the nearly grown sixteen-year-old he knows him to be. “I always wanna see you – but – I mean, is everything…good? With you?”

Sanemi can’t help his rueful smile as he sets his beer on the counter. His brother knows him too well. “Yeah. I got some things I gotta talk to you about.”

“Okay,” Genya sounds skeptical. “You sure you’re good?”

Your face flashes through his mind. “Yeah. It’s just nothin’ I wanna discuss over the phone.”

It’s not a lie; Sanemi has wanted to see his brother for a while, but there’s an ulterior motive to his spur-of-the-moment decision to make the three and a half hour journey to Genya’s school. One that has little to do with his brother and everything to do with you.

“Okay,” Genya repeats again, though he still sounds uncertain. “Sanemi –”

“I’ll meet you at the campus entrance at five. Don’t be late, alright? I’m gonna be hungry.” Sanemi cuts his brother off. He’s not chancing bringing you up over the phone; not when enemies might be lurking in corners he hasn’t yet checked. Not after he’s spent most of his life living with one eye always open.

It’s his brother’s turn to sigh through the phone, Genya knowing better than to try and argue. “Okay. I’ll see you then. I gotta get back —“

“Yeah, yeah, to the Kamado shithead. I know.” Sanemi snatches his beer up and takes another swig. “I’ll see ya Friday. Keep your nose clean.”

His brother grumbles his goodbye and Sanemi hangs up, more at ease now. Talking to Genya was the right call; his younger brother had a special talent for brightening his day, whether or not the little dumbass knew it.

Now that he’s confirmed to be visiting Genya in a few days’ time, Sanemi knows he needs to plan for a stop along the way. It would be real fucking nice if the notice he’s been waiting on would come through. In fairness, it’s been a few days since he’d last checked for it, so Sanemi leans against his counter and unlocks his phone. He scrolls through the rest of his notifications and once he’s sufficiently depressed over the lack of any from you, he tabs over to a hidden folder.

To the untrained eye, the private folder is unassuming; a collection of apps marked “Misc.,” hidden behind a single passcode. And even those who might be nosy, who might be too curious as to the type of shit Sanemi Shinazugawa stored on his phone would be sorely disappointed. In fact, they might write him off as no better than any other young, single man upon discovering a folder full of apps labeled as popular porn sites, their icons tiny thumbnails of their logos.

Anyone who sought access to his phone would look for contacts, financials, some details about his involvement with the Corps or its overall operations. They would search his texts, his contacts, his photos, even. That was expected; anticipated.

But Sanemi can’t imagine anyone — cop or Kizuki alike — who would give two shits about his porn habits.

He taps the icon marked “BustyBeauties” and waits for the app to direct him to the first password screen, and then to a second. Only after he’s entered both passwords (separate, of course) does his secret email account finally open, its inbox barren save five entries.

Right there, at the top, is the message he’s been waiting for. Eagerly, Sanemi opens and reads the letter, mentally tallying every instruction, committing each detail to memory.

His impending visit to Genya really couldn’t be at a better time. He’d strategically chosen this firm because it is exactly halfway between here and the school.

A quick confirmation back to his agent later, and Sanemi has his scheduled appointment time slotted just over two hours before he’s due to meet Genya for dinner. He then opens his contacts and finds the number saved under a single flame emoji, and brings his phone to his ear, waiting.

The line picks up on the third ring.

“Rengoku?” Sanemi tips his head back and swallows the last contents of his beer in a smooth gulp. “Remember that job I did for ya a few weeks back? Got a favor. I need a car.” He pauses before adding, “And a suit.”

—-–

Life as a Hashira with the Corps entails few luxuries, but the one Sanemi appreciates most is the discretion.

When he was a lower-ranked initiate, Sanemi couldn’t so much as shit without someone knowing about it. Time was money, and every moment not spent chasing paper for the Corps was money wasted. At best, that meant a dock in pay; at worst, you’d be treated no better than any other run-of-the-mill debtor.

As a Hashira, however, he’s allowed a fair degree of wiggle room on his leash to do as he pleases, so long as a job doesn’t crop up. And even then, all it takes is a smooth lie or two to buy him some extra time, and that’s exactly what he gives Rengoku when he stops by his main hub that Friday morning to pick up his goods.

“Recon,” Sanemi says simply, catching the keys to one of Rengoku’s many vehicles that he tosses his way. “Gotta blend in, y’know?”

“Apologies for not being able to reserve something nicer,” his flame-haired comrade nods at the keys Sanemi twirls around a finger. “I’m afraid my luxury fleet is occupied at the moment.” Rengoku offers him a megawatt smile that reminds Sanemi of the flashy, bright billboards that dotted Center City — a product of top tier orthodontia, no doubt bankrolled by his family’s long-standing ties with the Corps. “Though I doubt anyone will notice while you’re wearing that suit.”

Sanemi waves him off. “Don’t sweat it. As long as I keep stickin’ my nose up, I’m sure I’ll fit right in with those rich fucks.”

Rengoku laughs heartily in response and Sanemi smirks. Though their backgrounds couldn’t be more different, Rengoku has always had a good sense of humor about the nature of the elite he’d been born into. It’s a good thing, too; after all, Rengoku’s silver spoon hadn’t prevented him from being sold off to the Corps, the same way Sanemi was.

He follows Rengoku down to a secured garage, one insulated by three, pass-code locked doors, and guarded by a handful of junior Corps members.

Despite his fellow Hashira’s apologies, the car reserved for him is a luxury model, even if Rengoku didn’t seem to think so. Then again, Sanemi supposes he and the burly blonde have very different definitions as to what constitutes high value transportation.

Whatever. It certainly isn’t the tin wad of junk he’d been forced to drive while getting shot at for Uzui, and that alone means luxury, at least to him.

Sanemi hangs the suit bag from Rengoku in the back seat. He leaves his fellow Hashira behind with a firm handshake before lowering himself into the driver’s side and closing the door.

Owlish, ochre eyes track him as Sanemi pushes the start button (of course it’s a push-start), the engine purring quietly to life. Mirrors adjusted and the A/C cranked low, Sanemi glides out of Rengoku’s garage as silent as a shadow, setting off down the road leading out of Center City and to the freeway.

The car’s interior is all rich leather and gleaming accents, the dash controlled by a sleek touchscreen that Sanemi doesn’t dare sully with his fingerprints. The car is undoubtedly a brand new model; one any average Joe would jump at the chance to drive, and yet, Sanemi remains unimpressed.

He still prefers his bike.

He stops at a gas station once he’s about sixty miles out from the city, eyes carefully scanning the parking lot as he totes the garment back inside. This particular rest stop has only single bathrooms, a preference of his when he travels. Better to have a door that locks out the rest of the world than to have to risk sidling up to some unknown enemy at the urinal.

The suit borrowed from Rengoku fits him like a glove, a serious but trendy shade of dark blue. The crisp white button down he wears beneath has been starched to perfection, and the glossy brown leather shoes he wears likely cost more than his monthly rent.

Sanemi Shinazugawa’s childhood had been anything but typical. But if he’d been normal, he imagined this is what it would’ve felt like to play dress-up. Though everything has been perfectly tailored to him, he feels like a clown.

No matter; he has a part to play and the success of his performance heavily depends on his appearance. So, Sanemi swallows his pride in that gas station bathroom, dressing quickly in his costume. He leaves the top two buttons of his shirt undone, but makes sure the collar is precise and properly frames the lapel of his jacket.

His choice of forsaking the gold tie clipped inside the garment bag is intentional; while his normal appearance would certainly raise red flags among the upper echelon of the society he’s about to pretend he’s a part of, so too would him being overly polished. Thus, this small act of intentional dishevelment only serves to further his own ruse, helps him assimilate into a world he has never once been a part of.

Besides, Sanemi doesn’t do ties. He can’t stand the tightness at his throat, choking off his air; the way it feels like he’s being strangled by blended silk.

Dressed, Sanemi considers his reflection in the bathroom’s age and mildew-spotted mirror. It’s a miracle, the difference a tailored suit can make; he scarcely recognizes the face grimacing back at him.

The sink tap squeaks as Sanemi runs the water, dampening his hand and smoothing it back through his hair. There. Now he looks passably proper, no hint of the brutish thug he knows he is in sight, save for the silvery scars that cover half his face. Jack shit he can do about those though, so Sanemi stuffs his discarded clothes back into the garment bag and shoves out of the bathroom, the tap on the sink still running behind him.

—

Another half hour passes before Sanemi takes the exit leading to a small town, about ten miles off the freeway.

It’s almost jarring how quickly the world around him shifts from an endless stretch of asphalt to finely crafted brick and limestone. This town is a far cry from the gilded glamor of the City. It’s respectable; clean, without so much as a hint of an overfilled trash can in sight. Once he steps outside, he knows he will be greeted by the faint, lingering scent of summer magnolia blossoms, rather than the familiar, urine-soaked sulfur which encases the Silo.

The median household income of this town is triple than that of even the City’s dwindling middle class. But the wealth of its residents is precisely what makes this town so unassuming. No one would suspect a gang rat like him would ever set foot in a place like this, let alone know how to blend in, and that is exactly why he chose this place to begin with.

Sanemi cruises down a familiar cobbled street, passing stately brick townhomes that look more like mini mansions than the law offices and specialty practices he knows them to be. Then again, the people who live here wouldn’t deign to live in something as small as a townhouse, what with their sprawling estates on the other side of town, locked behind the safety of tall iron gates.

It isn’t long before Sanemi slows to a stop right outside yet another colonial mansion. Car parked and engine turned off, Sanemi steps out and fastens his suit jacket with an off-handed ease, as though the motion is second-nature. As though he is used to traversing through wealthy streets in a custom suit.

Gloved security men open the building’s double doors to him the moment his foot hits the first stair.

The inside of the bank is all rich wood and high ceilings. The wide floor is flanked by rows of tidy desks, each topped with antique banker’s lamps. Glass-walled offices line the perimeter, reserved for only the highest-value clients who wish to deal privately with their assets and away from any overly-curious ears. It’s toward these offices that Sanemi strides, his face schooled carefully into a mask of neutrality even as his pulse quickens.

“Mr. Masachika,” a receptionist outside the furthest glass office nods to him, rising from her desk to greet him. “Punctual as always.”

Sanemi returns her welcome with a closed-lip smile that makes her cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. The guilt he’d once felt over using the surname of a long-dead friend had run out years before, when he’d been young and desperate to get his brother the fuck out of the Silo.

Besides, he didn’t think Masachika would mind, if he knew his reasoning.

Behind the glass wall, Sanemi spies the familiar face of his accountant. Her secretary pokes her head inside the door and murmurs his name, and the accountant’s eyes rise over the top of her computer. The receptionist is dismissed with a curt nod, and she steps aside.

That’s his cue; Sanemi mutters a small thank you and the door behind him is pulled shut. He returns the accountant’s firm handshake and settles into the small, leather chair that sits opposite of hers, and waits.

The entire office is encased in glass, offering both the accountant and every visitor a perfect, three-sixty view of the entire bank. From a practical standpoint, Sanemi can understand its use; this bank handles considerable assets, so it’s no wonder that even the accountants want to be able to monitor every movement, every face, which passes through its doors.

Still, though, something about it sets him on edge; makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. A lifetime spent operating in the shadows means Sanemi hates feeling too exposed, and this fishbowl of an office is about as comforting as a helicopter searchlight.

The accountant’s clipped voice snaps him out of his mounting paranoia. “It is good to see you again, Mr. Masachika. I see you’re here for an asset transfer, and perhaps to discuss a new account?”

“Indeed I am,” the formality with which he speaks feels foreign, and yet, the words roll easily off his tongue. “The Principal’s estate has generated some new revenue, and it is his desire to add another family member as a beneficiary.”

“I see.” The accountant’s fingers move quickly over her keyboard. “Before we begin, I will need to verify your identity and your legal authority.” Her eyes flash to his and she offers him an apologetic smile. “It’s an annoying formality, I know, given how familiar we are with you. But our system won’t allow me to proceed until I re-enter the information.”

“Of course.” He presents her with the documents he’d had forged assigning him power of attorney over one Sanemi Shinazugawa (“the poor bastard was in a nasty car wreck. Practically a vegetable,” he’d told the accountant more than two years ago), and he waits.

His palms are sweaty where his hands rest in his lap, but Sanemi resists the urge to fidget. His nerves are nothing new; he always feels anxious here, when he’s wearing the mask of another, more so than he would back home. At least his Hashira mask is not all that different from the core of what he is; here, the identity he assumes is his exact opposite, and the microscope he operates under feels more intense.

The accountant enters the information with a punctual tap of her finger on her computer key, and turns her attention back to him. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, how may we be of assistance?”

“Fifty thousand split between the two trusts for Genya Shinazugawa,” Sanemi says smoothly, reaching into the suit jacket pocket to produce an envelope full of a thick stack of cash and a folded piece of paper. “And another fifty into a new account, to be opened under this name.”

The accountant unfolds the sheet and skims the information, her lips pursed.

A bead of sweat slides down Sanemi’s spine, the skin over his knuckles nearly turn white where his hand clenches in his lap, hidden from sight.

“Very well, Mr. Masachika,” the accountant nods before she begins promptly typing the information into her computer. “And we thank Mr. Shinazugawa for his continued business. Ms. Y/L/N’s trust will be active within the next forty-eight hours.”

Beneath the ledge of her tidy little desk, the hand fisted on his thigh relaxes and Sanemi conceals his quiet sigh of relief by feigning a sneeze.

A contingency; Sanemi always has a contingency.

—

It’s a quarter til five when Sanemi rolls to a stop outside the pristine entrance of his brother’s school. Classes have just let out, and already he can see the flood of boys rushing the courtyard and the quad, laughing away the stress of the day.

Car parked, Sanemi stretches and waits.

He finds Genya easily; the boy sticks out above the others mulling about the campus in the late-afternoon sun by his height and brawn alone, but his mohawk is what really sets him apart. For as long as he could remember, his brother had always worn his hair like that – a mop thick, dark hair carefully arranged, the sides of his head always sheared close to his skin. The school’s dress code had initially prohibited it, and ten-year-old Genya had thrown himself a right little temper tantrum when he was ordered to shave it.

A well-placed bribe by Sanemi enabled the admin to overlook it. He hadn’t been able to eat more than a can of beans for an entire month after, but it was worth keeping his brother happy.

Genya loiters under one of the campus streetlamps, his arms folded over his chest, his face set into what he must imagine is a menacing scowl.

Sanemi snorts to himself. What a little showoff.

He types a quick text to his brother and watches as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, his head shooting up. All of that feigned coolness melts away the moment Genya spots him standing at the bricked archway marking the school’s campus. In an instant, Sanemi’s little brother is bounding toward him with a lopsided grin, half-stumbling over his feet in excitement.

With his uniform rumpled, a casual carelessness only a teenager could spare, Genya looks every bit the boy Sanemi himself never got to be.

It is not self pity that sinks into his gut at the thought; it’s relief. Because that means Sanemi has at least done something right in his life.

“Aniki!”

“Hey, brat.” Sanemi returns his brother’s wide, toothy grin with a half-smirk of his own. “How’ve ya been?”

Genya skids to a halt in front of him, his arms half raised as though he means to hug his brother, before they drop back to his sides. When he was a boy, Genya was prone to throwing his arms around Sanemi’s neck whenever his brother returned home with a small bag of candy, or a cheap little toy car he’d managed to swipe from the corner store, pealing with laughter and gratitude that always left Sanemi feeling slightly embarrassed, even as he’d pat his brother’s back.

That impulse, it appears, still lingers, but Genya tampers it down, perhaps too aware of the number of curious eyes that watch the two of them. Sanemi resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, his brother has an image he wants to maintain. Probably the same tough-guy bullshit he liked to front in his youth, when he pretended like he didn’t beg his big brother to tote him around on his back.

“‘M fine,” Genya rocks back and forth on his heels. “You?” His eyes are wide as they count the new scars peppering the skin of his exposed forearms, some snaking their way up to his elbow before disappearing under the rolled cuff of his sleeves.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sanemi cuts off his brother’s question before the boy can find the nerve to ask it. “Side effect of the gig. You know that.” He tugs at the shirt’s starchy collar in discomfort. “Where’d ya wanna eat?”

“There’s a good breakfast buffet a few blocks away. All you can eat.” Genya rubs the back of his neck, shy. “Good for the dollar too.”

Sanemi scoffs. “We’ll stop there on the way back. I’m takin’ you to get something decent first.” Sanemi throws an arm around his shoulders and tries not to scowl at the fact he has to stretch up somewhat, his brother now standing a good inch taller than he. “They feedin’ you here? You feel scrawny.”

Not entirely true, but Sanemi feels rather bruised that his brother has surpassed him in height. Now, the only thing he has over him is his own brawn, though from his cursory squeeze of Genya’s shoulder, he finds that his brother runs the risk of catching up to him in that department as well.

It takes no time for them to fall into their respective roles: Genya, immediately launching into a rambling play-by-play of every single thing he’s done since they’d talked a few days later, so animated he hardly remembers to take a breath. And Sanemi easily assumes his role as the listener, occasionally scoffing or rolling his eyes as his brother recounts his antics.

As they walk, Sanemi supposes that from afar, they look more like friends than a pair of brothers. But despite having the advantage of height, Genya’s youth is betrayed by the way he curls in on himself as he walks, his shoulders slumped and his head half-pulled in like that of a turtle.

Normally, he’d admonish his brother’s poor posture, but he lets it slide. Because, despite the mildly disinterested set of his mouth, Sanemi is far too happy to see his brother’s unscarred, smiling face.

—

Despite a rather extravagant meal at one of the best steakhouses in the area, Sanemi knows his brother is still hungry, and that is how they end up at Genya’s suggested diner not twenty minutes after Sanemi had paid their first bill.

“Seriously, the hell am I payin’ them an arm and a leg for?” Sanemi scowls as Genya lopes back to their table booth, the plate in his hands piled high with pancakes, eggs, and bacon, enough to give anyone the distinct impression his brother had not eaten a decent meal in weeks. “Thought their big braggin’ point was the gourmet dining hall they have. Buffet style and shit.”

“Yeah, but they cut you off after fourths.” Genya’s eyes gleam, his fork hovering over his bounty as he decides what to start on first. “It’s okay though. Zenitsu and I sneak food back to the dorms all the time.”

He settles on his pancakes right as a waitress brings over their drinks — a soda for him and a hot tea for Sanemi.

Genya points at the empty stretch of table before his brother with his knife. “Not hungry?”

He lifts his mug by its steaming rim and blows on the liquid. “Not like you.”

Genya shrugs and tears into his pancakes with the same vigor as a hyena does its prey, forgoing his knife in favor of ripping off large chunks of the sweet with his teeth.

Sanemi waits until his brother has chewed his first mouthful before he speaks.

“I saw your midterm grades. Good work.”

Genya’s head shoots up from where he inhales his food, his eyes wide. Just as quickly he straightens and drops his gaze again, his cheeks, red.

“Thanks, Aniki.” He murmurs after a thick swallow, bashful. “I know my math grade wasn’t the best —“

“It’s an improvement from last term. That’s all I care about.” Sanemi takes a measured sip of his tea and scowls. Too weak. He’s been spoiled; you always know how to make it the way he likes.

But there’s nothing else he can distract himself with in the periods of silence in which his brother shovels his food into his mouth, so Sanemi forces himself to drink it. The liquid is still piping hot, enough so that it burns his tongue, but he pays it no mind. His scorched taste buds just make it easier to choke it down.

“You hangin’ with anyone else? Or just Kamado and the other shits?” He asks after a moment, his eyes sharp over the lip of his mug. Anyone new? Anyone I haven’t properly vetted?

“Still ‘em,” his brother answers through another garbled mouthful of pancake. “Muichiro ‘n Zenitsu, too.”

“What about the other one?” And when Genya raises a confused eyebrow, he clarifies. “The one with rabies.”

His brother snorts and swallows half a piece of bacon. “Inosuke?”

“Yeah. That thing.”

“He doesn’t have rabies — he wore a taxidermied boar head one time —“

“Yeah, and you dumbasses ended up in the Dean’s office because he’d stolen it.” Sanemi narrows his eyes, annoyance flaring at the memory of the phone call he’d received right in the middle of breaking Maeda’s left leg. He’d had to shove the toe of his boot into the rat’s mouth to keep him quiet while he’d borne the brunt of the Dean’s condescending lecture about why it was unacceptable for students to break into the science and tech building mess with the school’s natural history displays.

As though he’d been the one to break curfew and at least half a dozen other school rules, and not his shithead brother.

Genya only shrugs and returns his focus to his food. He hunches over his plate, leveling his mouth with its edge as he shovels in the rest of his pancakes.

Sanemi watches in muted distaste as his brother shifts to attack his eggs with the same ferocity, only remembering to come up for air to take a long gulp of his drink.

“There’s a girl, Gen.”

The boy’s head snaps up, his jaw slack enough that a dribble of his soda escapes down his chin.

Sanemi wrinkles his nose. “Close your mouth.”

“Sorry,” Genya swallows thickly and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “A girl?”

“Yeah.”

“A real one?”

Sanemi chokes on a slurp of his tea. “The fuck does that mean?”

“N-nothing!” Genya turns bright red and shrinks beneath Sanemi’s accusatory glare. “Just, you’ve never — at least, you’ve never told me about anyone you’re seeing —“

“That’s ‘cause I don’t see anyone.”

His brother eyes him carefully. “But…you are now?”

For a moment, Sanemi says nothing; he only plays with his unused knife, spinning it on its tip as he considers his words.

“Things…escalated. Between us.” Sanemi frowns. It’s the most judicious way he can put it; he doesn’t exactly air the details of his sex life to his younger brother on principle, but at the same time, there’s no other way he can phrase it. “And I don’t know what’s gonna happen going forward.”

The implication of exactly how things between Sanemi and you changed is not lost on his brother, and Genya’s cheeks turn a faint red. He focuses hard on his half-eaten eggs before him, pushing them around with his fork.

“You…like her though, right?”

Sanemi grimaces. Far more than that, actually. It’s a truth he’s hardly been able to admit to himself, save his silent utterance against your hair long after you’d fallen asleep on him that night.

He’s in love with you. And fuck if that’s not the most terrifying damn thing in the world.

Genya must realize it too, for he only offers a soft “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Sanemi leans forward on his elbows, his hands folded under his chin. “And fuck if I know what to do about it. Woulda been easier if I hadn’t crossed the line, but well,” he gives his brother a wry grin. “Since when have I ever made shit easy for myself?”

For a moment, there’s no sound but that of Genya’s fork scraping across his plate. “What does she think?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her in a few days.”

Genya’s eyes widen in something like horror. “You mean - you all —“ he turns scarlet. “You all did — whatever — and you haven’t talked to her since?”

His face heats and Sanemi disguises his discomfort with a cough that he tucks into his mug as he forces himself to drink the watery tea.

Only when he can’t avoid his brother’s discerning look any longer does Sanemi set his cup down. “Shit, Gen,” he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to do about her at this point.”

The boy turns his fork over again and again, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “You want to be with her though, don’t you? Like, date and stuff?”

Sanemi scowls. “I don’t know. I’ve never really dated anyone. You know how shit is. The risks. I can’t even be a normal brother to you, so I sure as shit ain’t boyfriend material.”

Genya chews on his lip and then shrugs. “I dunno. I don’t think you would’ve brought her up if you weren’t looking for permission, I guess.” He glances up and this time, he doesn’t cower under the intensity of his brother’s gaze. “Are you?”

But Sanemi doesn’t know the answer to his brother’s question, and if he did, he supposes he wouldn’t still be stuck in this limbo.

“You’re allowed to be selfish, Aniki.” Genya’s voice softens to something almost gentle. “You’re allowed to do things that’ll make you happy. I wish you would.”

Sanemi doesn’t have many memories of their mother, but he does remember how she spoke to him. Always kind, always loving in a way that made him feel a flutter of happiness; a warmth, even when the lights at home had been cut off, and they were slowly freezing half to death.

That’s exactly how Genya speaks to him now, and it makes him want to squirm. He’s already feeling too emotionally exposed thanks to his feelings for you; he doesn’t need to turn to mush in front of his baby brother simply because Genya managed to inherit all the good of a woman he’d never known.

Gruffly, Sanemi clears his throat. “I’m tellin’ you all this for a reason. You know how I’ve got stuff for you, if somethin’ happens to me?”

His little brother scans anxiously behind him, before answering in a hushed voice, “The accounts?”

“Jesus, be more obvious, why don’t you?” Sanemi rolls his eyes and brings his mug to his lips. He tips his head back and swallows the rest of the cup’s watery contents in a single gulp. “Yeah. Those. You still got that lockbox with all that shit in it?”

The one Sanemi had brought to his brother’s dorm in the dead of night and had him shove beneath his bed. Genya nods.

“Good,” Sanemi reaches into his jacket and pulls free a small envelope folded twice. “Put this in there, too. It’s for her. You know the drill. I wrote down all her info on the cover sheet. If anything happens, give her a call and have her meet you outside the City. I don’t want you going near it, understand?”

Genya nods and accepts the parcel Sanemi slides across the table, tucking it safely into his own jacket lining.

A waitress brings them their check and Sanemi tosses a few bills onto the table. They wait for Genya to chug the rest of his drink and then the two set off, the bell above the door chiming as it swings shut behind them.

It sounds just like the one that dangles above your store door.

—-

The walk back to Genya’s campus takes considerably longer than it should, though the diner is only about four blocks away. Not that Sanemi minds; in fact, he’s purposefully walking slower, wanting to stretch out the minutes until he has to bid his brother goodbye as long as he can. Whether Genya knows, or whether he’s simply acting on his own hesitancy, he can’t say, but his brother seems not to be in any more of a hurry than he is. God knows the next time Sanemi will get to see him.

If he’ll see him again at all. This single day of pretend away from the Corps hasn’t changed shit about his life expectancy, and Sanemi wants to savor every moment he can.

All of it is for him, after all.

Soon, far too soon, the iron and stone gates of the school come into view, and Sanemi steels himself against the impending goodbye. His brother never failed to look at him with the same, wide-eyed trepidation he’d had the very first time Sanemi had brought him here; a child-like fear of the unknown, even though Genya was all-too aware of his brother’s likely future. It was an anxiety that never failed to make Genya hug him harder, cling on longer than he should, until Sanemi was forced to push him away.

It killed him, every time.

He won’t get choked up in front of Genya – he won’t. He’ll swallow his heartache, choke it back until only a tear or two escapes down his cheek as he drives away, the school and his brother safely in his rearview mirror.

Sanemi turns to his brother, dread curdling in his stomach. He parts his lips, ready to give him the gruff, guess I’ll be headin’ out, that always precipitates this most dreaded goodbye, but his brother speaks up first.

“I think,” Genya hesitates, his mouth opening and closing before his lips press into a firm line. “I think you should decide what you want. Our whole life, you’ve been making decisions to survive, y’know?” And he shakes his head. “You’ve never done what you wanted. I’m grateful for everything you’ve given me but —“

Genya trails off for a moment and looks out to the proud, stately campus quad sprawling before them. “I think it’s time to be selfish for once, Aniki. You’ve earned it. You can’t survive on your own.” He turns back to his elder brother with a wan smile. “You know that better than anyone. Used to tell me all the time.”

He’s not sure what he was expecting Genya to say, but it sure as shit wasn’t that. It isn’t often that he’s caught off guard; even less than he’s left at a loss for words, and for once, Sanemi finds it difficult to meet his brother’s eyes. “It’s not that simple. Me bein’ selfish has consequences.”

“But — I mean, you’ve already made a choice in a way, right?” Sanemi’s gaze snaps to him as Genya’s hand pats his jacket, right over where the envelope bearing your name sits. “You might as well enjoy it.”

He stares at his brother for a long moment until Genya’s cheeks turn pink. “When the fuck did you get so grown?”

“Yeah, well,” his brother shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at a stray pebble. “Maybe you just needed to hear you’re allowed to be a little happy.”

“You sayin’ I’m a grouch?”

“Yeah,” Genya admits with a toothy grin. “You’re a real asshole sometimes, y’know? Maybe she can make you nicer.”

Sanemi mirrors his shit-eating smirk. “An asshole, huh?” With a viper-like swiftness, he locks an arm around his brother’s neck and yanks him down, mashing his knuckles into Genya’s head. “Still an asshole when I let you eat a hole through my wallet?”

“Ani — Sanemi —!“ Genya wrestles with Sanemi’s arm, helpless against his elder brother’s playful assault on his carefully-styled mohawk.

Sanemi lets himself indulge in this brief moment of rough-housing and for a second, he imagines this is what it would’ve been like had life dealt them a less-shitty hand. Just two brothers, wrestling on the lawn, laughing with a freeness neither one of them had ever known.

Just two boys.

But like all good things in his life, the moment ends, and Sanemi straightens, his grin sliding from his face. Genya sorts himself out, too, though his eyes turn sad.

“Guess you gotta hit the road, right?”

Sanemi swallows around the lump growing in his throat and nods. “I’ll text ya when I’m back.”

As tall and brawny as his little brother is, Genya looks every bit a kicked puppy as he stares hard at the ground, his lips mashing together in an effort Sanemi knows is meant to keep himself from crying.

“Stay safe, Aniki.” His voice is small.

A hand reaches out and clasps the boy around the shoulder, pulling him into a firm hug. “I’ll try,” Sanemi says roughly, clearing his throat. His brother’s arm squeezes tightly around his neck, and Sanemi closes his eyes, allowing himself to imagine, just for a moment, that they are kids again.

He claps Genya on the back and pulls away. “Go on,” he juts his chin toward the dorms. “Not having you gettin’ your ass chapped over missing curfew on my account.”

The boy rubs at his eyes and fakes a yawn to cover how they water. “I know. Thanks, Aniki. For visiting.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanemi waves him off, flashing him a crooked grin. “Don’t get all mushy on me. Get back to your studies.”

With that, Genya turns and shuffles back toward his dorm, periodically looking over his shoulder. Sanemi holds his arm up in farewell, and stays there until his brother is safely inside and out of his sight.

And only then does he lower his hand to wipe at the tears misting in his eyes.

–

The entirety of the more than three-hour drive back to the City is completed in total silence.

It’s done out of preference, more than anything. Sanemi is too used to his bike’s lack of a radio, the rumbling purr of its motor, the only noise that accompanies him on his rides. The radio carries too much potential for distraction, and Sanemi won’t impair his senses if he can help it.

Besides, after Genya’s too-shrewd observations of the shitshow that is his lovelife, Sanemi needs the hours to think.

The day he’d been initiated as a Hashira was the day Sanemi’s future had ended. The moment he’d been pushed to his knees, his shirt stripped from his back, he understood that his life began and ended with the Corps. As he’d searched the faces of the other Hashira, noting the youth in each of their features, he’d known that his expiration date was likely sooner rather than later. It was only logical; to rise up to the level of Hashira meant you had skills that painted a target on your back. To claim a kill on one of them meant solidifying your own status within whatever fringe group you belonged to. When the Kizuki came along, they’d only upped the ante, offering exorbitant payouts to even non-affiliates who could deliver on a Hashira’s head.

So yeah, Sanemi had known his chances of making it out of his twenties were slim to none. He thought he’d given up any idea of growing old the moment Uzui placed that searing hot iron between his shoulders, every trace of a future untainted by blood sizzling away under the pop and crackle of his burning skin.

Until you.

Your simple existence had been a seed that was cultivated the longer he’d gotten to know you, one that blossomed into a portrait of what his life might be, rather than what it is. And once he’d seen it, he’d not been able to look away. It was a life of happiness; unshackled and unburdened by the Corps, the stains of his misdeeds finally washed from his skin. One that ends not in a spray of gunfire and an unmarked grave, but when he’s old and gray, surrounded by kids and grandkids, tangible proof of a life long-well lived.

A life created out of his love for you. With you.

It was one thing for him to keep these reveries locked tightly in his heart, only to be taken out under the dark cover of solitude and handled carefully, a fairytale like those in that book with the story of the beauty and the beast. To keep them confined to a secret sanctuary for him to retreat into whenever he needed to pull himself out of that gaping numb chasm that always opened in his chest after a particularly bad job. He’d never need to seek comfort or distraction in the arms of another again, not as long as he had this small dream of what could’ve been to keep him warm. There would’ve been no need to get you involved at all, save the permanent place you’d hold in his heart.

You would be safe and he would’ve been alone, as intended. As needed.

But he’d gotten greedy; and when you’d looked up at him, sweaty and naked and vulnerable, and told him you loved him, Sanemi had seen how that small, glowing dream of his was more than what could have been. It was what still could be.

Sanemi rests his hand on his fist, his left arm propped on the ledge of the driver’s window as his other guides the steering wheel. Never before has he felt so torn between two paths. Then again, he’s never been presented with a choice; he has only ever been forced to adapt to the shit life hurled his way.

And it had thrown one hell of a wrench at his head through you.

I don’t think you would’ve brought her up if you weren’t looking for permission. Are you?

Sanemi sits up, eyes widening in thought. His brother’s question packs more punch than he’d initially realized, settling over him like a weight as he drives.

Is there any choice left to be made at all?

Perhaps the part of him that has screamed and cursed his stupidity for doing the one thing he’d sworn not to do hadn’t been his own conscience at all. Perhaps it had been the Corps’, and Sanemi, too accustomed to being an extension of its will, had simply been unable to know the difference. After all, wasn’t that the entire reason he’d let himself be forced to his knees all those years ago to be branded – in order to forsake his own identity so he might be re-forged into a weapon through burning hot iron? Had he not whored himself out, allowed himself to be bent and molded and beaten into the perfect shape of a soldier in exchange for the promise of a filled belly and the chance that Genya might be free of the cage they’d been born into?

That had all been before; he’d lost himself somewhere between the stench of his burning flesh and the black, twisted underbelly of the Corps. And it wasn’t until you appeared that Sanemi had dared to wonder whether he might find his way back to himself.

You were the comet that streaked across his perpetual gray sky; the light in the dark whose fire revealed the beauty in the shadows of his small world that he hadn’t known existed. Was it selfish of him to want to pluck you from the horizon and tuck you into his pocket, for keeps? Perhaps. But Sanemi had spent so much time alone in the dark that he hadn’t been able to help wanting to cling to what little brilliance had been brought into his life.

I don’t think you would’ve brought her up if you weren’t looking for permission. Are you?

Genya had hit the nail right on the fucking head. All this time, he has been agonizing over what he should do without any consideration as to what it is he wants. After a life of having to make decisions to survive, he really shouldn’t have expected anything less — he simply didn’t know how to do anything different. But he’d made a choice the moment he’d laid you back against your blankets, drunk on your lips and ensorcelled by the feel of your skin sliding with his.

So what does he want?

The answer is easy; so easy, in fact, even his kid brother could see it.

He wants you. Only you.

Don't worry, he's gonna go get her.

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#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny fanfic #kny smut #demon slayer smut #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x y/n #sanemi fanfic #sanemi smut

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tsxkkis · 6 months

Text

# tsukishima kei - drunk in love!

a/n = is this a comeback of mine of sorts? yes (although i don't want it to be, since it's not my best work). i haven't written anything in so long, and i really love the idea of a stoic, serious character acting clingy and completely different when drunk (reminds me of shin from a sign of affection, who's my fav boy ever), that's why tsukki might be kind of out of character here. also, i didn't proofread this because it ended up being longer than i expected.

summary = an intoxicated tsukishima is a clingy tsukishima. and also, he might say a bit too much for his own liking.

warnings = out of character tsukki (bcs he's drunk), mentions of alcohol

drunk tsukishima was surely a sight to see.

to see a man, usually so serious and stoic, in a state like that was almost uncanny. his cheeks flushed pink, a stupid smile plastered to his face as he giggled quietly over what yamaguchi just said.

after your entire friend group went their own ways either starting university or pursuing a career in volleyball, it became a common practice for the few of you to just meet up and discuss the latest life achievements with a drink in hand. everyone eagerly awaited that particular moment of the week, some (meaning yachi, of course) would even set weekly countdowns to try and surpass their excitement.

tsukishima kei, out of the entire group, was usually the more reasonable one, opting only for a drink or two. But after a particularly hard exam at uni, which he passed with flying colors, his friends decided in unison that this evening would be different.

the room was filled with laughter, tsukishima's tall body laying on the couch, his head pressed against yamaguchi's chest. alcohol made him somewhat clingy; extremely clingy, if you were to compare him to his usual demeanor. a low hum left his lips, his hand coming up to take his glasses off.

'i'm gonna regret this tomorrow.' he mumbled, being met with a wave of laughter in response. your eyes focused on his face for a minute, scanning it thoroughly. continued mumbling something, the tips of his ears bright red, face probably burning after all the alcohol he digested. but your mind was focused on something completely different.

he looks really handsome without glasses.

'y/n. i think he might have to stay here for the night.' yamaguchi's voice echoing through the room brought you back to life, your eyes quickly darting away from the blonde's face to focus on her friend. the freckled boy had an awkward look on his face, a usual for him, as he stood up, heading for his coat with yachi following right after.

they mentioned previously that both of them will have to leave earlier this time, but you only remembered that now; a warm understanding smile gracing your face as you said your goodbyes, the three of you giggling at tsukishima mumbling how he's going to 'beat you all up tomorrow for making him so drunk.'

as the door closed behind them, a sigh left your lips. the apologetic look on yamaguchi's face wasn't there for no reason; he, as well as the rest of your friends, were all well aware of the massive crush you had on him. ever since freshman year, it's been something you promised yourself you will hide from him forever.

tsukishima stretched his arms, a yawn leaving his lips as the late night hours finally caught up to him. you didn't notice when your neutral look turned to a bright smile. there was something incredibly comforting in this specific sight, tsukishima's soft features looking completely different from his usual appearance.

you crouched down next to the couch, trying to decide whether you should leave him to sleep here or try to get him to your bed and take the couch yourself. you almost didn't notice tsukishima's eyes glued to your face, a curious look to them as he scanned your features, something incredibly similar to what you've done just a while ago. he looked deep in thought, the pinkish color fading from his cheeks with time.

'has anyone told you you have a really interesting face?' he stated, his lips curved up in a proud smile as if he'd given you the greatest compliment of all time. 'you know, it's like a kaleidoscope. no matter how long you stare at it, you still can't take your eyes off of it.'

you laughed, the tips of your ears burning red, regardless of how stupid his 'compliment' was. sober tsukishima would never say something like this, but then again, that was the whole point. the sole reason why the blonde didn't drink much was that it brought out a different side of him.

an embarrassing one at that.

'alright, kei. let's get you to bed.'

you used all the strength you had to get him off the couch, a satisfied smile on your face when he got up on his own, almost tumbling over in the process. a giggle escaped your lips at the sight; knowing just how much you were going to laugh at him for it tomorrow, and every day after that.

you motioned for him to sit down on the bed, swiftly moving towards the wardrobe to him some fresh bedding.

'ohhhh,' a prolonged hum left tsukishima's lips as you started changing the sheets, his curious eyes following your frame around the room. he had his glasses back on, so now he could actually see what was happening. 'are we sleeping together?'

you almost choked on your own saliva.

your eyes met his for a brief second, just as you were finishing with the bed. you gently pushed him to lay down, taking his glasses off in the process so he won't break them when sleeping.

'i'll be sleeping on the couch tonight, so no.'

you looked over to the boy only to see... a frown?

it was almost as if you were looking at a completely different person. you were once more amazed with just how much a few drinks can change someone's behavior entirely.

tsukishima reached for your hand, pulling you down to lay with him. his touch send a wave of shivers down your body, as his tall frame scooted closer to you.

'stay here.' he murmured quietly. in that very moment, you forgot he wasn't sober; you wanted this situation to actually become reality. so, with a tad bit of hesitation, you obliged.

soon sleepiness got the best of you, your eyes slowly fluttering shut as you fell asleep, the blonde laying right beside you, his arm wrapped around your body as he murmured something under his breath. you didn't catch half of what he said, but there were three distinct words that you managed to understand.

'i love you.'

as tsukishima woke up the next day, a headache accompanying him from the moment he opened his eyes, the side of the bed was already empty. he slowly got up, arms reaching for his glasses laying on the small coffee table by the bed.

he slowly but surely tumbled into the kitchen, surprised when he saw a cup of tea standing in front of him already. his eyes shot up to be met with your figure, standing by the kitchen counter and making breakfast.

you smiled at the boy, looking at him for a spare second before focusing back on chopping the vegetables.

'this should help you with your headache.' you said, putting the last of chopped tomatoes into the bowl before giving the salad a nice mix, as silence took over the room.

'i said something stupid yesterday, didn't i?' his words echoed through the kitchen, disrupting the silence between you.

'now that you mention it' you said, putting down a bowl of food and a fork in front of him, sitting down on the chair right beside him. 'you did compare my face to a kaleidoscope, pouted like a kid when i told you i'm sleeping on the couch and were mumbling some incoherent words right before you fell asleep.'

tsukishima slightly covered his face, trying to hide his visible embarrassment at the mention of his drunken actions.

'well, at least i didnt confess to you when drunk.'

you looked at him for a long minute, your eyes indicating that something of this sort did happen yesterday. tsukishima's face was now flushed pink, more embarrassed than ever.

'oh.'

the room went completely silent, the two of you focusing on your food as you tried to think of any way to shift the conversation, get rid of the massive amounts of awkwardness.

tsukishima stood up, quickly getting your attention as your eyes shot up to meet his, a look on his face which you couldn't quite decipher.

'sorry for yesterday.' he sighed, hand moving up to adjust his glasses. he had a somewhat troubled look on his face, one that was apparent no matter how much he tried to hide it behind his cold demeanor.

he opened his lips for a few seconds, hesitant about his next words.

'i had somewhat of a different idea for my confession, but i guess that's it.'

you froze on the spot, mouth slightly agape, eyes searching for any indicators of tsukishima's words being a joke. despite trying really hard, she found nothing; only a nervous silence on the blonde's end, waiting for you to say something, anything.

'you... like me?'

he could only nod in response, distressed when seeing the huge grin growing on your face. he had no idea what to expect when you took a few steps towards him, but it definitely wasn't a kiss on the cheek, leaving his cheeks a deep shade of red.

'it's good to know that my feelings are mutual.'

taglist: @ox1-lovesick @moonswolfie @wyrcan

#tsxkkis #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #karasuno x reader #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

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simpjaes · 7 months

Text

take the back-seat part two. (p.js & s.jy)

Jake isn’t sure what’s worse, the thirteen hour drive to the beach where he watched you get railed by his best friend in the backseat, or the five days he’s gonna be spending there knowing he is expected to watch—or join, whichever.

– read part one here!

minors do not interact, otherwise― pls reblog my works

WC ― 14.3k

PARING ― jay x afab reader x jake

TAGS ― vacation setting, threesome, voyeurism, exhibitionism, jealousy (both jay & jake), implications of a budding poly relationship, there’s a lot of dialogue to depict character development regarding the whole inviting jake thing.

!!WARNINGS!! ― jay is a little touchy with jake, if you don’t like it, sounds like a you problem.

A/N― reminder that this fic is a revamp from one i wrote over on my other blog! here is part two :D enjoy!

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― borderline infidelity (jay is into but doesn’t wanna admit it), finger fucking, neglected cock syndrome, hair pulling, jay teaches jake how to fuck his girl, jay basically moves jake like a puppet, cum stuffing, humiliation/degradation, double vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

What Jake feels for the remainder of that drive was unexplainable. Looking at you through the mirror with Jay next to you…it felt,for lack of a better word, different. Sure, he’s walked in on the two of you before, and watched for a little too long but, this is different. He personally saw Jay stuff you full and not only that but he saw your face as it happened. You spoke for him, to him , and he didn’t even get his ass kicked by Jay after the fact.

The feelings in his head swirl around like a forming tornado threatening to touch down and cause him to lose all sanity. Five days with you two locked in this beach house with nothing but freedom at your feet. Worse, even when the three of you go home, he’s just locked in a different space with the two of you until he gets back on his feet. Jake isn’t even sure if he wants to leave now. On one hand, he wants to start running just to get away from the overwhelming embarrassment, on the other, he thinks he might like it. He thinks the two of you might like him being around to see too.

“Is this going to be a normal thing?” Jake remembers asking Jay inside of the bathroom at the gas station. What was Jay’s response? “ Maybe, if you keep wanting to catch us.”

What to do, what to do, with a lust so hungry Jake feels like it’s eating him from the inside out? Catch you on purpose? Stalk your private moments with his best friend just to get another taste of that bliss just out of reach? Not even a taste actually.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jay drags his feet as he carries your bags along with his own. He’s acting normal despite the constant groaning about how his legs hurt after certain endeavors on top of the thirteen-hour car ride. You stay close to him, attempting to snatch a few bags so that he would at least stop crying about the very deed he wanted to do during the ride.

Jake stays behind, quietly carrying in his things and avoiding the cracks on the sidewalk so as to not scratch his new suitcase set (and so he doesn’t break his mother’s back). One headphone in, he barely hears the two of you as he opts to try and escape the madness outside of the audio in his ear. That is, until he gets inside the beach house.

“Okay so, hear me out–” Jay smiles at Jake, stepping in front of him as he tries to pass. “Listen, Jake. Just,” Jay puts his hands out in front of him, stepping both left and right to continuously block Jake’s path.

“There’s only one bedroom.” You announce, breaking Jay’s plan of trying to convince Jake that it would be a sick idea for him to watch more .

Jay did know. Of course he fucking knew, he’s the one who booked the place. You didn’t know, but he also knew you’d play along anyway. Given, Jay hadn’t completely planned the whole car thing so it’s kind of awkward now. Despite always wanting to be caught, watched, and envied, Jay really didn’t think past the idea of causing Jake inner turmoil with this rental.

“S’cool. I’ll take the couch.” Jake waves off, dropping his bags and looking around the space.

Your eyes drop before Jay’s do.

“Wait, no,” Jay groans out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, you can still sleep in there with us. There’s two beds.”

Two beds. So it was intentional to put Jake in a position he couldn’t resist, huh?

“The idea was to invite you to watch. Surely you’ve caught on to everything by now, right?” Jay looks at Jake with an apologetic stare. “It’s kind of awkward now inviting you, but I thought you’d be happy to take us up on the offer, especially after our little talk…”

Jake looks to the floor with tinted red flushing over his cheeks.

“You really couldn’t just wait to get here first before sitting him down and discussing?” You ask, scolding your boyfriend despite the fact that you played at least fifty percent into his on-the-fly plan on the ride over here.

“You looked hot and he was tired.” Jay states the obvious with a careless shrug.

Jake is just standing there trying his best not to let his mouth fall open. Jay really wants to propose that he should just watch? Nothing else? Just fucking watch?

Ka-ching. It’s little to grasp at, but Jake’s gonna take it. After seeing everything and hearing you, why wouldn’t he? His best friend is practically giving him the ability to watch you be pleasured.

“Okay,” Jake stops both of you from bickering. “Let’s discuss it now then.” He adds, averting his eyes from both you and your boyfriend to avoid showing how much interest he actually has in this little vacation plan.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

After a long and drawn out discussion, rules were set into place. Rule number one, Jake cannot touch you under any circumstance. You were quick to side eye your boyfriend’s best friend during that moment, noting the disappointed look that washed across his face. Rule number two, Jake can request things he wants to see, but if either you or Jay are uncomfortable with it, the request can be ignored. Rule number three, you can talk to Jake while it happens and he can talk back, but Jay will more than likely use every opportunity he finds to humiliate him for it.

Jake doesn’t falter at any of the rules except for the first one, mostly because it’s going to be hard to not want to touch you. He assumes that’s part of the fun for Jay though. He feels embarrassed accepting the terms, awkward as he places his bags in the shared room the three of you will be sleeping in, and restless at the way reality hits him. You, his best friend’s girlfriend, want him to see.

You want him to get off to you.

He feels a bit shameful about it. After all, Jay has been his best friend for fucking years at this point and he’s a little unnerved that none of this is making him feel as weird as it should be. Should Jake really be excited about watching his best friend fuck his girlfriend? Probably not, but he is, and he just assumes this is another ‘ weird’ thing he likes added to his list.

“Hey–” Jay nods his head towards Jake as you walk out of the room for a shower. You did your best to clean up at the gas station too but, to be fair, the bathroom was just as dirty and cum-covered as you were, probably.

“Yeah?” Jake looks over at him, unzipping his suitcase and pulling out a change of clothes. Mostly so he can hop in the shower after you’re done.

“You sure you’re cool with this? I know I kind of did a lot of this intentionally, but really, if you’re uncomfortable I’d rather you just tell us–”

“No!” Jake argues at an embarrassingly desperate pitch. “I mean, no.” He clears his throat as he corrects himself, and then does his best to avoid eye contact by focusing solely on digging for his toiletries.

“That’s what I thought,” Jay smiles knowingly at him, internally writing a list of things he can do to torture Jake, a list specifically made to cause envy and probably resentment.

“So, like,” Jake swallows, still unsure of his footing in this situation. “When will it happen again?”

Jay actually laughs at him this time.

“Oh, you thought–” He shakes his head and goes to take off his shirt. “No, no. Jake. You’re still gonna have to catch us to watch.” He explains, throwing his shirt on the presumed “cuck chair” in the room.

“Wait, what?” Jake is confused. They want him to watch, but they’re still going to make him go through the embarrassment of catching them?

“That’s the fun part of it for me,” Jay tries to clear it up. “I like the surprise of someone seeing. I like the reactions. It’s exciting,” He continues, now stopping to really look at Jake. “Looks like you enjoy watching, so–”

Jake nods slightly, tilting his head with a furrowed brow. “For the record, I’ve never been into this kind of thing. You kind of made it hard not to see things.”

“I know.” Jay laughs. “Gotta get creative on weeknights when there's no parties going on.”

“You do it at parties? Like just right there in public ?”

Jay nods with a smug smile.

“A lot of people don’t even notice, but the ones that do–” Jay’s eyes nearly light up. “They always watch. They don’t even pretend to look away.”

Jake feels a little bit flushed at the idea of attending a party with the two of you. He couldn’t imagine being put in a situation where he, along with several others, get to watch you orgasm.

“She likes that?” Jake asks, a little shocked.

“I mean, she gets really into it but I can admit that she seems to like when you watch a lot more.” Jay glares for a second. “Which again, kind of pisses me off.”

Jake waves him off, trying to act nonchalant about it.

“I hope you know that this is more of a trial run, Jake. If she gets bored of you, she probably won’t be as into it later.”

Okay, ouch. Fair, though. Jake would never stick around if it’s not something you want. He can already sense that Jay didn’t want it this way either. Maybe Jake watching was exciting, but he does sense a bit of tenseness in the air each time Jay brings up how you lusted over him so blatantly in the car.

“And if she doesn’t get bored?” Jake counters and Jay kind of takes internal offense to it. Passive aggressively chuckling towards him.

“Oh, she will.” Jay says as a way to assure himself rather than answering Jake. “I’m the only person she doesn’t get bored of.”

Jake, for some reason, takes that as a challenge. He might be the one getting the short end of the stick here, but the only reason he’s getting a stick at all is because of you. Regardless of if Jay wanted him to watch, surely he never wanted you to like it as much as you do.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well, competition is one way to put it. Jay resents himself forever even trying to get Jake all flustered. He did it because he wanted to be watched, but he also wanted Jake to be fucking jealous. How the hell is he supposed to be jealous when you, his own girlfriend, got entirely too wet for another man while he was buried in you?

Playing it as cool as he can, Jay is still excited, just a little less now that he knows he’s going to have to fight for your attention. Those set rules? Between you and Jay, neither of you had to actually follow those rules. Jake can do what he wants at your discretion, but it’s not like Jay is gonna just tell him that. He was shocked that you pressed to let Jake join just one time. His whole fantasy is about being watched during a private act, not inviting someone to actively play a part in it. Nevertheless, he granted you a small nod when you suggested it, sternly letting out a small “ just this once. ”

Sure, he’s the one who fucked you in the car and he’s the one who told you to talk to Jake but, it’s not like he expected the outcome that came from it. It was a moment of lust where he thought it would be hot to see you unable to speak because you’re being fucked– but no. You were speaking to Jake and riding him harder because of whatever the fuck was going on up in that front seat.

Naturally, your boyfriend has that mischievous little glint in his eye when you return from the shower and Jake opts to steal the bathroom before he can.

“You are aware that you’re getting more out of this than I am, right?” Jay laughs, pulling you from your stance and flopping you down onto the bed. “I just wanted him to be jealous, you’re ruining my fantasy.”

You smile at him with the same mischievous little glint.

“And you’re an amazing boyfriend for letting me try something new,” You praise, kissing the tip of his nose when he crawls on top of you. “I’m sorry that it’s hot knowing two guys want me this badly.”

Jay sighs, dropping his face to your neck to smell the soap against your skin. Of course, you’d be into that. His thing is people being jealous of what he gets and your thing just has to be the idea of being wanted. It fits a little too well.

“Bet you weren’t even planning to put anything on for bed tonight, were you?” He laughs with a groan, cursing how willing he is to let you have whatever you want despite not wanting to give Jake what he wants.

“Bingo,” You smile evilly, pulling away from Jay so you can see his face. “Plus, it’s hot seeing you get all possessive. That’s new, even for you.”

Jay once again sighs with a groan.

“Promise you won’t like, up and leave me for my best friend?”

Realizing there’s a bit of truth behind his concerns, you stiffen a bit.

“You know I wouldn’t do that. Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he can pleasure me better, or treat me better.”

Finally, a genuine smile breaks across his face and it makes you feel warm.

“Do you wanna play a little tonight?” He offers, wiggling on top of you with a newfound desire over the fact that you always know how to silence even the slightest of insecurity he feels.

“After everything from the ride over? I’m tired, Jay, really.” You admit with a pout.

“I’m not tired yet. Just let me do the work, you can just rest–” He tries to convince you and it works, much like it always does.

Jay is doing this specifically for you. It’s not like he always needs to be seen when the two of you are intimate. It’s nice sometimes seeing you act real for him. Seeing your underwhelming and soft reactions to whatever he’s doing because you both know that you’re not putting on a show. He can admit to loving the way you still moan for him despite knowing nobody but him can hear it.

Even knowing Jake will be in the bed next to yours at any moment, you think Jay can get away with whatever he wants to do privately . And for the most part, he does. At least, at first he does.

Lying on your back with a leg thrown over Jay’s lower half as his fingers trace lazy circles against your bare skin, you knew his fingers were going lower and lower, but it’s relaxing even as your eyes fight to stay open.

When Jake comes back into the room, hair still dripping a bit at his failure to dry it properly, you don’t move or react outside of a sleepy glance at him.

“Hey, you ready to hit the sack?” Jay calls out, fingers moving lower on your stomach and landing just above where your panties would sit if you were wearing any under this robe.

“Yeah. Water ran cold though, might wanna wait a little bit before you shower, Sorry.” Jake admits with shame, not making eye contact with either of you as he flops himself onto his bed. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, which is something you’ve seen him wear time and time again at home, but man, why does it look so hot now?

Jay laughs, kind of like an ‘of course there's no hot water for me’ laugh, but he doesn’t mind, if anything, he’s having fun lulling you to sleep with a gentle finger fuck session behind Jake’s back.

The room goes silent save for the television that Jay flips to some random reality show. You’re still focused on his fingers, more gentle than he normally would be. Still, it’s probably just because, for once, he doesn’t want Jake to know what’s happening.

When your boyfriend’s fingers finally make their way to your clit, it’s not shocking that you’re already wet. Your breathing is still even, and it feels good to be touched right now. You turn your head only slightly to look at Jake. He’s so endearing to look at. Never once have you seen him preparing himself for sleep. For some reason, it feels intimate seeing his bedtime rituals.

With one hand scratching against his hair, he’s on his side and practically hugging his pillow against his head as he fixes his eyes on the television. You can see how heavy his eyes are. He was already tired when he first started his shift of driving, and the back seat didn’t offer much in terms of a nap. You imagine if he knew what Jay was doing, he wouldn’t have the energy to participate anyway.

You, though, are feeling a little bit more awake since your clit is being beautifully stimulated by your boyfriend. Jake’s supposed to be watching you with this little deal, but there were no rules that you couldn’t watch him and fantasize, right?

Jay is a little shocked when you hold his hand in place and turn to face Jake. You close your eyes at first, mostly so it still looks like you’re about to sleep, but you press Jay’s fingers a bit lower, urging him to penetrate you with them.

He, like the amazing boyfriend he is, follows suit with a curious stare at the back of your head. Then, he turns on his side behind you and spoons you, adjusting his position so that he can swoop his hand under your ass and between your legs in order to do just as you ask of him.

Jay knows what you’re doing, but opts not to say anything despite really wanting to. He assumes Jake is blissfully unaware, somehow, so saying something would turn this whole situation into something more than any of you actually feel like doing tonight.

This goes smoothly for a few minutes, with his fingers gently and silently plunging in and out of you. Honestly, Jay is too good with his fingers and he’s being too quiet compared to normal, again, because of Jake. You know you shouldn’t be including him right now, but you are, even if secretly.

A breath falls from your lips when Jay rubs his fingers against a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, sending a wave of warmth down your body and dripping out against his fingers.

“Feels good?” He whispers against your ear, noting the way your breathing is a bit more audible. “Don’t forget that I’m the one touching you, baby.” He adds in an even quieter whisper.

You let out a small groan in response, very small. Just loud enough for Jake to fix his eyes on you to find you blatantly staring back at him.

You smile at him and press your ass back against Jay just a little bit, and he’s quick to move his fingers quicker inside of you.

Jake just looks at you, processing that it’s already happening again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The summer air is salty but all too grounding for Jake as he sits on his towel and watches the way you and Jay appear to be as comfortable as ever wrestling on the shore of the sea. Even after last night, part of him wonders what actually happened but he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to ask. Not only did you look at him as you hit your climax, but Jake was made aware that he needed to be silent in watching you due to your finger coming up to your mouth in a shushing action.

His eyes darted to Jay when you did that but he appeared to be a great actor as he watched the tv with his head tucked between your shoulder and neck, fingers plunging in and out of you casually. Even when Jake gently fucked his own fist, staring directly back at you, he realized that this shared moment with you was something Jay wasn’t aware of. It blurs the lines a bit of what is okay and what isn’t, but the rule is that Jake can watch if he catches the act. He guesses you’re the one breaking rules.

Even now, as he processes this newfound sexual adventure in his head, he’s fond of the relationship Jay has with you. Incredibly jealous, of course, but also just– Jake wants what Jay has.He wouldn’t share you, he wouldn’t want people to see him pleasure you, and he certainly wouldn’t want Jay’s cock to make an appearance at any point during his relationship with you, but you’re not his.

Still, the two of you seem to enjoy this kind of thing, and the fact that Jake appears to be the chosen third to take part makes him feel warm. Despite his jealousy, he respects the relationship you have with his best friend for the most part. There’s still that selfishness inside him though, the thought of being able to be between your legs rather than just a person to look at across the room? It drives him insane. Jay gets to flaunt you, make you feel good, and make you moan but, Jake is very aware that he got all of your attention the night before, even if it wasn’t his own fingers doing it to you. He got your attention in the car too, to the point of Jay showing his own jealousy.

Again, there’s a thin line between what he’s allowed to do and infidelity. If you ask him to do anything though, he’s going to do it. He’s going to be what you want or need at any given moment simply because he’s a single man forced to live with his extremely sexually adventurous friends, and you happen to be incredibly fucking arousing to him. Jay kind of did it to himself. Never would Jake have fantasized about you like this if it weren’t for the fact that Jay desperately wants people to see his cock inside of you.

“Hey!” You shout from the shore, pulling Jake out of his thoughts.

He waves back to you and then glances at Jay who has a huge smile on his face. Jake watches as you struggle to leave the water, the weight of the waves pushing and pulling you as you look at him. He stands to his feet, kicking off some of the sand on his legs, and makes his way towards you as well, meeting you in the middle.

“I’m gonna have a snack, go waterboard my boyfriend.” You joke when you stop in front of him.

“There’s chips in my bag if you want any.” Jake waves you off, realizing how normal the communication is between the two of you. In the silence, the communication is somehow more intimate.

When Jake makes his way down to the water, straight up to his best friend, for some reason he still feels like he’s walking on eggshells with all of this. Not with you though, because you clearly know what you want. Jay, on the other hand, shows that he’s annoyed over his plan becoming more of a pleasure for everyone but him.

“You’re not hungry?” Jake asks, dipping himself lower into the water and shivering at the ocean breeze.

“Nah, we’re finally here. I’m staying in the water ‘til I’m forced to leave.”

“Ah, good plan.” Jake confirms, allowing himself to float back a bit with the waves.

“Are we okay?” Jay suddenly asks, standing to his feet and looking down at him. “You really are allowed to decline this offer. I'm even a little nervous about it now.”

Jake squints his eyes open towards Jay, the sun blinding him more than his best friend’s smile usually would.

“It’s a little weird but I like trying new things. I’m not trying to disrespect you by accepting.”

Jay sighs in relief.

“I know. If it’s gonna be anyone, I'd rather it be you.” He laughs with a sigh. “Still would rather her focus on me but I guess I kind of owe her this.”

Jake adjusts himself back to his feet, tilting his head at Jay.

“Oh yeah?”

“I mean, it’s not like she was into the whole being watched thing until I told her I wanted to try it.” Jay looks up into the sky, feeling the sun warm his face. “I liked it more than she did, but she came around, I never forced it or anything.” He breathes in the air and sinks lower into the water. “I think she did it to please me but she started getting really into it after a few times.”

“She’s definitely something–” Jake starts, glancing at your figure flopping back on the sand and sinking your hand into a bag of chips.

“Yeah, and I guess it’s my turn to let her try the things she’s curious about.” He laughs. “Even though it’s my fault and it involves my best friend. I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that neither of you would do anything behind my back. ”

Damn.

“Um, yeah.” Jake looks away for a moment. He knows he is famously awful at lying.

Jay looks at Jake knowingly.

“Like, without me in the room at least,” He smiles, winking at Jake once before throwing a splash at him. “because I know what you guys did last night.”

Jake goes silent, wiping the salt water from his eyes and looking at Jay apologetically with burning pupils.

“Relax, she told me while you were up there sulking. Said something about the danger of me finding out or something got her going, even though she knew that I caught on anyway.” Jay reassures, explaining away any explanation of Jake himself being the reason for it. “I get it.” He laughs this time.

“Should I like, have not watched?” Jake asks awkwardly, looking away from Jay and floating back a bit.

“Nah, just give her what she wants. She’s gonna tell me regardless so let’s just try to have fun with this okay? If any of us are having issues, speak up.” Jay glares for a moment. “Because you know damn well I’ll put a stop to all of it if it goes too far.”

Jake nods, a small smile creeping up on his face.

“What happens at the beach, stays at the beach.”

“God, I hope. I’m not moving you into our room at home.” Jay laughs, feeling a little better about it.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A very sexually active trip indeed. Jake could sense the tension in the air by the time all of you return to the beach house. Even through dinner, he sensed both you and Jay staring at him in very different ways. Even though talking made Jay feel better, he’s still possessive over you and you seem to like it a lot . So, he might be playing it up a bit for your sake.

You are quite literally eye-fucking Jake, and Jay’s eyes are basically demanding him to keep his cock under lock and key. It’s weirdly erotic, and insanely confusing, but he knows Jay will speak up if shit goes too far, just like he said he would.

By the time the three of you are piled up on the couch and putting in some shitty romance movie, it gets a little more comfortable.

You’re leaned up against your boyfriend and Jake is leaned up against the arm of the couch at the other end. He doesn’t feel eyes on him anymore and it’s a relief.

By the time it’s mid movie, he notes the soft snores coming from Jay. You, on the other hand, are feeling mischievous. Jay said to you specifically, away from Jake, no limits . Do what you want to him, ignore the rules, explore, have fun– but be ready to stop at the slightest mention of discomfort from either of them. You’re being given so much fucking power over both of these men. They both want you , and god does it feel fucking amazing to be wanted.

When you shift towards Jake, gently so that Jay isn’t stirred from his slumber, Jake finds himself leaning towards you without question. Even when you slide yourself under his blanket and grab his hand, he doesn’t falter.

His attention to the plot on the screen in front of him surely falters though. You’re doing the thing again. You’re excluding your boyfriend and Jake can’t bring himself to give a single fuck right now because you’re quite literally slipping his hand into your panties without so much as a “please?”

Immediately Jake’s fingers explore against his better judgment. He’s seen your pussy stretched out on his best friend, he’s watched you orgasm, he’s heard you moan, but never has he gotten to touch you.

“Mhm,” You encourage gently when Jake slides his fingers down your slit, collecting the slippery arousal and sliding his fingers back up to your clit.

You found yourself wondering how Jake would do it, especially the past day or so. Jay knew how to please you, but you can’t help but think that the act of someone learning how to please you is just as hot. Jake appears to know exactly how to use his fingers against a woman, the thought of him alone with someone other than you only heightens your pleasure at this moment.

Jake does this for a while, silently and gently rubbing your clit as he forces his eyes to stay on the screen. You just watch him though, and the way he parts his lips in a silent moan when you press against his fingers with the smallest show of want .

The secretiveness of it really gets you going. Seeing Jake turn to mush in your hands, doing anything you could ask him to do, right there while your boyfriend is sleeping next to you? God, what a fucking simp. You love it. You love the fact that his fingers are slightly softer compared to Jay’s, and the way he avoids sticking them in you even if you insist by lifting your hips slightly.

You lean towards Jake more this time, moving one leg over his lap and opening yourself up for more.

“You should fuck me.” You whisper into his ear with a voice far too sweet for the words. “He won’t mind.” You add at his silence, feeling his fingers halt as he processes the words.

“I can’t do that–” Jake whispers back, sliding his fingers down again and noting how much wetter you’ve gotten.

“Want me to ask him?” You joke, grabbing his hand and holding his fingers right against your entrance.

Jake shakes his head, feeling nervous as hell as his fingers rest in the one spot he definitely would love to fuck.

“You’re no fun.” You sigh in disappointment, releasing his hand.

That makes Jake panic a little bit, the words of Jay mentioning that you will get bored with him eventually. It drives him to just—

“Brave boy,” You coo out at the feeling of Jake slipping his fingers inside of you through a panicked motion, sliding them in until you can feel his knuckles against your folds. You knew he would give you what you want.“Your fingers are long. Do you know how to use them, Jakey?”

Jake is fucking floored by the idea that his fingers are inside of you, you’re talking to him like this, and Jay is missing out on all of it.

Except he’s not. To Jake’s knowledge, Jay is in dream land. You, on the other hand? You’re very aware that Jay is terrible at pretending to sleep. Not only is he putting on this show for you, but he’s actually helping you.

Kind of a shock, because you really did think he was asleep at one point. He blew his cover with a small smirk towards you, peeking an eye open at your shock of him resting a hand on your other leg and spreading it more in your attempt to get Jake to finger-fuck you. Jay wasn’t going to help out, but the moment he heard Jake reject you, he figured that his best friend can definitely be trusted in this situation.

One of Jay’s favorite things about you is how dirty you can be, but never once has he seen you be more dominant over another person. Certainly not him. He finds it incredibly sexy in the way you both mock and talk down towards Jake even though he’s making you feel good. You don’t do that to Jay, you only moan for him. So yeah, maybe, going against his gut in this situation and allowing Jake to actually touch you is a bit hotter than he wants it to be.

The best part? Jake doesn’t know your cues when you’re nearing orgasm, but Jay does and he uses that to his advantage. Spreading your leg out further so Jake can do whatever it is he’s doing with his fingers better.

Jay softens at the fact that he would have already brought you to orgasm by now. Your soft mews sound more like you’re trying to fluster Jake rather than a reaction to pleasure, and it’s fun. It’s boosting his ego so high that he actually wonders how long it’ll take Jake to get you there.

You feel just as boosted as Jay does right now. With his false sleep as he attempts to help you through this, Jake is half-focused on finger fucking you out of fear that he will be caught. It’s all well and good, but you want to cum.

“Jake,” You whisper loudly, forgetting that you’re supposed to be pretending this is a secret.

When Jake tries to pull his fingers out of you at the loud whisper, ultimately so he could pretend he was just watching the movie and absolutely not burying his fingers into his best friend’s girl, you hold his hand in place. Preventing his fingers from leaving you and you look at him.

“Don’t stop.” You lean into him and whisper in a lower tone, rolling your hips forward against his fingers as you hold them there harshly. “You can make me cum this way, right? I promise I’ll be quiet, just pretend Jay’s not here.”

Jake looks at you, darting his eyes to the sleeping Jay next to you, and then he slowly nods with a nervous swallow.

He wants to fuck you so bad, but this is all he gets. Still, it’s more than he anticipated and he will be damned if he embarrasses himself by not getting you off like this. Gently, Jake keeps his eyes on Jay as he moves slightly over you, getting a better angle with his wrist so that he can quite literally, fuck you senseless with his fingers.

With one hand on the couch over your shoulder, the other between your legs, you watch him as his eyes continuously dart between you and your boyfriend. Jake can’t watch the screen anymore considering he’s now faced away from it, he has to watch you. If this truly was a high-stakes session of pleasure, surely the two of you would be caught like this.

Thankfully, Jake doesn’t notice the very aware hand of Jay gripping your leg open, which makes it more sexy. To see him put your pleasure over his friendship with your boyfriend so willingly, to position himself in such a way that is far more telling than it needs to be, yeah, he’s a fucking simp.

“Oh, fuck–” You choke out, feeling Jake’s newly angled fingers plunge deeper into you. His knuckle bumps against your clit easily when he does this and it has your entire body jolting a bit.

Jake swallows that praise, pulling his fingers out and pushing them back in at a quicker pace. The sound of your pussy is not quite as loud as the movie on the screen, but all three of you can hear it. Even Jay has to hold back a small moan at how genuine you sounded just now. His grip on your leg becomes almost bruising as his own arousal stirs past a comfortable level.

Jake’s eyes aren’t shifting anymore, you notice. As you stare up at him, he stares right back at you. Seemingly forgetting that he’s supposed to be hyper-aware of his surroundings right now. Instead, Jake is noting the way your body slightly shifts up when he harshly pushes his fingers in, to the point he could nearly imagine he’s fucking you.

Except if he were, he would hope to have you moaning more, moving more, fucking yourself on him, using him.

You can practically see Jake lose himself to lust. His eyes are dark, and his messy is hair falling against his lashes as if he were the one being fucked out right now. Internally, you feel such a large amount of endearment over him.

You think back to when he fucked his fist in the car. He was showing an extreme amount of intent during that moment and it had your head fucking spinning watching him do it. You can imagine he must be hard right now. Jay must be hard too. If you wanted to, you could expose Jay for being awake and ask them both to fuck you right now, but you relent. Relishing in this power of having them both, one more unaware than the other. It’s too sweet to put an end to so quickly.

As you look back up at Jake, you want to kiss him. Jay never said anything about that but you assume that could actually be crossing a line, so you don’t. Against your own wishes of wanting to keep this a secret, you lean yourself to Jay who still tries to pretend he’s asleep.

Jake watches and panics, but can already feel you grabbing his hand and forcing him to keep pace. The fear that runs through his bones of being caught is fucking intense right now, especially when you lean your head into Jay’s neck and start sucking it.

You can feel Jake try to pry his hand back and you chuckle at it with an unstoppable smile against your boyfriend’s neck because, well, now Jay moves his hand to replace yours. Now he’s the one forcing Jake to keep pace.

Jake’s eyes widened at the realization, relaxing his hand against the unfamiliar grip on it.

“Wait–” He says in a raspy voice, looking between the two of you as Jay peeps an eyes open. “How long have you been awake?”

Jay drops the act with a motion of slamming Jake’s fingers into you one last time before removing his grip and now grabbing yours to place against his embarrassingly hard length.

“The whole time.” Jay glares at him. “Too late to stop now, go on.” He encourages, wincing at the way you instantly grip him through his pants. “Do as she asked, make her cum.”

Jake feels embarrassed again. Despite technically not actually being “ caught” , he still feels ashamed of what he was doing, yet, his fingers are still in you.

“Let me see if you can do it,” Jay continues, adjusting his body so that he can look down at what Jake is doing. “Move the blanket, baby.” He adds as he looks at you now.

Shoving the blanket down, Jake notes how your hand is palming against Jay, and his fingers are inside of you. For some reason, Jay being hard makes him feel a little less ashamed but still embarrassed. How is he supposed to perform under pressure like this?

“Stop looking at us like that. If you’re not gonna continue, I'll finish her off myself – without you, ” Jay half-insults, half-encourages his best friend.

Jake moves his fingers again at that, the realization of being given permission washing over him so quickly that it almost felt like an orgasm running through his body. He can do whatever he needs to do to make you come. He doesn’t have to hide it, it’s not a secret.

Without a second thought, Jake pulls himself off the couch and stands to his feet to get between your legs. He looks between the two of you one last time and then down at your pajama shorts. For the first time without asking, Jake pulls them off of you in one swift motion before falling to his knees and examining how wet you look, pulsing around the loss of his fingers.

“How does she look?” Jay asks with a quirk of his brow, bucking his hips up against your hand and tilting his head to kiss you on the temple.

Jake says nothing but swallows in response, forcing himself to focus on you and pretend that Jay isn’t there studying the way he fucks his fingers back into you.

When you let out a small whine at his silence, rolling your eyes the same time you roll your hips, Jay chuckles and reaches to pull his own pajama pants down. If you three are gonna be doing this, might as well have fun with it.

Jake ignores it still, using his fingers to spread your lips and watch your hole continue to clench around nothing when he slips his fingers back out. Even without seeing your face at this moment, he can see how much you want this. Your glistening folds are practically begging to be fucked by one of them, if not both. He makes haste, watching as your pussy envelopes three of his fingers at once now, clenching them so tightly that he can feel them crowd together inside of you.

You whimper at it, rolling your hips forward to sink his fingers further into you.

“Can I lick her?” Jake asks, not moving his eyes from the way he can see your slick drip down his fingers.

”Please?”

“Does she want you to?” Jay counters, also not moving his eyes from the way your fist circles the head of his cock before sliding back down and making him shiver.

You don’t even answer, and instead use your other hand to reach for Jake’s head, gripping his hair that’s in reach to you and dragging his face forward until you feel his breath on your clit.

Jake takes that as an invitation, instantly flattening his tongue against your swollen bud and sliding down. You can feel his fingers spreading you open, reaching into you so deeply as you begin to feel his tongue trace around his fingers at your entrance.

You moan, which makes Jay turn his face and lift your chin as if to shut you up from showing pleasure towards another man. You find that sexy, cute even, so you reward your boyfriend and reassure him with a harsher grip against his cock, milking him of his precum and chuckling into his mouth.

Jake doesn’t even care about what’s happening on the couch. He’s on his knees in front of you, tasting you, fingering you, and he genuinely thinks this might be heaven. He can feel his own length adjust in his pants, happy that the loose fabric accommodates the growth to full hardness. Jake already knows he’s not going to be getting off tonight by anything other than his own hand, and he does not give a shit about it.

He licks against you as if you are the last woman on earth, honestly, and Jay can’t even bring himself to be in competition with Jake at this moment considering how much attention you’re giving to him and not Jake. This could work, surely, he’s never seen you so horny over a simple handjob before.

You roll your hips against Jake’s mouth repeatedly, chasing your high as he continuously tries to accommodate every spot of your pussy that needs stimulation.

“He’s good at this–” You choke out, reaching to grab Jake’s head and hold him in place against your clit. You can feel his fingers pick up speed when you do that, and you can feel the vibrations of his groans against your clit even more.

“Oh yeah?” Jay laughs in a breath, darting his eyes to see Jake’s shoulder flexing as he fucks into you, his hair a mess between your fingers. “Better than me?”

You shake your head, eyes sparkling up at Jay as he finally leans down to whisper to you.

“Are you close? You seem close–”

You nod this time, rolling your eyes back a bit when Jake intentionally licks circles around your clit and pumps his fingers painfully fast into you.

“Don’t tell him,” Jay warns, fucking himself against your now loosened grip. “Do you want me to take over?”

You say nothing back but Jay can see your body tense. He makes haste, jumping up from his spot and practically shoving Jake out of the way to get between your legs.

Jake doesn’t even know what’s happening, the loss of your warmth around his fingers and the taste of you gone all too quickly as he watches Jay bottom out into you in one go. His best friend’s fingers replace what his tongue was doing, and Jake watches the way you lay breathlessly against the couch.

Now is his time, he guesses. Reaching one hand into his pants, he shows no shame in using his slick-coated fingers to furiously slide up and down his length at a pace he wishes he were fucking you at.

There, on his knees, Jake pushes and pulls himself to the edge in time with you. He watches your face and watches the way your hands grip against Jay as he fucks into you at a pace that looks painful. The sound of slaps in the room coming from all three of you, finally, you come undone.

He watches the way you hold Jay’s hips in place, burying himself into you as you quiver around him, and only then does Jake let out a choked moan, coating the inside of his pants with strings of thick, milky cum.

Just as quickly as you hit your climax, your eyes lazily fall to Jake as he sits out of breath, wet spots staining his pants as Jay continues to chase his own high.

The two of you look at each other for a long moment. You can’t help but feel that he looks entirely sexy when he’s spent and empty of his arousal. You don’t sense a hint of disappointment in his eyes as he looks back at you, breath uneven, not at all bothered by the fact that he’s not the one fucking you.

Except he is bothered by it. He felt like he came so close to making you cum, all for Jay to step in and take over. Still, that’s your boyfriend. Jake feels lucky enough to even be part of this. And by the time Jay finally gets himself off, all three of you just look at each other.

“So,” Jay sighs, out of breath. “She tastes good, right?” He smiles, proud of himself for not letting Jake make you come.

You playfully slap him with a laugh, shuffling from the couch and standing to your feet. You examine the wet spot from where you were being fucked open by both of them and smile at it.

“Let’s go shower, again.” You sigh, grabbing Jay’s hand and dragging him to the bathroom.

Jake is left sitting there, still on his knees, processing what just happened.

He could get used to this.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By the third night, Jay is geared up and ready knowing full well that Jake has already touched you and he’s going to have to share tonight if your words are anything to go by. If you’re asking him to let Jake fuck you, it’s gonna have to be his way.

Your eyes sparkled when Jay agreed in the silent morning as Jake slept like a fucking rock in the bed across the room.

“Don’t worry,” You assured him. “I love you, I’m just having fun.”

“ I know.” Jay responded to you, silently and looking back at you.

He didn’t worry so much about it after last night, anyway. He got more into it than he thought he would, and the competition of it all got both you and Jay off. Jake appears to be having fun too, and staying aware of the fake-ass boundaries the two of you set for him.

“Tonight?” You look to Jay and nod as you head off for the kitchen in an attempt to make something to eat for both of them.

“Tonight, if he’s willing.” Jay confirms, ultimately stirring Jake from his sleep.

“Good morning, you can sleep. She’s gonna make some food since we got her off or something.” Jay says towards Jake after you disappear from the doorway, lifting his arms and stretching his body out.

“What were you guys talking about?” Jake asks half asleep as he hears your footsteps towards the kitchen fade away. The sleep in his voice is heavy and he clears his throat as he rubs his eyes.

“Nothing much. She wants to play a game later.” Jay tries not to ruin the plan.

“Oh yeah, like what?” Jake sits up, reaching for his phone to check the time.

“Probably monopoly or some shit.”

Jake notes that Jay appears to sound bored of the conversation, so he doesn’t push or pry any longer.

“We going to the beach today?” He asks now, somehow not feeling awkward at all about last night. It almost feels normal now.

“Yeah, probably after we eat. Wanna go help her with me if you don’t plan to go back to sleep?”

Something inside of Jake swells up at the invitation from Jay to help you do mundane things. Boyfriendly things. As if the two of them are your boyfriends, and not just Jay.

“Gonna brush my teeth first.”

Jay nods, giving Jake a tired smile as he heads off into the kitchen after you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake isn’t sure if he’s thinking too hard about it or if he’s getting his hopes up. He’s a lover, not a fighter, and very much willing to share you if the two of you offered to involve him in the relationship with more than just sex. Cooking in the kitchen with the two of you made him happy. Jay was clearly in boyfriend mode, guiding you by the waist when you were wisping from one end of the kitchen to the other. Jake was also kind of in boyfriend mode, though the two of you probably didn’t catch on. It’s not that he’s trying to intrude, it’s just that, he kind of has a hard time fucking a woman and not having feelings after the fact.

When Jake said you looked pretty, Jay didn’t falter even a tiny bit at the compliment. Instead, he smiled at Jake with a nod because of fucking course you look pretty. And when Jay gave you a light kiss to the lips as you stirred something in a bowl, Jake found himself wanting to do the same. He knows he can’t though, so he keeps to himself in this little unsure bubble of what the two of you feel towards him.

The food was decent, save for the fact that none of you have stepped foot in a grocery store and are surviving off of what you brought in a cooler from home. Jake could tell some of the vegetables were wilted and needed to be cooked, thankfully, none of you enjoy letting food go to waste so that’s why you’re stuck eating it this morning.

It’s comfortable. Too comfortable. Especially when Jake takes it upon himself to do the dishes despite always arguing at home about doing them. Jay finds himself in a strange kind of headspace too. Lightening up about the idea of Jake being around and touching you, but also, like, still being possessive because you're super into it. If Jake was anyone else, Jay doesn’t think this trio thing would work out as well. Still, this is a conversation for after the trip.

By the time the three of you are at the beach, you make a show of yourself for both of them and anyone else who happens to be looking your way. If tonight goes anything like you want it to, you need them to be absolutely feral for you by the time the sun sets.

It works for the most part. Ghosting your hand over Jake’s cock under the water, blatantly grabbing Jay’s out in the open just to see him buckle under the arousal of it being in public. You feel on top of the universe as their eyes go from bright to dark and full of arousal as the day goes on.

When you part from both of them, heading back to the shore in order to find a bathroom somewhere, the two of them stay behind. You do your best in giving those two alone time too because surely they need to talk or something.

That, they do.

“She’s doing all of this on purpose, you know.” Jay laughs, wading in the water beside Jake. “How are you feeling about it?”

Jake shrugs, avoiding the incoming wave and lifting his chin with a wince. “I’m feeling less weird about it now, I guess.”

Jay nods, looking at him and studying his expression.

“She wants to fuck you.”

Jake can’t help but smile. He has no words to respond to what Jay just said.

“Shockingly, I kind of want to see her do it.” Jay splashes Jake as if he’s mad, but stands back as his best friend wipes his eyes.

“Yeah?” Jake’s eyes are beaming despite the redness of the saltwater hitting them, and Jay just stares at him.

“I don’t know man, I’ve never been into this kind of thing. Sharing, and such, but like–” Jay tries to explain, searching internally for a reason as to why he should hold onto the annoyance of sharing his girlfriend. “I don’t know.”

Jake tilts his head, looking at him.

“It’s kind of fun?”

Jake nods this time. He’s still getting the short end of the stick but he literally couldn't care less.

“I like watching and I like when you let me touch her.” Jake admits, glancing away and breathing in through an embarrassed wince over what he just said.

For some reason, that sentence arouses Jay. “When you let me touch her.” Jake is really giving full power to Jay to control a sex life that isn’t his and it’s embarrassingly sexy to be given that power over another man. He’s not entirely interested in Jake sexually, but he is entirely interested in Jake’s sexual interest for his girlfriend. Interested in controlling it.

“This is going a lot further than we ever intended it to.” Jay comments, sinking himself lower in the water and thinking intently on what’s going to happen after the three of you get home. “Guess we will see what happens.”

Jake quirks an eyebrow.

“If I asked you to fuck her, would you?” Jay continues, in his head, about why he feels like all of this is okay to him now.

Jake narrows his eyes, wondering if it’s a trap but ultimately nods.

“I mean, yeah, if you both told me to.”

There’s the control again. Jake blatantly gives it up just to get the smallest taste of what you share with Jay.

“And you wouldn’t do it behind my back? Like, be real with me right now.”

Jake knows he would probably be too weak to say no to you. He thinks you know it too.

“What makes you think she would go behind your back anyway?” Jake counters, challenging Jay’s trust in you.

And then it all makes sense. You wouldn’t go behind his back for anything that’s not agreed upon. You’d tell him everything, you’d involve him, or you’d at least ask if you can fuck his best friend behind closed doors.

It all feels like it’s falling into place too perfectly, and that’s the only uncomfortable thing about this. Jay looks at Jake and then shifts his eyes over to the shore, where you’ve come back from your adventure to the bathroom.

“Nah, you’re right.” Jay assures himself, standing back up and waving over to you. “Just keep in mind that she’s my girlfriend and I’ll be the one to make her cum.”

Jake is well aware that you’re not his, Jay doesn’t have to rub it in.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Though Jay never explicitly stated that Jake would be able to fuck you tonight, it became increasingly obvious as the day went on. Even as you blatantly touched him in front of Jay, he would simply avert his eyes from Jake and carry on with whatever he was doing.

By the time the three of you got back to the house, Jake had to fucking fight himself to not jerk off in the shower. Clearly you were wanting to have fun again tonight if the sheer amount of touching throughout the day is any indication.

The showers from all of you went by far too quickly to ignore as well. Jake thinks he beat his record speed of being out and dressed in under six minutes. You and Jay, opting to shower together, made Jake think the two of you would go in there and fuck behind closed doors, but even that didn’t happen as the two of you were leaving the bathroom in under fifteen minutes.

Now, the three of you are in this beach house away from a city that is far too familiar to you. The air feels electric but also slightly awkward. You don’t know how to start, Jay certainly doesn’t know how to start, and Jake simply needs the green light to make his attempt at whatever the fuck is supposed to happen. It’s a knowing kind of look that the three of you share as you head into the bedroom one by one. Jake doesn’t know if he should get onto his own bed, or yours at this point considering he hasn’t exactly been told what’s supposed to happen.

He didn’t have to think too hard though, as he trails in behind Jay who guides you to your own shared bed with him. Jake stands there in silence, watching the way both of you pat your hands on the bed as if to invite him in.

“Shit, this is really happening?” He asks, almost wanting to cover his ears and cringe at the way he breaks the silence. Jay nods to him silently.

“If you want it to?” You ask, scooting closer to Jay and feeling him move a hand to your thigh.

Jake is careful when he makes his way to the bed, glancing at both you and his best friend as if the gig would be up soon and you’d both start laughing at him for believing that this is happening. Instead, though, you adjust yourself and your boyfriend on the bed as Jake makes his attempt to find a space to claim for himself.

Now lying on your back, head on Jay’s lap as you both watch Jake, he sits himself awkwardly on the side of the bed and stares forward.

“Bro, why are you all shy? You literally ate her out last night.” Jay laughs, trying to blame the nervousness all on Jake despite not knowing how to get the ball rolling himself at this point. Then, he’s reaching forward and over you to spread your legs out. Your bathrobe does little to hide the lack of material underneath, already bare and ready for both of the men in the room.

“I don’t know–” Jake argues, glancing over at you and instantly drawing his eyes to what’s beneath the robe. He tries to look away with a gulp of whatever the fuck he was going to say next, but ends up double taking at the view of you being presented to him by Jay. “I’ve never done this before…” He trails off, voice coming to a whisper as he shamelessly stares and the arousal begins to take full hold of his body.

You shift your hips a bit, as if to grind yourself against nothing to show that just like him, you can be desperate too.

“Fuck,” Jake sighs out, shifting his body fully onto the bed and facing you. “I–”

“Go on.” Jay encourages, noting the way his friend is practically drooling at the image of you in front of him like this. Proud of himself for having a girlfriend so fucking alluring.

“Should I just,” Jake stops, looking at Jay and avoiding eye contact with you. “touch her? like, what are my limits?’

Jay honestly doesn’t care what he does as long as you want it but, what he’s damn sure won’t happen is Jake getting head from you. He can eat you out all he wants but your mouth is to never be on him in any way, shape, or form without being told to do it by Jay himself.

“Help him out.” You comment, flicking your head back a bit to look at Jay from under your lashes. He smirks at you and responds with a small nod.

“Remember, you can just tell us to stop if you change your mind.” Jay directs towards Jake as he leans forward and pulls him closer to you by his arm.

Jake falls a bit, on all fours right between your legs as he stares down at your folds. He says nothing in response to Jay, now lost in the world of getting to taste you again and wondering how many more times he will be granted permission to do this.

“Stick your tongue out and use it, Jake.” Jay demands in a slightly…off tone? One that seemingly makes fun of Jake for not having touched you yet.

Jake listens, granting Jay a nice little ego boost as he hums from behind you at your sharp inhale when Jake kisses against your clit. Still, this is going to happen his way and if Jake thinks he can eat pussy well, he’s about to learn.

Jay leans forward, your body leaning with him as he harshly grabs Jake’s hair, pressing his lips against you harder, guiding his head up and down. “Stick your tongue out more–” Jay demands again, gripping his hair harder.

Strangely enough, Jake allows it. He sticks his tongue out the moment Jay demands it, and allows himself to be guided by the hair against your pussy. He groans out against you, tasting you again despite it not being of his own free will. Would Jake prefer eating you out the way he wants to? Absolutely. Does the feeling of having his head guided between your legs also kind of get him off? Oh, fuck yeah. All he has to do is imagine it’s your hand doing it.

You, however, watch as Jay pulls Jake up, still by the hair, and looks at him.

“Tongue fuck her, I’ll take care of the rest.” He says, releasing Jake and watching the way he sinks down between your legs again.

Making it easier for him, you prop your legs on his shoulders, ultimately boxing Jake in against your wet and glistening hole. It isn’t long before you feel his tongue circling, inserting against your walls. It’s not a lot to go off of, but god he looks so good between your legs like this. The image only gets better when Jay unties the loose knot of your robe and pinches against one of your nipples, his other hand going straight to your clit and rubbing it just the way you like.

“Can you cum like this for him?” Jay asks against your ear, holding you against him with his hand still playing against your nipple. “Let him really taste you?”

You nod to him with a moan, shifting your hips as if to fuck yourself on Jake’s tongue. Each pinch against your nipple sends a sensation straight to where you’re being stimulated the most, and yeah, you can definitely cum on Jake’s tongue if he keeps trying to reach as deeply as he is now.

Jay’s fingers are expert when it comes to your body, he could have you falling apart right here, right now if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He watches, instead, the way you tighten your legs around Jake’s head to pull him in closer. The way his best friend doesn’t even come up for air is laughable, but he gets it.

It’s the fact that for the first time, Jay kind of enjoys the idea of a man touching what’s his, solely because he can see how badly they want it. Knowing that he, himself, can do it whenever he wants and they can’t.

When your boyfriend rubs your clit faster, it has you chasing Jake’s tongue harder , and when you chase Jake’s tongue, he makes a point to lick every crevice you have to offer in order to entice moans and groans of his name from your mouth.

When you start to tense up, Jay knows exactly what it means. He lurches forward again and pulls Jake away from you, reaching back just as quickly to rub your clit harder.

“Watch her cum,” Jay smiles, abusing your clit just the way you love it until your legs are shaking and falling from Jake’s shoulders. “Keep your tongue out.”

“Shit–” Jake sighs out, watching your cunt drip out its continuous orgasm. Without any indication from the two of you, he takes the risk and dips back down, tongue lapping up the mess of your arousal and humming against your folds in a beautiful and desperate mantra.

“Oh god–” You choke out, jolting from the sensitivity of his tongue toying with you, Jay continuing to press your orgasm further, not relenting even as sensitivity takes hold.

Jake licks up every single bit of it and Jay watches him, feeling you continuously quiver in his grasp as you come down from the high.

“Now, fuck her.” Jay smiles knowingly, looking down at you and the way you already look dazed.

Jake shoots his head up to look at Jay, instantly he’s nodding and practically throwing his pants off. A true desperate show of how much he wants to be inside of you.

Both you and Jay examine Jake when he pulls his cock out. You’ve seen it before but never in its full glory. He’s big.

Jay glances down at you with an ‘are you sure you wanna do this?’ look and all you can do is chuckle and wiggle your hips as if to entice Jake to fuck you so senseless that Jay appears to be jealous again. It wouldn’t take much, really, because Jay is jealous right now. He needs to make damn sure you know that his cock is the only one that can make you scream, regardless of length, or whatever. He’s still thicker than Jake is.

Jake watches the two of you share looks and instantly gets a bit shy, doesn’t change the fact that he’s gently jerking himself off in preparation though.

“Condom?” Jake asks, obviously.

“No,” You say, nudging him closer again with your leg. “Im on the pill and you live with us, I know for a fact that you haven’t been fucking around.”

More shy now, Jake averts his eyes as he shuffles his way closer, all the way until he can feel his cock pressed against your leg. In one last attempt before he goes off the deep end, he looks to Jay for approval and is granted it almost instantly with a nod.

He slides in, painfully slow in your opinion, but to Jake it’s like he’s trying to feel each ridge, clench, and wall around him as he does it. You wince only a little at the size, taking a deep breath and grabbing Jay’s hand when he bottoms out.

Jake attempts to let you adjust, but it doesn’t go as smoothly as he wants to because the second he pulls his hips back, he’s slamming into you with a force he didn’t even know he had. The sounds you let out as he does this has Jay going fucking insane, you can feel his cock against your back continuously twitching as Jake fucks into you.

Only when you keep your eyes on his best friend does Jay move from under you, replacing himself with two pillows as he stands at your side.

“Stop looking at him like that,” He demands, lowering his pants enough to let his cock spring free and in front of your face. “Look at me.” He continues, stroking himself as he stares down at you.

This is what you want. You want them to fight for your attention right now. Thankfully to Jay, Jake is in his own world, head thrown back as he continuously plunges into you with the obvious need of a man who hasn’t had sex in months.

You stare up at Jay then allow your eyes to fall to his pulsing and raging length in his hand, without hesitation you open your mouth for him.

“Good girl,” He praises, setting his cock on your tongue and allowing you to feel the weight of it before he slowly slides further into your mouth. “How does it feel to be fucked from both ends?” Jay asks with a bit of a demeaning tone. “Is it everything you ever wanted?” He asks again, this time sliding further down your throat before taking hold of your head and holding it in place.

You have no reason to answer his questions, because he already knows the answer judging from the sound of how wet you are. He can fucking hear it.

“I bet it is.” He continues through a sigh, effectively fucking your mouth open much like his best friend is doing to your pussy.

One thing Jake doesn’t seem to catch onto is the fact that both you and Jay are talkers during sex. Jake, not so much, so when your mouth is gagged by a cock, he has no choice but to listen to Jay talk to you.

Jake’s hips stutter only slightly when you gag around your boyfriend, all because that gag appears to travel down your body. Your cuntclenches him so tightly that he could honestly start crying right now if it wouldn't end with him being made fun of.

So fucking tight, practically choking him out by the cock.

“Do that again–” Jake pleads, gripping your legs and spreading them away from his hips. He angles himself a bit more by placing both hands under your ass and pressing into you again, this time stilling his hips so he can feel your walls jerk him off.

Jay smirks, not knowing what the fuck Jake is referring to.

“Do what again? Gag her?” He asks, jolting his hips forward and again sliding down your throat.

You gag, and your pussy constricts.

“Goddamn, yes, that.” Jake chokes out in a sigh, trying to press his cock into you even deeper.

Jay looks down at you and the way your eyes start to glisten with tears. He knows they’re good tears, especially with the way you try to smile around his cock.

“So dirty,” He compliments, sliding out of your mouth and wiping a tear from your cheek. “This okay?” He continues, knowing you like it, but he still needs to get that confirmation considering this is new to all three of you.

You nod with a moan and a deep breath, grabbing his drenched length and sinking it straight back down your throat. Jay seethes a string of curses when you do that. You’re too fucking good at deep-throating and it’s driving him up a fucking wall how hot you are right now.

Being fucked open is one thing, but being fucked open from both ends is another. Even with Jake practically cockwarming himself in you, you can feel how rock hard he is with each twitch and aroused pulse, his length consistently putting pressure against your g-spot. God, you feel so full.

Jay elicits gags from you again, pulls out so you can breathe, and then goes right back to fucking your mouth at his own pace. Jake, on the other end, has since lost all form of self control with your last gag. You’re dripping around him, clenching him so fucking tightly, he can’t help it when he grips your ass firmly and essentially gags you himself with how hard he begins to piston his hips. Even Jay is thrown off by the way you stop sucking and your mouth goes slack.

He slides out of your mouth, listening as a drawn out moan of Jake’s name comes from your lips.

“Look at her–” Jay glares, forcing Jake to slow his hips and look at you. “Look at how good you’re making her feel.” He adds again, only slightly more aroused than he is threatened by your expression.

Jake is looking, watching as your eyes fall to him and you buck your hips up as if to ride yourself on him.

“God, please Jay, can she ride me?” Jake loses composure, slipping his hands out from under your ass and grabbing your waist.

Jay doesn’t even get to answer the firm “no” he was intending because he can see you look at him with pleading eyes just like his best friend. It sucks to have all of this power but still not be able to say no to those pretty fucking, tear stained eyes when you look at him like this. What’s worse?

The way Jake is looking at him is arguably…just as fucking hot.

And so, Jay bows his head in approval and wonders when the fuck he became the third wheel in his own relationship, that is, until you sit yourself up, push Jake back, and settle yourself on his thighs.

You don’t move as you look at your boyfriend, your pleading eyes now turning to concern as he stands by himself off of the bed. For some reason, it comforts him.

Jay smiles at you softly, kind of like a small confirmation that he’s doing just fine, and then moves forward to further that confirmation for you.

“She takes it so well, right?” Jay averts his eyes to Jake, getting behind you on the bed and settling down with his cock in hand. “Go on, ride him, baby.”

So you do, rolling your hips forward and backwards in a way that has Jake slipping in and out of you with ease. He can feel you drip onto his legs and honestly, he’s in fucking heaven right now as he places both hands on your thighs and stares directly at his cock disappearing inside of you.

It’s a shame really, considering being ridden is one of Jake’s weaknesses.

“Can I cum in her?” Jake blurts mindlessly, his hips attempting to fuck into you despite your weight on him keeping his hips down. “Jay, please? Can I cum in her?”

His questions come out frantic, pleading for the ability to release his control and absolutely let you fuck him into oblivion, but he waits, now halting your hits from moving as if to contain the load he’s about to release without permission.

“What if I say no?” Jay laughs, gripping his cock and watching the way Jake twitches inside of you.

You move your hips again, a small chuckle lightly coming out alongside Jay as Jake hits rock bottom and somehow spirals further down.

“Shit, shit!” Jake groans, urging you to lift up a bit as he painfully begins to slam into you.

Jay can hear his cum seeping out of you with each plunge of his cock, he can see it spurt out of you and down Jake’s legs. God damn it’s way hotter than he anticipated it being.

Without a second thought Jay is pulling himself up and positioning himself behind you. He doesn’t say a word as he presses the small of your back forward so that your tits press against Jake’s face, and prods his cock at your entrance. Right there beside Jake, he slides in with an uncomfortable stretch.

“This is how you fuck my girlfriend.” Jay groans, feeling your pussy hug around his cock and his best friend’s. He can already feel Jake going soft from the recent orgasm, but he doesn’t relent. Jay starts moving his hips regardless, fucking Jake’s released load back into you with an impossible stretch.

Honestly, Jay is on cloud 9 listening to both of you whine and moan. Neither of you stopping him, and even Jake finds the sensitivity of his cock being fucked against as insanely pleasurable as it is painful.

You’re staring down at Jake when you slightly lift, and he’s looking up at you as Jay continuously stimulates you both. At this moment, you’re both in this together and Jay has full control. Deserving control, you think. Smiling at Jake, you drop your head to his neck and start talking.

“You felt so good,” You praise him, moaning at the way Jay slams into you. “Can you get hard again?”

Jake simply nods because he cannot, for the life of him, think of words right now. He’s already feeling his arousal coming back to him. Even Jay feels it, in the way his softening cock manages to get hard again within mere minutes. He’s never been able to get hard again that quickly, but then again, Jake was practically pussy starved so he doesn’t question it.

The fit inside of you grows tighter and tighter as Jake’s cock wakes up to the overstimulation, all the way until all three of you are wincing at the drag of Jay continuously fucking into you. The sound of moans, slick, and heavy breathing is all that can be heard when Jake moves his hips at an opposite rhythm of Jay.

“Oh, fuck yes–” Jay moans, throwing his head back and looking down at how stretched open you are with two cocks stuffed inside of you. “You’re doing so good, so fucking good–” He babbles on, praising you, or Jake, he doesn’t even know at this point.

Overstimulated, his cock feels as though your cunt has a death grip on it as he continues to squeeze along size Jake’s length, your wet and sore walls clenching them so tightly that Jay barely has to move at all to feel like he’s fucking the daylights out of you.

Jake’s small thrusts only push the orgasm to the edge for both you and Jay. The head of Jake’s cock drags alongside Jay’s with each thrust and it has him nearly gasping for air when his orgasm hits him.

Jake hasn’t stopped moaning since Jay fit himself into you, nor have you. Who has control in this situation? Not a single person, not even Jay, as he frantically bottoms himself out and shoots his cum against the impossibly tight space inside of you. Jay’s orgasm ignites yours, your g-spot having been stimulated this entire time, you nearly squeeze so hard that they both are forced out of you, but they fight the sensation, continuing to bury themselves into you through your high.

Pained gasps drag on and all you can feel are fingertips both clawing and squeezing at you when you release around them, squeezing both of them tighter, and tighter, until Jay has no choice but to slip his spent cock out of you.

You slump over instantly, your walls fitting themself back around Jake’s still hard length inside of you.

Jake struggles to orgasm again, unsure of if he has any cum left after the first one, so he pulls out of you the moment Jay shoots a look at him, as if to tell him to stop. Still in his aroused state of mind though, Jake practically shoves you back onto Jay as he works himself up to whatever orgasm he has left by his own hand.

It takes a moment, but you feel his second load hitting against your thighs not long after and all that’s left to do now is assess the damage.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There was no damage. Even as Jay apologetically begs you to tell him the truth. To tell him he went too far, or was too rough. You liked it, and you hate that you have to convince him of it.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jay asks, kissing you once on the back of your neck after you nod with a dazed smile. “And you?” Jay averts his eyes to Jake, who is sprawled out regaining his breath at the foot of your bed.

“I’m great, actually.” He says, looking over to Jay with a dopey kind of smile.

“You’re both insane.” Jay finally releases a breath of relief, realizing how much you and his best friend have in common sexually.

It’s…weirdly endearing, making his heart swell at the way both you and Jake look at him expectantly. Like still, he has control over all three of you.

“You didn’t like it?” You ask, and Jake nods along with your question to look at Jay.

“Of course I fucking liked it.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Jake asks, sitting himself up now and pretending he doesn’t get a headrush almost instantly.

Jay thinks hard about it. Is there even an issue? Did he ever expect to actually share his girlfriend with Jake this way? Of course not, but it doesn’t change the fact that all three of you enjoyed every bit of that. Plus, Jake doesn’t appear to be super competitive and listens to everything Jay says to do.

Who wouldn’t be turned on by that kind of control anyway?

・・・・・・ EPILOGUE ・・・・・・

Jake has become a constant fixture in your sexual relationship with Jay now, but he doesn’t step out of line much to Jay’s pleasure. Even now, months down the road from the beach vacation, all three of you came to terms with the fact that Jake wants to stay, and so do the two of you.

Rent is split three ways, you’re split two ways, but you get it all. Truly, you feel like you have the best end of this bargain. Even now, Jay tends to have more private sex with you as if to avoid constantly living in the world of kinks and pushing boundaries. You enjoy it. You love sharing moments with him without Jake around, and even when Jake does walk in on it, he doesn’t stay most of the time because now, when it’s meant to be for all three of you, Jake is blatantly invited. He knows now that any sex he isn’t aware of isn’t for him, despite it being the complete opposite from before.

It’s a comfortable kind of thing. Even if the three of you don’t talk about it outside of these walls, it’s what you like, it’s what they like. Even Jay has loosened up a bit more about you and Jake together. It’s not like you’re dating him, but your boyfriend has actually implied you go busy yourself with Jake when he’s exhausted or too tired to fuck you himself. If anything, when you do go and busy yourself with Jake, Jay usually ends up watching anyway.

“Jake,” Jay says from across the room after yet another session of cuckolding his girlfriend and best friend. “I hope you know that she’s still my girlfriend and I will always be the one to fuck her better.”

“You’re really gonna say that after I just made her cum twice before you even got your cock out?” Jake laughs.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Jay glares but Jake can see his smile.

“I know. You keep her happy.” Jake drops the playful act and decides to genuinely let Jay know.

“Unfortunately, your cock is required for her happiness sometimes.”

“No, his cock is required for fun. You are required for my happiness.” You interject, reminding them that you’re literally still in the room, heaving from your third orgasm.

“And that’s why this little arrangement works out.” Jay agrees, lifting himself to kiss you. “Only I get your love and affection. Jake just gets 30% of your orgasms.”

“10% of yours too, apparently.” Jake shifts his eyes to Jay.

Jay does remember the few times he’s let Jake fuck you and grew so aroused by how you act with his best friend in contrast to himself, that yeah, he guesses he can give Jake and his huge cock some credit for making him cum a few times, but really, it’s because he’s seeing his girlfriend stretched out and cock stupid, definitely because they both whine in unison over him.

At the end of the day, it’s cute, especially because Jake can still never fuck you as good as he will. You may be cock-stupid for his size, but you’re cock-drunk for how Jay works it inside of you.

And so, it appears that Jay is in a happy relationship with you, a healthy one. One where he’s perfectly comfortable cleaning his best friend’s cum out of you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #park jongseong smut #enha smut #jay smut #jake smut

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minbells · 3 months

Text

Megumi who doesn’t think there’s anything more breathtaking than the sight of you in this very moment. And yet, there’s nothing too extravagant nor inappropriately enticing about what you’re doing. You’re just, there. And that’s enough for his heart to start racing.

"Can’t sleep?" he attempts a greeting, and you turn your head towards him, surprised to see him up and on the same roof as you in the late hours of night. You have a book on your lap and your fluffy blanket is loose around your shoulders. As he gets closer he can spot goosebumps on your skin. You sleepily smile up at him, your legs dangling on the side of the rooftop and he almost wants to scold you from sitting too close to the edge. Instead his heart just melts because you look absolutely adorable and he wants to kiss you.

"Yeah, it’s just harder to fall asleep some nights," you hum, and you catch an understanding nod from him as he settles next to you. You stay silent for a little bit, book forgotten, and you both stare at the leaves rustling with the wind, appreciating how quiet and secluded Jujutsu Tech is, especially at night. The moon peaks through heavy clouds and your features are enhanced by the gentle glow — Megumi has to slightly shake his head to suppress the lovesick smile that threatens to appear on his lips. Lord, why does he only lose his cool around you?

"We should do something tomorrow," you suddenly blurt out after a long yawn, and it immediately triggers a blush on his cheeks. "You know, we never really hang out just the two of us."

"We’re hanging out right now," he responds before he could stop himself, and you smile sheepishly, turning towards him in an attempt to catch the look on his face. Dread is what you see, because why the hell did he say that? He almost wants to slap himself for his smart ass comment, but you just smile gently at him and all thoughts leave his head at the sight.

"I know, but I mean we should do something when we’re less sleep deprived and stores are actually open. We could go that arcade Yuuji always talks about, win tons of plushies and get into a food coma," your eyes sparkle slightly at the idea — you are so cute — but then you seem to come to your senses. "I mean, we could also do something more, uh, mature I guess, like taking a walk or something, I don’t know… do your demon dogs like to be walked?," you ramble and he finds it so endearing he almost doesn’t realize that you just asked him out.

Wait, did you just asked him out? And then he blurts it out; "Are you asking me out?," and part of him wants to jump off that roof because why is he so awkward about those things meanwhile you’re an absolute angel. There’s a few seconds of silent where your eyes just widen at him and you pull the blanket closer to your body, feeling slightly smaller under the pressure of his question.

"I- I mean," you trail off, avoiding his intense stare at all cost and finding a sudden interest in picking at the dirt under your nails. But then you remember that it’s Megumi, one of the most practical and calculated guy you know, always so unbothered — unless it comes to you, although you’re unaware of the effect you have on him — and you have a feeling that if you’re not completely clear about what you want he’s probably never going to do anything about it.

And so you find enough confidence in yourself to say what you really want to say. "Yes, I’m asking you out. On a date."

Again, the silence is heavy. You wonder if you came on too strong, if you’ve misread the connection that you’ve always felt with him. This wasn’t your first late night talk, and usually you would always train together. You were always close, and you definitely thought that there was something more that the two of you could share together. Meanwhile, he wonders if you’re joking, or maybe you’re sleepwalking and that’s why you ended up on the roof telling him things he would only dream about.

"You don’t have to, you know…" you try not to sound too disappointed.

"I would love to," he responds immediately, almost eagerly, and he scrambles for anything more coherent to say, but your whole face just lights up and you smile so bright at him that all his worries and awkwardness just melts away at the sight of your happiness. Your smile is exactly what he needed to boost his confidence.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven after training, at your dorm," he says right before he loses his cool demeanour again, not realizing that his cheeks are pink and the tip of his ears red, heart pounding and hands suddenly sweaty — yeah he’s definitely not unbothered by you.

You happily lean in and kiss his cheek, only adding to the fire that’s already raging in his soul. "I can’t wait! What should I wear? I’ll ask Nobara… see you tomorrow, Megumi," you stand and leave, almost with a skip in your step, and he’s dumbfounded, completely lost in the moment, staring ahead with nothing but the sound of your lovely voice echoing in his head, saying his first name for the first time.

He’s left smiling so bright his cheeks hurt.

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #reader #fluff #fushiguro x reader

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unearthly-doting · 6 months

Text

finding their soulmate: genshin edition.

a/n: i haven't made a post here in a hot second and i honestly apologize about that lol. the motivation to write just hasn't been there but!! here's a small lil genshin post for now. i just spun a wheel to pick who i write but if u want me to write for some of the others then just lmk!!

includes: xiao, kaeya, kujou sara, albedo, tartaglia, and ayato.

warnings: mdni, yandere content, not edited, gn reader, kidnapping, forced relationships, arranged marriage, manipulation, reader injury in both kujou sara's, albedo's and tartaglia's parts, childe stabs you :peace sign:, canon is a very vague concept in my writing more often than not btw, this is kinda cringey </3, the yandere content in albedo's part is actually very mild bc i was restraining myself bc there was a lot i wanted to do w it.

XIAO — never really cared much about finding his soulmate. His entire existence was dedicated to protecting Liyue, even if the nation no longer needed his protection. Besides, with how long he's been around, he just assumed his soulmate was long dead and that he'd never meet them. Though, a small part of him wondered... what was his soulmate like?

And, almost as if the universe had been listening, he ends up meeting you. His soulmate. It wasn't a classic, romantic meeting. He didn't save your life or anything like that. You were just a traveler who decided to stay at the inn.

He didn't think much of you until his eyes met yours and suddenly color was flooding into his world. It made him dizzy, and it stunned him into absolute silence because all he could so was stare at you with wide eyes.

You were clearly going through it as well, because obviously. You just met your fucking soulmate on a damn business trip. What the hell were you supposed to do now? It would be awkward to just... ignore what had happened, right? I mean, he's staring right at you and this was all just very overwhelming.

It was an awkward first meeting, that's for sure.

But during your time at the inn, whenever you were free from work, you spent it with Xiao. He was closed off, clearly keeping his guard up and not letting you get too close. You didn't know the reasons, but you didn't expect him to tell you his entire life story just because you two were apparently bound by the universe.

Honestly, you just assumed he didn't want to be with his soulmate. This didn't upset you. It wouldn't work out, anyway. You're only staying for a few weeks before heading home.

But archons, did Xiao want you. Behind his typical, distant behavior, Xiao was taking note of everything about you. Your interests, your habits, your sleep schedule, your favorite foods and desserts... everything you told him or subconsciously revealed, Xiao was tucking it away in his mind.

He wanted you. He wanted you to stay here, in Liyue, with him. Where you belong. But he didn't know how to express that. He's never been in love before, and it's not like he'll just suddenly become an expert at romance after meeting you.

When it was time for you to leave, he was crushed. He needed you to stay. He needed you by his side. Letters wouldn't be enough to fill the emptiness in your wake if you left. You had to stay.

You will stay.

And when you wake up to find yourself no longer in the inn, and instead in some small home deep within the mountains of Liyue, you're distraught.

Xiao looks genuinely guilty, robbing you of your freedom but... you understand, don't you? You have to understand. He just couldn't let you go. You're his soulmate, you were destined to be with him! You'll love it here, he'll make sure of it.

Just stay.

KAEYA — had always wondered what his soulmate was like ever since he was a child. He would spend hours just staring at the small crescent moon forever stained on his wrist, wondering if and when he'll meet the person with a matching mark.

Of course, as he got older he spent less time thinking about such things, though he did always hold out hope that he might be able to one day meet his soulmate. Little did he know, he's met his soulmate already. Multiple times.

You took over Sara's shifts at the Good Hunter whenever she had other things she needed to focus on, so Kaeya has spoken with you on numerous occasions, he's just never realized you were his soulmate because you keep your wrists covered. He's not one to judge, his wrists aren't visible either.

Him finding out was an accident. You had been handing him his order when your sleeves rolled up a bit, and his gaze just so happened to look at your wrists and he saw the very same crescent moon that was on his.

And for a moment, he froze. He just stared. Long enough that you were starting to feel a little uncomfortable. But before you could awkwardly send him on his way, he was showing you the crescent moon on his wrist as well and thus began your love story.

Or... well... it's what Kaeya had hoped for, but you didn't seem interested in soulmates at all. You didn't want the universe to decide who you were meant to be with, you wanted to make that decision yourself, so you had, to put it simply, bluntly rejected him.

And he gets it! It hurts, sure. He spent his entire life dreaming of this day, and it's not turning out the way he had hoped, but... you guys can be friends, at least, right? No strings attached?

For a while, Kaeya was fine with that. You and he had a really strong friendship. He cared about you, and you cared about him. Though your feelings were platonic, he was holding on to the hope that maybe one day, you'll realize you two were meant to be together.

But it was starting to seem as though that day might never come, because almost a year into your friendship with him, you had told Kaeya that you were thinking about entering the dating scene. He was... not too pleased about that, honestly. It was pretty obvious too, the way his entire mood soured the moment you brought the topic up.

He didn't stand by idly while this happened. Any person he saw you chatting up with romantic intentions would suddenly avoid you like the plague the next time you saw them. Any blind dates would end with you being ghosted. Hell, even some of your friends, the ones who were helping you get dates, were starting to avoid you too. It was so confusing.

But not Kaeya. No, Kaeya was always by your side.

Whenever you needed him, he was there. He always seemed to be able to make time for you. He listened to you vent your frustrations out, never once judging you or telling you that you were being dramatic. He was the only constant in your life these days.

Of course, you were completely oblivious to the fact that he was the cause of all of this. It's not that hard to blackmail people, he's learned. But they didn't deserve you anyway, seeing how easily they gave up on you the moment he approached them.

Maybe... maybe dating Kaeya wouldn't be so bad... I mean, you're the one deciding this, right? The universe isn't having any play in it. This is your decision. Isn't it?

KUJOU SARA — never cared about her soulmate. She knew she had one, you were in every dream she had. She found it to be more of a nuisance than anything else.

Her entire life was dedicated to her training, and to the Raiden Shogun. She neither had the time, nor the interest in searching for her soulmate. Besides, it didn't seem as if you resided in Inazuma. Your clothing was similar what people in Fontaine wear, and Fontaine was far away from Inazuma.

She was confident that she wouldn't be meeting you any time soon, so she never gave you any thought when she was awake. She never made any plans on what she would do if she did, by any chance, meet you. It didn't matter.

And she can't help but regret that, now that you're standing in front of her. If she had known that meeting her soulmate would make her feel like this, as if everything in the world suddenly made sense, then... well... she doesn't know what she would've done, to be honest.

No matter, Sara had no time to entertain you. Your stay in Inazuma was only temporary, so she saw no point in trying to form a bond with you. You, however, seemed to have different plans. She was used to seeing you in her dreams every night, but she was not used to seeing you in her waking moments.

Whenever she wasn't preoccupied with something, you were there to offer her company. It was annoying, and she's sent you away more than once, but that didn't seem to deter you. If anything, you seemed to become more determined each time she brushed you off.

At some point, she had given up on avoiding you. It was easier to just let you stick around. And, the more time she spent with you, the more attached she was becoming. It wasn't smart, she knew that, but could you blame her? You're so... irrevocably you.

Her fondness for you didn't go unnoticed.

Many people in Inazuma treated you with the same respect they treated Sara. You were her soulmate, after all. Should someone insult you, they would in turn be insulting her. Nobody wanted to get on her bad side.

There were, however, a few bad apples.

It should come as no surprise that a target was placed on your back the moment people took notice of Sara's attachment to you. She didn't think she'd have to worry much, because no one would be idiotic enough to actually try and harm you under her watch, but she should've known better.

It happened a few days before you were set to leave Inazuma to return home. A disturbance was going on within the city so Sara wasn't with you when you went on your daily walk just outside of it. It was supposed to be safe, but it wasn't.

Some vagrants had got the jump on you, and you nearly lost your life. You were lucky enough to have been found by some bystanders, but Sara was less than pleased when she heard about this. She had never taken pleasure in killing anyone before, but there was a deep-rooted sense of satisfaction deep within her chest when she watched the lives of those who hurt you fade away.

And as she sat by your side, waiting for you to wake up, she came to a decision. You can't be alone. If you are, you'll get hurt, and she won't be able to protect you. She can't let you leave Inazuma. She knows you'll more than likely hate her for making this decision for you, but if it means she can keep you safe, keep you alive and by her side, then... that hatred is something she'll be willing to bear.

ALBEDO — doesn't have a soulmate. At least, he's not supposed to. He's an artificial being, so it wouldn't make sense for him to have a soulmate. Of course, he does find the concept of soulmates to be intriguing. Who, or what, decides who people are destined to be with? It's a question he hopes to find an answer to.

So he wasn't surprised when he found you passed out in the snow, deep within Dragonspine. He's seen this countless times before, travelers who don't take precautions before trying to brave the deadly cold that comes with being here. He assumed he would just nurse you back to health and you would go on your merry way.

That changed, however, when he was cleaning your wounds and he saw his name inked on your skin, right on your collarbone. In his handwriting, at that. It confused him, because... that would mean that he's your soulmate. But he can't be. And yet, it didn't come off when he tried wiping it off. It was a part of your skin.

This left him with many questions, though none of them got answered when you woke up. You couldn't remember much about yourself, other than your name and a few other details. You didn't even know why you were in Dragonspine, or where you were from. You did hit your head pretty badly, judging from the headwound, so that would explain the amnesia, though he's not sure if it was going to be something temporary or not.

You both decided it would be best to just have you stay here until you were able to recover some of your memories and although Albedo wasn't eager to make friends with you, he was grateful for the company. He was incredibly patient with you too, answering any questions you may have had ranging from a multitude of different topics.

And in return, you helped out as much as you could without overexerting yourself and making your injuries worse. You'd make sure to keep his little lab tidy when he was away. You'd help out with some of his experiments too, if he knew you wouldn't get hurt doing so.

All while trying to figure out how he could possibly be your soulmate. He checked over himself. Four times. Your name was nowhere on his body. So why? Why was his name on yours? As much as he hates to admit it, he thinks he may never get an answer to this mystery.

Though... that's not such a bad thing, he thinks. He finds himself enjoying your company more and more with each passing day, the whole soulmate thing rarely even crossed his mind. At least, until you had asked him why his name was permanently etched into your skin. It was fairly easy to explain everything to you, though he was unable to answer a few of your questions, sadly. Soulmates were still a mystery, after all.

And when you asked if you could write your name on him so you two could match, he found himself unable to say no. He found himself unable to speak at all, actually, as you wrote your name on his shoulder. You even added a little heart next to it.

But no, Albedo was too busy coming to terms with the feelings he has for you. They weren't new. He's been aware of them for a week or so now, he just never gave it much thought until now. Now, with you so close to him, it was simply impossible to ignore.

And once you pull away, you smile at him and say, "There! Now I'm your soulmate too, right?" And oh.

Oh.

There was no way Albedo was going to let you leave Dragonspine now.

TARTAGLIA — feels a little bad for his soulmate, whoever they are. They can feel his pain, and he can feel theirs. So... they probably hate his guts, considering he's not the most careful person in the world. He pushes himself to his limits and beyond, and his soulmate has no doubt felt every single second of it.

Don't get him wrong, he would love to meet his soulmate. It's been a dream of his since he was a child, always eager to hear the story of how his mom and dad found out they were soulmates. Even as he grew older, the desire never went away. It was just... buried.

And his soulmate just so happened to be you, the significant other of a man who owed the Northland Bank a lot of money. He doesn't normally partake in debt collections, but he didn't have anything better to do so he decided to take this one on. He was going to use you as an example to your husband, though the moment his blade stabbed you, he froze.

He felt the pain. He stabbed you, and he could feel it. Oh fuck, he just stabbed his soulmate. That's definitely not the picturesque first meeting he was hoping for. Probably wouldn't be a good idea to tell his family this either...

Stabbing aside, he was utterly delighted. You, on the other hand, were terrified. Not only did this man just fucking stab you, his expression went from bored to something akin to crazed glee. He stared at you with a hunger that made you want to shy away from his gaze.

He doesn't care that you're already in a relationship with someone else. Not anymore, you're not. You're his, destined by the stars or however the story goes. And if your lover tries to get you back, he'll just kill them. Easy as that. Absolutely nothing will get in the way of him having you.

And he likes that you fight back against him. He especially loves it when you manage to escape. Hell, sometimes he'll even let you go just so he can chase you down again. It sends a thrill through him like no other when he catches you, and you stare at him teary-eyed and out of breath.

You're always so scared that he'll hurt you, but he would never do such a thing. He treats you like you're royalty, spoiling you with a seemingly endless amount of gifts. You're not quite sure how he knows what you like, and you're too hesitant to ask.

Honestly... he'd probably let you stab him. Y'know, he stabbed you, so it's only fair that you get to stab him in turn, right?

You think not. You're very hesitant, staring at him as though he were insane for even proposing such an idea. A part of him was disappointed. He wanted one of the many scars on his body to be from you. But a much larger part can't help but go soft at the sight of you shaking your head, sternly refusing to hurt him.

If he wasn't obsessed with you before, he certainly was now. You're too good. Too kind. He's holding you captive (lovingly, of course) and you refuse to hurt him? You don't even want to pinch him? How adorable.

Why, if he didn't know any better, he'd think that you might care about him.

He was nothing if not stubborn, of course. You might not care about him now, but you will in the future. He'll make sure of it.

After all, he's spent his whole life waiting for you.

AYATO — never had the time to think of his soulmate. He was blessed (or cursed, depending on who you ask) with the ability to see the red strings that tied people together. When he was younger, before having to take on the duties of the Kamisato name, he would always stare at the one tied to his pinkie.

He even has the habit of twirling the red string around his finger whenever he gets stressed. Only behind closed doors, of course. It would probably appear strange to others if they saw.

Meeting his soulmate was something he had always planned out in his head as a child, and when he finally did meet you, it was so... simple. There was nothing magical about it, you had just bumped into him one day when he was out in the city and that's what started all of this.

For you, it was a forgettable encounter, one that would never cross your mind again. For him, it was everything he had been waiting for. Thoma thought it was a bit strange, but he dutifully gathered information about you when Ayato asked it of him. He needed to know everything there was to know about you.

He already knew what he was going to do when he met his soulmate, the only thing left was to actually do it. And you were definitely shocked when Kamisato Ayato himself showed up at your home and asked you to marry him.

You said no, obviously, because why the hell would you agree to marry someone you didn't know? Ayato had planned for this, of course. That's why he had Thoma learn everything about you, so the moment you declined his offer, he just smiled and made a comment about your family. It was very obvious what he was implying.

And even if you aren't close with your family, you can't live with blood on your hands. You were pretty much forced into accepting Ayato's marriage proposal. He was pleased with this outcome, promising to take care of everything himself.

Marrying him meant that you would, unfortunately, have to leave your home and instead live at the Kamisato Estate. Everyone was under the impression that this marriage was one of love and not coercion. You highly doubt that anyone would believe you if you told them the truth, and you were too concerned about what the consequences would be if you did.

Everyone at the estate was nice to you, at least, though the only people allowed to actually get close to you were Ayaka and Thoma.

And when the wedding was over, it was time for your honeymoon. You were not excited about that, but it seemed Celestia itself was on your side during that time because he was too busy to spend time with you.

If he wasn't threatening the lives of your family, you would have made numerous escape attempts by now. Still, you've made it very clear that you hate his guts.

Your hatred is something he detests, though he can't fault you for it. He understands that what he's forced you into is wrong, but in his mind, it was something that had to be done. He's sure that given enough time and space, you'll grow to understand why he did what he did.

And even though you scorn his existence, Ayato looks at you as if you've placed the stars in the sky.

Your strings are forever tied together, so there's no getting out of this. He doesn't plan on ever letting you go. He'd be a terrible husband if he didn't keep you close, wouldn't he?

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wolfiesmoon · 8 months

Note

Hey I hope you are doing well when ever you are reading this but how do you think the 3rd year boys from twst would react to their s/o (gn reader) cuddling with a huge plush instead of them.

Like this.

Oh boy oh boy this kinda cures my writers block tbh, i have so many drafts but none of em look enticing enough to continue writing (´д｀|||)

I took out a few of the 3rd years bc its too many people for 1 fic but i might make a part 2 where i add the missing 3rd years at some point

i went with the more silly writing style again, hope that's fine by you ○( ＾皿＾)っ

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Malleus Draconia

He doesn't exactly get why, but he feels kinda annoyed just laying next to you while you hug a big ol plushie

This doesn't feel right🫤

But then again, you look rlly happy and satisfied so he stays quiet since if you're happy, he's happy (he desperately wants to be in the plushy's place)

When you playfully kiss the plush though, that rule no longer applies. After all, his rightful spot is in your arms🫠

He nudges you. "Put the stuffed animal away."

"You sound angry." You smirk and kiss the plush again, knowing he's probably annoyed about that

without another word, he pulls the plushy out of your hands and settles down in its place

"I am a much better than that object. Just so you know." he smiled smugly, expecting a kiss on the cheek just like you gave to the plushie earlier

you kissed him on the lips instead just to see his eyes widen and his face go red ofc 😏

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Leona Kingscholar

basically, it is NOT happening

"hell no." is the only thing he says before ripping the poor plushie out of your arms and chucking it across the room

like actually how DARE you try to replace him with a plushie

"Why would you do that?" You pouted at him, looking at the now discarded plushy from the bed🤕

"You know damn well why." He huffed, laying down on top of you without warning which tends to be a habit of his

"Because that's my spot, got it?" He answered for you. clearly you forgot😒

"Uhhh, right." you answered after a short pause...

"I won't remind you next time." he sounded rlly annoyed. it's kinda funny how worked up he got over a plushy replacing him 🤭

this also means he won't let you get up for like.... atleast 2 hours to atone for your sins

moral of the story: don't do this again unless you want a ripped up plushie and a pissed off lion man😠

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Idia Shroud

"This is so unfair. Even worse than an OP boss. " he sighed dramatically, laying down besides you and pouting at the sight og a huge plushie in your arms

"pick up the sock if you have enough energy to complain." you turned away from him, still annoyed with him

being the epic gamer he is (😎💯), he discarded one of his socks in the middle of his room and didn't feel like picking it up later even after you told him to

...which ended with you refusing to cuddle with him until he does pick up the sock

after a short while of very awkward silence...

he groaned in annoyance, begrudgingly getting up and finally picking up the sock, then leaving the room to put it in the wash

you smirked victoriously, placing the plushie away as promised and letting him hug you instead

"The things you make me do, smh." he sighed, relaxing into you 😒

"Picking up a singular sock?" you teased him, hugging him back

He didn't reply so that means it's your victory 😝

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Vil Schoenheit

this is an unforgivable offense, just because you had a little disagreement earlier doesn't mean you can just replace him with a plushie😠

love transcends disagreements, after all

does not help at all that the plushie's cute round face reminds him of a certain thorn in his side named Neige LeBlanche😒

he sighs, "I may have been too harsh back there."

your only reply is an annoyed huff and you hug the plushie tighter which makes one of those anime veins pop up on his face 💢

he takes a deep breath "It was not my intention to hurt your... sensibilities." he's trying babe, he's really trying

You don't reply for a moment...

"Ugh." you throw the plushie away and hug him tightly "This doesn't mean I forgive you, just for the record."

"I still stand by my opinion too, just worded less harshly." he gently puts an arm around you, stroking your back

it was only a matter of time until you gave up with your stubborn pettiness, soon you'll forgive him too, he'll make sure of that 😌

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Lilia Vanrouge

He's actually surprisingly chill about it i feel like

He wouldn't get annoyed or be jealous per se, he'd just get a little sad it's not him you're hugging😔

he's there, you know? there's no need for a plushie...

"Am I not satisfactory enough?" He asks half playfully half seriously

"In what sense?" you totally knew what he meant but just wanted to tease him back

"Hey, isn't this supposed to be the other way around?" he smiled at you, immediately knowing what you were playing at

"Hahaha, you know me too well." you kiss his cheek, yet you still don't let go of the plushie which makes him pout

"I see you have found yourself a new lover." his eyes travel to the plushie for a moment, the betrayal is real😔🙏🏻

"You got a problem with him?" you raised a brow 🤨

"A little." he hugged you from the back, getting comfy

"Okay fine, maybe my ex is the better one after all." you let go of the plushie and turned around to hug him back 💗

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slvtforfiction · 10 months

Note

Hiii I luv your writing🥺 it’s so soft and sweet.

Can I request for multiple people in one post? Like headcanons? If so, could you write headcanons for Jake, Johnnie, Sam and Colby on how they felt seeing you for the first time/what they noticed about you/why they were attracted to you? If not, then just with Johnnie is fine!! Thanks so much🫶🫶

☆ Ahhhh anon thank you!!

☆ Ofcourse I can!

☆ Headcanons :)

☆ Fluff/ Suggestive for Colby’s part :)

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

Masterlist | Pinned post

Jake:

☆Jake would see you and immediately turn to his friends, “Look how pretty she is!”

☆ Jake wouldn’t have enough courage to go and ask for your number without his friends help.

☆ He doesn’t want to be the weirdo that asks for a girls number,even if he’s not fully sober I don’t think it would give him the confidence.

☆ After a lot of convincing from his friends he would eventually walk up to you.

☆ He would definitely be awkward,not knowing what to say because he doesn’t want to blow his chances or make you uncomfortable.

☆ Would walk up to you and properly see you and fireworks are lighting in his eyes.

☆ Jake would start small talk but eventually just say something along the lines of “Can I get your number?”

☆ If you say yes he would run back to his friends and be like “Guess who get their numberrrrr.” And would be a lot more bubbly/giggly the rest of the time he was out before eventually leaving to go home to message you.

☆ Would definitely spend the rest of the night on call with you.

Johnnie:

☆Johnnie will not walk up to you,way too scared.

☆ He saw you across the room and immediately wanted to go up to you and call you beautiful and talk to you about everything.

☆ Would eventually send one of his friends up to you to ask for your number but instead of giving it you would walk up to Johnnie instead.

☆ “Hey,Johnnie Right?” And he melts just because you know his name (Even though his friend told him)

☆ Would definitely stutter to ask for your number but ofcourse you said yes and his nerves calmed down a bit.

☆ Would end up leaving his friends so he could talk to you alone and have a mini date.

☆ Would talk to you about how he loves your outfit,your hair,makeup,anything. His love language is definitely words of affirmation so if you compliment him back he feels like he’s met the one immediately.

☆ Would invite you to another ‘real’ date before asking for your number and saying he should leave.

☆ His friends would not hear the end of it and neither would yours.

Sam:

☆ He would go up to you without even telling his friends and go over to you.

☆ He would start with small talk before finding out something about you and talking to you about that entirely.

☆ Finds your interests really cool and would definitely keep talking about them whilst throwing in compliments about your outfit etc.

☆ Would tell you everything he knows about your interests and would eventually talk about his for a short while.

☆ Wouldn’t want to be the creepy guy asking for your number if you don’t know him so he would talk to you about half an hour before deciding to ask.

☆ “Do you think I could have your number?” When you say yes he immediately reaches into his back pocket to grab his phone.

☆ He would keep talking to you afterwards instead of going back to his friends.

☆ When he gets home he would call you and talk to you all night if he could even staying in call if you fall asleep.

Colby:

☆ Would see you across the room at a party to be fair.

☆ If you were taking shots he would stare you down whilst you did.

☆ He would walk over to you without thinking about it,doesn’t need the alcohol or his friends to hype him up.

☆ Definitely Cocky about it and would ask for you number immediately.

☆ He would definitely be respectful but is still very cocky.

☆ He compliments you like there’s no tomorrow,he loves everything about you and your looks are just an add-on to his feelings.

☆ At the end of the night if you were still at the party he would ask if you wanted to come back to his place.

☆ Extracurricular activities happened that night if you said yes 🫡.

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mrsmothermaximoff · 4 months

Text

Missed me?

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Pairing: Stepmommy Wanda x f!reader

Tags: Stepmom x stepdaughter, fluff, daddy issues

Summary: Y/N's back from college and finds out her stepmother may have missed her just as much as she did

After too many long and stressful nights away at college, all you wanted was to lay and bed and forget it ever happened. "It's just a fifteen minute drive, it'll be over soon." you shuddered that the thought of having to sit in a car with your father for what you knew would feel like hours. He was a great dad, great at running away whenever you needed him.

You reminded yourself that if you had learned how to drive sooner so you could have avoided this mess. But there you waited outside the airport, hoping this evening would pass by quickly so you could finally get away from all of this. The bright red car pulls up and you approach it dreadfully, only to be met with the lovely green eyes you so tenderly missed. "Need a ride, love?" she joked and chuckled softly. "Wanda!" you said as you pulled her into a deep and warm hug. "I missed you so much my Y/N." God that woman could be the death of you.

The ride back to the house was full of laughter and reciprocated words of longing and endearment. You couldn't begin to describe what life was like without her in it. Not because you didn't know how, but because she could never know how you truly felt. "You must have been quite glad to lounge off without hearing me nagging at you all day" she playfully remarked. "The opposite actually, I missed it." She smiled at you with glowing eyes, and you melted completely.

When you arrived at the house you were greeted with a cold, fake smile from your dad and look of pity from Wanda. You didn't care what your father said or did, you were just happy to see your Wanda. "Dinner's all ready whenever you're hungry, honey." she sent you a loving smile that you gladly reciprocated. "Thank you Wanda but I'm gonna go do some unpacking first." She nodded and you left to your room to settle in.

Dinner was slow and uncomfortable, reminding you of why you left in the first place. Your dad didn't love Wanda, and Wanda didn't love your dad. The marriage was simply a business arrangement, however after meeting you Wanda decided she'd stick around a bit longer to "help around the house" which was just an excuse to stay by your side. "How were things while I was gone dad?" You asked hoping to strip some awkward from the tense atmosphere. "Fine." He dryly replied leaving you to feel regretful for bringing anything up in the first place. "How were things over there, love?" Wanda looked up at you with hopeful eyes hoping to distract you from the disappointment your father's tone had caused. "Let's just say I'm glad to be back here." you replied and smiled at her.

#stepmom wanda #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x reader

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confused-lover · 6 months

Text

All The Hugs

Character x reader / Platonic!Ortho x reader Summary: How the characters would hug you Warnings: None (that I can think) (english is not my first language)

Riddle Rosehearts: Oh man, he would be so awkward, like, if you are not in an already established relationship he couldn't even hug you. He'd let you hug him but would be stiff as a board.

Ace Trappola: Would totally yank you in and squeeze you so hard but it'll last a maximum of 5 seconds. If you want it to last more you gotta stay wrapped around him, he’ll give in. Hopefully.

Deuce Spade: He’d wrap his arms around your shoulders but he won't press his body to yours, my boy is too respectful. If you don’t care about “decency” and hug him properly he’ll blush like no one’s business.

Cater Diamond: I totally see him hugging your waist and swaying just a bit. If he's feeling cheeky he’d snap a photo so quick you wouldn't even notice until you see it posted on Magicam an hour later.

Trey Clover: He’d be so normal about it. Just a normal hug. Thanks the seven for the one sane dude here.

Leona Kingscholar: No hug. You either snuggle in bed or you give up. But those cuddles, man are they good, you two stay like that for a minimum of 2 hours. The maximum does not exist. If you don’t get out of there yourself, you’ll never leave.

Jack Howl: Also a normal hug, he just wraps his arms around you and stays like that for a time, I see him probably taking in your scent but that’s about it. Please don’t mention the helicopter that is his tail. Please.

Ruggie Bucchi: You hug him and he pickpockets you, that's it, nothing else to say. Sorry.

Azul Ashengrotto: Just from the hug you know a business proposal is coming. I don't know how he does it but he hugs so professionally. If he’s feeling very romantic tho it’ll all be really slow. He’d remove his glasses and nearly hang limp in your arms.

Jade Leech: His hugs also have very business vibes from him but he’d also slowly caress your back, his fingertips softly touching your spine sending you shivers. He knows what he’s doing, don’t let his smile deceive you, he's nothing but a little shit.

Floyd Leech: you know how his hugs are … you don’t need me to tell you…

Kalim Al-Asim: Warm and fuzzy, like hugging the sun itself. I don't even know how his face doesn't hurt with all the smiling he does. He’d 100% make little jumps when and after he hugs you. If extremely happy he’d probably squeal or something. He’s cute like that.

Jamil Viper: The moment you hug him you can both see and feel his body relax, he'd let out a breath and hug you tightly. Bring you closer to his chest. Best believe this in the only moment of peace he’ll have all day, just let him enjoy it.

Vil Schoenheit: You can feel his neck straining to not touch you, god forbid he ruins his make-up. That’ll make you think that he feels like hugging you is a chore or that he doesn’t like it, don't believe that, he loves it. Just wait until it’s the end of the day and all his make-up is gone, once you get in bed you’ll be able to lay your head on his chest and cuddle all night

Еpel Felmier: If you're shorter or taller doesn’t matter, he will wrap his arms around your shoulders and hug you as strongly as he can. Will think it’s manly. Please go along with it or he’ll have a crisis once alone in his dorm room.

Rook Hunk: It's happening when you least expect it. You think you're alone, then boom, you get hugged. He’ll stay there as long as you permit it and will spew poetics non-stop. If you are not one to hug people then he'll absolutely brag about it to everyone and their mother.

Idia Shroud: He won't ever initiate, so it's on you this time around. Whatever type of hug it is, long or short, tight or loose, you won’t be seeing him for at least a month after that, he’ll just be hiding until the end of time ( until you and his brother give him no choice and drag him out of his room).

Ortho Shroud: Will hug you, be so happy about it, and then immediately run to his brother to tell him how good it was and list all the mental and physical benefits of hugs. He just wants to help his brother. Cut him some slack.

Malleus Draconia: He sees a hug as a very intimate affair. If you wait for him to hug you then you better be prepared to wait at least 5 months. If you beat him to it he’ll blush. It's gonna be brief and not exactly satisfactory but be prepared to see a ring very soon. Also, he’ll brag. Loudly.

Lilia Vanrouge: Hug attack. It’s a strong embrace if short. Also will shamelessly laugh at your face afterwards.

Silver: More than a hug, it’s a cuddle, his sleeping is quite infectious and you’ll fall right asleep. One of the best naps of your life.

Sebek Zigvolt: He sees you go in for a hug, sidesteps you, yells about how improper all of it is, and then a second later hugs you anyway. Other than a broken eardrum the hug is unimpressive, not exactly something to write home about. Maybe write to his home, for the medical bills, for your ears.

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too-deviant · 6 months

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jackie and wilson.

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summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour

notes: speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well.

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours.

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it.

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss.

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster.

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty.

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse.

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp.

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got.

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery.

It was cute.

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley.

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over.

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan.

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name.

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow.

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.”

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.”

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion.

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.”

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.”

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly.

“And that?”

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did.

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face!

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered.

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp.

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill.

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day.

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go.

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked.

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.”

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response.

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes.

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet.

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable.

But you really needed to pee.

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door.

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke.

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!”

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up.

“Be quick.”

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed.

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan.

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence.

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.”

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour.

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.”

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.”

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t.

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater.

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be.

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off.

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion.

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe.

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything.

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.”

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse.

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?”

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.”

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on.

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation.

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow.

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

#@lia’s works #joined a new england subreddit for this fic #so pls give it some love #taking requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo

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