#because i don’t like him like that so tell me Why he’s in my dreams and Why i’m now sad i’m not gonna be there

[bunnwich]

Why Leona Gave Himself The Bad Ending

Leona Kingscholar Analysis

Usual disclaimer to say that these are just my thoughts and you don’t have to feel pressured to agree. This was my thought process as I played through the parts of Chapter 7 Parts 212-226, featuring Leona’s dream triggered by Malleus’s magic.

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I wanna start off by saying that I believe all the dreams are a mixture of Malleus’s magic and the dreamers themselves. 

Idia theorized that Malleus is sort of “setting up the parameters” in a way, then each of the dreamers' personalities and imaginations affect the dream in different ways. The emphasis of this has been brought by Idia several times that it’s the strength of imagination that determines how complex dreams are. Which is maybe why in the first years dreams seem so basic? They’re young, their magical abilities are still new, and their magic is no match for Malleus’s magic. That and, to be fair, most of the first years don’t have the same amount of angst and turmoil as some of the other second years and third years have.

With that being said, I believe that because of his high intelligence, magical prowess, and his hyper-vigilance, that is the main reason Leona’s dream was so…different than the others.

But let's get into it!

There are a lot of Lion King references in this dream, and it’s very clear the writers wanted to play around and show this off. I feel like they did a good job of integrating the themes of the movie into Leona's dream. It does give me a little validation as I feel Leona’s struggles and personality are closely linked to his great Seven Counterpart, Scar. More so than any of the other overblotters. When I analyze Leona I sometimes I do use Scar as a starting point to understand his intentions.

This is how I came to the conclusion long ago that being king would never make Leona happy because it's not what he truly wants.

We start with the dream back in the Sunset Savanna. It’s VERY interesting to see that there is hyena prejudice right off the bat as a woman flees from Ruggie while he attempts to buy food. 

Right off, everyone can tell something is…off about the city. Especially coming fresh from Ruggie’s dream where everything was idyllic and happy for hyenas BECAUSE of Leona.

Grim hits us with the: “I laugh in the face of danger!” line. We even get the three hyenas referenced and the “love for you to stick around for dinner” line. The once proud lioness-dominated palace guard has been taken over by hyena “ruffians” (interesting choice to portray a disenfranchised group being given jobs as the new guard as a negative thing, but moving on.)

The first interesting thing we get is that the palace is somewhat rundown and empty? The group makes comments of how dark and dreary it is, and how few people are around. Is there an implication that the servants fled at some point after Leona became King or did he replace them? This further shows me that Leona for whatever reason has chosen to isolate himself. To me, it's most likely that he already feels isolated by his country and those in the palace.

From the looks of it “Malleus’s magic” has given Leona the one thing he has always wanted, but has he? Leona seems less than thrilled and genuinely upset by the fact his whole family is...gone. As I mentioned in my Leona relationships post, I think that he holds a complex relationship with his family, and while he resents them, in no way can I see him wanting them to be dead. 

It’s now I started to think that Leona’s magic was overriding the simple “let them eat cake” logic of all of the happier dreams. This dream feels TOO real, dark, dreary, and…sad. Could it be Leona’s intelligence or cynicism, ruining what’s supposed to be an idyllic scenario?

Why is even in his WILDEST dreams Leona is still miserable?

Hmm.

A lot of people have talked about Kifaji and their thoughts on his presence. It’s strange to see people praise him as “a loving parental figure” as if he’s really there trying to help Leona. But, Kifaji is not there. This Kifaji is a manifestation of Leona’s mind and I’ll get to why that’s interesting and what I think he represents. Remember, that often in other dreams we’ve seen of loved ones or rivals and they can act normal, out of character, or even cruel. Vil and Neigie come to mind and Neige turned out to be the blot keeping Vil asleep.

Kifaji is a bit different. He actively tries to help the group wake Leona as opposed to encouraging the twisted dream logic. For this reason, to me, Kifaji represents Leona’s conscious and the Dream!Leona we see represents his shadow self, like the dark side of the moon. AKA, the Leona we meet in Chapter 2. In fact, this whole dream feels like a rehash of Chapter 2.

We get the outdated Leona that dumbs himself down and settles for less, cloaking himself in his pride and believing that everyone is below him. An idle king while he lets others do his dirty work. (Scar basically.)

Leona asks Kifaji to sing (another Lion King reference) and it plays out how you would think. Leona tells Kifaji that he is the only competent person in the kingdom. And he argues that the kingdom is in shambles, not because of his choices as King, but because everyone else sucks basically.

Hmm. 

Kifaji reminds Leona that while he is clever and his plans are grand, that he can not treat people like human chess pieces. (Can I just say I love when chess is brought up to us because I find that when people analyze Leona or his thoughts they often forget how much he uses chess to process his thoughts. We saw that plenty in the Tamashina Mina event!) I think it helps him sort his thoughts and emotions which he can have a hard time doing.

I think Kifaji represents Leona’s mindset post Chapter 2 and because Kifaji in his real life is one of the only people who probably stands up to Leona, he has placed him in this antagonist role in his mind. (but not really) Plus, it’s not far off from Kifaji’s actual treatment of Leona in the Tamashina Mina event.

So yeah, Leona acts more like he does in Chapter 2—he's the player or the king even and everyone else around is just lowly pieces.

Just like the scene from The Lion King, Scar and Leona are not happy. Even though they are supposedly getting their deepest desire, they remain bitter and…alone. 

When I first began to read into Leona it was quite obvious to me that the whole “I’ll never be king" thing was just a front for something else. What I think Leona truly craves is approval and acceptance.

Being king, especially of a broken kingdom that despises him, will never make him happy. But, why do the people not love him? This is supposed to be a fantasy right?

There is this interesting layer of how he became king too. Instead of Cheka or Falena simply not existing, like I thought it might be, they are dead. That is…so much more tragic than it needed to be. As if deep down Leona believes the only way he can become king (his dreams to come true) is if tragedy happens. This reminds me of his bitter view/the symbolism of his unique magic. That he can only bring misery wherever he goes—everything he touches turns to sand. 

I also think that Leona is afraid of failing and much of this dream is his anxieties and insecurities that linger from all his past failures.

Though interestingly enough, I sense that in the dream, as implied later by Idia, Leona has implemented an “over-exaggeration” of his policies and plans for the kingdom. It was almost like he purposely ran his resources dry and gave up trying to compromise with anyone for the sake of “progress.”

Why, though?

It’s very masochistic in a way. It’s almost like he wanted to prove himself right. Everything he touches will turn to sand eventually and his grand plans will fail even if he claims they are “perfect.”

That’s why this dream is probably the most masochistic and self-deprecating we have seen. I think what initially began to draw me to Leona’s character is because of the hidden pain he holds. He is by far one of the most easygoing, and lackadaisical acting of the cast, but…he cares, he cares so, so much about how he is perceived and his haunted by his hopelessness about his future and the failures of his past.

I think the pain of never feeling good enough, causes his mind to be unable to “play nice” with Malleus’s dream magic to even manifest any sort of positive future. One where he holds a position he wants AND is loved and respected. it’s just impossible that he could ever have that, even in his wildest dreams. 

He’s too much of a “realist.”

Side tangent, but a frustrating take is to see was the: “Oh yeah, see? He would have sucked as king.” tinged comments after this came out.

 I think it’s more complicated than that. 

This isn’t me trying to defend him necessarily, but to be fair, all dreams tend to be over exaggerations by the dreamer. Plus, I think the fact that Ruggie HATES Leona in this dream and is suddenly in favor of Falena, is a sign right there we can not trust Leona’s interpretation of the people he knows in his dream. He is sort of an unreliable narrator that way. 

Besides, like in The Lion King, why would all the water dry up, just because the hyenas over-hunted? 

A big theme in Lion King and even The Lion Guard TV show is "the balance of nature." The blight upon the Pridelands when Scar takes over feels more like symbolism of the “unbalance of nature” caused by the tragedy of Mufasa’s death. Which makes me again, connect that Leona feels the only way he can succeed is by inflicting misery on others. Like his magic, perhaps a part of him believes he is a curse. 

I theorized in my Tamashina Mina review, that maybe Leona feels like an outcast himself, and the separation he feels from his country is showcased in how he blames the citizens for the decline of the kingdom, rather than his plans. He feels isolated from them.

By this point, I was having flashbacks to Chapter 2, where he got a whiff of his plan failing and he still pushed through even though he knew it would fail. At first, he may have started doing okay as king, but maybe when he came upon too many obstacles or pushback, He just gave up. Because he was not instantly loved by the people, who probably already feared him, he’d rather not even try. Suddenly, they are “not worth his time”, and he can’t help them because they suck.

Leona’s problem has always been his pride. I think he has to put it aside to genuinely help people reach their potential and learn to collaborate with others more. Part of how this dream plays out, is him realizing that maybe some criticisms Kifaji had about his pride all along may be true. Leona refuses to play nice with others. 

That’s why I think Kifaji represents a more sensible and lucid Leona. He is in a sense, talking to his past self, and trying to shake himself from the dream and his outdated ideals.

Ortho even points out that Ruggie is not really the Ruggie we know but rather a part of Leona’s imagination. Again, which puts emphasis on how the characters in his dream are more indicative of his mindset as opposed to being “in character”. Maybe Ruggie hating him in his dream is his inner anxieties about him and Ruggie post Chapter 2 fallout. He feels like Ruggie could never forgive him for what he did. He let him down. And Leona being bad with people and feelings, doesn’t know the proper way to apologize.

Kifaji (woke Leona) says that the state of the kingdom is a result of him “pursuing efficiency over all things and disregarding other people's feelings.” It really feels like he is calling himself out here. Does he REALLY wanna help people? Or is it just Leona’s selfish pride who wants attention for just being smart?

Dream!Leona complains about the protesters interrupting his nap which is another sign for me of the exaggeration of the scenario of Leona being the king. Like...did he not criticize Falena for having the same carefree and laid-back attitude? And yet here he is...complacent in the same behavior he once criticized Falena of. 

Interesting.

Ortho mentions that Leona’s dream is clearly a more complex situation than the other dreams.

I think there is a key implication we are missing here too, that I haven’t seen many mention. There is a throwaway line that Jack mentions that Leona has not attended school and is king instead. And he doesn't seem to know Dream!Ruggie either. Nor Ruggie him.

There is no doubt his time at NRC has shaped him to be the Leona we know now. Someone who has at least somewhat benefited with the connections he made at school. It does seem like this Dream!Leona is regressed. And because he never attended school, he is a much colder person who has no regard for others' feelings at all. He is even more socially inept.

I feel like this is a common theme to show us that despite the independent nature of most of the students at NRC, that it can still be “the friends we made along the way.” trope.  These connections do matter and especially to Leona. He mentions this in his post-overblot monologue in the light novel. He found his pack at NRC.  This time with his dorm members affected his personality for the better. It's kinda sweet when you think about it!

Ortho mentions Dream!Leona appears DEEPLY absorbed in the delusions of his dream. This means that even though he has the lucid failsafe of Kifaji, Leona’s self-deprecation, despair, and pain are still overtaking his logic. That's what's crafted this nightmare. (And he later references it as such.) 

Everyone acknowledges that he can’t possibly be happy and looks EVEN MORE miserable than at school. It can't be a silly happy fantasy, but a grim dark reality of what he thinks of himself. 

That's why he gave himself the bad ending.

I love the double entendre of Idia saying Leona is building his dream like a “sandbox” game. Lots of Minecraft references. (Leona Minecrafter confirmed? Or hear me out…Leona playing King Crusaders or Civilization V FGHJ)

Anyways, Idia or Ortho, (I forget) suggests that perhaps he has run out of ”simulations” for his dream playthrough. And being an intelligent person his mind tends to overthink naturally and this caused his dream to have a more realistic tone. Plus, I theorize that because Leona is powerful and his intelligent, his magic and imagination was almost able to overwrite Malleus's, a standard happy dream formula.

Ortho suggests Leona chose a more “realistic mode “on purpose.” Perhaps like I theorized earlier, it is almost a masochistic test to see if he could have everything he wanted? Leona is a very analytical person who enjoys games. It makes sense, the way he often plays chess alone to practice “strategies.” But as I mentioned before, I think he just genuinely believes it's not possible. Ortho mentions he thinks Leona’s the type to understand that an “aggressive urban development” would come with risks.

Jack asks “If Leona knew this was a bad plan then why would he make the citizens suffer and be hated?”  (Sheesh, now we know Leona really is the type to play pretend and get a lil too real with it.)

Ruggie adds that Leona may be “doing something he knows he shouldn't be on purpose.” Like maybe he did it to be dastardly and maybe he just wanted to “feel the rush” of being a ruthless and hated king.

When Azul asks Ruggie if he thinks Leona takes pleasure in immoral things he says that he can't say for sure, only that he is a prince that no doubt can take pleasure in “bad things”.

To me, however, it feels like a masochistic move to prove to himself his happiness is unattainable. 

Then Sebek chimes in: “How could he go so far to kill his family only to abandon his responsibilities as a king and become a horrible one?"

No one seems to know for sure. Everyone in the group has their theories but the consensus in the group is that - nobody fuckin’ knows why this guy intricately carved himself such a miserable fantasy for himself. Very masochistic for a guy who appears to be so proud huh?

Idia continues to mention that Leona’s imagination is so vast compared to everyone else's. It fills out a whole “world” completely and the mechanics of this world must make sense. He's playing on hard mode. In Leona’s brain this seemed to manifest as if he is to “get what he wants” it can't be serendipitous or through triumph, IT MUST be through tragedy.

Can we lighten up a little?

Again, he may have started to do “good work” but quickly realized that keeping up with all to create a perfect kingdom was waaaay over his head. Maybe he was afraid to give it his all, because he knew everyone would still hate him anyway.

Another reason I think Leona thrives better as a “big fish in a small pond” so to speak. Like his dorm leader role where he can interact directly with his cute (this man used this word a lot for some reason) froshes, make tangible make things better for a small group or community. 

But as we saw, even with his dorm Leona began to feel overwhelmed with the pretty promises he made to his underclassmen in Chapter 2 about the Spelldrive tournament. He like…wants to be wanted but he’s terrified of people actually relying on him, because trying your best and then failing anyways is the most painful thing to him. His instinct when he gets too frustrated with something is to act like he never cared about it in the first place or anyone. AKA “I did everything right and it's THE REST OF YOU who are incompetent.”

That’s why I personally think that in the future Leona working within a small community might be a better fit for him, using his skills to see potential in others as a way to connect with them and teach them how to thrive. 

So yeah, needless to say the group is stumped on analyzing Leona’s intentions and Azul hilariously notes that Leona is just…a complicated person. 

What an understatement.

The group hatches a silly plan to have Ruggie puppet a Cheka hologram and yeah obviously it didn’t work.

This is where it started to get interesting again.

Dream!Kifaji said he’s been “waiting for the day Leona would wake up from his bad dream” and joins the fight against him to wake him. It’s like Leona telling himself that it's time to let his original dream go.

Ortho is surprised Kifaji is on their side, that he should be the darkness pulling Leona back in, but like I mentioned I think Kifaji is actually a “fail safe” Leona created to stay lucid or...maybe the little bit of hope he has fostered now that he has grown from Chapters 2’s events.

Since Kifaji is the one to normally call him out, maybe he's Leona’s way of processing his relationship with him. And that maybe…sometimes as annoying as Kifaji is, he has a point. Kifaji is the one who is implied to have raised him after all, so it's no surprise Leona sees him in a father-like role more than his own father.

“No one understands me, it's not my fault.”  Leona laments running away, running away from himself.

Reminds me a lot of Chapter 2 Leona where he began to feel sorry for himself instead of actually trying to fix things. It's clear that no matter how smart and mature Leona is…is that he still has a lot of growing to do. And that his relationship with his family and country are complex. There is not a black and white or good and bad with this situation and I feel like this is important when talking about him and his relationships with his family.

He was very much ostracized and probably neglected to some extent by his real parents but at a certain point, Leona decided to give up on improving himself just because he didn't achieve the results he wanted to. It's one of his biggest flaw.

His complacency is what drags him further into the darkness. Not Kifaji.

Sitting and stewing in his despair and how unfair his life has been instead of reaching out. Rehashing all thise chess strategies alone on his chess board until his brain hurts. Making grandiose plans instead of actually working hard toward a realistic goal. 

The idle king. A king with naught. (Nothing.)

I am now realizing that in a way (because Ruggie and Leona are so similar) Jack is Leona’s foil; he is the determined and earnest one who admires Leona at his best. He still holds the innocence and the idealism of working hard.

The group jumped through the darkness with Leona and we are replaying the events of Chapter 2 once again.

Ruggie and Jack watch it go down in dismay. Ruggie addresses that he once did think Leona’s way of thinking/plan was good and it’s cool to see he clearly regrets it now too.

They watch the drama play out as if Leona’s plan in Chapter 2 actually succeeded and see that he craves more. More ways for Savanaclaw to get ahead by unsavory means.

Jack says even if Leona becomes king there will be no end to his dissatisfaction. BOOM, there it is.

That is why Chapter 2 is so mind boggling.  Leona’s whole speech was about being king and second. But it’s clear now, it's not what he truly wants. I think Leona is afraid to admit what he really wants. Because that takes vulnerability and then comes the possibility of being rejected.

Jack also notes that, despite Leona getting “everything he wanted” he seems more grumpier and dissatisfied than usual.

“Leona is not your King, hes’ our Dorm Leader,” Jack growls. They fight and we get a nice callback to Lion King here. “Remember who you are.”

As Leona wakes up from his dreams he straight up says, yeah the scheme from Chapter 2 was…stupid. (Nice.)

Oh and we finally get some acknowledgement that Ruggie feels like Leona abandoned him in Chapter 2 which SHEEEEEEEESH. This is a deep cut for me, considering Ruggie’s real dad abandoned him. And it really confirms the fact he sees Leona as a father/big brother figure.

But, Leona doesn't, he sacrifices himself for Ruggie as the whole group tries to escape the crumbling dream. And while Ruggie cries out for Leona, Leona goes down smirking not knowing what will happen to him.

It’s time for him to face himself, his blot monster.

Blot!Leona wants them dead, all of them. Cheka, Falena, everyone. The real Leona finds it kind of pathetic. Because, in reality, I don't think Leona hates Cheka or Falena and he doesn't want to be alone anymore.

Leona admits to his blot that yeah, no he can’t do the job. He can’t be king. And instead of it being a negative it’s more a relief? Maybe he is incompetent too. He is addressing himself and his previous grandiose illusions. He hasn’t done anything worthy of being king.

However, he will not give up. He’s finally living up to Savanaclaw’s motto of perseverance (which he sorta laughed off in Chapter 2?)

This next part is what struck me the most because. He just lays it out so simply, finally saying it out loud.

Self awareness!! Like he finally said it!! (And I felt very vindicated in this moment, NGL) 

What he desires most is the approval of others.

Ah, and Blot!Leona responds with the fact he can't earnestly try, it's too painful to think of failing. Props for Leona acknowledging his flaws! Just like with the other overblotters. But I'm especially floored here because of how PRIDEFUL he is all the time.

In order to have better relationships with people, he has to leave that whole “they all hated me” shit behind. Because in reality, there are people who care for him despite his flaws. There are those who look up to him and admire him, for him.

But, the idea of that I think is so…crazy to him that he tends to deny its very existence. Then when he is genuinely complimented on his leadership or whatever skills he brushes it off.

He calls himself disgusting which feels kinda sad but it’s proof he has moved on from his previous way of things. What did I say earlier? Leona is afraid of failure. 

Giving being a king a earnest optimistic go is too painful for him because ultimately he is afraid of failing. Like he was happier to play the role of tyrannical king than to bother to build relations with the citizens of his kingdom.

As his blot self withers away it’s almost…sad compared to the previous blot monster showdowns we’ve seen. It mentions something about “his friends” (A reference to Scar’s final words.) like he’s reaching out for Leona so it's not alone anymore. And Leona almost embraces his monster? It’s clear he feels pity for this thing…him. His pain, his depression, his loneliness. Maybe a step in the way of self-love? He acknowledges (almost as to soothe it) that it will always be with him, clawing from inside. Except now, he won’t give up.

He vows that he will get what he wants one day, for both of them. He’ll have his “own throne and pride” instead of wanting for someone else’s. He’ll find his place to belong through his own merit.

It reminds me of that expression “find your own tribe” which is an expression that those who are not close to heirt families understand all too well.  He wants to find satisfaction outside his desire to rule and maybe because we know he prefers NRC to home, this confirms his fondness for his dorm life. (Savanaclaw found a family dorm.)

When he returns to his original dream of being king Kifaji is there as they look on at Pride Rock. The fact that it is raining is telling that hope has returned. (Just like at the end of Lion King) and that by accepting that “being king” is not what he really wants now “all things are balanced again”.

They have a nice moment here. Leona acknowledging that he has been given the tools to do good things by Kifaji’s training is a big mature moment for him. (Especially how they acted toward one another in the Tamashina Mina event)  And Kifaji praising him, since this a dream, could be a testament to what he wishes would happen between them.

AKA Leona finally feels more, “at peace” with himself.

As Leona destroys this false kingdom with his sand he seems reserved, it’s almost bittersweet as it all settles over him, his new found aspirations, letting the old ones go. He's letting the past go. A big theme in Lion King. (I really feel the writers must be fans of the movies.) 

Kifaji says: “Go to the place you really belong.”

This line kinda got me. Because the implication is that Night Raven College and his dorm is where he really belongs. Leona is confirming that his experiences at NRC have shaped who he is SO MUCH. 

For years he accepted his life as it was, a cage, and now he is acknowledging that he has the power to break that cage and do whatever he wants. It’s a great callback to the advice he gave Jamil in Chapter 6.

This is quite refreshing as he mentioned before that it was too “late for him”. Now, he realizes it isn’t.

Back with the gang, Ruggie admits his fear that Leona will abandon him again. Leona denies it, and says somewhat casually that he is in fact a true friend of his. This feels like a clever inversion of the line that Scar says to the hyenas about being his “friends.” 

But, we know now that Leona does mean it now. And this shows Leona’s desire to finally stray from the “path”  of his Great Seven counterpart and actually like…have friends?

The reunion of the Savanaclaw trio is actually really sweet. For a dorm full of cocky jocks with strong personalities they seem to be so genuinely happy to be reunited.

Jack bursting out into tears and crying got me tearing up. Like Ruggie and Leona clearly are bit more reserved in their emotions but we see Savanaclaw really are close, despite their disagreements. They care for one another as a dysfunctional little family. 

As a dorm that doesn't get much mainstream attention compared to others it was so nice to have this little moment. It's hard to tell, but I’m 99% sure there was a group hug based on how the sprites moved and the sound effects. At least a nice back pat from Leona. (Thanks, dad.) 

All in all, I really...enjoyed his dream section. As someone who is pretty hyper-critical, for the most part, it satisfied most of the things I wanted to feel. I even got emotional at a few points! Yes, it would have been nicer to spend more time with “king” Leona and dive into it more. Or get more lore about his family. But, he admitted it FINALLY, everything I have clocked about him all those years ago. It’s very satisfying to see his growth in a tangible straightforward way, instead of just me reading between the lines.

I hope we will continue to see even more growth with his character (Like we did in the Halloween event)  and I’m excited to see the role he will play in the rest of Chapter 7, even if it’s just him being a cranky old man. (What do you expect he was raised by one?)

I'd like to end this with some positivity. As someone who deep dives into character stuff a lot I know it's really comforting to see part of yourself reflected back in your favorite characters.

To anyone reading who feels they have things in common with Leona or his despair, the truth is that you should keep going, even if it's just to spite the world itself.

Your vision and presence in this world are valid all on their own and that failing is not indicative of your value as a person. It never will be.

Keep fighting to find your place, your pack and never forget who you are.💚

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Thanks for reading!! This one took quite a bit to edit and think through so if you like my Leona analyses, I’d appreciate a reblog or even just if you wanna share it with your friends! Shoutout to the youtuber ガスマスクゲーマー whose video I pulled these screenshots from. Thank you!

[umathurwin]

get what i want ’cause i ask for it (not because i’m really that deserving of it)

rafe cameron x f!reader; nsfw 18+

Summary: Rafe is so close to receiving the CEO title of his father’s company, he can taste it. But before he can have his dream job, he has to complete the most grueling task he’s ever been given: watch over the bratty heiress of their partner company, who’s decided to make his life hell.

He’s persistent. But so is she.

A/N: tags, warnings, and more on ao3!

“So,” Rafe started, striding into his father’s office and getting way too comfortable in the chair. Ward’s clients would expect nothing less than Memory Foam under their pompous asses, of course– how could you not sink down and kick your feet on the desk? “What’s next for me? Corner office with big windows? Company Lexus? A solid-gold bathroom?”

“I’ll be frank. What the hell are you talking about?”

“When I’m CEO of Cameron Development. Duh. I’ve been hearing the rumors about Maurice retiring, and you’re gonna need someone to fill his role…”

“Easy . You haven’t even been working here a whole year,” Ward reminded him, smacking the peppermint gum Rafe hated. “And your office has big windows!”

“I’m just being cliche. It’s the title that I really want, Dad.”

“Why should I give it to you, though? You’re barely even old enough to be out of college, if you’d gone.”

It stung, when his father reminded him that he hadn’t gone to school. He swallowed anyway. “Don’t need to, not with my work ethic. I take the job you gave me really seriously. All the departments love me, we’ve had great numbers the last three quarters, I’ve secured five deals that we’ve missed out on in the past,” he ticked off. “Tell me why you shouldn’t give it to me.”

Ward leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen on the desk rapidly. “Okay, you’re right. I agree. And I actually think I have something in mind that’ll really prove to me you’re worthy of totally running this company with the CEO title.”

Rafe all but purred. “Name it.”

“I should warn you, this is… probably gonna be the ultimate test of how loyal you are to Cameron Development.”

“Jesus, am I gonna have to fight a Jedi, or something?”

“Remember when I ran errands when you were younger, and you acted like it was inhumane torture to watch Sarah for 45 minutes?”

He sulked, already rubbing at the space between his eyebrows. “Oh God. You hired her, too, didn’t you? And here I thought my job was a special offer. Are you giving one to my cousin Tristan, too? Y’know he sits down when he pees?”

“I’m not hiring your sister. Or… your cousin,” Ward sighed. “We have a huge offer coming up soon. We’re teaming up with Kerrington Design to build on the northern side of the island, meaning we’d have properties in every zone. I cannot stress enough how important this bid is, Rafe. Josephine Kerrington will be working with us for the next month or so while we iron out details.”

“This all sounds great so far,” Rafe said. “Where do I come in?”

“Josephine mentioned that she was bringing her young daughter, and that she doesn’t feel comfortable with her being alone. I offered for you to watch over her while she’s here.”

“What?!”

“Look, I know you—”

“Hate dealing with kids? Yeah, I do,” he groaned. “Dad, you realize I have actual work to do around here? I have that O’Brien meeting coming up! How am I supposed to get stuff done with someone playing Webkinz in my office?”

“You love Webkinz.”

“Good Lord. Sure, when I was six!”

“Like I said before,” Ward started, tone carrying a warning out to his son that matched his tilted head, “this is an ultimate test. I’m counting on you to be a good babysitter.” Ward’s phone trilled, forcing a wince onto Rafe’s face, and the older man leaned forward to glance at the screen. “Ah. That’s her now. They’ll be arriving today, so be on the lookout for them, eh?”

Rafe stood up, smoothing out his pants. “Yeah, well, if there’s gonna be a child on the premises, I’m getting a cup of coffee right now.”

“Probably a good idea,” Ward conceded lowly, waving his son out of his office. “Mrs. Kerrington, good morning, it’s so great to hear from you…”

Rafe stepped out and went to the floor’s coffee station, noting an unfamiliar young woman getting herself a cup from the stack of thick cardboard. The company rarely hired people under the age of 25, so he was pleasantly surprised to see someone his own age.

“Morning,” he greeted to get her to turn around, and fuck, she was cute. “I don’t recognize you. New here?”

“You could say that,” the girl cocked her head a little. “Do you know every person who works here?”

He smiled. “Oh, I do a lot of paperwork on all levels. Surely I would’ve remembered you.”

She returned his grin. “You’re sweet. I’m Y/N.”

“My name’s Rafe. Your morning been good so far?”

“So far,” she repeated him in response, returning to her empty cup. “How about yourself?”

“Fine. Just dreading later,” he sighed, reaching behind the supplies in the cabinet to find the mug he’d hidden back there.

She made a little humming noise. “Why? What’s later?”

“Ah, nothing, I just have to babysit some CEO’s daughter for a few weeks. I hope to God I’ll be able to get any work done with a kid running around here, but I’ve got a little sister. I think I’ll be fine.”

The girl nodded, a little slowly to be seen as normal, but she was cute enough that he brushed it off. His eyes trailed down to where she was about to pour the coffee into her cup and he reached out to hold her wrist and stop her actions. “Wait, whoa!”

She gasped, jumping back. “Hey, watch it!” she shook her head, pouring her cup while still a few feet away from him. “It’s hot coffee, dude. What’s your deal?”

“If you pour the powder creamer first, it dissolves when you pour the coffee in,” he explained, shaking his head. “Too late now. You shoulda listened to me.”

“Well, it really doesn’t matter when y’all have thousands of these,” she reached for a coffee stirrer. “You micromanage a lot of shit around here, or am I special?”

He scoffed. “I practically run this place, sweetheart. You should be thanking me for bestowing my wisdom on you. Now, don’t you have something, I dunno, administrative to do?”

“Administrative?” the girl parroted, setting down the stirrer. Her tone was amused, but her eyebrows were still in her hairline. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk to women like that?”

“My step-mother,” he corrected, “is a useless witch. So, no.”

Her mouth fell open. “I guess this company is run by an absolute pig.”

He clenched his jaw. Who is this girl, and how dare she speak to him like that? “You better watch how you talk to me before I–”

“Rafe!” Ward called, interrupting his son’s threat and joining the two young adults at the coffee bar. “I see you’ve already met your partner for the next few weeks. How are you, Miss Kerrington?” he turned to warmly address her, reaching out to take her hand politely and shake it. He either didn’t notice the horrific tension between them or was desperately trying to cut it.

The girl smiled. “I’m doing just fine, Mr. Cameron.”

“Please, call me Ward,” he insisted, stepping aside to grab a cardboard cup.

Rafe finally found his voice. “So, Josephine Kerrington…” he started, anxiously looking between her and his father.

“Is my mother,” Y/N finished, tilting her head smugly. “Rafe, was it? Why don’t you show me to your office?”

***

He tried to keep his back straight as he showed her where he worked, and she looked around nosily the second she was inside. While she snooped around his belongings and photos, he took another look at her.

She was wearing a lavender floral dress that was just too short to be considered professional, though those rules clearly didn’t apply to her. When she spun back around to look at him, he had to snap his gaze back up quickly to not reveal he’d been staring at her ass.

“So, Y/N,” he started sheepishly. She set her coffee on the table and he ran over to put a coaster under it. “I think we got off on the wrong foot—“

“Water under the bridge,” she interrupted. “Could you Airdrop the Wifi?”

Rafe stared at her face, expecting her to burst out laughing at him. “I understand all of those words, separately.”

She sighed. “You have wireless internet here, no?”

“We do.”

“And I assume it’s password protected?”

“That’d be a correct assumption.”

“And I also bet it’s harder to type than ‘cameronwifi’?”

He scrunched his face. “It’s some combination of letters and numbers, so yeah.”

She pressed her lips together. “Figured. Open up contacts on your phone.”

Rafe obeyed, though he didn’t know why. Curiosity, maybe? She put in her number then guided him to the Wifi tab and held her phone up. The password to the internet auto-filled on her device and she was already skipping away to use it.

“What? I don’t get a ‘thank you’?” he snorted, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“Why? You didn’t even do anything!” She flopped on the couch. “Feel free to text me, now that you’ve got my number.”

He scoffed. “Are you hitting on me?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yeah right, nerd. If I did hit on you, I’d probably comment on your Marlon Brando slicked hair. Heavy gel, in this decade, it’s a sexy and modern choice.”

There was no holding back now. “You’re a brat.”

“Get used to it.”

“Why should I? It’s not like you do anything.”

“You say that like I’m not important.”

“Of course you’re not important here. You—You don’t even have a title!”

“Ah, that’s just not true,” she corrected. “I’m a CTA. Chief Tactics Associate.”

Rafe rubbed at his forehead. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means what I say, goes.”

He snickered. “Is that so?”

“Glad you find it funny. Why do you think I’m even here? My opinion means a lot to my mother, and if I run to her and tell her I don’t like how things are run at your company, she’ll pick up her business and run to the next development firm that’s eagerly waiting to spring properties up on the island.”

Rafe’s stomach turned. With how important this deal was to Ward, she really had the upper hand on him. “Fine. Just stay out of my way while I work, and we should get along alright.”

A smile curled up on her face. “I’ll try my best, sir.”

***

She did not.

When confronted by his son, Ward was not sympathetic. He eventually gave a half-hearted apology but not before bursting out laughing in Rafe’s face. His only defense was something like, “Josephine’s exact words were ‘young daughter’. How was I supposed to know she’s able to vote?”

“I sure love finding you in my office all the time,” Rafe announced sardonically to the girl lying on his comfy leather couch watching loud Tik Toks.

He knew why she hovered, of course. Even if his father hadn’t twisted his arm into watching her, he was one of the few people in the building within ten years of her age. It made sense that she’d linger around him, even if she was a nuisance most of the time.

She didn’t look up from her phone. “It has the best view. Big windows.” She reached into her shirt, dipped into her bra and pulled out what looked like a USB until she brought it to her mouth and sucked.

Rafe reached down to snatch it from her hand and stuck it in his lapel pocket. “Not in my office.”

She waved her hand around annoyedly, letting the tiny wisps of smoke escape from her lips. “Vibe killer. I’ve got another one at home.”

“I’m sure you do,” he muttered, sniffing the air. “Wait. Is this mint? They don’t make JUUL pods in that flavor anymore.”

“I get ‘em from Europe,” she explained impatiently.

He huffed. “How stupid of me,” he noted before stalking over to his computer. He looked around his desk and noticed things were not as he left them. “Goddamnit, quit messing around with my stuff! I’ve told you before, I care ab–” he stopped himself, and the pause actually garnered her attention.

Rafe picked up a stack of documents and inspected them carefully. “Wait. These are the quarterly verification logs?”

“I know what they are. Title at the top and everything.”

“Y/N, I’ve been trying to get these back from credentialing for months. I email them twice a day, they don’t even blink at me. Is this what you did during my meeting?”

“Yeah. I saw you typing one up earlier, so I paid their department a little visit when I was bored. Can I have my JUUL back as a prize?”

Rafe laughed. “I thought you had another one at home.”

“You called my bluff.”

He rolled his eyes, but still reached into his jacket and tossed her the stick. She caught it and took another rip, looking behind him and shaking her head wistfully. “Just imagine what else you could get done if you had a pair of tits to weaponize with every half-witted employee you have crawling around here.”

Hmm. Maybe he didn’t have to imagine.

***

His least favorite part of what he did was dealing with the shareholders, by far.

He gets it. A critical part of the job was kissing rich ass despite them knowing the least about what’s best for the company, because money makes the world go round. But the meetings he was forced to sit in on were like pulling teeth, and every minute he sat in those rooms was a performance. He nodded along, looked over papers and presentations, pretended not to notice the older men had no idea where they were, and shook hands until they slapped their thighs and announced it was time to head out.

Today, the meeting ran over, because none of those antiquated bastards have any concept of time. His skin itched, watching the clock tick minute after minute when he should already be getting back to work. When they finally noticed, Rafe pretended to receive a critical phone call to escape without dealing with their falsely pleasant goodbyes.

Rafe rested his forehead on his office door before going inside. For a moment, he forgot everything that was going on in his life, and prepared himself to enjoy the rest of the day in peace and quiet.

Except, he couldn’t, because Y/N was sitting in his chair, feet kicked up on his desk, with one of his lollipops in her mouth. He deflated, walking over to see what she was doing. Rafe groaned when his eyes landed on a coloring book and some crayons in her lap, and was especially peeved that she was too focused on Aurora’s hair to look up at him.

“What are you, five?” he sneered, picking up a completed Ursula and Ariel sheet off his desktop. “That’s you,” he said, pointing to the villainous witch.

Y/N’s eyes flicked up annoyedly and she took the sucker out, letting it clack on her teeth. “Yeah, and you’re so mature.” Without breaking eye contact, she placed the glistening lollipop right on his desk.

“Damnit, you–,” he sputtered, picking up the candy and remorsefully throwing it away. He swiped at the wet spot that remained and brought his fingers to his lips without thinking. It looked like the wood was too dark to show a stain anyways. “You win. Just, please get up.”

She waved around to the many empty chairs in his office. “Sit somewhere else.”

“It’s my office,” he scoffed. “Get up. Or you can sit in my lap, if you want,” Rafe added with a smirk.

Y/N grimaced. “Do I need to go to HR?”

“Best of luck with that, doll. The Lead HR lady is my godmother.”

She paused her coloring to look up at him. “Tell me, is there anyone in this building you don’t have a familial relation to?”

“Our CTA.”

“You’re funny.”

“I know. That’s why I thought you’d jump on the offer to sit on my lap.” She ignored him again, returning to coloring the pink dress. Rafe glanced at the stack of manila envelopes on his desk and an idea popped into his head. “Say, has my father shown you the mail room here?”

She lifted an eyebrow–he almost laughed at how easy she was to entertain. “Mail room?”

He nodded. “Yeah, real shiny place. There’s tubes all over the building that we shoot letters into that all lead to the mail room downstairs. It’s a really cool set-up, and I think you’d like it.” He looked at his desk again, feigning surprise. “Oh, hey! And these need to be sent out anyways. They don’t fit in the chutes, so you have an excuse to snoop around there.” He picked up the stack and held them out to her, fully expecting her to snort and tell him to shove them up his ass. It’s what his sister would do.

But to his complete surprise, she nodded wordlessly and set her colors down. She took the envelopes and skipped out of the office on a mission.

Shit. Maybe he could make this work.

***

Two hours later, Rafe burst out of his own office, crashing right into his father.

“Hey, I was just coming to check on you,” he greeted before noticing Rafe’s sour expression. “Whoa, what’s wrong?” Ward asked, holding out a hand to his son’s chest to slow him down.

“Oh, nothing. Just that Y/N painted her nails in my room earlier,” he huffed. Likely because she wanted to cover up the scent of her dab pen, he really wanted to add on. “I made her count reams of paper to make her leave, but the room still smells like chemicals. Getting a migraine.”

“Did you open a window?”

“No, Dad, and I also didn’t try spraying Febreze, so don’t ask,” he snapped.

Ward pressed his lips together, eyebrows lifting softly. “Come sit in my office for a little?” he offered.

Rafe nodded, pressing the up button himself. His phone in his pocket chirped to indicate a text message, but he didn’t move. The phone buzzed over and over, beeping so many times that they were cutting themselves off.

Ward blinked. “Gonna check that?”

“Nope. I know it’s just Y/N.”

“Why is she sending you so many texts?”

“I made the mistake of giving her my number in case she needed anything. Now, she sends me fifty iMessage games if I’m not paying attention to her.” The elevator doors opened again to the top floor. “Dad, you don’t realize. She’s the most annoying pest I’ve ever had to deal with.”

“Worse than your sister?”

Rafe hesitated. “She gives her a run for her money.”

***

Y/N bounded up to Rafe the following day, looking from the phone nestled in the crook of his neck to where the cord led back to the desk. She brought a freshly pink-tipped finger to the hook switch and pressed it, ending his call.

“I got the signatures from the guys in accounting,” she announced, pulling the papers out to show him. “Have you actually seen them? They are literally the palest people I’ve ever met.”

Rafe sputtered with anger, slamming the phone back in the cradle. “You didn’t have to do that! I was on hold with a stupid robot.”

“I wanted your undivided attention,” she shrugged.

He massaged at his temples. “Whatever. Thank you for the signatures, I suppose. Say, are you having any trouble with the Wifi?”

To his dismay, her face brightened. “Oh, right! I wanted to ask IT if you can change the password for only the router in your office, and the answer is yes,” she giddily explained, pointing to the white box pinned to the ceiling above her.

“Um, okay. What’s the new password?”

“It’s ‘misskerringtonlovesanal420’, no caps, no spaces.”

He sighed. “Are you serious?”

“Well, I’ve never actually tried doing it. But I wanted to see if I could make the IT guy squirm and he totally–”

“I meant, is it seriously the password?” he stopped her, tired of being reminded that every touch-starved man on the premises was at the sheer whim of this girl.

“See for yourself.”

Click click click. “Ugh, really?”

“Tell me you wouldn’t do this shit if you had the freedom to.”

He didn’t respond to that. It seemed he’d have to try a little harder to keep the girl busy and out of trouble. Rafe slipped a hand into his lapel pocket and pulled out a folded $20, extending it out for her. “If I give you this, will you go to the cafeteria downstairs and get us both turkey sandwiches?”

She took the money and slipped it in her bra, already on her way out. “Yes, but we’re getting rotisserie chicken. They’re so much better.”

“Wait, I want turkey!” he called after her.

“Too bad!”

***

Rafe woke up late.

He’d spent the last week working double time to make sure Y/N stayed out of trouble and his normal tasks were fulfilled. It was no wonder that at some point he’d break and the back-up Pinball alarm would fail him. Why the fuck this had to happen the morning of his O’Brien meeting, he’ll never know.

He ran into his building in such a hurry he felt the soles of his shoes wearing down. He didn’t stop for the doorman, the HR intern, and sure as shit not for his father, who all tried to strike up a conversation.

“Dad, please, I can’t talk right now,” Rafe huffed out to the last one, clicking the elevator button over and over. “I’m super late to a meeting with–”

“This is slightly more important,” Ward insisted. “There was a cyber attack. IT is taking care of it, but something got in through our Wifi, and our emails have been a mess all d–”

“Wait,” Rafe interrupted, ignoring the car arriving at the ground floor. “You said the Wifi?”

“Well, yeah. They said there was a leak at our security company, and any routers with passwords that haven’t been reset in the last month were affected. They’re routinely reset four times a year, so we just got unlucky.”

Rafe was so stunned he had to be pulled onto the elevator by his father. “Is everything alright?”

He tossed around what to do here. If he admitted Y/N dicking around had accidentally protected his router, he’d run the risk of exposing not only how he’d been getting her to do his work but also how he really hadn’t been monitoring her too strictly. Hell, she could’ve done the opposite and totally fucked over their security if she wasn’t careful.

“Yes, actually, I was having trouble and changed my own router last week,” he lied, words fumbling out in a jittery string. “Guess I just got lucky. God, how is this elevator so slow?”

Ward raised his eyebrow at his bouncy son. “Is everything alright?”

“O’Brien meeting in negative two minutes,” he shouted, looking at his watch and slipping through the crack between the barely-open doors. “Damn Irish.”

“It’s funny because we’re actually Scottish!” his father called after him, but Rafe really didn’t care.

He threw open the doors to his own office and waved off a dazed Y/N to run behind his desk. “Hey, Bossman,” she greeted him, clearly oblivious to the rush he was in. “I had a great idea for us to do.”

Rafe dug through his desk drawers, sorting through Sharpies and Post-Its looking for the USB drive holding the O’Brien floor plans. “Lemme get back to you on that.”

“Are you sure? It’ll only take a minute.”

“Y/N, I can’t right now. I’ve got a meeting that I’m already late for, and it’s really important that I–”

“Oh, that? I moved it.”

He halted in his tracks, blood colder than ice. “You moved my meeting with the O’Briens?!” he asked, wiping sweat off his forehead.

“Yeah,” she answered bubbly. “I wanted to get a chocolate croissant at that bakery down the street but they close early in the day, so I called and asked those guys if they’d be okay with the same time tomorrow. All I had to do was say it conflicted with Kerrington business, and they were cool with it. Ready to go?”

Rafe was… fucking flabbergasted. Not only did she take it upon herself to move a career-altering meeting without his permission over a fucking baked good, but she’d used her name to persuade the O’Briens into compliance. He thought back to the wifi– she’d just unintentionally saved his ass, twice, in the same fucking day.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I looked at your calendar first. You’re not busy.”

He couldn’t help himself. Rafe lunged forward, taking her face into his hands and planting a big kiss on her lips. She made a surprised squeak before relaxing into his touch and returning the favor.

When he pulled away, her eyes were still shut for two seconds too long. “Yeah, I could go for a Kouign-amann. After you,” he said, waving his hand out to the door.

***

Rafe had just finished the yellow cross on his Rubik’s cube when his father knocked on the door of his office. He waved him in with two fingers but went right back to diligently solving his puzzle.

“Where is Y/N?” Ward asked, taking a seat in front of his son’s desk.

“Out to lunch with her mother.”

“And you didn’t go with her?” he teased.

This got Rafe to look up from the cube, but he still shot his father an exasperated glare. Not only did that sound like a nightmare and a half, he was a little uneasy about being around her.

He’d acted a little rash yesterday when he was pumped full of adrenaline and stress, he’ll admit it– though, if he had made her uncomfortable with the kiss, she didn’t act like it. She went right back to the hellion force of nature she was before (like forcing him to play 20 Questions with her, and when the person was revealed to be Ghandi, going on a long rant about his problematic behavior as if she hadn’t chosen the man herself). Kinda why he was enjoying the rare peace and quiet he just lost.

“Why’d you stop by?” A much more pleasant way of saying why oh why are you in my office and what’s the quickest way I can get you out.

“At some point I want you to complete the follow-up for the Carroll’s. I know they’re a-holes, so feel free to not put this high on your priority list. I could care less if it gets done by the end of the week, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh, so you haven’t been honest before?” Rafe snapped, getting too frustrated and slamming the Rubik’s cube back down on the desk. “And you mean you couldn’t care less,” he tacked on.

Ward pursed his lips together and tried to hold back a snort. “Okay, let’s make a deal. I won’t use either of those phrases anymore, and you quit taking out your annoyance with Y/N on me.”

“Not really fair, since her antagonism in my life is very much your fault.”

“C’mon, you’ve been doing a great job so far! Is she that hard to get along with?” Ward sighed. “She’s a cute girl who could charm birds out of trees and y’know, she reminds me a lot of you.”

Rafe winced. “That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Oh, hush. You’re both hardworking, loyal, and heirs, obviously.”

“How is she hardworking? All she does is traipse around the office and make messes for me to clean up.”

“Really? Because, from what I’ve heard around the office, you’ve turned her into your little administrative assistant. Are you sure that’s what Mrs. Kerrington wants?”

“I don’t know what Mrs. Kerrington wants!” he groaned, rubbing at his forehead. “If you didn’t notice, she kind of dropped a teenager off at my doorstep and made me figure out how to balance watching her and work.”

“She’s an adult,” Ward muttered, sinking down in the chair.

“Those are not mutually exclusive,” Rafe snapped back, then shook his head. He leaned forward and started working on the Rubik’s cube again. “Whatever. I’m over it. Not really, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” His eyes darted up to the clock on his wall. “You’ve got a Zoom call with the West Coast in ten minutes, anyways.”

Ward checked his watch and jumped up when he realized his son was correct.

***

“How did you even manage to get into my computer?!” Rafe shouted, slamming his hands on his desk and standing up.

“Your password was literally your last name and birth year, doll,” she explained, far too casual for someone who hadn’t just turned his entire desktop set-up to various shades of pink and purple. He didn’t fail to notice how she was picking up on his mannerisms these last few weeks. “And the password hint was ‘name and year’. Have you ever taken a computer safety class in your life?”

“Stop talking to me like I deserve to have you snooping around my stuff! Change it back!”

“Absolutely not. How could you work with it before? It was so dull and… default settings.”

Rafe scrubbed his face with his hands, realizing it didn't relax him at all. “I am genuinely so tired of your presence,” he admitted, waving a hand and trying not to clench it in a fist when she giggled at him. “I’m serious! You constantly get in the way. I don’t even know why I put up with you.”

“Because my say is the last stop in this agreement, and you’re in charge of keeping me happy.”

He grimaced at the reminder. “Right. You’re the gleaming epitome of nepotism. I get it.”

She all but gasped. “Are you joking? And just what does that make you?”

“Hey, I actually work here. I’ve put in effort to get where I am.”

She barked out a laugh. “Yeah. And I’m sure daddy had nothing to do with it.”

“I’m on the Board of Directors here!”

“Which your father also assembled!” she shouted, then shook her head with a smile. “Actually, y’know what? I get it now. You hate me because I’m you.”

He spat at the assumption. “We are completely different.”

“No, we’re not. We’re both spoiled nepotism babies who overvalue our importance. I just don’t give enough of a fuck to lie about it. Tell me, do you hate seeing yourself when you look at me? Is that it?”

Rafe exhaled heavily through his nose, trying to refrain from storming out and knocking over a vase on his way out. “Is there any particular reason you’re always such a pain to me and an angel around everyone else?”

Y/N raised herself up on her tiptoes to (unsuccessfully) get closer to his height. “Because I like making mean guys suffer. And because you’re so cute when you’re mad.”

“And you’re just cute enough to get my shit done for me.”

Yeah, that was fucking dumb to say. Her jaw dropped the moment the words regretfully tumbled off his tongue and not even slapping his hand over his mouth could save him.

“Wait, that’s what you’ve been doing? You were using me to get your fucking work done?”

“Y/N, no, I–”

“And just when I thought we were kind of getting along for a minute. Do you think I’m just a tool for you to use?”

Kind of. His mouth hung open dumbly for too many moments, because she scoffed in disgust and pushed past him.

He called at her and tried to grab her arm, but she yanked away again. “If you follow me, I’m telling my mom what a chauvinistic louse you are.”

Rafe waited for the mischievous grin to creep on her face, but it didn’t. She was cold. He’d fucked up.

In immaculate timing, a new secretary hire knocked on the barely open door of his office. “Mr. Cameron? Miss Kerrington? The board meeting starts in four minutes,” the intern informed the two, just poking his head in enough to get the words out before disappearing.

She huffed one more time, spinning around and marching out of the room. He was conflicted, since he was mandated to be at the meeting but was terrified of pissing her off. He chased her down the halls, wanting to at least be present for his own damnation.

He only caught up to her just as she joined the groups of execs, far too late for him to attempt to stop her again. He held his breath as he watched her take her seat next to her mother. His face was hot, waiting for her to spill the beans and get his ass in immense trouble.

She… didn’t, though. She just sat down, looked at her phone under the desk, and shifted in the chair to get comfortable.

“Rafe? You alright?” he heard, and he looked down to see his dad waving him towards the table. “Let’s get this started.”

***

“And to recap, these are the outsourcing companies we plan to use. Contracts are already underway…” Mr. Henthorn droned. Or… Hawthorn. Who gives a crap.

“Why isn’t Upwards Lumber on this list anymore?” Josephine asked. “I thought we agreed on them in our earlier phases.”

Ward hesitated, looking around to his team before answering. “Well, last week we were informed Upwards wasn’t able to handle projects of this size anymore.”

Josephine’s eyes narrowed. “I thought they worked with the Ambetter building downtown?”

“They did. But apparently a year and a half ago, they were heavily audited and half their workers were laid off due to failed drug screenings. Upwards is really only able to handle small commercial projects until they rebuild their crew.”

Drug screens are just elitist, targeting bullshit, Rafe thought, and Ward looked over with a stern blink as though he could read his son’s mind. Probably not the time to be making any kind of statement anyways.

Josephine stiffened. “Well. Bullet dodged, I suppose. Kerrington doesn’t tolerate drug use of any kind, at any level.”

Ward agreed with her imperative demand, but Rafe had to hide a smirk behind his fist. It was one thing for Y/N to obnoxiously hit her JUUL in his office, but if mommy saw the dab cart that sometimes stuck out of her bag, it’d be a little harder to explain.

He looked up to Y/N. Sure, she was fuming and likely going to snitch on him any minute now, but she still had a sense of humor, so he expected to share at least a moment of amused, knowing eye contact. To his surprise, though, she was completely slumped down in the chair. Her gaze was down on the table and she picked at her fingernails, hiding from everyone else in the room. Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed, and he looked over to Josephine, who was shooting her daughter a fiery glare.

The daughter who was a bratty, uncontrollable mess. The one who had pretty condemnatory dirt on Rafe and, knowing her character, was being oddly silent about it. The one who’d been dropped off for him to essentially babysit for the last few excruciating weeks.

Babysit.

The pieces assembled themselves in his brain so quickly he nearly got vertigo in the swivel chair. That’s why he’s had to fucking watch her this whole time– because she needed watching. No wonder she didn’t snitch on Rafe for whoring her out for paperwork. She was never there for him to entertain and keep happy; he just had to make sure she wasn’t sneaking off to do drugs. And really, he hadn’t done a great job at it.

He didn’t bother beating himself up, since his directions were incredibly unclear and he’d been expecting to watch a fourth grader to begin with. Regardless, the tension in the room was palpable and the respective girl’s face had already turned a burning pink.

The moment the meeting was over, Y/N did the least annoying thing she’d done since the first day she stepped into the building. She stood up, stormed out of the meeting room, and disappeared for the rest of the day.

***

Showing up to the office in the dark had a much different energy than during the daytime. The area was quite nice, so it wasn’t like she felt particularly unsafe going in, but without the doorman greeting her and pulling open the massive front door, something felt off.

Although, it was nice that no one was there to watch her vomit in the receptionist’s trash can. Helena would be pissed come Monday morning, but Y/N was currently more concerned with how much better she felt after getting that out of her system.

Muscle memory is the only thing that got her in the elevator and pushing the right button. When she reached the desired floor, a wave of his aftershave and cigarette smoke hit her nose. She floated on the scent, lost in the way it wrapped around her, until it carried her right into the office of the man she was looking for.

Of course, she didn’t barge in. Rafe didn’t notice her arrival right away so she remained in the shadows to watch him work. It was outlandish, how attractive he was—he was focused hard on some stack of papers with one hand scrubbing at his temple and the other occasionally taking the cigarette that rested between his lips and ashing it. The smoke escaped his mouth in aggravated sighs, curling around his head before disappearing into the room. He’d cracked open a window in some attempt to hide the smell, but it only breezed its way into the hall. This close, it wasn’t even nauseating, but more like a cologne.

From her spot, she could see that he’d unbuttoned some of his shirt to reveal his lean chest. It was strange, seeing some indicator that he was capable of relaxing. He’d had a stick up his ass since the day she met him, so imagining him exhausted and popping the top few buttons on his shirt was almost… endearing.

Her balance was, as expected, not up to par. She leaned a little too far one way, and before she knew it, she stumbled right into the light as well as Rafe’s eyeline. He called her name confusedly, and when her head snapped up, she caught him stubbing out the cig as he stood.

“It’s cute,” she noted, nodding at the ashtray and trying not to trip over her own feet as she got back up. “You, putting out the cigarette. Like I don’t smoke in your office when you’re not here.”

Rafe waved his hands around and tossed the window open even further. “Lighting a cigarette is more serious than hitting your stupid Brass Knuckles pen. What are you doing here so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I work here,” he bit back. His gaze trailed down her body, taking in her immodest party dress and heels. “I see when you go out, you wear even less than you do at work. Astonishing.”

“I can wear even less, if you’d like.”

His eyes narrowed, and he ignored her flirting. She was speaking far too quickly and clearly to be just drunk. Rafe took a step forward and inspected her eyes. Sure enough, her pupils were blown wide to accompany her pink cheeks. “You didn’t only drink, did you?”

Y/N’s lips curled up gently. “Would you be mad if I didn’t?”

“Of course not, sweetheart, but…” he straightened her clothes and made sure she was okay otherwise, “were you planning on going home like this?”

She shook her head. “I was out with my friend Mona and figured I’d crash at her place. Which I was going to do, until I noticed I was near your office and decided to pay a visit.”

He sighed. “Well, I’ve got to get you home safely.”

Her eyes flew to the back of her head. “What’re you, my dad?”

Rafe bristled. “No, but mine is in the building, and so is your ball-gripping mother. We kinda need to get you the fuck out of here.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, they’re not on this floor, though. That’s why you felt comfortable doing this.” Y/N reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a solid red Bic lighter. She brought her thumb up and spun the dial, sparking it just a little too close to their faces.

He annoyedly snatched the lighter out of her hands. “Why did you come here?”

She bounced up on the tips of her toes and pulled at the back of his neck for a kiss. It felt good, charged, but his rational brain pushed her away immediately. She pouted.

“Y/N, stop. We absolutely cannot do that.” He wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence, but a Rolodex of options cycled through his mind. Because you’re barely 18 and I’m about to be 22. Because I’m basically your babysitter. Because our parents would kill us. Because you look like you’ve taken both cocaine and molly and it seems you’ve forgotten you were quite mad at me eight hours ago. Because the charge I would catch would be astronomical. Take your pick.

“Why not? We’ve kissed before. I thought it was a good kiss. I think about it a lot. Don’t you?” She still had a firm grip on the nape of his neck, so she toyed with the hair that brushed against her fingers.

Rafe weighed his options, quickly doing the math of when she’d probably started partying to when it should wear off and she’d crash. “Of course I do,” he admitted, honestly, because there’s a chance she’d forget half of this night anyways. “But not here. Is it alright if we go to my place?”

She smiled, letting her hand fall around his shoulder and down his chest. “You don’t still live with daddy, huh?”

He let out a soft laugh, reaching behind himself to grab his wallet and keys. “Nope. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

***

By Rafe’s estimation, she only had about five more minutes of hyperactivity before she crashes and the alcohol takes over her system. She’ll lose interest in trying to get in his pants, and want nothing more than a warm bed, which Rafe conveniently had to spare. His apartment was seven minutes away, so the timing should work out perfectly.

But that didn’t mean she was going to make it easy for him.

She was relentless. Playing with his tie in the office elevator, winking at him when he opened the car door for her, reaching to rub his thigh while he pulled out of the garage onto the streets. He couldn’t very well stop her without revealing his plans to dump her off and go right back to work, but holy fuck she was making it really hard to focus on driving.

Getting her inside his apartment was easy enough, like she was trying to remain casual in public. As soon as they were inside, all bets were off and she was back to being the horny brat she was in the car.

He got her in one of the guest rooms, and she seemed oblivious to his attempts to get her asleep. Y/N tried pawing at his clothes, but he stopped her, taking her wrists with a tight grip. “Ah-ah. Listen to me,” he ordered, and she obeyed with an impatient sulk. “I have some questions. Can you answer me, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded impatiently, and he smiled when she held a long blink. A good sign.

Rafe guided her backwards, switching her wrists into only one of his hands. “Which of your friends does your mom like the best?”

She froze. “I– what?”

His now-free hand came up to stroke her cheek, gently moving back to card through her hair. “Just answer me, pretty girl.”

“Her name is Samantha.”

Rafe nodded, pushing once more until the back of her knees hit the bed. “Good girl. Does she live in town?”

Y/N nodded, eyes big and innocent. “Yeah, uh, she does.”

He finally led her down until she sat on the mattress, and she took the initiative to climb in herself. He carefully joined her, not lying down with her but remaining close to keep her on the line. “Have you seen her in the last month?”

“Yes… why are you aski–?”

He shushed her, having her get comfortable and continuing to pet her hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’m trying to help you.”

Fortunately, she was already shutting her eyes and wiggling down further into the bed. He placed a kiss on her forehead and brought the throw blanket from the foot of the bed to her body. It probably wasn’t comfortable to sleep in that dress, but it did not feel right to undress her in this state.

And now, it was back to the office.

***

The elevator stopped at the third floor, which confused Rafe, since most everyone on that level should be home. His back stiffened when the doors opened to reveal Josephine Kerrington. She looked exactly the same as she did during the day, not a pin out of place. It almost amazed Rafe, how kempt she looked even this late at night.

“Oh, hello, Rafe,” she greeted, a warm yet hollow smile on her lips. “You’re here quite late.”

He hummed, watching the doors shut and ignoring the air between them warming up. “As are you.”

“Well, your father is a busy man. He loses track of time so often you’d think he doesn’t know what it is. I had to use a bathroom on another floor or he’d try to pitch ideas while I pissed.”

His eyes widened, and he didn’t try hiding the chuckle. Damn, Y/N’s mom was pretty funny. “Yeah, working with Y/N has been the least intense job I’ve gotten from him since I was fifteen.”

She looked at him. “How is she doing, by the way?”

Rafe inhaled, thinking back to the last couple of weeks, and to the last hour and a half he’s had. “Y/N… is a delight. She’s fun to be around, but sometimes distracting because of her charm.” Okay, okay, dial it back. “Fortunately, she’s out of my hair for the night so I can get some work done. Said she was at a friend’s house, a… Sarah? Savannah? Samanth–?”

“Samantha?” Josephine asked, turning back with a pleasant nod. “Good to hear. She’s got some terrible influences, like that friend Mina.” Damn, can’t even get the name right, Rafe thought. “You’re a lovely young man, and I hope you’re rubbing off on her.”

He winced at the innuendo, but smiled politely. “Thank you Mrs. Kerrington.”

When the doors shut, he all but clicked his heels together in glee. “Rafe Cameron, CEO. Good ring to it.” The elevator beeped in agreement.

***

Y/N wasn’t in much after that. Josephine made semi-regular appearances, but the deal seemed to be coming to a close and there was little reason for them to be around anymore. He would rather rake hot coals over his body than admit this, but he really missed the chaotic energy she brought. Things almost felt dull without needing to chase her around the building making sure she behaved.

And, y’know, without his unpaid intern.

It was Ward’s idea to have a celebratory closing banquet in the office building, but Rafe was almost certain that it was Y/N’s idea to make it casino night-themed.

Some poor team of interns had been tasked with turning the office into a Vegas-adjacent venue and knocked their job out of the park. Employees were given chips and sent out among the poker, craps, and roulette tables stationed with stiff-standing dealers clad in maroon bow ties. Cocktail waitresses went around taking drink orders and accepting chips as a tip (playing along pointlessly, as the chips were clearly from a children’s game).

He heard her before he saw her– a fake laugh laced with discomfort only he could detect in her voice. His head whipped over to see Y/N, clad in a ridiculously fitted red dress, clutching her clear plastic cup tight enough to force the color out of her knuckles while she spoke with her mother and others.

He grabbed his drink and abandoned the Texas Hold ‘Em table to pull her into the shadows. Josephine was so wrapped in her conversation he didn’t even need to request he borrow her daughter– no wonder she was so out of control.

If she didn’t want to be alone with him, she didn’t make a point of it. She was quiet in the elevator as he observed her and sipped his drink, leaning against the railing in the car, nervously bouncing her toe in her heel. When they arrived at the floor, she skipped out in front of him and beat him to the unlocked door.

Rafe drained the rest of his vodka soda and tossed the cup into his trash, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. “You lied to me,” he started, and she lifted her shoulders. “About why you were here.”

She didn’t waste a moment denying this. “And? You would, too.”

“No, I would not!”

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow. “If you were in my shoes, you’d run right to your caregiver and tell him how your mother won’t allow you to be alone for literally five minutes? That she’d requested a watchful eye on you? Or would you find a way to get them to tolerate your every whim without pushback? Frankly, the idea kinda handed itself to me when you were a misogynistic dick to me the first time we met. That was just dumb luck.”

“Dumb luck, huh?” he asked, stepping towards her. “What would you call having a coked-out teenager stumble into your office and beg you to fuck her? Is that just luck?”

She didn’t respond. He could see in her eyes she was trying not to look away, to show any apprehension, but he’d spent just too much time around her to not notice.

“Had anything to drink tonight?” he asked, taking one more step towards her until they were less than a foot apart.

Her attitude was back in a flash. “With my mom around? Yeah, a Coke Zero.”

He smiled even though he’d just been snapped at. “Good. You don’t need to be using that kind of stuff anyways.”

“Okay, Father Holy,” she rolled her eyes, and he had just about had enough of her shit.

Rafe grabbed her shoulders and pinned her between his body and the wall forcing a gasp from her. “I try to help you, over and over,” he sighed, almost disheartened. “And you’re still a little brat.”

His hands were all over her and she whined, arching into his touch and trying to get a feel of her own. He held her wrists tight and shook his head. “Yeah, right. Try behaving for once in your life and maybe you can touch me.”

Her hands fell down to her sides without fighting, and he ran his hands along her nearly-bare chest. His fingertips slipped under the straps and hem of the fabric as he savored the feeling of her skin under his palms, and he watched as goosebumps erupted over her collarbones. “You want this?” he checked, another chance for her to back out before he began to ruin her.

She nodded fervently, but when he just raised an eyebrow, pleading affirmations spilled out of her lips like a stream.

With the green light, Rafe tugged down the top part of her dress until her breasts were exposed in the cool office air. He played with her tits, switching between sucking on one nipple and using his fingers to toy with the other.

This wasn’t enough for either of them, so his attention and desperate hands went downwards. He got sick of trying to pull down the panties without undressing her fully, and ripped them right off her legs. He stuffed the torn fabric into his coat pocket and she gaped. “You owe me a new pair,” she breathed, moving her legs apart for him anyways.

“If only I could afford it,” he muttered, bringing his fingers to her now-exposed clit. “Do you know why I put up with your shit?”

“‘Cause I’m cute?” she smiled, but it quickly dissolved when his movements sped up.

“Oh, yeah. But also, I got a little promotion this morning,” Rafe said, leaving a fat wet kiss anywhere his lips could reach on the exposed skin of her collarbone. “You inadvertently made me CEO. Everything in this building is mine.”

Rafe used his legs to push hers even further apart, open her up for him even more.

“And in this moment,” he smacked her clit, and she cried out. “That includes you.”

He expected a snarky comment at this point, but he seemed to subdue her enough to continue rambling.

“I’ve dreamed of how I’d handle your ass for weeks,” Rafe admitted. “I think the only solution is to keep you under my desk with my cock down your throat. Put that smart mouth to some good for once, mm?”

She whined, pushing back against him for more friction.

“Fuck, you like that?” he asked incredulously. “It’s one thing for you to let me tame you, but you’re taking enjoyment in this? Kinda makin’ it hard for me. Never would’ve guessed you like being used like a doll so badly.”

“You’re mean,” she pouted, actually pouted at him and he grinned wolfishly.

Rafe shook his head. “No, baby, being mean would be binding your hands together with my tie and forcing you to cum until you cry.” She had no counter to that.

The fingers on his other hand pushed into her mouth, past her teeth, and she involuntarily sucked. “Good girl,” he cooed, not letting up on the strokes to her clit. “That mouth has done nothing but cause me trouble the last few weeks. Show me what good it can do, hmm?”

She nodded softly, obediently, and flicked her tongue over the digits, allowing him to pet at the inside of her cheek. She whimpered when he dipped his other fingers into her cunt, bringing them right back to her clit to keep her on the edge.

He thrusted against her thigh and gave her another little slap right where she was most sensitive. Rafe toyed with her swollen, glistening clit until she was breathing heavily and her legs were losing their stability. Had he not pinned her body tight against the wall, she’d collapse into a shaky pile of pleasure. He noticed her eyes rolling back into her head and pulled his fingers away, watching her gasp and whine at the loss of contact.

“What?”

“Need more,” she sniffled.

Rafe shook his head, almost chastising. “I know what you need.”

He was going to return to what he was doing, he wasn’t that mean. But he must’ve had her closer to orgasm than he’d anticipated because she got shameless.

“Please, please, Rafe, oh my God,” she whined, squirming under him. Her hips bucked up to try and get traction against his hands but he pulled away just in time. “Touch me again, please, I’ll do anything. I need it, please.”

His eyebrows had never been higher. He pushed his tongue along his bottom teeth amusedly. “Sweetheart, I didn’t even have to ask you to beg,” he pointed out, voice light and adoring. “But since you did anyways, I’ll help my girl out.”

She preened again, this time allowed to make contact with him. He placed a hand on her hip and pulled his cock out, already flushed and leaking and really fucking hard. Rafe dragged the precum on the tip along the entire head before bringing it to her cunt, dragging them together slowly. She cried out again at the new contact.

“Doesn’t this feel good, pretty girl?” he asked, angling just right to apply pressure on her clit. Judging by the full-body shudder he got out of her, the answer was yes.

“I want– oh fuck– more, please,” she said. He laughed a little. She knows what she likes.

“Tell me exactly what you want me to do, baby.”

“I want your cock inside me,” she begged, blinking up at him with long, fluttering lashes. “Wanna feel you stretch me open. Don’t you wanna use my cunt however you like? That’s all I want.”

Good fuck, who could resist that? He buried himself to the hilt, sending his brain to a skittering halt and hers into a frenzy. She grabbed at his back, whimpering with every inch, every drag that he stretched her open. He didn’t even register that he was getting scratched by the same nails she’d obnoxiously painted in his office just a couple weeks ago.

“Oh, wow,” he finally groaned, withdrawing and thrusting back in, letting his brain adjust to the feeling of holyfuckI’minsideherwereallyshouldn’tdothis. “I could fuck you forever. You sure you don’t want an administrative job around here?”

Her fingers made their way back up to his shoulder, head thumping against the wall. “Bite me.”

“If you insist.” He leaned in and gently sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, kissing the skin right after. He led all the way up to her ear until she was shivering and his strokes didn’t miss a beat.

Y/N’s cunt clenched around him, and he saw white. “Goddamn, sweetheart, if we’d been doing this sooner, I would’ve let you do whatever the hell you want,” Rafe groaned, moving her hair out of her face.

She can’t let anything nice stay nice, though. “Slut,” she teased, smirk disappearing with a deep stroke.

His eyes narrowed. “I’m the slut?” he asked, pulling out and forcing a whine from her.

He moved her over to his desk, shoving her over the edge and pinning her there. Rafe pushed her head against the solid wood by the nape of her neck. “I’ve wanted to bend you over like this since I laid eyes on you,” he muttered, removing his hand and sliding it down her back.

She turned back, batting her lashes at him as he lined up his ruddy tip at her core. “Mm, you should’ve. So forbidden, would’ve been so hot.”

Rafe didn’t answer, just pushed his cock into her and a soft cry escaped from her lips. She tried to bite down on them but he laughed and sank all the way in until his hips were flush with hers. “We’re over three floors away from the rest of the office. Be as loud as you want, princess.”

And she did. Honestly, it wasn’t the best advice, because hearing her cries and whimpers for his cock further in her was only making him lose his rhythm and chance of lasting more than five minutes. He felt her reach down and play with her clit, and normally he’d reprimand her for doing this without permission, but it seemed like torture with how close she already was.

Feeling her cum around his cock was un-fucking-real. He finished shortly after, pulling out to paint her inner thigh with his own spend. He amusedly watched it drip down her skin, down the legs she could barely even stand on.

“Job’s still on the table, baby,” he reminded her, tucking himself back into his trousers. “Anything to keep you here and doing that more. Blackjack next?”

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖊

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ they find you again, after all this time

but something‘s different,

you are no longer human

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ sanemi , giyuu , obanai

The battlefield was a graveyard of still bodies and whispers, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and ash. Casting its cold, pale light over the ruin, the moon hung low as Sanemi, a man made of storms, stood at its center. His sword was heavy in his hand, a weight that pulled at his very soul, though he refused to release it. Something else weighed on him—something darker, deeper. A presence.

And then you stepped into the light.

At first, he thought it was a trick of his war-addled mind. His breath hitched, sharp and involuntary, his heart stumbling over itself in its chest. It was you—your silhouette unmistakable, the curve of your face seared into his memory. But as you moved closer, the truth unraveled with cruel clarity.

You were not you anymore.

Perfect in its monstrosity, your skin shimmered with a cold, unnatural beauty, pale as death. Your once-warm eyes glowed red, the color of fresh blood, devoid of everything he had known. And you reeked—of death, of Muzan, of betrayal so vile it made his stomach churn.

Sanemi froze, the world narrowing to just you. Memories rushed forward like a flood he could not stop. The way you used to smile at him, tentative and soft, as though you could see the fractured pieces of him and still chose to stay. The way your hand once lingered on his arm, grounding him when his anger threatened to consume him. The way your voice, so achingly gentle, had once cut through the storms raging in his heart.

But that was gone. All of it.

Now, you were a weapon. Cold, deadly, beautiful. His masterpiece.

"Sanemi," you breathed, though it wasn’t your voice, not really. It was too sweet, too sharp, laced with something cruel that made his skin crawl. "I thought you’d be happy to see me. After all, you thought I was dead, didn’t you?"

His knuckles turned white around his sword, the leather of the hilt creaking beneath his grip. "You are dead," he spat, his voice rough and trembling. "Don’t you dare use her face, her body, her voice. Don’t you dare speak to me like that."

Almost curious, almost mocking, you tilted your head. "Dead?" you echoed, your lips curving into a smile that wasn’t yours. "If I’m dead, then why does my heartbeat still haunt you? Why do you still dream of me?"

Barely perceptible, but it was there, a crack in his otherwise unyielding armor that made the Hashira flinch. You had always been able to see through him, to peel back the layers of anger and grief he wrapped himself in. That hadn’t changed. But now, it wasn’t kindness in your eyes—it was something darker, something broken.

"You should have let me go," you said, stepping closer, your voice soft but cutting, like a knife sliding between his ribs. "But you didn’t, did you? You held on. Even now, you can’t let go."

Sanemi’s chest ached, a sharp, twisting pain that spread like fire. He wanted to scream at you, to tell you that you were wrong, but the words caught in his throat. Because you weren’t wrong. Of course, he hadn’t let go. How the hell could he?

And now, here you were. A ghost, a demon, a nightmare made flesh.

"I’ll kill you," he spat, yet the words sounded hollow, even to him. His blade trembled in his hand, his resolve cracking with every second that passed. He had faced demons countless times before, had killed without hesitation, but now? Now, his blade felt heavier than ever.

"You won’t," you whispered, your voice so soft it was almost tender. "You love me too much."

Love. The word hit him like a blow, leaving him breathless. He had never said it, never dared to, not even in the quiet moments when you had been alive and whole—always having been too scared, too proud, too angry at the world to admit what you meant to him. And now, it was too late.

Swift and merciless, you attacked, and he barely had time to raise his blade. Sanemi gritted his teeth as he pushed you back; the clash of steel against your claws rang out, sharp and jarring. Being faster now, stronger, your movements were inhumanly precise. Every swing of his blade felt like fighting against his own heart.

And yet, he couldn’t stop.

As the battle continued, a blur of blood and desperation, his body moved on instinct, yet his mind was elsewhere, tangled in memories of you. The way you used to laugh, the way your hand used to linger on his, the way you had made him feel something other than rage.

That was gone. He knew as much yet why…?

"You’re hesitating," you remarked, voice cold and biting as you dodged another swing of his blade. "Do you think you can save me? Do you think there’s anything left of me to save?"

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat was too thick, the words too heavy. Instead, he fought harder, his strikes growing more desperate, more erratic.

Then, suddenly, you were gone, vanished into the shadows as if you had never been there.

As he stared at the empty space where you had stood, the man fell to his knees, his sword slipping from his grasp. Hollering around him, the wind carried the scent of blood and rain. Still, all he could smell was you — a ghost of what was long gone.

Sanemi stayed there for what felt like hours, his chest heaving, his hands trembling. He wanted to scream, to cry, to tear the world apart, but all he could do was sit there, the weight of his guilt crushing him.

You were gone.

And he had failed you. Again.

Burdened by a silence that felt almost alive, the night was heavy, pressing against Giyuu’s chest with a weight that made it hard to breathe. The forest stretched out endlessly before him, the trees stark and bare against the pale light of the moon. He moved forward, his steps measured and careful, though his mind was a mess of unspoken thoughts. He had been restless for weeks now, the sensation creeping into his bones that something was wrong, that something was unfinished. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way—it was a shadow that had clung to him since that fateful mission, the one where he’d lost you.

You were his tsuguko, his pride, his reason to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope in the quiet void of his life. You were everything he wasn’t: warm where he was cold, open where he was closed off, curious in ways that sometimes made him envy your ability to find beauty in a world that had been so cruel. He had trained you, poured what little he had of himself into you, and though he hadn’t said it—he rarely said anything—you must have known how deeply he cared.

But then you were gone, swallowed whole by the very darkness they fought every day. He had arrived too late to save you, too late to even hold you as the light in your eyes faded. Instead, he found only blood, streaks of it painting the ground like some grim mockery of a farewell. Your body was gone, taken by the demon who had bested you, and he had searched for weeks, scouring every shadow, chasing every lead, only to find nothing.

Eventually, he told himself you vanished. Not because he believed it, but because it was easier than living with the weight of not knowing.

Yet here he was, drawn to this forest by a presence he could not ignore, a feeling wrapped around his chest like a vice. He had felt it before, fleeting moments when the air would shift, and he’d swear he wasn’t alone. But those moments passed as quickly as they came, leaving him with only the hollow ache of his own imagination. This time, though, it was different.

Stopping in a clearing, the moonlight spilled across the ground in pale streaks. The air was still, unnaturally so, and for a moment, the world felt like it was holding its breath. And then he saw you.

Similar to the movements of a ghost you stepped out of the shadows, your figure bathed in silver light. His breath caught in his throat, his heart lurching in a way that almost made him stumble. It was you—he could never forget you—but you were different. Your skin was pale, too pale, and your eyes glowed with a crimson hue that sent a chill down his spine. You smelled of blood, of death, of Muzan.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. His body, frozen in place as his mind screamed at him to make sense of what he was seeing, just couldn’t. With an unreadable expression you looked at him, though your eyes carried a weight that felt almost unbearable.

“Giyuu,” you said, your voice soft, trembling, a sound he hadn’t realized he’d been aching to hear.

Then, painfully so, his hand tightened around his sword, the familiar weight grounding him in a moment that felt too unreal to be true. “You’re... alive,” he said, though the words tasted bitter, laced with the truth he couldn’t bring himself to say.

You smiled, but it wasn’t the smile he remembered. It was colder, sharper, laced with something he couldn’t name. “Alive,” you echoed, the word falling from your lips like a stone sinking into water. “If this can be called living.”

Slowly coming undone, the silence between you lingered as the unspoken words pressed against his chest like a blade. He wanted to move, to reach for you, to do something, but all he could do was stare as the weight of his guilt threatened to crush him.

“You didn’t save me,” you said, and the simplicity of your words felt like a blow to the chest.

“I tried,” he murmured, though even to his own ears, the words rang empty.

“Not hard enough.”

Quiet, almost detached your tone didn’t reach him as angry, and that made it worse. You weren’t blaming him—not entirely—but your words carried the weight of a truth he couldn’t deny.

The grip on his sword faltering, Giyuu closed his eyes. “I thought you were gone. I looked for you, but I...” His voice broke, and he hated himself for it, hated the way his composure cracked under the weight of his failure.

When he opened his eyes, you were closer, and the scent of death clung to you like a second skin. “You should have let me go,” you said, and there was something almost tender in the way you said it, though it was a tenderness laced with bitterness. “It would have been kinder.”

“I couldn’t,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“Why not?”

While the truth weighed too heavy, being too raw to put into words, he didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Instead, he watched as you stepped back, disappearing into the shadows—the shadows he couldn’t reach—once more.

Falling to his knees in the clearing, the weight of your presence—of your absence—crushed him. You were gone, and yet you weren’t. You were out there, somewhere, haunting him with the reminder of everything he had failed to protect.

The silence of the forest pressed in around him, and for the first time in years, Giyuu allowed himself to break.

A sharp scent of blood hung heavy in the air, the battlefield awash with red. Obanai’s breath hitched, but the chaos around him blurred into nothing as he stood rooted in place, unable to move. The shadows of the trees twisted in the dim moonlight, creating a stage for the figure that emerged from the darkness. He had spent months telling himself you were gone, mourning you in silence because grief was an emotion he could barely afford in this life. But there you stood—or, at least, something that resembled you—your body wrapped in an aura of darkness that felt like the demon king himself.

It was as if the universe had stopped breathing, leaving only the low rustling of leaves and the distant cries of the dying behind him. You were there, but clearly, it wasn’t you. You couldn’t be demon.

The Obanai who had stood tall and unshaken in the face of countless battles, who had worn his stoic mask like armor, felt it crack the moment your crimson eyes met his. The warmth he had once loved so deeply in your gaze was gone, replaced by something feral, detached—an unbearable void.

And yet, despite the demonic aura, despite the unmistakable stench of Muzan’s curse on your flesh, your face was unchanged. The softness of your features, the curve of your lips, the way you carried yourself—it all lingered, mocking him, reminding him of what he’d failed to protect. You looked like a ghost, not alive, not truly dead, and far beyond his reach.

“Obanai,” you said, and the sound of your voice cut through him like a blade. It was lower now, more venomous, but it was still you. The voice that had soothed him when he doubted himself, that had laughed softly as you tended his wounds in the quiet of the night. Clenching his fists, the trembling betrayed the storm in his chest.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice taut, forced. Painfully, his hands itched to draw his blade, to do what had to be done, but his body wouldn’t obey. Not yet. Not while the sight of you chained him to the ground.

Stepping closer, your movements were slow, deliberate, each step a challenge. “And yet I am,” you murmured. “I suppose we have to thank him for that.”

Muzan. That name was a curse in his mind, a symbol of everything vile and cruel in the world. The realization clawed at him—the same hands that had taken so much had taken you, turned you into a monster.

“You didn’t come for me,” you said softly, but there was no anger in your tone, only the empty weight of a fact. “I waited, Obanai. I waited in that darkness, clinging to the hope that you would find me. But you didn’t.”

Like a blow this accusation landed, harder than any wound he’d ever suffered in battle. The man wanted to deny it, to scream that he had tried, that he had searched, that he had torn himself apart looking for you. But what would it matter? You were here now, and the truth was written in the blood staining your claws, in the hunger lurking behind your crimson gaze.

“I couldn’t,” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible.

“No,” you said, tilting your head as if studying him. “You wouldn’t.”

Ever so subtle, the bitterness in your voice dug into him like thorns, wrapping around his ribs until he could barely breathe. He thought of the nights he had spent grieving you in silence, the guilt that had kept him awake, and the endless prayers he had offered to gods who had long stopped listening.

But none of it mattered. None of it would undo what had been done.

“You were my weakness,” you continued, creeping closer still, until you were only a few feet away. “And now I am yours.”

Shattered, his hand tightened around his blade, and this time, it wasn’t hesitation that stayed him. It was despair. He couldn’t fight you—not because he lacked the will, but because he knew that no matter how sharp his blade, no matter how precise his strike, he couldn’t kill the part of himself that still loved you.

“Do it,” you said, your voice almost tender, as if mocking him. “Draw your sword, Serpent Hashira. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Isn’t that your duty?”

Naturally, he wanted to tell you to stop, to beg you to leave, but the words wouldn’t come. His throat was dry, his heart pounding in his ears. The weight of his guilt and failure pressed down on him like a mountain.

You smiled then, a cruel, broken smile. “You can’t, can you? Because you know this is your fault.”

Like a dagger, those words were catapulted deep into his heart. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet your eyes anymore, because he knew you were right. He had failed you in the worst way, and this was his punishment—to see you like this, to know that the person he had loved was gone, replaced by something monstrous.

Softly, you cracked a laugh, a bitter sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “Goodbye, Obanai,” you said, turning away from him, your voice carrying no malice, only finality. “This was the last thing I needed to see.”

Long after you disappeared into the shadows, he stood there, the weight of your presence lingering in the air. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his blade clattering beside him. The silence of the forest swallowed him, but it offered no solace.

The hashira had failed you, and now he would carry the ghost of that failure with him until the end.

pls don’t let this flop. i feel too deeply about kny men. 🫢

[five-and-dimes]

🥶🥶 for the ask thing :)

The end of this snippet is definitely something I've shared before, but because of you I finally wrote the part that connects it to the last scene! Progress! 🙌

“I would not want to intrude…” he says slowly. Hob waves him off, “Nonsense, it looks like the end of days out there, what kind of mate would I be if I let you out in that? You’d probably blow away.” Dream huffed, a little offended, but he couldn’t deny Hob had a point, “Well… thank you,” he muttered awkwardly. “No problem!” Hob began stacking their books and putting their notes into orderly piles. Dream assisted, putting his own supplies back into his backpack and handing Hob the highlighters that were just out of his reach. “I can loan you some sweats. And I know the bed is small, but I got one of those mattress toppers so it’s super comfy at least-” “Wait-” Dream interrupted, blinking in confusion, “I will simply sleep on the floor. I do not mind.” Hob shrugged, “I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” For a moment, Dream opened and closed his mouth, no words coming out. Finally, he explains softly, “I do not wish to disturb your rest. I have been told I am. Unpleasant to share a bed with.” Hob looks up from where he was rifling through his dresser, appalled, “Someone said that to you?” “Many have.” Many have said much worse. Few people bother softening their words to Dream. On one memorable occasion a hookup had laughed in his ear and said he felt like he was fucking a corpse. After he finished, he’d practically shoved Dream out the door, cheerfully letting him know “this ain’t a morgue, sweetheart” with a wink before slamming the door in his face. When he got home, he sat in the shower for hours, wondering why no one had a problem with his body when they were fucking him, but they did when he wanted anything else. But. Hob does not need these details. Strangely, he looks upset with the little Dream has revealed. “God, people can be such assholes.” Dream tilted his head, “You often talk about how much you value truthfulness. I would think you’d appreciate their brutal honesty.” “I hate brutal honesty.” The vehemence in his voice catches Dream by surprise. Turning to give Dream his full attention, Hob continues, “The whole ‘brutal honesty’ thing is an excuse people use to get away with being cruel. I value compassionate honesty. Much different.” Not for the first time, Dream thinks that Hob Gadling is the strangest man he’s ever met. “Very well,” he responds slowly, “In that case. Out of compassion, I will tell you that I am a poor bedmate. You are being very kind to let me stay the night, you need not sacrifice your comfort as well.” Hob hums in consideration, crossing his arms as he looks at Dream in consideration, “Would it make you uncomfortable?” The question catches him by surprise, and for a moment Dream just blinks at him. “Pardon?” “Well, you keep going on about my comfort,” Hob points out, “If you’re uncomfortable sharing, and this is like, your roundabout way of getting out of it, that’s totally fine, I’ll drop it,” He raises an eyebrow like a challenge, “But be honest.”

[bohemianblasphemy]

OOOOHH WAIT I HAVE MORE TO ADD!!!!! What if reader got her nipples pierced a couple weeks before and she’s been kind of pushing off anything sexual with him because she wants to wait for them to heal and so when she calls him up telling him that he better be in a pair of boxers, a Santa hat, and nothing else and she walks in with that lingerie 🫠🥴🥴🥴 I think he would absolutely lose his mind!!!! Like she was waiting to surprise him as his Christmas present from her 🤭

OHHHHHH YESSSSS

you’d have gotten them done a few weeks before Christmas, making up every excuse under the sun to Billy to not see you naked or touch you just to make sure the piercings are healed.

It was absolute agony for the both of you, BUT… it was going to be worth it.

As Christmas rolled around, the piercings weren’t tender or sensitive to touch- and they looked fucking good.

You were admiring yourself in the mirror, finishing tying up the perfect bows around your body before Billy gets home- smoothing the lingerie on your body, fluffing up your hair and swiping on the last of some red lipstick to match the ribbon.

“I’m home!” You heard the front door slam, his heavy boots echoing through the hallway.

“In here! But- don’t come in just yet…” you called back out to him.

“Now why the hell not?” He chuckled from the outside of the closed bedroom door. “Not until you come in with just your boxers and that Santa hat in the living room.” You giggled, settling yourself down on the edge of the bed.

Billy wouldn’t hesitate; not having had you for weeks had lead up to this moment as he quickly stripped himself off and grabbed that hat from the lounge- knocking on the door and opening to reveal you as you were- ribbons and all.

All he could do was stare- running his tongue over his lips. “Fuckin’ hell…” he smirked, walking over to you as you looked up at him.

“Merry Christmas Billy…” you smiled, batting your eyelashes at him.

“All this f’me?” He chuckled, his hand reaching down to stroke your cheek as you nodded.

“Go on, unwrap me…” you teased, standing up so he could see the bows adorning you.

Billy’s hands fiddled with the bows on your hips, pulling them in a swift motion as the material fell to the ground before reaching to your chest, tugging at that as the ribbon joined the other bit of material on the floor.

His eyes widened, seeing the new addition of jewellery on your body. “Fuck me… you’ve been hiding these from me?” He groaned, cupping your breasts and looking at the shining silver bars in your nipples.

You nodded. “Didn’t wanna ruin the surprise…” your breath hitched as his thumbs ran over your nipples gently, testing the waters. He chuckled, the puzzle pieces of why you didn’t want to have intimacy with him those past few weeks falling into place. “Was startin’ to think you didn’t want me no more…” he placed some kisses along your neck, the sweet scent of your skin invading his senses.

“Wouldn’t dream of it…” you giggled, twirling your fingers on the Pom Pom of his Santa hat, the small bell attached to it ringing slightly.

He hummed against your skin.

“Cmon love, wanna enjoy my little gift… lay down f’ me…”

[peachdues]

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! Have some love!!

“I’m always in that dungeon. Always in the dark. I can’t see my way out.”

You say it so casually, as though you’re simply commenting on the state of the weather or the strength of your untouched tea.

Obanai’s stomach curdles.

A quick glance to you reveals passive features, as neutral as the cadence of your voice. And yet, despite the pleasant set of your mouth, your eyes are vacant; fixed upon some distant point in the garden, but not seeing anything at all.

You are not here; you’ve wandered off, gone someplace far beyond the safety of the Butterfly Mansion. Far away from him.

Despite the coolness of the early spring air, Obanai suddenly finds himself sticky; hot. He sets his own cup down to wipe his damp palm against the front of his trousers.

“In the beginning, I dreamed of one day seeing the sun; the trees. Watching the light filter through the leaves. I thought it would help me endure, but it only trapped me even more. Because I forgot what trees and leaves looked like. And that left me only knowing darkness.” You tilt your head, eyes narrowing as though in thought. “This is all a dream. And I am still there.”

The wilted bandages sticking to his skin skin threaten to slip down his chin, to choke him off around his throat. Already, it feels difficult to breathe, and his fingers shake when he tries to pry them away from his mouth.

“You’re not dreaming.” Obanai forces out a croak. “This is real. You’re out. You’re free — safe.”

“But, I never left. I don’t think I ever will.” Finally, your gaze shifts to him, though it remains empty. “What is it that I did, do you think? To be punished like that?”

Obanai cannot answer you; his lungs his shriveled in his chest. There is no more air to breathe.

“Was I that bad?” And this time, a tiny fissure snakes its way through your voice. “I must have been, to have deserved that.”

The lock is broken; you are cracking wide open and he cannot stop you. And yet, the selfish part of him wants you to pick open this shallow scab. Obanai is desperate and he’s in love, and he wants you to remember so you can remember why you need to despise him; remember the depth of his betrayal, and cast him aside for good.

“Maybe…maybe it was because of someone else.”

It’s as close as he can get to admitting the awful truth of it all, because the truth, won’t mean anything to you. It would only matter if you were still you and he was still Obanai. But it doesn’t mean anything, now. Not when he’s your stranger.

You frown. “I must have harmed them badly, for them to despise me so.”

No, he thinks desperately. I could never despise you. I could hate all the world and still never hate you.

But, Obanai is a coward, and so, he does not tell you this. Instead, he swallows hard, and he clings to his pretenses. “Maybe it was to hurt someone else. Someone who held you dear.”

“No one loved me that way. I would’ve remembered if they had — if not the person, then the feeling.”

Oh, but he did. He does. Even a coward can be brave when left alone.

—

BONUS

You pick at a loose thread on your hospital gown. “You must have loved them a lot.”

“I did.” I do.

The corner of your mouth tilts up in something like a smile; sad and pitying, and the closest thing to the old you he’s seen in months. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

It takes everything in him to remember how to breathe — how to try. “Me, too.”

[emsprovisions]

❄️ Day 23 - Yearly Traditions ❄️

🎁 Today's fic is dedicated to @ladytessa74

Summary: A teenaged TK enjoys his Hanukkah tradition of making latkes and sufganiyot with his mom.

Word count: 1121

24 Days of Tarlos Masterpost

Seventeen year-old TK is curled up into the corner of the couch in the living room of his mom’s Manhattan high rise. He has his iPhone 4 in hand, playing FarmVille on Facebook while the tv drones on at a low volume in the background. He’s content for the time being, trying to ignore his growing crush on Lewis Doty in theatre and the anxiety that has been worsening the closer he gets to graduation. 

He’s still only a junior, but college applications are starting to come in, and pressure to take the SAT is weighing down on him, and TK’s a little worried his mom won’t like that he doesn’t want to follow her footsteps into law school. 

For the time being, he doesn’t think about any of that as Gwyn comes in through the door with a couple bags of groceries and her warmest smile. She sets the bags on the entry table to remove her coat and looks at her son. “Ready to get to work?”

TK smiles up at his mom and shuts off his phone with a nod. “Ready.”

Tonight is the first night of Hanukkah, and TK and Gwyn are keeping up with their tradition of making latkes and sufganiyot to enjoy.

TK washes his hands and pushes up the sleeves of his hoodie, as his mom puts him to work peeling and shredding potatoes. 

TK loves this tradition with his mom. Making latkes and sufganiyot every Hanukkah has been something he’s looked forward to every year since he was a kid. They work side by side, music playing through the speaker in the kitchen, laughing together. 

TK ends up telling his mom about Lewis Doty and how he’s in the spring production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Gwyn listens, asking what Lewis is like and commenting that he sounds nicer than TK’s ex-boyfriend who broke his heart over the summer.

“He’s so sweet, mom,” TK just grins. “But I don’t think he’s even noticed me.”

“As popular as you are?” Gwyn laughs, quirking a brow at her son. 

“Being in a lot of sports and theatre doesn’t immediately make me popular, mom. A lot of people do both,” TK rolls his eyes.

“I know, I know,” Gwyn chuckles lightly. “Don’t forget to rinse and drain those potatoes, honey.”

“Come on, mom, I could make these with my eyes closed,” TK laughs.

They continue working together, TK on latke prep, Gwyn on sufganiyot prep and then stand side by side at the stove, two pots with oil heating up. 

TK leans impatiently against the counter. “The waiting is always the worst part of this.”

Gwyn just laughs softly. “My impatient boy.”

“It’s just the ADHD,” TK grins. 

“So, have you thought anymore about where you might like to start applying?” Gwyn asks, bringing up the subject of college gently as she knows it's a touchy subject with her teenage son.

TK stares down at the oil in his pan, checking the temperature on it before scooping some latke batter and dropping it in, worrying at his lip.

“I don’t think I want to go to college, mom,” he admits softly.

Gwyn tilts her head. “You don’t?”

TK shakes his head.

“Why not?”

TK chances a glance up at his mom, searching her face for any hint at how she’s taking this. With a deep breath, he finds the courage to tell her, “I want to be a firefighter.”

“Like your father,” Gwyn sighs, her shoulders dropping a bit.

“You’re disappointed.”

“No, honey,” Gwyn shakes her head with a sad smile. “I just don’t want you to end up like him.”

“I’m not going to,” TK insists. “I don’t want to be a firefighter because of dad, and honestly I kinda hated that I want to go into that same career, but Enzo convinced me–”

“You talked to Enzo about this before me?” Gwyn frowns.

“I just wanted some fatherly advice, mom,” TK shakes his head. “Obviously if I asked dad, he’d be all over the idea. You’re biased. I needed someone who could tell me like it is.”

“And what exactly did Enzo tell you?”

“He told me that everyone will think I’m following in my dad’s footsteps if I become a firefighter, regardless of my actual intentions,” TK explains, poking at one of the latkes with a slotted spoon to test if it was ready to flip over. In a smaller voice, TK says, “Then he convinced me dad’s not so bad of a man to follow.”

“No? Abandoning his family doesn’t make him bad?” Gwyn asks, skepticism in her voice.

“I know what he did sucks, okay!” TK huffs. “It’s just, he’s a hero too. And that’s all I wanna be, mom. I want to help people and I don’t think I’m cut out for more school. And unlike dad, I don’t need the recognition that I did something good. I just want to do good.”

“Hey,” Gwyn pauses after flipping her sufganiyot so they can cook on the other side, and reaches for TK. “If you want to be a firefighter, I’ll support you. There is nothing you could do that won’t make me proud, TK.”

TK just scoffs as his mom pulls him into her arms like he’s seven and not seventeen and taller than her. He’s also quite certain she’s wrong about that, he knows his mother would be disappointed if she ever found out he’s been getting high with some of his friends.

However, despite his teenage angst, TK can admit the hug from his mom feels nice. That he needed it. He sighs as he relaxes, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Sure you’re not mad I don’t want to be a lawyer?”

“I’m sure,” Gwyn laughs softly. “You are going to be incredible no matter what you do with your life.”

Later, TK curls up next to his mom on the couch, Mr. and Mrs. Smith popped into the dvd player, his plate piled high with latkes and some rotisserie chicken that Gwyn got at the store. He likes his latkes with ketchup, and it’s become their playful argument every year, Gwyn scolding him and shaking her head as she tops hers with the traditional applesauce. There’s fresh sufganiyot, warm and dusted in powdered sugar on the counter for dessert and they’ve already lit the first candle on their menorah. 

TK is happy as he tucks his head against his mom’s shoulder while they watch their movie, dipping a latke in ketchup, his eyes practically glued to Brad Pitt every time he’s onscreen.

“Chag sameach, mom,” TK looks up at his mom with a smile.

Gwyn kisses the top of his head. “Chag sameach, my sweet boy.”

[esta-elavaris]

Had a moment today that exemplifies how my family thinks but like, in a way that’s just very sad and makes me glad I don’t think that way.

Showed a relative the amazing painting that friend did for me, and her first response was “you’d be able to sell that for some good money!!!”

Like. No????

For months I’ve discussed this creative trade with this friend, we’ve talked about what the other wants, we’ve gotten excited about it and traded progress pics as we work on it for each other, gotten stoked over making plans to get to the post office and seeing the other finally get it, and it’s just been a very wholesome and very fun project. It took six weeks for us to complete these projects, and now I have something on display in my room that makes me very happy, that’s objectively beautiful, and that I know a friend put a lot of effort into making for me and was THRILLED when I adored it.

And my family’s immediate line of thinking is “make a few quid from it lol”.

I can’t imagine the headspace it must take to go through life like that.

[the-casbah-way]

i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry

[getosugurusbangs]

gojo has appeared in my dreams on 3 separate occasions now. send help.

[fingertipsmp3]

Now that I think about it last night’s dream really hit a bingo of recurring themes tbh

[duskholland]

the post about your dream and then your threesome and then your description of your manager and everything else was such a ride!! please don’t stop sharing I’m now too invested 🍿🍿🍿

as soon as i saw this, i got a string of messages from aforementioned kiss dream manager bugging me about not going out tonight . you have manifested this for me 😭

[drill-teeth-art]

Wow! Here’s something incredibly personal.

This is Good Bi Gender. A comic I made to express some feelings I have about my gender. I don’t really have that much else to say about it. Here it is.

[Image Description: A digital comic made with sharp, angular abstract lines and only the colors white, blue, pink, and black. The featured character is all white, except for facial features and hair colors, which changes from panel to panel. The comic reads: Cover Panel: The text "Good Bi Gender", the words colored with the trans flag. It shows a glitchy person's face, half pink and half blue. Panel 1: White text reads: "Hello. My name is apparently irrelevant. And my pronouns are he/him and she/her. But you can't call me she/her. And here's why." Someone with a half-pink and half-blue shirt looks to the side. One eye is covered with hair, and the other eye is pink while the iris is blue.

Panel 2: The character sits happily, imagining facial hair and a masculine voice. "I don't want top surgery. I love my chest. And I dream about being on testosterone someday soon." The character looks at a phone, frowning. The phone shows the male symbol with an "X" through it. Text next to it reads: “People don't seem to think that the features I dream of are very pretty though... Or they think even worse of them than that…”

Panel 3: The character’s features are all pink, and sits in a blank frame. The character reaches over to a blue frame, frowning. “I don't like the animosity. I really despise it.” A photo of the character shows an all-blue frame and blue hair, with pink outlines and facial features. “To be a boy... I aspire to be one. I aspire to be masculine in all its handsomeness. All its prettiness.” Panel 4: The character sits in an all blue panel, but reaches back out to the pink panel. “And I'm still a girl too. I was so excited to have both. To love both. To have handsome femininity. Beautiful masculinity.” The frames break and connect, and pink and blue swirl together. The character smiles in between the frames, with one pink eye and one blue eye. “So excited. And yet I get asked…”

Panel 5: Two hands hold out two different pills to the character, one blue and one pink. They ask “Male? or Female?” using the male and female symbols.The character, facial features an array of pink and blue, looks between the two hands, distressed. “It's both! I'm both! They're not opposites. Not narrow boxes. I say I'm both despite the insistence that I can't be. And I know what I look like. I know I look like a girl to most. I know that if I say people can call me she, that's all I will get from most. Because it's "easier". It "makes more sense". To have my masculinity, I am often forced to be unflinching in it and it alone. To never use she. Because if I don't, I will never get to have he.” [The words "she" and "he" are italicized.] Panel 6: Text reads: “I'm still very happy to be so comfortable in my identity. To know, despite all that, that I am indeed a boy and a girl and both. But you know. Telling people to only use he/him for me. Guarding my masculinity all just to have it. All at the expense of the part of me who is happily and unashamedly a girl.” The character cries from one pink eye, the other hidden. The character holds a pink girl in a sea of blue, the girl crying out. In the midst of the blue, text reads: “Well, it fucking breaks her heart.” End ID]

Edit: @starberry-skies wrote an ID for the comic, so I added it to the og post with its permission!

[sttoru]

#𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: “show me you’re shameless, write it on my neck, why don’t ya?”

cw. married!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, angst to comfort. cheating/infidelity. unprotected. crēampie. bréeding themes. soft angsty-ish sèx. petnames ‘baby, sweetheart, wifey’ not proofread !

satoru has never loved the woman he married. he’s never felt an ounce of attraction or affection towards her. it’s hard to be around someone who he’s supposed to love and cherish, when all he can think about is you.

it’s you he was supposed to end up with if it wasn’t for his damned clan. setting up an arranged marriage behind his back and only telling him last minute of their plans— a bunch of assholes they are.

satoru could’ve declined, disagreed, ran away. he had all the power to, but he had fully convinced himself that his actual soulmate - you - would never return his love, which is why he settled.

. . . he was proven wrong after it was already too late.

“i love you s’much,” satoru grits his teeth as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his sweat trickling down his forehead. his hips move in a gentle rhythm, as tender as his arms are holding you. he never treated you roughly.

satoru wouldn’t do that to the love of his life. the one who he’s supposed to call his wife, his beloved. he’ll find a way to achieve his dreams. he’ll do anything to end up with you and escape this messed up arrangement.

but for now, he’ll love you like this. every day, behind the other woman’s back, for as long as he can.

“i love you too, ‘toru,” you sigh, tilting your head to give the white-haired man access to your neck. his tongue wets your sensitive skin before sucking on it. he’s claiming you as his— like he usually does whenever he manages to get ahold of you.

“say that again,” satoru whimpers against your throat whilst leaving soft kisses all over. the sounds of your bodies meeting bounces off the walls, the lewd noise of flesh hitting flesh is a melody that you both enjoy behind closed doors.

“please,” satoru pleads. you’re surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. he holds onto you - ruts into you - like he’s never experienced this before. his cock twitches and throbs within you, desperate to reach that aching release.

you swallow the lump in your throat. you feel bad doing this right on the bed that satoru shares with his wife, but you also couldn’t care less. “i love you, satoru, i really do,” you moan near his ear.

the sorcerer shivers at your pretty voice uttering those three words to him. his big hands hold onto your waist, fingers digging into your skin, leaving small dents. his breath hitches, “oh, fuck. y’do, huh?”

satoru curses as he lifts his head from your neck. the view of you beneath him while you take his dick all the way inside your sopping cunt is addicting. it’s also way too slippery because of the mixture of cum on your lower body and the sheets.

“ah,” you look down at the place your bodies meet the second you feel his cock slip out of your pussy. you reach a hand down and guide his tip back to your folds without much thought.

it’s a sight that makes satoru nearly bust a nut right then and there. “missin’ me already?” he tilts his head, that boyish smile on his lips reappearing again. his soaked, white bangs cover his ethereal eyes a little, yet you can still notice the playfulness in them.

“yeah, i do,” you sigh, whining a little as his cock slowly fills you up all the way again, “i always miss you, ‘toru.” you never fail to feel so full whenever you’re intimate with him— he’s big and knows just how to use that to his advantage.

satoru pouts at your words. he knows what you’re indirectly referring to amidst all the physical pleasure. he tries to make as much time for you as he can, without raising suspicion. though sometimes he fails to see you for days. balancing his work schedule, along with his many other duties and his private life was a hassle.

it’s frustrating when satoru is leading a double life, for both you and him. there’s nothing more in this world that he wants than to have you beside him forever. as his wife, not his secret lover.

one day, soon— he promises silently to himself and to you with a kiss.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes out, his thrusts resuming. two of his rough fingers roll your nipple between them, his tongue following to circle the sensitive bud while he drives his dick in and out of you repeatedly. “but i’m all yours tonight, yeah? only yours.”

you nod mindlessly. you trust satoru, he’ll figure this all out. for now, you’ll enjoy every single second you’re able to spend with him.

“mhm,” you hum before your eyes focus on his neck. you know he’s told you not to leave any marks on him, but tonight, you’re feeling shameless. your hand on the back of his head pushes him down until your lips touch his neck.

satoru’s eyes widen at your unexpected action. he can’t deny you anything, even if this is a risky thing to do. he moans when you suck and bite on his skin. you’re leaving hickeys he will have to hide from his wife.

“naughty fuckin’ girl,” he tries to groan, though it comes out as a choked up whimper instead. he bites his lip and his eyes nearly roll back when your legs wrap around his waist, all whilst you’re leaving those dark marks on his neck.

you softly giggle at your own bold move. satoru however, seems to enjoy this more than he thought he would. he allows you access to his neck while he focuses on his set pace.

“y’ just want me to get caught, hm?” the white-haired man clicks his tongue, his balls slapping against your ass, your juices sticking to his skin which makes the sounds of his thrusts even louder. lewder. satoru huffs, “want that woman to know jus’ how well i fuck you, sweetheart?”

you feel your body heat up, the knot in your lower tummy tightening. his increased dirty talk only could mean one thing; he’s close. and so are you. the pleasure of having satoru inches deep in your cunt after not seeing him for two whole days, is driving you insane.

“yes, fuck— yes,” you hiccup, feeling absolutely no shame at this moment. you don’t care how loud you’re getting, if satoru’s neighbours were to hear him have sex with a woman that’s not his wife.

the man himself doesn’t even seem to mind it either. not when he’s this close. he pants before pressing soft kisses against your forehead. the lingering feeling of your lips against his neck remind him of the hickeys you’ve left.

satoru moans against your hot skin. his dick twitches, his balls tighten and his arms wrap around you to cradle you against his bare chest. he’s going to fill you with his hot cum like you deserve. you deserve every single drop and he wouldn’t give it to anyone else but you.

“shit, g’nna cum,” satoru warns after a small whine leaves his throat, “take it, baby. don’t waste a drop, wanna breed you full.” his thrusts turn a bit erratic, body pinning yours to the mattress so you have nowhere to run. all you can do is lay there and take it— take his cum while you reach your own climax.

white dots appear in his vision as satoru releases rope after rope of hot, sticky cum inside of you. his hips are pressed tightly against yours— leaving no chance for his seed to trickle out of you.

the satisfaction that fills satoru’s chest is like no other. a small grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he leans his body weight on top of you slightly, catching his breath. your trembling frame rests beneath him while you’re trying to regain composure as well.

“there y’ go, atta girl,” satoru coos and kisses your forehead. he treats you so well, even after sex. he treats you like you’re his true wife. which you should be.

he rubs your sides with his hands to calm you down. his own breath is still shake as he looks down at you with a grin. a wicked idea pops up in his head once he sees the thick trail of cum that’s left on your slit after he pulls out.

“y’know how i told ya that i’ll make y’ my wife one day?” satoru hums, eyes focused on both your face and cum-covered pussy. he has told you before that he will find a way to officially make you his.

and he finally just realised the perfect way to do it.

“mhm,” you nod with a dazed look in your eyes. you wrap your arms around satoru’s shoulders and hug him, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. you can practically feel the smirk on his lips as his breath ghosts over your ear.

his hand travels down to your tummy, fingers splayed over the soft flesh; “good, ‘cause y’re gonna need to play the part for me already. gonna fill you up ‘til you’re nice and swollen with my kids, wifey.”

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[badbtssmut]

Magic Stick

Jungkook is kinda sad because he has never been with a girl who could take him balls deep because of his size, reader doesn't believe him and she wants to see, but he tells her that he can't atm bc he's not hard. She is wearing this kinda halter top style with no bra so she looses the top and shows her tits to him and let's him touch them. After he's hard he shows her his dick and she says she's willing to try to take it all and she rides him into the sunset

Admin note: idea by anon

Contains: Big dick JK, handjob, some boobplay, missionary, riding, reader expresses that she is uncertain if it will fit, it takes some time getting it fully in ;), reader whimpers a bit, JK’s ex cheated on him, jk cums a lot

—

“What’s wrong with you?” You glanced over to your best friend, he has been in a horrible mood for a week and no one knew why. Not even your mutual friends knew what was up with Jungkook.

”It’s nothing.” He mumbled in response.

“Come on, I can tell something is bothering you.” You pushed.

"Fine. My girlfriend broke up with me.” He finally cracked.

"Wait, what?” You stood from the dining table, and inched closer to Jungkook who was sitting on the sofa. “Why’d she do that?" You question, shocked by the sudden news. "You two seemed so happy. What happened?"

"She… she was cheating on me.” He confessed.

"Are you fucking kidding me? What a bitch." You really couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Don’t blame her, I guess.” Jungkook said and shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't be silly. You’re too forgiving." You sighed.

"It's not that. The sex, my size— it just never worked out in bed. It was never a good fit." Jungkook confessed, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"So, you're saying, she dumped you ‘cause of your dick size? The fuck? That's just shallow. Why would she do that?" You sat next to him.

"Yeah, it didn’t fit, literally. I’d hurt her, it wasn’t going to work out from the start. We tried a few times, but the whole experience was just awful. I guess she couldn't stand it anymore." He said, defeated.

“That doesn't make any sense, surely you aren’t that big? Are you sure she’s not just making excuses?” You couldn’t believe his ex would end things with him over his size.

"No, I am that big." Jungkook replied.

"Really?" You were skeptical.

"I've always had a big dick." He added.

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me." You repeated. “I just want to know if you’re bullshitting or not.”

"No." He declined, looking at you as if you said the most ridiculous thing ever, clearly embarrassed by your request.

"Oh, come oooon, we are best friends. It’s not like I’ve never seen a dick before in my life." You rolled your eyes. "I'm not going to judge you, I promise. Just let me see."

"Fine." Jungkook sighed. "But… I’m not hard now.” He muttered.

“Will my boobs make you hard?“

“Hell yeah. You got great tits." He said, a bit too enthusiastic, as if he had been dreaming of the day you’d offer your tits in return to see his cock. You stood right in front of him, loosening the straps of your halter top. His mouth was slightly open, as he looked at you, completely mesmerized. You removed the straps from your shoulders and let the shirt fall to your tummy, revealing your breasts.

"Like what you see?" You teased.

"Yeah. Very much." He was nearly drooling at the sight.

"Want to touch them?"

"Fuck, yeah." He nodded, eager. You stepped closer and his hands were instantly on you. Squeezing your breasts, rubbing his thumbs on your nipples, taking it all in. When he was done caressing your tits with his hands, he started to suck and lick on them, at which you moaned softly, and the sound of it made him rock hard. He was definitely huge, you could see the tent forming on his pants.

"Are you sure you want to see it? It's… quite big." He was almost apologetic, as if his huge dick was some sort of inconvenience for others.

“I do, show me already.” You chuckled, not sure what he was being shy for.

"Okay." He nodded, unbuckling his belt, and lowering his jeans, together with his boxers.

Holy shit.

How was a dick that big even possible? You didn't even think that dicks like that actually existed. And it wasn't just long, but also thick. No wonder his ex broke up with him. You were pretty sure that dick wouldn't fit anywhere.

"Wow." You couldn't believe your eyes.

"Told you. It's big. You wouldn’t believe me." He shrugged.

"Can I touch it?" You asked, still unable to avert your eyes.

"If you want." He agreed, a little surprised but not put off by the idea.

You grabbed his dick and slowly moved your hand up and down his length, marveling at how big and heavy it was, how thick. His cock was truly impressive, and it seemed to get even bigger as you stroked him. You wondered what it would be like to take him.

“Wow. This is amazing. How can you fit this inside a girl?" You were truly impressed, and couldn't help but keep stroking his cock.

"I can't." He admitted, his breathing starting to quicken. “No girl can take it, they always start out confident but when it’s actually in… they can't take it. Not even halfway through. I have never met a girl that can take me all the way, even the ones that brag about having experience are not able to." He sounded dejected.

"I bet I can." You challenged him.

"No. You can't. There's no way." He scoffed. All of the girls said the exact same thing, and it never worked out, ever.

“Want to bet? If I can’t take it, I’ll give you 200 bucks.” You said, not convinced by his pessimism.

"200 dollars? That's a lot of money." He said, surprised by your proposal, but he shrugged. “But alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“If you ask me one more time… I will leave." You said, annoyed.

"Sorry. Just don’t want to hurt you." He apologized with a defeated sigh. It made you feel bad for getting annoyed, but Jungkook really had nothing to worry about.

You got this.

Jungkook held onto his cock as he pushed the head of it against your slick pussy lips. Your body tensed a bit, but he took his time, working on you slowly. You breathed deeply and relaxed, spreading your legs further as his shaft dragged against your sensitive skin. His cock was so hard and thick that it rubbed against every single inch of your folds.

Jungkook continued to move his hips back and forth, his errection dragging against your clit with each thrust. The sensation was amazing, and your body was trembling in pleasure, and he wasn’t even in yet.

The tip poked against your lower belly as he continued to rub the shaft against your pussy, his hips moving slow and steady.

“Want it.” You whined.

“Yeah?” He whispered.

"Yeah."

He lined himself up with your entrance, pressing the head against it. You tilted your head back, fuck, that was only the head, how could you feel this full already?

Jungkook began to slide his cock into your wet, aching pussy. His cock was stretching you out so wide, it felt incredible. He stopped when the head was all the way in, giving you a moment to adjust. Jungkook slowly pushed his cock deeper inside you, inch by inch. You could feel his cock filling up every inch of you, the stretch and pressure so intense, it was almost too much.

"Shit, you’re stretching me so good…” You moaned, as his cock kept going deeper.

"How are you taking it so well? I can't believe you can take it this far, pussy takes big cock so good, baby." He pushed in more, eager to fill you with every inch.

You couldn't speak, the sensations were overwhelming. It felt like your pussy was being stretched to its limits, and there was a pressure deep inside you that made your mind go blank.

Jungkook's cock was buried all the way inside you now. You were filled up completely, and it was the most amazing feeling you'd ever experienced.

"Don’t move,” It felt as if he would rip you in two if he pulled out even a little bit. "Not yet. Give me a minute." You whimpered, as you adjusted to his length and girth.

Jungkook nodded, kissing your neck, his hands cupping your breasts.

“This is how pussy feels, huh? Fuck, this is amazing. So tight, warm, perfect." He whispered against your ear, as he kept his dick deep inside. “It’s like my cock is being choked and squeezed, so good.”

“Told you… I could take it.” You said in a shaky breath, sitting up only to peek at where your bodies were joined, impressed to see how your body managed to take that monster cock in.

“You can move now." You gave him permission.

Jungkook started to move his hips back and forth.

The pressure from his dick was too intense, it felt like you were being split open, and you thought you were going to pass out from how good it felt. You held in your breath, unable to moan as you tilted your head back and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his cock stretching you wide.

Whereas you were silent, Jungkook was grunting, groaning, panting, moaning, he couldn’t contain his pleasure. Jungkook was overwhelmed by the feeling of being buried deep inside you. His thrusts were slow and deep, his cock pushing against your inner walls, massaging them.

You opened your eyes and glanced at his face, he looked like he was in ecstasy, his mouth was open and he was moaning with every thrust.

His cock felt incredible, so big, so deep.

You had never felt anything like it before.

"I can't believe I'm fucking a pussy that can take my whole cock. Shit, it feels amazing. Pussy is so tight and wet. So fucking good. Never felt anything like it. Fuck!” Jungkook licked his bottom lip, picking up the pace.

Jungkook was pounding you now, his cock thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, hitting all the right spots. Fuck, you were seeing stars, your whole body was on fire.

You couldn't stop yourself from screaming in pleasure. You spread your legs as far as you possible could, allowing him to thrust even deeper into you. Jungkook continued his relentless rhythm, his thrusts were hard and fast, the sounds of his cock slamming into your pussy filled the room.

The feeling of his dick filling you up was indescribable, it was pure bliss.

“Want to ride you, want to sit on that cock." You needed to feel in control, and you wanted him to watch you as you sat on his massive dick.

Jungkook pulled out and laid down on the bed, his dick standing straight up, and you couldn’t wait to take it all again.

You straddled his hips, hovering above his erection and you slowly lowered yourself down onto his cock, gasping as it slid into you, the pressure and friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Jungkook's hands were on your ass, helping you move up and down on his cock. He was thrusting his hips upward, matching your rhythm, driving his dick even deeper into you.

"God, you look so hot riding my cock. Never would’ve thought to see this.” He bit his lip, his eyes roaming over your body.

"So big…” All you could think of was how his cock felt inside of you, how shallow it might sound… you couldn’t even think of the person attached to it.

Jungkook was now holding onto your hips, pulling you down harder onto his dick. His thrusts were strong, and fast, and it felt so fucking good.

"Fuck, I can't last any longer. Gonna cum soon." His thrusts became erratic and he was moaning loudly, his whole body shaking. You rested your hands on his chest, grinding against him, trying to match his rhythm.

"Y/N… like that, love it just like that." He moaned, his breathing unsteady, his fingers now gripping into your thighs.

“Yes, yes…” You whispered, riding his cock, feeling your own orgasm build up inside of you.

“Ah!” Jungkook beat you to it, his body stiffened as his cum spurted inside of you, filling you up. He was gasping for air, his face was flushed, and his grip on your hips loosened, he ran his fingers through his hair as he squirted his cum deep inside of you. It was as if he had a never ending supply of cum, shooting spurt after spurt, his cock throbbing as it emptied its load inside you.

“Keep going, y/n, you didn’t come yet, I’ll stay hard, take what you need, keep going." He encouraged, his breathing still shaky, his dick was still hard, and it was pulsating inside you.

"Yeah." You whispered, continuing to bounce on his dick, the feeling of his cum inside of you and the sight of him beneath you, sweaty, breathing hard, his hair sticking to his forehead, was so incredibly sexy. The sound of your drenched in cum pussy sucking him back in was loud, his cock coated in your juices and the cum that was spilling out of you was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You leaned back, resting your hands on his thighs as you moved up and down, faster, deeper, until you were finally climaxing, your orgasm taking over your body. Your body shook and your eyes fluttered open and shut as the warmth spread through your whole body, you had never felt anything like it before. You could feel the hot cum leaking out of you, and it just kept coming.

Your hips slowed as you rode out your orgasm, and when it was over, you collapsed onto the bed, panting.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“You owe me 200 bucks.”