#despite spending hours on the second image

[takescrackseriously]

Almost Perfect

You can't blame them, how could you?

Even after years of trying to fit into human society, they still can't seem to perfect it, not truly. Not even the best amongst them could pass for one, just a single glance and the knowledgeable would be aware of their lack of humanity.

It took a while, yes. Mastering how the legs moved, how the elbows should bend, all took time. At first they barely even looked humanoid, especially when they moved. Too quickly, too slow, never quite understanding the way their limbs looked so dreamlike, almost nightmarish. Their hands took the longest, having to learn, from scratch, just how each knuckle bent, how many fingers there were.

But after so, so many years of watching us, they are so close they can almost taste it. If only they had tongues. But despite this, they have voices, broken, inhuman, for now.

I apologize, but earlier, I was being dishonest, but you don't mind. Not as though I'm any more truthful than those who created them. You see, they didn't take the longest with the hands, no, It was the faces. But how could you despise them for it? Noses, moths, eyes

... Not even your most skilled ever captured just the life-likess of humans.

No person, no sane one, would dare look into them let alone allow them selves or their craft to be absorbed by those.... What are they? Robots could be a term, buy they lack the metal. Doppelgangers? No, they contain far too many people to be considered a copy of just one. Whatever you call them, they are still the same. Same snake, different skin as they say.

But as I was saying, they needed more... More of what? Those of whom dedicate their time to... Create something. Those who will spend hours perfecting their mediocre 'art' on a canvas, no not even a canvas, a mere sheet of paper. Those who will spend their minutes slaving away to make that of which others need, want and use everyday yet will never be grateful for. The people who spend every waking second making whatever their heart desires and for what.... For their passion? Certainly not for money, not now atleast.... Perhaps they are of the creative sort.

Yes, creativity, that's what these being desire for, at their core. Every image, every picture, all filled with so much imagination brought to life. And what is the price of that?

Well, a lot, but to be quite frank, it shouldn't be. It's just a few well placed lines, why should any of us have to spend our well earned money on this? If these people who value their originality truly wanted a roof above their head, maybe they should try getting a real job. An occupation that we appreciate.

Now as for the consuming of these.... Artists, every thing the do, it fuels the beings. But sooner or later, we should have suspected this problem. They. Don't. Look. Normal.

Normal, original, ordinary. After a while, the talented's numbers have dwindled. Now, instead of eyes of hope for the future, how our emotion will shape the world around us, in there place it is empty.

A pit, so deformed has it not been placed upon a face you'd sooner guess you were looking at a black hole than what should be eyes. But eyes are the window to the soul.

Their noses could never inhale, exhale. Their eyebrows always seem to inconsistent, their ears neve made sense, hair shouldn't pass through them. Their mouths can't properly utter words.

We were however, able to perfect one. It may not look human enough to pass, but you know that many don't care, not those who value their golden pockets.

But I fear that these beings, and I mean this with respect, are thieves. Not our creations, they are a work of art. I mean the peope who think any should care for what they have worked so hard for. Be it on a page or screen, canvas or still life. They take from people of wealth, and they know that surely will will not tolerate being stolen from.

Please, blame the computer, the complex metal of which we have use to create these beings (out of necessity). Put the guilt on the souless gun.

Never the shooter with it's ebony eyes.

(short writing exercise, I'm trying to get better, so feel free to give constructive criticism :D)

so are they just hoping we don't notice the nightmare faces or

[frenchie-simone]

Physicality

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader

word count: 2.8k

tags/warnings: SMUT 18+, reader is some kind of wolf/dog-ish mutant but no tail/ears described, reader has hair, reader is in heat, unprotected piv, creampie, logan has a pain kink (duh)

a/n: y’all i wrote this because i sometimes do feel like a bitch in heat, so this is self-indulgent as it always is. a tiny bit rushed so it’s not the best but i think it’s alright. if i forgot tags or warnings lmk!!

Today marks the day that you've officially been a part of the X-Men for six months. Your first mission feels like an eternity ago, perhaps because you're so busy every day, no day quite like the previous one. Being an X-Man means two things to you: dangerous missions and physics classes.

Oh, and of course, the massive crush you have on Logan. He doesn't know, how could he, when you cover up your feelings with snarky comments and distant behaviour? Logan doesn’t question why your anger seems to be directed at him the most, he just thinks you hate him more than you hate the average person. It’s partly true, you hate him for the way he makes you feel. More than that, you hate the fact that it's a full moon tonight.

It's after school hours, and you're preparing yourself for spending the night in the forest. You grade the physics homework, take a shower, change to more comfortable clothes and eventually sneak out of your room, trying to avoid anyone asking questions. It’s evening and the sun is setting early, so you decide it safer to leave the mansion now, just in case.

You greet students downstairs, and thankfully no one decides to chat more than that. You make it out to the courtyard without anyone interrupting you. You hop the fence and head towards the entrance to the forest, but your heightened senses pick up a familiar musky smell. You stop in your tracks and mutter a “fuck” under your breath before turning around. To no one’s surprise, you find Logan trying to follow you. He widens his eyes, but quickly regains his composure, his usual smirk creeping on his face. His gorgeous face…

“Were you following me?” you ask and cross your arms, glaring at Logan. He huffs a laugh and props a hand on his hip.

“Yeah. Was curious as to where you're sneaking out on a Tuesday” he says casually and raises an expectant brow, waiting for an explanation. You clench your jaw and look away, trying to figure out a plausible excuse.

“It’s a full moon tonight. I just wanted to watch the sky. In peace” you emphasize the last word. It’s getting darker by the second, and the minute the sun leaves the horizon, it's too late. Logan can't be near you tonight. You already feel the heat simmering on your skin despite the cool breeze.

Logan scrunches his eyebrows and looks at you, unconvinced. And yet, he only exhales and nods. “Alright, sweetheart. Just try not to get mauled by wolves, will ya?” he says with a smirk. If only he knew you were the wolf to look out for. You roll your eyes at him and mutter some curses under your breath before turning around and walking deeper into the woods.

It’s midnight and the sun has set. You're located deep in the forest, far from other people. The heat is getting to you now. Your muscles are twitching, your core is aching and it feels like your blood is boiling. You sit down and lean against a tree trunk, not caring about the dirt ruining your clothes, panting and trying to calm yourself down. You know that pleasuring yourself won't fix it, but it'll at least bring temporary relief. You slide your hand down your pants and under your panties and start massaging your clit. Pictures of Logan pop into your mind; images of him shirtless, sweaty, just after a workout… you can't help but imagine what he would look like on top of you. Or under. Or from the side.

“Logan…” you can't help but moan his name at the thought. Even imagining him is bringing you close to finishing. You move your fingers from your bud and curl them inside you, inside your already soaking pussy, and press your palm down on your bundle of nerves. You add another finger and start pumping slowly at first, but you lose your cool almost immediately. Your pace quickly becomes fast and hard, and with Logan's face and body plastered on the wall of your mind, you release on your fingers in record time. You mutter a "fuck" at how quickly you came because the ache comes back almost as fast as you finished. You lean your head against the tree and groan in annoyance, before bringing your fingers into your mouth to clean them. It hurts so much, it throbs and aches, so you bury your head in your knees and try to distract yourself from the pain that you can't fix yourself. You try to think about your next physics lesson, upcoming missions, and what you'll do on the weekend... and for a while, it works. Until you hear a twig crack and snap your head towards the sound.

You'd been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't smelled Logan approaching. Now he's appearing through the trees, searching for you. And that musky, earthy scent of him is even stronger to you in your current state, and your nose twitches involuntarily. He sees you crouched on the ground, dishevelled and seemingly exhausted, and he quickly rushes to you. Worry etches his face as he kneels before you and places a hand on your knee. "Sweetheart, what happened? Are you alright?" he asks, searching your body for cuts or bruises. You swallow and look down at his large hand touching you.

"I'm fine, but you really shouldn't be here" you try to tell him, your voice shaky. He furrows his brows and gently strokes your knee, the worry still there. "Don't lie to me, Wolves. What's up?" he pushes, not listening to your dismissals anymore. You lightly shudder under his touch and your breath quickens. You try to calm yourself, but it's no use. "Logan, I'm serious. This is something I gotta deal with alone" you manage to say between shallow breaths. His hand stops stroking and slightly tightens its grip on you. "I'm not leaving 'til you tell me what's going on" he says with a stern voice. You can tell he means it. You swallow your pride and just decide to give him the truth.

"I'm in heat. You know, like an animal…" you mutter and look down, embarrassed to admit it. When he doesn't answer you, you carefully glance up. His eyes have gone wide and you hear him take a shaky breath. Oh fuck, did you make him uncomfortable? You turn your head to the side to avoid his face and you feel shame creeping on your cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay... I was just taken by surprise, I had no idea..." he explains after seeing you turn your head away. You turn your gaze towards him again, and he doesn't appear disgusted or uncomfortable, just a little... nervous. Logan takes a deep breath before speaking again: "Do you..." he clears his throat, "want me to help you?"

Your mouth falls agape at his words and your eyes widen. He can't mean what you think he is, right?

"How?" you ask him, eyes still blown wide. He rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to phrase it. "You know... take care of you," he says and looks at you, anxiously waiting for your reaction. You didn't think he'd actually suggest it, but now that he did, your body goes hot all over. You try to play cool even as you hear your heartbeat in your ears. "I couldn't possibly make you do that, Logan. It doesn't feel right" you answer with your remaining sensibility, but your urges and instincts strongly disagree. You look down at your knees, trying to hide the pleading in your eyes. Logan only scooches closer to you and takes your chin in his hand and tilts your head towards him.

"You're not making me, Wolves. I want to help you, wanna make you feel good. C'mon, let me take care of you" he assures you and holds eye contact, wanting to show you he means it. His words, his closeness, his tenderness... it's too much to refuse. You can't control your urges anymore.

You bite down on your lip to keep in any pathetic whines, but the way he looks at you is like an invitation to pounce on him. Before you can register what you're doing, you're pressing your lips to his. You only get a taste before you realize what you're doing and quickly pull away. "Shit. I'm sorry" you mutter and move away. You see his jaw clench, and you think you’ve upset him. The thought makes your heart drop.

Until he grabs your neck and smashes his lips on yours. You whimper at the sudden movement, but you quickly kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He groans against your mouth, before his tongue runs along your lower lip, asking for permission to enter. You part your lips instinctively and he doesn't waste a second shoving his tongue in your mouth. Your own tongue quickly joins in, until you're both devouring each other with such passion and hunger that it makes your head spin and core overheat. Logan sits down on the ground without parting his lips from yours and pulls you down with him, and you adjust your thighs to straddle him.

Neither Logan nor you thought this was how your first time would go, but neither of you could foresee this. All your sensibility, rationality and critical thinking were thrown out the window, and all you can think about is his large, muscular, perfect body under yours. In the heat of the moment, you start subconsciously grinding your core against his already stonehard length. His hands fly on your hips to guide you, and he groans against your mouth at the friction. You pull away only to catch your breath, still rocking against him, and your hands go to lace themselves in his brown hair. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting against his skin, but the need for more becomes too strong.

“Please, Logan… I need you inside me” you practically whine, teeth sinking into his neck in an attempt to muffle your pathetic whines and mewls. Logan groans at the sting of your teeth in his neck, and if you’d see his face, you’d notice his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Mmh, you’ll get what you need, sweet girl. I’ll take good care of you” Logan coos into your ear, lifting you up and placing you to lie back on the ground. He’d like to take his time, draw out your pleasure, but Logan can sense the urgency of your situation. You start quickly unbuttoning your pants, needing to get him inside before the painful throbbing of your pussy becomes too much to bear. Logan complies, starting to unbuckle his belt, although he’d very much like to see you naked, to see that skin he’s been dreaming about ever since he laid eyes on you. Another time, he thinks to himself.

You pull your pants off hastily, while your eyes are fixed on Logan’s bulge still hidden beneath the fabric. When you’re in just your panties, you start helping him, or at least you try to, but you’re just fumbling with the zipper because of the hurry you’re in. Logan can’t help but smirk to himself, but he makes no comment, knowing you’re more than just desperate. He pulls down his jeans along with his boxers, freeing has impressive and extremely hard length, the tip already leaking pre-cum. Your eyes widen at the sight, and you feel your walls clench around nothing. You’d like nothing more than to run your tongue over his prominent vein, or take his cock down your throat. That’ll have to wait for another time.

You pull Logan closer by hooking your legs around his waist, and he falls forward with a grunt, but quickly steadies himself on his forearms. You don’t even take off your drenched panties, you just pull them to the side, waiting for him to give you exactly what you want and need.

“You sure you want this, darlin’?” Logan asks you, giving you one more chance to change your name. You quickly nod your head, grabbing ahold of his dick and guiding it to your entrance.

“Words, baby” Logan tsks at you, wanting verbal confirmation. You mentally groan, feeling like if you opened your mouth you won’t be able to shut it. “Yes, fuck, I want it. Need you” you pathetically beg, still trying to pull him closer.

Logan straight up growls as he finally caves, despite that nagging feeling in the back of his head telling him this is wrong. That he’s taking advantage of a poor bitch in heat. He quickly realises the guilt is not enough to stop him. In one hard thrust, Logan sheathes himself inside you, and you gasp at the sudden but very welcome intrusion. He’s already panting heavily, trying to take it slow, as to not hurt you. Too bad you’re not having it.

“Please move, Logan…” you whine, trying to rock into his shaft. Logan’s large palm quickly moves to pin your hip down, and before you can protest, he pulls out almost all the way, before slamming into you. You cry out in pleasure, your hands flying up to claw at his shoulders. Logan buries his face in your neck, as he repeats the motions, going slow but incredibly deep inside you, you can feel him in your tummy. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, he can’t help but groan, trying to muffle his noises against your skin. He moves his arms to wrap underneath you as he now picks up his pace, unable to go slow when it comes to you. You moan at the increased speed, your sharp nails scratching down his arms, and to your surprise, he lets out a moan at the sting.

“Fuck, baby… gonna come before you if you keep that up” Logan grunts, but makes no effort to slow down. You start trying to meet his thrusts with your hips, but Logan is not having it. He holds you tighter, fucking you down on his cock. He frees one hand from underneath you, moving it between your bodies to rapidly draw circles your swollen clit. You whine at the added sensation, your back arching off the ground.

“I’m gonna- fuck!” you cry out, unable to finish your sentence as your orgasm suddenly crashes down on you with a brutal force. Your nerve endings are lit on fire, but in the best way, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you’re struggling to stay grounded. Logan holds you through it, just whispering sweet nothings to you:

“That’s it, baby. I’ve gotcha.”

“Did so good for me…”

Logan helps brings you down from the high, and for the first time in days, that seemingly insatiable hunger that had been residing in the pit of your stomach is gone. But not for long.

“Logan, I want you to cum in me, please…” you whine, your weak thighs shaking as you try to pin him to your pussy. Logan groans, knowing he really shouldn’t. It’s reckless, irresponsible, but how can he refuse you when you’re being so pathetic and needy for him to fill you up?

Logan lifts you up from the ground with effortlessly, making you straddle his thighs. He holds you down on his cock as he starts thrusting up into you, now just chasing his own release. You whimper as he pierces you on his dick, but you take it, more than willingly. It doesn’t take long, until he’s coming with a strained groan, holding you down on him, his grip so tight it’ll bruise. You feel his warm spend coat your inner walls, filling you up to the brim as he pumps himself empty. You let out an almost obscene moan as you cum on his cock again, the remnants or your previous orgasm not having faded.

“Fuck, Wolves… I shouldn’t have done that” Logan murmurs into your ear but with a slight grin betraying his words, and you can only giggle in response. There was no regret in either of you, you’ll worry about plan B tomorrow. If you remember…

You sit on his lap for a few moments, letting him catch his breath. For only a split second, you’re aware of the fact that you’re in the middle of a forest, both of your clothes covered in dirt, and you’re pretty sure you feel a leaf in your hair. When you feel him soften in you, you look up from his neck, admiring his face for a second. Your lips curl into a small smile.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

[peachdues]

COMPASS / CHAPTER 2

bad boy!Sanemi ♢ modern gang AU

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

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

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

chapter one // masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need it.”

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

No matter how in love with you he is.

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

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

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

Sanemi blinks. “But you’d never —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about you? Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

Almost.

—

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

No matter how shitty it is.

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

So, he doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A warning. A reminder. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m in this shit because of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sanemi counts the seconds. One, two – 

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

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

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

“Clear.” 

Uzui hangs up and Sanemi finally exhales. 

—

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

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

Fuck, he hates when he’s rattled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time and time again, that was their mistake. 

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

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

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

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

Their hands aren’t yours.

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

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

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

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

Neither woman bothers with an answer. 

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

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

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

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

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

But Sanemi knows better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He only hopes she understands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you, Sanemi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

Crunch.

“P-please! I’ll p-pay, I s-swear —“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t have the cash to fork over. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Message received; job done. 

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

Not someone who deserves to have you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He waits only two rings when the other line answers. 

“Aniki?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The line picks up on the third ring.

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

—-–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He still prefers his bike.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A contingency; Sanemi always has a contingency. 

—

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

Car parked, Sanemi stretches and waits.

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

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

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

Sanemi snorts to himself. What a little showoff. 

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

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

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

“Aniki!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I saw your midterm grades. Good work.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. That thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s a girl, Gen.”

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

Sanemi wrinkles his nose. “Close your mouth.”

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

“Yeah.”

“A real one?”

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

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

“That’s ‘cause I don’t see anyone.” 

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

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

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

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

“You…like her though, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—-

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

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

All of it is for him, after all. 

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

It killed him, every time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sayin’ I’m a grouch?” 

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

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

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

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

Just two boys. 

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

“Guess you gotta hit the road, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

Until you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is there any choice left to be made at all? 

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

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

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

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

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

So what does he want? 

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

He wants you. Only you.

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

LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS APPRECIATED!

[zae-heeyyy]

Boisterous

Summary: Arthur takes you to The Loft. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 2,095 Warnings: 18+ MDNI Tags: rough sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, biting

a/n: I somehow ended up spending literal hours trying to perfect this drawing. I traced a lot and freehanded a lot too, but overall, I'm happy with the final product. TYSM for taking the time to read, like, reply, and reblog; I appreciate every interaction!

Boisterous: behavior that is loud, energetic, and often unruly. It describes a person or situation that is full of noisy enthusiasm.

When Arthur found "The Loft" two nights ago, he was grateful to sleep in a bed surrounded by four sturdy walls. The accommodation would've been perfect, but you were missing from it all. Lewd images of your past escapades together infiltrated his mind as he tried to sleep, and he made his best efforts to push them aside. Your pretty face lit up his brain, and he wrapped his hand around his cock, trying his best to imitate the ecstasy only you could make him feel. No grip was as delectable as yours, though, and despite a quick release, he was more pent-up than ever. He needed you there with him and planned to sweep you up and bring you back as soon as the sun rose.

The cowboy's sonorous voice roused you from your dreams about him, the early morning sun casting a golden glow on his face as he leaned over you. His beard had grown since the few days you'd last seen him.

"Get dressed. M'taking you somewhere."

Without a second thought, you joined him on the back of his horse within the hour. Arthur spared the details of this urgent impromptu trip, keeping you in suspense for the duration of the ride.

In a few hours, you'd passed through Valentine, went by Fort Wallace, and climbed up into the mountains of the Grizzlies East. As you rode on, the clouds grew thick and gray, and the smell of petrichor filled your nostrils. Arthur caressed a hand you had wrapped around his waist, reassuring you.

"Almost there."

But you weren't close enough; the atmosphere released a torrential downpour in the last fifteen minutes of your journey, leaving you drenched. A little after noon, you reached a towering outpost that Arthur coined, The Loft. Arthur ushered you inside, futilely shielding you from the rain and promising the heat of a fireplace as he closed the door behind you.

While you stood, rubbing your arms for warmth, Arthur checked for signs of other people, climbing a ladder and peaking over the top for a second before sliding down.

You two were all alone, finally.

When he got a good look at you, he realized just how soaked you were, the layers of your clothes sticking to you and showing every curve of your body. Arthur swallowed, mouth salivating from the view of your hard nipples peeking through your blouse.

All the blood left his head and traveled south, damn near making him dizzy. Maybe he should've been embarrassed, but he was just a man, and you were the most alluring thing ever.

Two large steps were all it took to get to you. One hand found the back of your head, and the other rested on your hip as he drew your lips to his, practically swallowing you in a scalding kiss.

You could feel the groan rumbling in his chest, and you giggled against his lips. The noise crescendoed as his lips separated from yours to find your jaw and neck. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, inhaling your scent while the hand on the back of your head traveled to the small of your back.

"Mmm," he hummed, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. "I missed y'so much."

And he had you all alone, truly alone, for the first time in your relationship. He'd been waiting to make love to you the way he really wanted. Your previous rendezvous were hushed, whispered, and sneaky, your moans muffled by Arthur's lips or hand. Even when he whisked you away to a hotel, he was keenly aware of everybody else around who could hear the two of you. Turning you into a whimpering mess filled him with fervent pride, but he wanted those parts of you, especially the sounds you made, all to himself.

The thought of finally hearing all those pretty little noises at full volume was enough to rile him up, and his hand groped your breast, kneading with a force he hadn't used on you before. You shivered against him; some of it was from your arousal, but the other part was the cold.

"The fire, Arthur," you said, shoving him off playfully. Grunting, he tore away from you, grateful for a log near the stove.

While his back was turned, you peeled the wet clothes off your body and dropped your blouse on the floor. Arthur spun back around right as you stepped out of your skirt, leaving you clad in your bloomers and nothing else. His breath hitched in his throat as if it were the first time your body had been bestowed upon him.

"Straight outta my dreams," he declared, his blue eyes shining with pure avidity. And just like that, Arthur strode across the room, dragging a chair with him and putting it against the door nob, just in case. You were back in his arms in an instant, his kisses emphasized with unadulterated sounds of pleasure. A rough hand slid into the waistband of your bloomers and grabbed a fistful of your ass, squeezing, letting go, and repeating.

You sigh breathlessly as he feels you up, leaning into his touch. Then without warning, he tastes you hungrily, tongue fucking your mouth.

His chest vibrates with titillation again, and you're hoisted up into his arms just a beat later, his hands cupping your rear. You squeal, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding on tight as he carries you across the room and dumps you on blue cotton blankets. Breathing heavily, you watch under eyes saturated with desire as he promptly removes his own damp clothes.

You were just as taken aback by his body as he was with yours. Brown curls adorned his chest and stomach and gathered in a carnal wreath around his manhood. Touching him was like running your hands over a textured map: his scars, old and new, like rivers and valleys, while his muscles, firm and hot, were mountains and volcanoes. You could spend eternity exploring that map. Arthur would never get used to you ogling him in such a way, but now your hungry eyes lured him to you.

He climbed on top of you, pinning you under his weight. Usually, he'd ask if you were okay, but you answered the question before he'd even asked by tangling your legs around his waist and crossing your ankles to bring him closer.

His hard-on brushed against your leg, making him shudder. You helped him remove the last garment of clothes between the two of you, lifting your hips to help him pull the bloomers down your legs and off your feet.

Arthur normally took his time meticulously exploring you, leaving kisses in his wake, but damn it, the thought of the sweet grip of your pussy had been on his mind for days, and he needed it now.

His forehead leaned against yours, and he clutched your jaw, holding your face still to gawk at it. If someone saw him this way, they'd think he'd just completed a full sprint, every exhale coming out in a loud pant. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, turning him animalistic. He couldn't wait any longer.

The gunslinger dipped his head to look between you, a guttural utterance escaping him as you spread your legs, exposing your needy cunt. He held his cock, nearly discolored from being so hard, and rubbed it up and down your center, coating himself in your juices.

"Need you, woman," he bellows. The bass in his voice sends goosebumps spreading down your arms, and you nod, mouth agape, eyes staring into his. His jaw also hinges as he watches himself disappear inside you. Once wholly sheathed, he moans long and loud, a stark contrast to his regular subduedness.

You'd never seen him like this, so desperate and uninhibited. Your body responds to the unexpected but welcomed change, your pussy clenching around him, making both of you jolt. Holding himself up on his forearms, he rocks his hips into you at a steady pace, leaning down to kiss your neck.

Shy and coy Arthur had left the building, replaced by wolfish Arthur, willing to howl and snarl for what he wanted. And in the moment, he wanted to brand you with his mouth. Bruising you was defacing a masterpiece, but it was a crime he was happy to commit. He was an outlaw, after all. He nipped at your neck with his teeth, leaving a mark before moving on to another spot to do the same.

You cried out, the first orgasm of the night building within you. He knew your body well and adjusted to give you what you needed, straightening his back, digging his thumbs into your ribs, and pistoning in and out, his hand going to rub your clit. Head tipped back, he moaned, no, roared, with every thrust.

You knew this was rare: Arthur Morgan losing complete control of himself. He was lost in you, lost in your wetness, lost in your tightness, and lost in those sounds. His head snapped down, and he stared right through you, eyes wild.

"Let me hear you," he demanded, slowing his strokes to get your attention. Head spinning, you gasped, too cock drunk to pay attention to what he was saying.

Grumbling, he pulled out of you to switch positions, now standing on the side of the bed. He guided you back to him, aligning your backside with his crotch. He hugged you to his chest, your back pressed into him. Your hands instantly went to his forearm, holding onto him as he practically held you in the air.

"I said let me hear you," he growled in your ear, accenting each word of his demand with an electrifying pulse of his hips. You arched your back into him, his name coming off your lips like thunder.

"That's it, darlin’."

Perverse sounds of wet skin slapping together and boisterous cries filled the cabin.

You were starting to see stars, your vision blurring as you focused on the pressure building in your insides, wanting so desperately for it to boil over. Your toes dug into the buckskin rug at your feet, trying to keep the rest of your body upright.

Arthur was a machine, pounding into you with the goal of bringing both of you to the edge. He didn't relent—didn't show any mercy for the mess you'd become under him. It was overstimulating in the best way possible.

You just needed a second, just one, to get your barrings. Attempting to scoot forward for that break was futile. Arthur moved with you, his length plunging deeper than ever.

"C'mere," he growled as his cock grazed against that sweet spot in the depths of your core, making you holler out and lose the little balance you had left. It didn't matter, though; he held you taught against him, pinning your body between him and the bed. Keeping one arm wrapped around you, the other touched you right where you craved.

"Now," he groaned into your ear, fingers circling your clit antagonizingly slow. A chuckle exited him as you melted to his touch. "Want you to come undone right here. Can you do that for me?"

Droplets of sweat fell from his head onto your back, and you moaned out, "Y-yes, Arthur."

You didn't take long then; a wave of warmth crashed over you as your velvet walls contracted around him, making the man curse into the now-hot cabin air. His hips kept their steady rhythm as you came, Arthur chasing his own climax now.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl," He moaned with every thrust as you clenched around him. He folded himself in half, once again putting his full weight on you, his heart pounding against your back like a drum. More erratic now, his rhythm lost its steady cadence as his balls tightened, his orgasm coursing through his veins.

He pulled out of you, one hand still gripping your side as the other one pumped furiously at his cock. Moaning, whimpering, and whining, Arthur threw his head back as hot spurts of his lust splattered across your back.

Hand falling from your hip, his breath slowed as clarity flowed back into his eyes. Using his discarded bandana, he wiped his sins away from your back before gently rolling you over. He scratched the back of his neck, a sly grin making home on his face as he watched you splayed out and spent. Arthur had gotten everything he'd ever wanted: a bed, four walls, and you.

[moonydustx]

The night cook.

masterlist | requests here

Summary: Insomnia has struck one of the crew and Sanji is willing to find out. Meanwhile, you try to deal with your fear as best you can.

Warnings: I don't know, mention of clowns maybe (yes, exactly what you're thinking).

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: OPLA!Sanji x F!Reader.

A/N: I have a new obsession and I need to write more and more. I watched the series in one day and now I'm racing against time to catch up with the anime (and soon move on to the manga). It has not been proofread so I apologize for possible errors.

Part 2 here

Sanji was starting to get stressed.

Despite the short time he had been part of the crew, he already knew where he belonged: the kitchen. He could spend hours there and felt comfortable. But something bothered him. Every morning, some fruit always appeared cut, food scraps in the trash, his knives disorganized. He wouldn't look for trouble right away, but he was aware of every move.

Your steps dragged to the kitchen, after another bad night's sleep. The dark circles under his eyes were visible from afar, as was his bad mood.

"Good morning madame! Glad you joined us today for coffee." Sanji caught your attention, placing your plate in front of you.

"Good morning sunshine, your mood seems to brighten the day." Zoro teased you, only earning an eye roll.

You stared at the food in front of you. They looked appetizing, but hunger seemed to be nowhere in your body. You rolled them from one side to the other, without removing any pieces, while heard the others talking in the distance.

"Everything is fine?" The cook's voice caught your attention, a quick glance was enough to realize that the others had already eaten their meals. "Sorry to say ma'am, but you look tired."

"It's okay Ji. I'm just discouraged." You stand up, handing the plate back to him. "They look delicious, but I'm out of food, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, my sweet. I heard that if you eat with a full stomach, or in your case without hunger, you can't enjoy the food and the last thing I want is for you to not like one of my dishes ." He leaned on the table, watching you.

"That's impossible. I could eat anything you make, as long as it's you making it."

It had been a while since the two of you exchanged small gestures, small flirtations. Unlike most other women, you weren't bothered by what he said. You felt seen, admired like never before, even though you knew he would say that to a thousand others. Plus, it was fun to see him shy with your answers.

"So... What can I do special for you today. Choose and I'll do it."

"Surprise me!"

You left it in the kitchen and if you looked back, you could see it lost in your image. None of the other beauties would be like that beauty, her beauty. Even though he was still lost, Sanji tried to regain his thoughts, thinking about the perfect lunch.

You got caught up in the tasks on the boat, all to keep the tiredness out of your body. Despite having heard the call for lunch you decided to postpone it, as well as dinner.

When you returned to bathe, you could see that everyone had retired to their rooms. Even with the most comfortable clothes, the coziest sheet and the cool sea breeze coming through the window, it only took a few minutes of sleep for you to wake up sweating, scared.

You were tired of it would be another wasted night. You got up and went towards the kitchen, since sleep didn't decide to appear that night, hunger had already taken its place and a salad would go well at that moment.

You gathered some radishes to cut and a few slices later, you felt the knife against your skin and was scared.

"So you're the cook for the night!" Sanji spoke suddenly.

Before you could curse him for his fright you had to hold back a scream due to the inconvenience of the pain.

"Shit, let me see." in a matter of seconds, he was already in front of you , holding your injured hand.

"It was nothing, you can rest."

"That, young lady, I will decide later." he gently placed a cloth in your hand, pressing it. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep, I decided to prepare something."

"Honey, what's been going on?" He took your hand again, removing the cloth. "Okay, I have the solution to mine and your problem."

He took you by the hand to the bench, placing you in a sitting position, returned to the kitchen, placing a small container to heat and disappeared from sight for a few seconds, returning with a small box in his hands. It brought everything in front of you, allowing you to see what it was really about. A small box with bandage and a small plate with lasagna.

"I saved it from lunch for you, I think you'll like it."

"You know you're my favorite. Shit!" you immediately regretted trying to use your injured hand to eat.

"Now, we'll fix this." The cut was small but uncomfortable and felt a little deep.

You watched him bend down to your height and tend to the small wound like something precious while you ate. The silence between you didn't last long, against your will.

"When are you going to tell me what's been going on? You know, we're friends." Sanji charged, finishing applying the last strip. "Something is wrong with you and I can't figure it out. Besides, you've been destroying my onions in your nightly escapes."

"I'm having some trouble sleeping..." you tried to leave the explanation superficial, but the look in his eyes made it very clear that he wouldn't just buy that.

"You could have told me, you could have made me some tea or something that would help."

"It's not that." You pushed the plate away and straightened up, trying to look away from Sanji. Shame already dominated your body at that time. "It's a stupid thing."

"No mon amour, it's not. I'm here, talk to me."

"There's only one thing in the world that I'm afraid of: clowns. Be they the cute ones or the psychopaths alike..."

"Buggy. Has he been a problem?" Sanji tried to understand, although it didn't make sense since the crew hadn't seen him in days.

"First we were trapped in his circus and it was horrible. Then we had his head on board and I was sure that at any moment he was going to appear. Now, I can't stop having vivid nightmares about it." you confessed, feeling your face burn with embarrassment. "I can't sleep, so I come here at night and I always cook something. I usually watch you cook and it seems like something so relaxing, so good. It hasn't helped me much with my sleep, but at least I've been eating some of the inedible things I make ."

"I bet they're as good as the ones I make and if you don't mind, I'd love to cook with you one of these nights." he winked, eliciting a smile from you. "But for tonight, we need to sleep, finish your plate and I'll be right back with something."

A few minutes and mouthfuls later, Sanji appeared with two mugs, with some hot liquid inside them.

"Herbal tea. It'll help you fall asleep."

"I have my doubts, but…" you took a sip of the sweet drink. "It doesn't hurt to try. Are you sleep deprived too?"

"Not really, I just couldn't leave a lady drinking alone."

"If this works, I promise to buy you the next drink at a bar."

"Wait. This a date?" he asked and if it were possible, you would see hearts instead of his eyes.

"We have the drink." you pointed to the two mugs. "We had dinner." You pointed to the lasagna. "Sounds like a date."

"That miserable clown at least did one good thing"

"Don't ruin the moment, Ji."

The two of you finished your drinks in silence, a few glances exchanged were enough to get comfortable together. Sanji picked up the dishes on the table and you followed him with slower steps.

"Thank you for helping me."

"Who said our date is over?" he turned around, grasping his arm for you to intertwine. "I would never let a lady go alone to her chambers."

"You are a gentleman."

"Only for you amour." He stopped in front of your door. "It's delivered and safe."

You stood on your toes, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, really." You opened the door and before you could enter, you turned around. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Whatever madam wants."

"You can stay here for a while, just until I sleep."

"Of course sweetheart" He walked you into the room.

You straightened the bed and lay down on one end, watching him just stare at you, waiting for some sign that he could sit down.

"Please be my guest."

He lay down and almost automatically gave way for you to snuggle against his chest. Your laughter was suppressed when you saw him smiling widely at the contact.

"A few drinks, a dinner..."

"And you ended up in my bed." your voice was already sleepy. Maybe because of the tea, but something said it was more because of the company.

"And I ended up in the perfect place." reciprocating your gesture just now, in the little conscience you had left, you felt his lips touch your forehead. "Sleep missus. I promise not to let any harm come."

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Shut up for me, love, | (part 2)

Part 1 (finding out you're pregnant w/Megumi)

Toji Fushiguro x Wife!Reader

Toji can't help but love you and your baby bump!

Word Count: 1.6k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, Toji has a job, slightly suggestive, lots of pregnancy (mentions symptoms)

A/n: This has generated so many pregnancy fic ideas...

Your husband, Toji, had been a great help through the first trimester of your pregnancy. He was always giving you massages, bringing you water and snacks, and spending lots of quality time with you, among other things, and you were very grateful for it all. 

Many changes were going on throughout your pregnancy, as to be expected now in your second trimester. While the morning sickness was now gone, there was a number of new troubles you could note. Most importantly, the bump. 

For the most part it was a blessing, even when it caused a number of effects, such as walking differently and feeling a rather strange weight on your hips, something you hadn’t dealt with beforehand. It was proof of a growing baby, and both you and Toji couldn’t be more happy about it. Instead, the effects it had on your husband were the real concerns. 

When you were starting to show, your husband couldn’t stop taking pictures of you. It was quite out of the ordinary for Toji, who rarely ever customized anything on his phone or computer, when he finally took it upon himself to learn such things, pasting your image everywhere he could. His new favorite pastime during breaks at work was scrolling through his pictures of you (some of which were taken in the last 5 hours), saving them in a special folder and smiling to himself. 

Your pregnancy in general made him clingy. Along with the pictures, he cut his hours at work and stayed home to assist you, which was appreciated but put a hindrance in your housework. Toji would stand around watching you do everything from unloading the dishwasher to changing the sheets on the bed, leaning against the wall as he tried to lock eyes much to your dismay. 

Fully confident in your ability to do such things, he still found himself keeping a much closer eye on you, only comforted when he was in the same house and could hear, if not see, you. Toji had already began to realize this himself, that it wasn’t an increase in safety concern that caused his behavior. While he always wanted to have eyes on you, to make sure you were out of harm’s way regardless of your pregnancy, there was something he missed so much when he was away from you. 

Watching you cover your swollen tummy with a nightgown, one he picked out specially for you on a shopping trip. It sinched in high, right above the bump that was evident and growing larger each day. Seeing the light apprehension you had when bending down to pick things up, and hearing the compliments your friends gave you whenever they saw you, asking how the baby was coming along. Little things were a constant, and appreciated reminder for him that the two of you were building your family together. Something he loved more than anything. 

Because of this, your husband stopped doing his regular outings all together. Usually he would go out to watch sports and drink with his friends at least once a week or so. Him being gone gave you more time without him interrupting your chores, and he was careful with you in mind. But this new Toji, that was a soon-to-be father, figured he could just watch the game on the TV and didn’t need to go out anymore despite your protests.

“It would save us money, we should be saving up for the nursery,” Toji argued, sitting down on the couch. “I know, honey, but…,” you tried to explain to him, just how annoying he had been. Staring at you all the time, offering you a hand for every minuscule task the moment you had any difficulty with it. Reaching up ahead of you to the top cabinet and grabbing the bowl you were trying to get, when there was a stepping stool right next to you. 

It made you embarrassed, really. His eyes always so sharp, the way he looked at you every time you mistakenly fell into his trap, breaking your three minute personal best at ignoring him properly. Your cheeks heated up each time, scoffing a little as you turned back to the dirty dishes in the sink. It was truly bothersome (in some ways more than others). 

And so, it led to his great discovery of at-home sports streaming. Toji was sprawled out on the loveseat everyday, after he got home from work. Carefully using up his extra home hours, after you persistently told him to give you some space. 

While Toji enjoyed his free time, you, on the other hand, were doing laundry. The warmth of a fresh dry load, coupled with the absence of breathing down your neck, allowed you to relax for a brief moment. You piled all the clothes into a large basket, making your way down the hallway to the living room, where you usually folded it. 

Except… Toji was there. You turned around, hearing the voice of a dull commentator surely explaining something interesting, though what it was you didn’t know. Your house didn’t have too many rooms, and usually the bedroom or even the laundry room would work just fine for folding… if you could bend down well enough. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, your feet barely touched the floor from how high up it was. Bending down over the bump was impossible to do comfortably, and the task could only be done at all if you leaned down to the side and awkwardly grabbed at the basket below while maintaining your balance. 

After a few more attempts, you figured out that there wasn’t enough room on the floor and sitting like that wasn’t very comfortable for long periods of time either. You were reminded why the living room had been your favorite for doing this task, the couch was low enough and comfortable to sit on, with space for folded clothes on the side. 

Holding the basket with two hands, you stood in the hallway watching around the corner to observe your husband’s movements. Toji was lounging comfortably, with one arm laid across the top of the couch. His legs were spread wide, covering most of the seating area. If the game was almost over, there would be no reason to ask him to move… or so you thought. 

The two of you were in reverse positions, your eyes almost trying to lock with his as you admired them from afar, your original mission forgotten as he stared intently at the screen and rubbed the tiredness from his face. Now unlike you, he found your gaze to be rather relaxing, enjoying it before you would inevitably make your move. His chuckle didn’t come from the commercial on the screen, but from you, who was still standing there after 10 minutes, greatly struggling to hold the basket which was feeling extremely heavy. 

Setting it down would make a noise, so you finally decided to give up on finding some kind of good time to interject. “Is the game almost over?” You asked meekly, setting the basket down in the middle of the floor. “10 minutes, about,” he replied, still staring at the screen. You huffed under your breath, unsure of what to say. To that, Toji smirked to himself. He knew exactly what you wanted, and was very much prepared to give it to you… but why not have some fun with it?

“Need a little help?” He asked while you walked a bit closer in curiosity. “My wife doesn’t know what she wants, it’s my duty to give her some guidance…” he finally tilted his head towards you, though he had been ignoring the screen since you arrived. “C’mere… lil’ closer…” he motioned at you, as you looked at him confused. 

It only took him a second to stand up and move behind you, throwing his arms underneath your legs and back, carrying you to the couch with him. He settled you down between his legs, his body back how it was before like nothing had even happened. 

“It’s more comfortable with that bump, hmm?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “I still have to have room to do the laundry, Toji…” he chuckled, moving his legs closer together so you could feel them squishing your thighs. “That better?” you turned your head to blushing smile on your face. 

Toji grabbed the remote while you dragged the basket closer with your foot, still trapped between him. “But there’s only 10 minutes,” you watched as he changed the channel to a show you liked. “I’m gonna lose anyway, what does it matter,” he muttered. “I thought you said you stopped doing that!” you scoffed, looking back at your husband who rolled his eyes. “It’s five bucks, a work thing people are doing,” you shook your head in disapproval. 

As you relaxed into his lap, you got to folding. Part of the enjoyment you felt was due to your husband, softly rubbing your back and occasionally playing with your hair as you got to work. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to kiss me,” you frowned facing the TV, though Toji could still sense your disappointment. “That’s your reward for getting this done - I’m gettin’ pretty hungry…” he continued his massage, but wrapped his arms around your waist to hold your belly. You would make dinner after you finished.

“It feels good Toji, thank you,” you sunk back enjoying the feeling. “You deserve it, you’re doin’ so good, my wife,” a blush crept onto your face again from his words. “Was gonna ask you for a date night sometime anyway,” he mentioned, “and there’s no time like the present.” Toji gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. “So just stay nice… and… still…” he smirked. “Once you’re done, we have the whole night ahead of us.”

[thinkinonsense]

Magnetic ──★ Logan Howlett x fem!oc: Chapter Three

╰┈➤Summary: After years of torture, Daphne decides how she wants to spend the rest of her life; at the bottom of a lake. Out of nowhere, Logan pulls Daphne from the water and finds her help. Now they must navigate how to live with their decisions.

╰┈➤C/W: mentions of death, suicide, cursing, age gap, mild violence, issues with infertility, slight sexual themes, description of a starved body

ᯓ★ mdni.ᐟ

ᯓ★word count: 1.9k+

ᯓ★ spotify playlist here

ᯓ★ last chapter here

ᯓ★next chapter here

✮⋆˙ In the early morning hours Logan found Charles heading to the subbasement to use Cerebro. He didn't even pretend to not be following the man in the wheelchair. When the doors finally close, Charles acknowledges him.

"Are you sure you want to be in here?" Charles asks. Logan ignores his question entirely.

"What are you doin'?"

"You'll see."

As Charles places the helmet on his head, Logan wonders if he wants to be in here too. Soon enough, images begin to flood the space around them. There is a glass cage with someone inside of it. A woman in a lab coat approaches the glass, squatting down, and tapping carefully.

"Mister Bellinor wants to see you." The woman says.

The person in the cage comes into view; it's Daphne.

There are lavender circles around her eyes from lack of sleep. Her hair is long and unkept, almost hitting her lower back. She looks so tiny; underfed with her bones visible through the skin. Her face barely had any color to it. It made Logan feel sick to his stomach.

Daphne's shackled at her hands and ankles as she and the woman walk down a long hallway. A guard at the door gives Daphne a look of sympathy as he opens the door for them. The two women enter and see a swarm of men talking and drinking among themselves.

"There she is, gentlemen!" A dark-haired man smiles when his eyes land on Daphne. He must be Mister Bellinor, Logan thought.

She stares blankly at him as he wraps one arm around her waist while his other hand grips her chin; squeezing her cheeks into a pout. "That's my pretty weapon."

The men around them nod their heads, gawking at her despite how sickly she looked. Bellinor wraps an arm around Daphne, forcing her to sit in his lap. A few minutes of chatter continues before one of the men says a pretty girl like her couldn't be that scary. Bellinor laughs and then pats her behind so she stands up.

"Oh, you'll regret that one, buddy," Bellinor says, leaning back in his chair, cockily. "Go on, Siren. Give 'em hell."

Daphne's eyes glow darker than Logan had seen before. They looked blood red as she settled her gaze on the target. Within seconds, the man clutches his chest, yelling out in pain.

"She's a w-w-witch!" He struggles to get out as he falls to his knees in front of her. "M-Make her... s-stop!"

Bellinor laughs and lets it continue for another few seconds to get the point across. Everyone else in the room was dead silent, terrified. Eventually, Bellinor tells Daphne to stop; but she doesn't. She isn't moving; it's like she's in a trance.

"Stop it, Daphne!" Bellinor yells repeatedly, getting up to stop her; but it's too late.

Without warning, the other man's heart breaks out of his chest, flying into Daphne's open palm. It snaps her back into reality. She looks down at the bloody organ in her hand and then at the dead man hunched over on the ground with his eyes rolled back into his head. Her hands begin to shake in terror of her own actions; dropping the heart quickly, letting it splat on the ground at her feet.

"Take her back to her cell!" Bellinor yells at the guards. "Use the electroshock!"

"I'm s-sorry!" She cries. "Please! Don't!"

Her loud sobs echo in Logan's head, making him want to turn away. Tears roll down Daphne's cheeks while her bloody hands attempt to put up a fight with the two men who roughly pulled her back into the cell.

The woman returns and hooks Daphne into a chair; shocking her until she's slumped over unconscious. One of the guards pulls her out of the chair and lays her body down on the concrete floor. Alone.

The image fades out, leaving Charles and Logan in silence.

"Why didn't she kill Bellinor?" Logan immediately asks while Charles removes the helmet.

"She didn't know was able to kill a person," Charles says, wheeling around to look at Logan. "Let alone two."

Logan's thoughts ran wild with all this new information. Charles felt his headache while trying to catch up with Logan's thoughts.

Who was Bellinor?

How was he connected to Daphne?

Where was he currently?

Because right now, Logan wanted nothing more than to watch the life leave his eyes as one of his claws stabbed through his throat.

"Don't bother, Logan," Charles comments, rolling past him. "Not even I can find him. He's somewhere hiding from her now that she's free."

"Just not looking hard enough." Logan snarls.

Charles can see what Logan is plotting in his mind.

"Logan, trying to find him won't make her feel better."

"Maybe not... but it sure as hell will make me feel better."

──★

11:00 am

Long showers were a luxury to Daphne. Private showers were even more so. She knew she had to take advantage of it while she was here. Her forehead rested on the wall under the shower head; allowing the warm water to run down her back.

Daphne didn't mind being left alone. Actually, she preferred it. Not because she didn't enjoy having company but because not all company was good to be around.

It was almost noon when she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a gray towel around herself. Jean gave her a pair of faded blue jeans and a forest green long-sleeve shirt. Daphne figured today was the best day to get her belongings from the cabin.

"Where are you headed, dear?" Charles asks.

Daphne spins around and spots the man following her to the main doors.

"I was going to go collect my belongings from my cabin." She said.

"Hm..." He hummed, thinking for a second. "I'm sure Storm wouldn't mind joining you. It's a dangerous time to be alone as a mutant."

On queue, Storm walks by them. She smiled, hearing the professor's invitation.

"I would love to join you," Storm said, grabbing her jacket off the hook.

Daphne wasn't upset with the sudden intrusion on her plans. She knew they wouldn't let her return to the area alone. Honestly, she's not sure she would even trust herself there alone.

The two women take one of the cars into the woods. Storm offers to drive while Daphne gives her directions. The ride was forty-five minutes out, it gave Storm plenty of time to get to know Daphne.

"When did you move out here?" Storm asks, attempting to make small talk.

"Couple months ago," Daphne answers. "A woman in town sold it to me shortly after I escaped."

"Jean mentioned the laboratory..." Storm's words drifted off while trying to figure out how to approach the subject. "You were so young."

"I didn't mean the lab," Daphne says. "But yes, they raised me there until seventeen."

"Where did you go after that?"

"Another cell, different captore."

Daphne's never told anyone what she has been through; mostly because she didn't know many people.

"Do you know who they were?" Storm asks.

"His name was Mister Bellinor," The words tasted like metal in her mouth. "He broke me out of the lab and trained me. Taught me how to be a monster."

Before Storm could say something back to Daphne, they had arrived. It was small; one bedroom, a bath, and a connected kitchen and living room. Storm didn't see much for Daphne to pack. There wasn't much of anything. She had four shirts and two pairs of jeans. Storm didn't know why she needed to come back for it. That was before she felt a black cat rub itself against her ankles.

"Who is this cutie?" Storm asks, bending down to pet it.

"That's Juna," Daphne calls from the bedroom. "She's a stray. I hope there isn't a no-pets policy in the mansion."

Storm picks up the cat and walks into the bedroom. Daphne was using her powers to bring her toiletries into the room too.

"I don't think Charles has ever turned away a stray." Storm smiles.

──★

Jean and Scott were sitting in the kitchen when Logan entered the room. He spots Jean immediately and goes over to her.

"Hey, I need a favor," Logan says to her.

Jean's eyes widen slightly at his request. Scott inches closer to her and interrupts them.

"With what?"

Logan turns to him, glaring, "I wasn't asking for your help."

Jean steps in to say, "Of course, Logan. What do you need?"

"I need help tracking someone down."

Scott scoffs dramatically. "Can't you ask someone else? Preferably the woman you just fished out of the lake a few days ago?"

Logan's claws extended, breaking the skin of his knuckles at the way Scott refers to Daphne.

"Logan!" Jean scolds when she sees the adamantium claws. "How about we talk outside?"

Logan nods but Scott beats them both to the door.

"No, allow me!" He says before turning away.

Jean pinches the bridge of her nose at their immaturity. Logan's claws retract back into his body as he apologizes under his breath.

"Who are you trying to find?"

"Not quite sure. All I know is that his last name is Bellinor and that he held Daphne captive. Charles won't tell me anything more."

Jean thinks for a moment then looks up at Logan.

"What exactly do you want me to do...?"

"Besides Charles, you are the only person that can use Cerebro-"

"This doesn't sound like a good idea, Logan," Jean says, shaking her head. "Her past is her past."

"I know," He huffs. "But you didn't see her past. I did, and God, it was... it was fucking brutal."

Logan allows Jean to invade his mind, to let her see what he saw. He watches Jean's face contort uncomfortably at the visions. When she sees the heart fly into Daphne's hand, Jean flinches away from Logan; trying to escape his thoughts. He gives her a moment before softly reaching for her wrists.

"Please, Jean..." Logan says in a tone that she's never heard from him. He must really care, Jean thinks to herself.

"I'll do it."

──★

"I hope it's okay, that I brought Juna back with me," Daphne says to Charles, assuming that's the reason why he called her into his office.

He chuckles at the image of her and the black cat clinging to her, "I don't mind, Daphne."

"Oh okay," She squints at him, confused. "Can I ask why you called me in here exactly?"

"I wanted to ask you something."

"And that would be?"

"Would you join the X-Men?"

The question catches her off guard; making her hesitant to answer him.

"I believe you have the power to be a vital part of the team," Charles says, warming her up to the idea.

"I-I um, I don't think you need someone like me."

"Someone like...?"

"A monster," Daphne explains, eyes leveled with the floor. "I don't want to be the monster that they made me."

"Daphne," Charles says rather slowly so she fully grasps what he means. "You're only what you believe you are; not what they told you to be."

Those words strike her like a bullet ricocheting through her chest. Life wasn't getting easier for mutants. Perhaps this was what she was meant to do with her gifts; but did she deserve a second chance? What if her curse spreads? What if she can't control herself? Did they really want her of all people? Could she afford to start over again? Only time could tell.

"It would be an honor."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags: @bethexo07 @borapsycho @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @aylawylie @marcybug

if you want to be tagged for future chapters of Magnetic, reply and let me know <3

[lustspren]

D.A | Silence Speaks ft Sullyoon & Isa.

length: 18.5k words (My god, I'm so sorry.) ✦

Sullyoon & Isa & Male Reader. 

Sequel to My Number One.

genres: subbest sub! sullyoon, sub! isa, threesome, double blowjob, fluffy, oral sex, lesbian, public sex, daddy kink, slight squirt, creampie, hard sex,  ✧ 

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Seeing her perform was always a delight for you.

That day was a musical show day, and as usual, you always accompanied Sullyoon to all of her activities almost without exception. Your numbers on the purple platform had grown quite a bit and were still growing exponentially, that made your working hours decrease, and your audience was more and more loyal to your content, so you could afford not to stream for a day or two and spend time with Sully.

Someone else might care about being a public figure and dating another public figure twice as famous as you, but your entire audience was English-speaking, you were sure that absolutely no one would ever recognize you in Korea, you were just another established foreigner, and that's it. Of course, it wasn't like you could afford to take her wherever you wanted, first because that meant big trouble with Haewon, and second because Sully could get into trouble, big trouble.

You already had a big scare a few weeks ago. You picked Sully up from one of her rehearsals that night, you arrived in your car at about 11 PM, and you called her on her phone to let her know you had arrived, but just when you knew she was going to leave the building, you saw some rather suspicious people move around in the rearview mirror, with what appeared to be cameras that went quite unnoticed. Dispatch? Probably. Quickly and in a fit of panic you called her back while you put on the hood of your hoodie and slumped into the seat so they wouldn't see you, telling her to stay inside for a while while they left, about half an hour passed, and seeing that they were not going to get anything, they left. Even so, still not feeling safe, you had to pick up Sully through a secondary exit, which was for staff only.

Despite all the difficulties, everything was going great and very few things could ruin your days, your relationship with Sully (you would count Jinni, but your relationship with her, if you could call it that, was something much more intermittent) was beautiful and peaceful, and you felt that absolutely nothing could improve it. Mistaken.

As usual, you had to wait in the dressing room with all the rest of the staff while they did their respective recordings for the show. This was a more spacious room than usual, but the distribution of furniture was practically the same: work tables with chairs and mirrors spread over the three walls, two medium-sized sofas, and a 32-inch television in one of the corners, where the images that were being shot were transmitted in real time.

Love Me Like This was without a doubt the best title track that JYP had given them so far, it was a perfect and round song, they all stood out equally, and the choreography was quite addictive to watch. You were sitting on one of the two sofas while you were talking with Sully's stylist, who today chose to put two braids on each side of her head and an outfit that, as always, highlighted her curvy figure and her greatest feature, that flat abdomen, creamy and pretty that drove you so crazy. Exceptional work on her part, it had to be said.

As the minutes passed, the recording finally came to an end, and the television went black with the SBS Inkigayo logo in the middle. You took out your phone, and dedicated yourself to waiting patiently while the girls returned to the dressing room. It took about 15 minutes until you finally saw Haewon peek out the door and walk in, followed by Lily, Bae, and your girlfriend.

"Oh, you're here, someone will be very happy to see you," Haewon said, going to sit in one of the chairs in front of the mirrors.

Sully didn't know you had arrived yet, and as soon as she saw you her two eyes lit up like two brilliant sea pearls. You stood up, and she ran towards you with a beaming smile from ear to ear to hug you.

"Hello honey," you murmured so only she could hear, "you were amazing today," you gave her a small kiss on the temple, after making sure no one was paying too much attention.

"Hi d..." she was about to call out to you like she always does, but just at that moment a hairstylist passed behind you, "You think so?" she took a little step back, and placed her hands on your chest, "The camera work was a little awkward this time, a lot of close-ups."

"Oh yeah, I noticed," you nodded, "but hey, that was really cool! Besides, you look gorgeous with those braids and that outfit," you said as you looked at her gray, red-striped sweater.

"Mmm, I prefer my hair down, but thanks...daddy," she murmured, already sure no one was near her, "Oh, I'm hungry, can we go get something to eat? Please?"

Lily had sat in the same space on the sofa where you were before, and as soon as she heard the word 'eat', she jumped up and stood next to you.

"Can I go with you guys?" she asked with a small smile on her face. Sully looked somewhat puzzled, but as usual, she left the last word up to you.

"Oh sure, come on," you nodded towards the exit.

The SBS facilities were somewhat confusing and intrinsic for you, it was the second time you went there, and the first time had been so long ago that you didn't even remember where things were, you had no choice but to let yourself be guided by Lily and Sully through the corridors, until you came to a common area where there were vending machines of all kinds. There were several idols from various groups that you instantly recognized there, Tsuki and Suhyeon from Billlie, Solar from Mamamoo, Serim from Cravity, and two girls from a group that you were a particular fan of, but had never met due to the different agendas between your girlfriend's group and theirs: Isa and Sumin from STAYC.

"Oh shit," Sully and Lily were ahead of you, you had to grab both of their forearms to get them to stop, "how many people in there do you know?"

"None," Sully admitted, realizing when you told her, and now even more nervous than you.

"Oh come on, you don't have to talk to anyone!" Lily exclaimed, clearly being the extrovert she was in front of two introverts like you two, "Just smile and say hi."

"Easy for you to say, you're Aussie," you said, glancing discreetly at Isa, who was walking with Sumin to one of the drink vending machines. The outfit she wore was simple, but it worked perfectly for the beautiful girl that she was; the red on her sweater highlighted her red hair in a rather cute way, and her jean skirt exposed her fleshy pale legs, an allure that held your attention for a moment.

"What does it have to do with me being Aussie?" Lily turned around confused, and you had to pretend you weren't staring at Isa.

"I don't know, I've never met a single Aussie who isn't a social butterfly," you shrugged, and then saw Sully, who seemed rather distracted looking in the same direction as you a moment ago, "honey? "

"Huh?" she turned a little confused, "Oh, sorry," she started to play with her hands, "Just go ahead of me, okay?"

"Yeah yeah, whatever, let's go."

Going between all those celebrities you didn't know personally was a bit easier than you thought, but you couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water. They were all quite nice and cordial when they greeted and smiled back, even Solar, who you thought would be a little tougher for having been in the industry for so many years, greeted Lily and Sully with kindness and letting them know that she was a big fan of their last comeback, the problem came when you got to one of the snack vending machines, right next to the one that Isa and Sumin used. You greeted them like everyone else, and then you let Sully and Lily do their work, staring down each row of the vending machine just to ask Sully for something in case there was something that caught your eye, until you noticed eyes on you, you turned your head and looked at the wall between vending machines to see out of the corner of your eye how the two STAYC girls looked at you while they talked about what to get.

"Ahhh! I don't know if I should get barley tea or purple corn tea," Isa said as she looked back at the cold drinks side of the vending machine.

"I think I'll just have strawberry milk," Sumin replied from beside her, "Oh, and Seeun wants a gatorade, for some reason."

You turned your head a few more centimeters, the exact moment when only Isa was looking at you, you exchanged glances with her, and three seconds passed in which she saw you with two pretty, shiny kitty eyes until you turned your eyes forward. The girls kept choosing snacks, but again you noticed Sully strangely distracted, as if something else had her attention completely taken away from what was happening, you followed her movements with your eyes, and you noticed that what had her so distracted was the same reason why you felt observed.

Sully couldn't stop staring at Isa, it wasn't like she had her gaze completely locked on her, but every few seconds she'd sneakily give her a shy look, you knew your girlfriend, and you knew those eyes were more than just a girl wanting to make a friend, a thought crossed your mind, but it was gone as fast as a shooting star, you were just daydreaming.

"Seol Yoonah!" Lily exclaimed, annoyed looking at Sully, noticing her obvious distraction, "do you want to get what you want or not?"

"Oh yeah yeah, sorry unnie," Sully apologized once more as she snapped out of her hypnosis.

When they finished taking their snacks, you, Sully and Lily were about to leave, you took a few steps with Lily ahead of you two, until you were stopped by a serene and sweet voice.

"Unnie!" you three turned around, finding yourself facing Isa, and a few steps behind, Sumin waiting for her, "Uh... I wanted to tell you that... well, I really love your song!" She said hesitantly, with the most adorable eye smile you've ever seen, "I always watch all your stages."

She was talking directly to Sully, you and Lily exchanged glances, and she just shrugged to make a 'just let her socialize' sign.

"Oh, aigooo…" Sully put her hand to her mouth and giggled nervously, then bowed to her, "Thank you so much! Uh… I love Teddy Bear too, and… you look very pretty with that hair color!"

"Ahhh! Thank you very much! You look very pretty too," Isa bowed back, still smiling, and you could swear her cheeks were a little red. You just stood there, watching how two tenderness and cuteness masses did nothing but compliment each other.

"Guys… hmm, I guess I'll go ahead," Lily said, but clearly only you were paying attention to her, you nodded, and she just turned and headed down the hall.

"And he… he's very handsome," Isa said to Sully, but looking at you with the same eyes she looked at you a minute ago, "Is he your… manager?"

"It's my d…" Sully was about to say the word, but you cleared your throat to get her attention, "It's… you know, I can't say it out loud, but his name is Ezio," your girlfriend said, a blush building on her cheeks, Isa just giggled.

"Okay, you don't have to say it, I get it," she nodded and then looked at you again, "Ezio oppa, how about... I give you guys my number?

"Oh, I didn't bring my phone..." Sully wailed, patting the pockets of her pants, "daddy, do you?"

Sully was sometimes very silly, and this time she didn't realize that she had said the word in front of two other people besides you, but those two people and you did, it seemed quite natural to Isa, in fact, she didn't even flinch, in the other hand, Sumin raised both eyebrows somewhat surprised and nodded slowly, and you, well, you just wanted to die of embarrassment.

"Yeah... sure," you agreed after a sigh, pulling your phone out of your pocket. Isa dictated her number to you, you wrote it down, and immediately sent her a text for her to book you. Then you repeated the same process, but Sully was the one who dictated her number to Isa.

"Unnie, you thought he was really handsome too, don't you want his number?" Isa said to Sumin, turning to see her, but she immediately widened her eyes when she noticed your gaze. Her outfit was also very pretty, a striped sweater, short skirt with a belt, the same long converse boots as Isa, and circular glasses that made her look quite adorable. She turned around, completely ignoring the question that had just been asked, "Well, take that as a no, for now," Isa shrugged, looking back at you.

"Tell her for me that she's really cute too, since she looks like she wants to run out of here," you laughed, pointing with your chin as Sumin fidgeted with her legs.

"With pleasure!" Isa smiled at you and nodded, then looked at Sully, "I'll text you when I get home, okay?" she asked her in a sweet and loving tone of voice, "it was nice meeting you, unnie," then turned to you, "and you too, Ezio," she winked at you, to turn around and walk off with Sumin.

"Well, that was unexpected," you turned to look at Sully, and she turned to look at you, "you called me daddy in front of them, you know that right?"

"What? I really did that?!" Sully asked in alarm, then she put her hands to her mouth and made puppy eyes, "God, I'm so sorry daddy!" she started to wail, but you took both of her hands and squeezed them gently.

"Shhh," you subtly silenced her, "it's okay, they didn't seem alarmed about it, I don't think they'd say anything to anyone."

"Are you sure? Only you and I were supposed to know that... and Jinni, and Lily, and Haewonie..."

"Wait, Lily and Haewon know?" you frowned in confusion.

"I've inadvertently referred to you that way, I'm sorry..." she pouted like she was about to cry.

"No, it's fine, I just want to know in front of whom I should fake it and who I shouldn't."

"Well, Bae doesn't know yet… or maybe she does," she glanced to the side then scratched her temple thoughtfully. You let out a sigh.

"Let's just go honey, we shouldn't be talking about this here," you offered her your arm, and she grabbed it with both of her hands, then you started walking back to the dressing room.

———————————————————————

Everything was calm while you waited in the dressing room, the girls were removing their makeup, talking to each other and eating snacks. Sully was a few feet away from you sitting in her chair, and you were sitting alone on the couch looking at your phone when you suddenly got a message. Reading it made your heart skip a beat for a second, you knew that this couldn't be about anything innocent, whether it was bad or good.

You stood up and adjusted your sweater. You walked over to the seat where Sullyoon was sitting, and flexed your knees to get closer to her ear.

"Honey, I need to go to the bathroom, my stomach hurts, I'll be back in a bit, okay?" you said.

"Oh okay, let me know if you need anything, please," she replied, looking at you through the mirror with worried puppy dog eyes.

"Thanks darling, I'll be fine," you winked at her, and then turned to leave the dressing room.

The warnings were quite easy to follow, in fact, it would not have been a problem for you to get there due to the difference in the flow of people between areas, but it was still a worryingly hidden place. A turn to the right, another to the left, then a long corridor, and another turn to the right were enough to find the aforementioned service stairs. It was a well-lit area, with security lights on each wall. There was a staircase that went up, and another that went down, where there was a door that said: 'For maintenance personnel'. Isa was waiting for you on the second step of the stairs that led to that door. She was staring at her phone, leaning against the stair rail.

"Oh wow, long time no see," she joked as she noticed you approaching her.

"I know, right? It felt like forever," you joked back, leaning against the railing opposite her, "do you need anything?" you asked, getting straight to the point. Isa was thoughtful for a moment.

"Mmmm, not really," she shook her head doubtfully, "or maybe yes, I don't know, it all depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On how much you like me… or how much Sullyoonie likes you," she tucked her phone into her front pocket, laced her hands behind her back and cocked her head to give you a flirtatious look.

"That's pretty serious assumptions you're making, honey," you also cocked her head, looking into her eyes, "how are you so sure of what you're saying?"

"Eyes never lie," she softly denied, "and I'm an expert at reading people's eyes."

"Oh yeah?" You raised both eyebrows, "Well, it turns out that I am, too, and if your assumptions turn out to be true, I guess your position is not too different from mine."

"I'm not going to deny it," she shrugged, "I find you very handsome, and you're definitely my type… you and your… should I say girlfriend?" she gave a small giggle.

"Our relationship is kind of… special, but yeah, she's my girlfriend," you nodded, "you like her, huh?"

"Very much, she has a very fine and delicate face, and if I may say so, she has a very, very hot body," she looked away from you and looked at nothing, as if imagining her.

"Well, she quite likes you too," you crossed your arms, "my poor girl couldn't even focus with you next to her."

"And neither do you. You just proved me right," her eyes returned to yours. She got off the railing and took a few steps forward, until she was a little less than a meter away from you, "do you like me, Ezio?"

"Do you really need me to answer you? I thought you were an expert at reading people's eyes," you teased, and brought your hand to a strand of her red hair, straightening it to the end. She saw your hand, and then she saw you.

"I'd just like to hear it… daaaaddy," she elongated the first syllable with a sweet, flirtatious tone. She took just a couple more steps, which was enough to be just inches from your body. Her hands rested on your chest, and the look on her face changed completely. When you first spoke to her she was a sweet kitten, now she was a feral cat begging for food.

All your senses were sharpened at that precise moment. Isa's voice was silky, sweet and charming, if she was trying to get you into her little ambush, she had undoubtedly succeeded. You were entranced by her beautiful eyes, and seeing her parted lips awakened in you the deepest of feral instincts.

"Do you want me to fuck you right here and now?" The question might have been somewhat unexpected, but after she called you the D-word, you didn't mind being direct. She didn't seem surprised at all, rather she seemed to expect you to say something like that.

"Answer my question first, da-ddy," she didn't take her gaze from yours as her hand trailed down to your sweatpants and gave your cock a gentle squeeze through the fabric. You had to take a breath.

"Yes, I like you a lot," you answered looking into her eyes, "actually, I don't like you, you fascinate me, your eyes are beautiful, your smile is beautiful, you have perfect thighs, and a fucking hot body," you blurted out all that in the most natural way, bringing your face a little closer to hers.

"Well... then yes, I want you to fuck me right here and now, daddy" she whispered, closing the distance between you two and merging your lips in an intense and passionate kiss.

You pulled her by her suspenders with your fingers closer to your body, so that her stomach was pressing against yours. Your hands went to her waist, you felt her soft flesh against your fingers for a moment, and then your hands came up to cup each side of her face as you went deeper into the kiss. You pressed a little more on her soft cheeks, and she responded by giving another squeeze to the growing bulge in your pants this time harder. Isa massaged your cock over your sweatpants throughout the entire kiss, and about a minute passed when she simply yanked them down to a few inches above your knee, with your boxers included and freeing your cock.

"I'd gladly suck your cock daddy," she whispered against your lips, "but we don't have that much time."

She brought a hand to her mouth, spit into it, and then brought it to your cock to begin stroking it slowly and gently. As the saliva lubricated your cock, it got harder and harder, to the point where Isa had to squeeze a little harder to continue moving her wrist at a steady pace. You gasped against hers and kissed her lips again. Isa moved her hand faster, making audible how slippery your cock was; You couldn't help but remove both hands from her face to now place one on her ass and the other on one of her breasts, your hands still hadn't experienced what it was like to touch the skin under her clothes, but those little touches were enough to drive you crazy for her body.

"Stop. I want to feel that pussy," you ordered, grabbing her wrist and making her release your cock.

"As you wish, daddy," Isa gave you a small smile, a peck on the jaw, and then turned around. She rested both her hands on the railing, stepped back so her ass was pressing against the back of your shaft, and leaned forward, making a lovely arch with her lower back, "Come on, maybe you'll be surprised"

You lifted her skirt up as soon as she told you that, and you were certainly surprised, she wasn't wearing any panties. Her round, meaty ass was completely on display for you, as was her pretty and visibly wet pussy. Your cock immediately throbbed, and you involuntarily bit your lip.

"Naughty girl… since when?" you asked, letting your cock rest between her buttocks and squeezing them with both of your hands.

"When I texted you I wasn't wearing them anymore," she looked over her shoulder at you with slightly narrowed eyes, a sultry, lust-filled look. She moved her ass slowly from side to side, moving your cock as well.

"So you already knew I was going to fall for your little game, right?" you brought two fingers to your mouth, salivated them and ran them over her pussy, moving up and down through her slit. She gasped.

"The eyes, daddy, the eyes..." she was about to smirk, but quickly her face distorted as you took your cock, lined it up with her pussy, and slowly pushed the first few inches of your shaft inside her, "Oh fuck," she moaned under her breath.

"Did my eyes tell you how hard I'm going to fuck you right now?" the constant thrust of your hips forward prevented her from saying a single word. The wetness of her pussy made it easy for you, your cock was engulfed by her silky folds slowly, and in a matter of seconds, it disappeared inside her.

"Yes daddy… fuck me hard please, I'm all yours," she replied looking over her shoulder into your eyes, then bit her lip and gripped the railing tighter as your shaft rested inside her hot, wet pussy.

"Yes you are," you said in a low, husky voice, squeezing one of her buttocks with your hand and then giving her a loud spank that echoed through the stairs, "From now on my cock will be the only one who can be inside this pretty pussy, got it?" before she could respond, you began to slowly move your hips back and forth while your hand remained on her buttock. It took a moment until she, between her cute moans, was able to respond.

"Understood daddy, my pussy is your property... no one else's," she gasped, closing her eyes with her mouth agape as she enjoyed the way your cock moved in and out of her pussy at a pace that was simply an appetizer.

You let her get used to your cock with slow movements that didn't even produce a crash between your bodies, it was with the passing of the seconds when your desire to pound her pussy made you start pumping faster and faster. Isa wanted to moan louder, but she knew that the echo in that place was so strong that if someone passed through the nearby corridors, they would be able to hear her very easily. Her first instinct was to bite her arm over her sweater, as she watched you with her eyes alight with lust and her brows furrowed with pleasure.

Your hands went to her waist, where you made sure to roll up her skirt so you could feel as much of her flesh as you could. Feeling her soft skin between your fingers was a delight, as well as making her ass begin to bounce and shake like jelly as your thrusts became more intense and aggressive.

"Yes daddy... yes, yes! Just like that!" Isa yelled as low as she could as her back straightened slightly. She tried to get her face to be level with yours, and she constantly looked at your lips, you understood the message, and you leaned forward to take her by the shoulders, stick her back to your chest and kiss her again.

Isa's moans were drowned out in the kiss. You attacked her mouth with your tongue, taking full control over her. Your arms wrapped around her body, and with that you could feel how fluffy it was. She didn't know where to hold on while you fucked her as hard as you could, she tried to reach for the railing again, but having it a bit far away she opted for the easy option, which was to take her hands back and cling to your neck.

There came a point where everything became so intense that you were forced to pull away from her kiss. Isa completely forgot where she was, and she was able to let out a loud moan before you shoved two fingers into her mouth for her to suck on. The moan echoed through the walls, and you prayed to whatever was up there that no one had heard it.

You couldn't afford to let Isa moan like crazy in that place, so you kept your two fingers stuck inside her mouth. She accepted them without even protesting, salivating them completely, and drowning all kinds of sounds emanating from her throat against them. Your cock kept going in and out of her pussy at full throttle, and it didn't take long for Isa to reach her peak of pleasure.

Her orgasm rocked her body as if she had received a sudden electric shock. Her muscles, especially her legs, completely betrayed her, had it not been for the force of your arms she would have collapsed to the ground in spasms, but instead she writhed in your arms as she grunted and muffled screams against your fingers. Her pussy walls clenched around your shaft, keeping it suffocated throughout her ecstasy. As her orgasm faded, you decided to give her a short break, where you just slowly moved your hips.

"Daddy hasn't cum yet, would you do the honors darling?" you murmured against her ear after taking your fingers out of her mouth and leaving your hands on her buttocks.

"Of… of course daddy, fuck… anything for you," she gasped, flopping forward to grab the railing again. You slowly pulled out of her pussy, seeing your cock now drenched in Isa's slippery fluids.

"Then on your knees, stroke that cock baby."

Isa immediately turned around and dropped to her knees in front of you, took your cock in one hand and began to jerk it as far as her wrist would give. Your gaze and hers locked, and as she watched you, she stuck her tongue out to press your tip against it as she rushed you to your orgasm. A few seconds passed when you felt a tingle travel to your crotch, and the next thing you saw was Isa's tongue and mouth being completely filled with thick strips of thick cum. Her wrist movements dwindled as you continued to shoot your load into her mouth, and when no more came out of it, she took your cock inside her mouth and began to suck every inch of it until it was sparkling clean. She pulled you out, opened her mouth again, and when she stuck out her tongue all traces of your load were gone. Between gasps and heavy breaths, you couldn't help but sketch a silly smile because of how beautiful that girl was.

"Huh? What happened daddy?" asked Isa tilting her head, seeing you smile like a fool, then she gave a few little kisses all over your cock, ending with one on the tip.

"Oh, nothing," you let out a nervous laugh, "it's just... you're so pretty," Isa didn't say anything, her cheeks turned a little red, and you saw yourself reflected in her by the way she smiled, "stand up, they must wonder where we are."

"Ah, I just told Sumin that I was going to meet you," she said as you pulled up your pants and boxers, and when she got to her feet, her legs wobbled a bit, she had to grab onto your arm to keep herself up, "Shit, my legs hurt, I'll have to say it's fatigue."

"Which isn't entirely a lie," you teased, glancing down the hall to your left to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Hey, I'll text you when I get home, okay? Both of you," she put her hands on your neck, and gave you a little peck on the lips, "you go first, if someone sees us leaving the same hall at the same time it will be a mess."

"Understood," you nodded, wrapping your arms around her waist once more, "will we see each other soon?"

"I don't know," she looked to the side of you, fooling around as she caressed the hair at the nape of your neck, "I have a day off tomorrow... if only someone would like to take me to his place..."

"Sullyoonie has the day off tomorrow too, and oh, what a coincidence, she'll be there too," she turned to meet your eyes, "we just have to pretend I invited you tonight."

"Okay, I can take care of that," she pulled you closer and gave you another kiss, "see you soon, daddy."

"See you soon, little kitty," you released her, winked at her and turned to head back into the hallways.

———————————————————————

"Are you ok?" Sully asked with concern as soon as you entered the dressing room, apparently she was waiting for you near the entrance. You looked behind her, seeing that everyone was almost ready to go. They were all either collecting things or just waiting.

"I'm a little better honey, yes," you nodded, cupping the side of her face in your hand and rubbing your thumb over it for a second. Sullyoon let out a sigh of relief.

"I'll make you some honey ginger tea when we get home, okay?" As always, you couldn't say no to her with that sweet tone of voice and that angelic face.

"I'd appreciate it, darling," you smiled, "Ready to go?"

"Oh yeah, I just have to put on my coat and tell manager-nim," she turned around and went to the place where she had her things. A few minutes passed, and while you were waiting, standing by the door, the girls' manager approached you. He was a guy not much older than you, short black hair and baggy clothes.

"Hey, Yoonah will be with you until Monday, right?" asked the guy, a bit uneasy.

"Yeah, that's the plan at least, don't worry, I know the protocol."

"No going out to places with a lot of people, and if you're going to go out with her, for God's sake be discreet," he reminded you, as if you hadn't done the same thing multiple times. You didn't blame the poor man, he just wanted to do his job well. As he spoke, Sully stood next to you, in her long quilted parka coat, her beautiful brown hair loose and her hands full of things. She was also wearing a mask.

"Gunwook-ssi, I'm not an idiot. Can we go now?" you asked, raising both eyebrows.

"You're incredibly lucky that JYP has lifted the dating bans," he sighed, then opened a notebook in his hand and began to read what appeared to be a schedule, "Yeah yeah, get out, take good care of her , hyung."

"I always do," you turned to leave, and Sully followed.

"Bye unnies! See you soon!" Sully said goodbye, waving her hand towards the girls.

———————————————————————

You and Sully had made it home safely, a smooth ride, and a quiet night. You were on the couch, your hair damp since you'd just gotten out of the shower, your favorite black sweater on, and short pajama shorts. You checked your phone while Sully was in the kitchen preparing the tea you had bought on the way. She was playing on the Switch a few minutes ago, so in front of you was the TV with the Animal Crossing pause screen.

"Daddy, do you want sugar in your tea?" she said from the kitchen, taking advantage of the fact that the apartment was completely silent.

"Yes honey! Please!" you answered back, your gaze still on the screen of your phone. Not a minute passed before Sully returned to the sofa with you, your Darth Vader helmet-shaped mug in hand. The sweet aroma of tea filled your nostrils, and even though your stomach problems were a lie, you couldn't help but give a warm kiss of thanks to the beautiful girl who had made it.

"Taste it!" she demanded in a rather adorable way, you complied, and took the cup to take a small sip of the tea, it was still too hot to taste well, but your tongue immediately told you that it was delicious.

"Mmm, I love it baby, thank you very much," you put the cup on the small table in front of you, surrounded her body padded by her fluffy white jacket with your arms, and gave her many small kisses on the lips, "you can continue playing now dear."

"Yay!" she said excitedly, taking the joystick from the table again and resuming her work.

A few minutes passed in which you were just chatting with Sully about things in the game, when she received a message.

"Oh, Isa unnie texted me," Sully said after checking her phone seconds later. You quickly locked eyes with her as she answered.

"Oh yeah? That's great, darling," you tried to see what they were saying, but couldn't without looking like an idiot. Similarly, a notification on your phone brought you back to your site immediately. It was Isa, and you had to turn the phone over so Sully couldn't see the messages.

Your heart skipped a beat reading that last message. You shifted nervously on the sofa, and looked at Sullyoon while she continued to look at her phone, more specifically at her chat with Isa, who was already replying to her. None of you said anything for the next 15 minutes, during which time you didn't reply to Isa again due to panic, and Sullyoon giggled and smiled from time to time as she texted back to Isa.

"Daddy! Chaeyoung-unnie has a day off tomorrow too!" Sully told you, with raised eyebrows and eyes like two streetlights. You could see the emotion in her eyes.

"Do you want to hang out with her?" you asked, then you took the Switch joystick from her lap and you started playing.

"Oh no no, I want her to come here with us!"

Hearing that from her gave your inner self a mixture of happiness, relief, and satisfaction. All the work was already done, and you hadn't even done anything, neither you nor Isa.

"But darling, don't you think it's a bit hasty? We hardly know her," even though you were completely on board with her idea, you had to feign some doubt so as not to arouse her suspicions.

"Would you rather get to know her better in a public place or here in our safe place?" she raised an eyebrow, knowing that she had won the argument.

"Well, yes, you're right," you shrugged, continuing to stare at the TV, "go ahead, tell her she can come over."

"Yaaaay!" she yelled, unable to contain her excitement, dropped her phone and rushed at you to hug you, so hard that she made you fall back against the sofa. You laughed, and wrapped your arms around her body as she lay on top of you.

"Yup, but hey, tell her to get her something to drink, you know," you said, brushing her hair out of your face and then giving her a peck on the lips.

"Soju?"

"I don't know, do you want Soju?"

"I want Soju!" she exclaimed with a smirk as she nodded, then settled her body, pressing her thighs to either side of your hips.

"Alright then, we'll have to clean this place by tomorrow," you sighed, getting the idea that you would have to mop for the first time in a month.

"The whole apartment?"

"Well yeah, we'd kill two birds with one stone."

Sully blew out the exact same sigh as you.

"How tiring."

"I know, but it will be worth it baby," you cupped her face with both hands and gave her another little kiss, "Go tell her, come on."

"Yes daddy!" she got up off of you and went back to her place on the couch, picked up her phone again and started to type.

You just lay where Sully had left you, grabbed your phone, and kept an eye on it. The notification didn't take long to arrive, but this time it wasn't a message, it was a photo, and once again you felt like your soul was going to detach from your body.

Isa had taken a photo of herself from her shoulder, pointing towards her naked body face down, she was only wearing high cut lilac panties, and medium-sized long stockings of the same color. She sent it with a text: 'Thanks for saying yes, daddy. See you tomorrow ;)'

———————————————————————

In short, you never know how dirty your house is until you clean it. It was ridiculously tedious to clean the whole apartment, there was so much dust and messy things that you even felt a little embarrassed. But Sully never mentioned anything to you about it, she didn't even scold you, at all times she was silently helping you with things that you didn't know how to do correctly.

"Okay, I need to keep this place clean more often," you said, then sighed and plopped down on the couch with the mop stick still in hand. You closed your eyes, and rested your head on the back of the sofa.

"I'll remind you whenever I can daddy," Sully replied from behind you, she grabbed the sides of your face with each hand and lowered her head to give you a little kiss on the forehead.

"Yes, please, I'd appreciate it," you took a deep breath, "honey, did Chaeyoung tell you that she's coming over at what time?"

"Uh..." Sully pulled her phone out of her pocket, checked the chat and let out a little yelp, "7:30, and it's 6, I gotta get ready!"

"Please don't take too long bathing, darling, I need to bathe too."

"But daddy… we've had a bath together before," you immediately opened your eyes to see her looking at you with a small smile.

"Wait for me there, honey, I'll go put this in its place," you said, referring to the mop in your hand.

"Yeah!"

She went straight to the bathroom, and you got up to go straight to the kitchen to put away the mop, the bucket, and all the cleaning products you had used to clean the apartment. When you put everything in its place, you walked briskly towards the bathroom. You walked in, and the first thing you saw was Sullyoon's bare back, while she was pulling down her pajama pants with panties included, you couldn't help but take a look at her pretty pussy. She caught your eye, and looked over her shoulder at you with a shy little smile.

"Oh hi daddy, I didn't think you'd be so quick," she giggled, turning around so you could see her gorgeous body. And so you did, looking at her small tits, her smooth legs, and most of all, her flat, long and incredibly sexy abdomen.

"How could I not? The prospect of helping lather up that pretty body is always attractive," you walked slowly towards her, taking off your t-shirt, shorts and boxers, and when you stood in front of her you wrapped your arms around her hips. your arms, to give their buttocks a squeeze each. Sully slightly flinched, but she took a small step forward to press your cock against her abdomen.

"Daddy... we're running late, we're just going to bathe, right?" she cocked her head as she looked into her eyes, you looked back at her, and then looked at her hair up in an adorable high bun. She put her hands on your shoulders.

"I don't promise you anything," you approached her face, and gave her a short but sensual kiss, "let’s go."

———————————————————————

You and Sully got out of the shower about half an hour after you got in. You couldn't convince her to do a quickie, her reason was that you were going to take too long, and as compensation she gave you a soapy handjob that left you more than satisfied. You had come in her midriff, so it took her a little extra time to wash the goo off her skin.

"Ahhh! I don't know what to wear!" Sully complained, hanging around your bedroom, the towel still wrapped around her body while you were already changing into your favorite black joggers.

"Honey, relax, Chaeyoung is a normal girl like you and me, she's not the Duchess of Edinburgh," you said, sitting up on the bed to put on your socks and then your crocs.

"But I want to be pretty! I can't look like a random girl in front of such a beautiful girl," she went to her bag once more, emptied it on your bed and started looking for clothes. You remained silent, and without her noticing, you raised your eyebrows noticing something more than simple attraction towards Isa.

"You're pretty without even trying, I don't think that's a problem," you stood up, and went looking for a hoodie in your closet. It took you a few seconds, but you finally chose an olive green Nike. In a few seconds you were ready, and Sully was barely pulling on her panties and bra.

"Go get everything ready daddy, I promise I won't take so long, okay?" she said, and then released her long, silky brown hair.

"I'll be waiting sweetie," you walked up to her, got behind her and placed a small kiss on her neck before walking out into the living room.

There really wasn't much to do out there, you had left the whole apartment spotless just before you went to bathe. All you had to do was arrange the cushions on the sofa, turn on the air conditioning, and play some music on a low volume. Your first choice was Lost, by Frank Ocean. The atmosphere in the living room was perfect, but you felt something was missing. You thought about it for a moment, standing on the side of the sofa, until the light bulb went on to put a 10-hour campfire YouTube video on the TV.

"All done," you muttered to yourself, and then sat down on the couch to wait for Sully.

That she was not going to take so long was a lie. 25 minutes passed, and it wasn't until then that you heard your bedroom door open, and seconds later, Sully stepped between you and the TV. You looked up, and you were met with a somewhat nervous and insecure look.

"Well? How do I look daddy?" She raised both arms diagonally to her sides, and you took a moment to analyze her outfit. Black and white striped turtleneck crop top sweater; dark blue jeans, and converse sneakers. Her hair, all loose but clipped to the back of her head. Right and perfect choices.

"You hit the nail on the head with that sweater, honey, you look gorgeous!" Still sitting, you wrapped your arms around her waist and rested your chin on her stomach to look up. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm glad you like it," she said, and then cupped her face gently, "Do you think she's going to like it?"

"If she has excellent taste like me, then yes," you smiled, and the smile spread to her

"Daddy, you know how much I love you, don't you?" she rubbed your cheeks with her thumbs.

"You tell me that all the time, darling, and believe me I love you a lot too," you pulled her towards you, leaned back and made her sit on your right thigh. She wrapped her arms around your neck, and began to play with your hair.

"Daddy... Can I ask you something?" she asked quietly, seeing the strands of your hair that her fingers played with.

"Sure honey, tell me."

"Chaeyoung-unnie… do you think she's pretty?" the question took you by surprise. You didn't know where she was trying to go with that.

"Uhm… well," you paused for a moment to choose your words, "it would be dumb not to consider her pretty, actually yes, she is beautiful," Sully was silent for a few seconds, in which she kept a neutral expression.

"It's just... I also consider her very beautiful, and well..."

"Honey, talk to me straight, please."

"Daddy, do you like her?"

"What? No, I only like you baby, what are you talking about?"

"You don't have to lie to me," she finally met your eyes, "I could see it in your eyes."

"Dear..."

"I like her too, a lot."

There was a sudden silence between you and her. You had been frozen by how she had dismantled your facade in just a moment, and you were afraid in case she had also discovered what you and Isa did, but you knew that that was impossible. That didn't surprise you as much as the fact that she'd admitted that so lightly.

"Um... what?" you said.

She just nodded.

"She seems so pretty to me, and kind… and lovely, I really like her, daddy," she seemed very embarrassed that she was saying that to you, she lowered her gaze, and clasped her hands in her lap.

"Honey… this doesn't have to affect our relationship, you know?" you took her chin with your fingers and looked for her gaze.

"No?" she asked with some fear in her voice and her eyes beginning to glaze over.

"Of course not," you cupped the side of her face in your hand, "Actually, if she wants, we can turn this into something nice and fun. Like with Jinni, remember?"

"But I don't like Jinni like she likes you..."

"Well, I don't like her the way you think I like her either, in fact, I only like her physically… her personality is kind of… crude, she's not my type," you shook your head, realizing that you were straying, "But that's not the issue."

"Are you telling me that we can start hanging out with Chaeyoung-unnie more often? Like... dating?"

"That will depend on many things, dear, for example, if she agrees, how she feels with us, how we feel with her, do you understand?" You gave her a peck on her cheek, trying to cheer her up, "you must understand that polyamorous relationships are not something... common, and they are not something openly accepted by everyone."

"I understand…" she nodded slowly, and then wiped the tears from her eyes that never made it down her cheeks, "Daddy, we should be on the lookout, she could be here at any moment."

"You're right," you gently squeezed her waist, "everything will be alright, okay? Let's just act natural, have fun with her and make her have a great time."

"Yeah!" she said excitedly, and then she slid off your thigh to sit to the side on the couch.

—————————————————��—————

You certainly did not expect such punctuality. It was 7:32, you and Sully were waiting on the couch while she watched you play Genshin Impact on your phone. You had spoken with Chaeyoung during the day, you indicated to her the address of your residential building and the exact number of your apartment. You had also talked to the security guard at the gate to specifically let her through.

A few minutes passed, when the doorbell of your apartment rang.

"She's here," you exited the game, put your phone down on the couch, and headed to the door.

When you opened it, you found yourself face to face with a cute little stray kitten, who seemed lost and didn't know where she was, but as soon as she saw you, a huge smile spread from ear to ear. You smiled back at her, and you dared to grab her forearm, pull her towards you and give her a hug.

"Hi cutie," you said in her ear, snuggling her into your arms.

"Hi handsome," she murmured back, snuggling into your chest, "sorry if I'm late, I had to buy things last minute."

"Not at all, you're right on time," you released her, and then looked at her outfit. A champagne knitted cardigan, black jeans and white sneakers, "You look beautiful! I love that cardigan."

"Oh, thank you," she naturally bowed to you in thanks, "It was a gift from Sieun-unnie."

"Come in, please," you stepped aside, and she walked past you. Then, you closed the door, "what do you have in the bag?" you asked, pointing to the black plastic bag she was carrying in her hand.

"Uhmm," as you slowly walked down the hallway that led to the living room, she opened the bag for you and her to see inside of it. There were two bottles of Soju, packets of ramyeon, and snacks.

"Two bottles, huh?" You laughed, "You want to go wild today," when you said that, she stopped you before leaving the hallway and leaned in close to your ear.

"Of course I do, daddy, my pussy is more than ready for you," she whispered, then walked out of the hallway, "Ahhhhh Yoonah-ssi!" Chaeyoung squealed, setting the bag down to go hug Sully. The contrast of attitudes stunned you.

"Unnie!" Hi!" Sully greeted back, letting herself be hugged by Chaeyoung as you picked up the bag and went to put it on the table.

"Mmm, you smell so good," when you turned around, you saw Chaeyoung sniffing Sully's shoulder near her neck, "and you look so pretty!"

"Thank you unnie… uhm, you look very pretty too," you stood there, as Sully's cheeks flushed red at Chaeyoung's compliment and her closeness, "have a seat please," she smiled sheepishly.

"Chaeyoungie, do you want something to drink? Maybe a Pepsi?" you asked, as she and Sully sat on the couch.

"Oh yes! Please," she nodded.

"I want water, honey!" Sully came out too, when you were already walking towards the kitchen. Honey? It was the first time she had called you that in a long time. It didn't bother you, but you thought it was weird. Maybe it was just a name to call you that wouldn't be embarrassing for her in the first place.

"On my way," you walked to the kitchen with the two bottles of Soju in your hands, went to the fridge, took out the can of Pepsi from inside and put the bottles in their place. Then you took two glass cups from one of the cupboards, put ice in them from the freezer, and filled them with Pepsi and water respectively. When you came back, you found Sully and Chaeyoung sitting very close to each other, while Sully was looking for a game in the Switch menu.

"Honey, where do you keep the extra joycon? We want to play Mario Kart!" Sully asked, the blue controller in her hand. Chaeyoung had the red.

"Oh, over here," you put the crystal glasses on the table in front of them, and bent down to open one of the drawers on the table where the television was placed. There were two extra joycon, one purple and one orange. You chose purple, and went to sit next to Sully.

And so, the first activity of the night was completely innocent and harmless. You played the Shell Cup, you chose DK, Sully Toadette and Chaeyoung Rosetta. You were vastly better than the two of them in each of the circuits, you always went first unless someone hit you with a stupid blue shell, but the real competition was between the two of them. They were ahead of each other at all times, and usually any offensive items they got were saved to throw at each other. Normally this would have led to a real fight, but the living room was filled with their laughter, and when something went wrong, they just cheered each other up. A healthy competition that filled you with tenderness.

In the end, neither of them was left in the final podium, and you, as a mockery, made them watch the entire award ceremony cinematic just to remind them that they had lost.

"You should practice, you're still no match for me," you said, leaning back to rest your back on the couch so you could see the two of them.

"Oppa! Don't be arrogant," Chaeyoung complained, and nudged her shoulder, "We're really bad at gaming, and you're a streamer."

"Sully told you that?" You raised an eyebrow, and then you saw your girlfriend, who was making fool while she drank her water.

"And not only that," Chaeyoung chuckled. You were immediately suspicious. Who knows what the hell Sully would have told her about you.

"I'm not even going to ask," you shook your head, then stood up, "You guys want Soju? You know, to warm up a little bit," you winked at Chaeyoung.

"And we could play something. With punishments," Chaeyoung winked back.

"Super Smash Bros!" Sully said, knowing it was the perfect game to play that way.

"Now we're talking," you smiled.

You went back to the kitchen and opened the fridge to take out one of the two already cold bottles of Soju. Then you opened a drawer to your left, and from it you took out three small crystal shot glasses. You went back to the living room, and Sully had already started the game. It was just the main screen, you figured it was because she didn't know how to get to the corresponding game mode.

"You're lucky I'm really bad at that," you put the bottle and three glasses on the coffee table, to sit down on the sofa again, this time next to Chaeyoung. You looked at Sully just to see if that bothered her, but she didn't seem to care. You looked back at the TV.

"Oh, I used to play this on the Wii, I never knew what I was doing," Chaeyoung admitted, "I just pushed all the buttons and did stuff."

"I never played these games, I always liked Pokemon more, and that was all I played," Sully always spoke at least two tones lower than the two of you, so you really had to pay attention to hear her.

"You just do what she does, push all the buttons and do stuff."

"Hey, whoever gets knocked out, one shot," Chaeyoung prompted before you started the match. You and Sully nodded.

The first game was in the Kongo Falls stage, you chose Sefirot, Sully Kirby and Chaeyoung Incineroar. As expected, it was all laughs from the start. Of the three of us, you were the one who seemed to know what she was doing the most, but you were still fucking bad. Anyway, you managed to save yourself for a moment by knocking Chaeyoung out.

"Ahhh! Fuck!" Chaeyoung whimpered, pouting slightly.

"Ha! There you go!" you scoffed, while you and Sully kept fighting. The fight would have been somewhat fairer, since Sully was giving you a good competition, but with you next to her, Chaeyoung took advantage of Sully's moment of absolute concentration on the television to discreetly move a hand  to your thigh, and she began to massage it until you naturally lost concentration and ended up being eliminated. Sully had been the winner of the first game.

"Yaaaaay! I beat you! I really beat you!" Sully squealed exuberantly, bouncing little hops on her seat. Automatically, Chaeyoung removed her hand from your thigh. You looked straight into her eyes, and she just looked back at you with an innocent 'I didn't do anything' look.

"I told you that pressing all the buttons was pretty effective," you sighed in denial, taking the bottle of Soju and opening it, "I don't mind losing every game as long as you lose too, you know?" you told Chaeyoung, while you poured the drink into the glass cups.

"Hey! Why are you taking this personally?" Chaeyoung teased, "My only crime is being pretty."

"Aha, whatever you say, drink up," you put the bottle back on the table, and handed one of the glasses to Chaeyoung, "Geonbae!" you toasted, as you both put the glasses together before drinking.

Second game, Lylat Cruise. Chaeyoung was eliminated first again, and before she could attempt anything, you eliminated Sully as soon as you could. Game won by you.

"Oops, sorry girls, the gamer prevails," you shrugged, with a fake arrogance meant to annoy them. You took the bottle of Soju, and served the shot to both of them.

"You shouldn't even be playing, it's unfair daddy!" Sully complained. Once again, she called you that name without meaning to, but you didn't say anything either.

"Yeah, she's right, you should let the pretty girls have fun while you relax," Chaeyoung said that line with an extra spice in her voice, and you weren't sure, but you thought it was loaded with an obvious double meaning.

"Oh please, you can beat me with a little bit of effort and luck, it's not that complicated," while saying that, Sully and Chaeyoung took their respective shots.

Third game, Prism Tower. Once again, Chaeyoung was eliminated first, but not by you, but by Sully. This time the reprisals were even bigger and more daring from the redhead next to you. Her hand no longer went to your thigh, but directly to your crotch to gently squeeze and massage your cock for a few, but long and tortuous seconds. You were about to lose again, but to your luck, Sully was quite clumsy, and she eliminated herself by making a bad jump.

"Nooooo!" Sully yelled, giving herself the cutest little pats in the world on her thigh.

"My God, thank goodness," you sighed in relief, letting yourself fall back. You saw Chaeyoung, but she didn't look back at you, she just straightened her back so that you, from behind, could see her ass better.

"Wow, you weren't lying about being bad, you're even on our level," she looked over her shoulder at you with a mischievous look.

"Shut up and drink," you pointed at the bottle with your chin.

Sully poured Chaeyoung's drink, and vice versa. They both took their drink, and at least Chaeyoung's cheeks already showed a little red from the alcohol.

You completely lost track of the time between matches, and didn't stop until the Soju bottle was empty. The account had been quite balanced between the three of you, but in the end, the ones who had drunk the most had been the two of them. Chaeyoung's face was already flushed almost all the time, just like Sully's, but neither of them was drunk, not even close, but just like you, they were already starting to feel some heat in their bodies.

"Aw, I would have liked to make you drink even one more time, oppa," Chaeyoung said, disappointed.

"I'm happy, I was able to beat daddy several times, that's never happened before," Sully said, her eyes shining. You wanted to kiss her at that moment, she was so clumsy that she kept saying the word without realizing that she said it.

"Are you hungry yet? Let's order pizza," you asked the girls, standing up, setting the joycon on the coffee table, and turning up the music a bit. Loyal by Chris Brown was playing at the time.

"Not right now... if I eat something heavy I'll throw up, but you can order it anyway, honey," Sully said, and then turned to Chaeyoung, "Unnie, are you hungry?"

"Oh well, actually yes," she looked at you as she replied to her, "so go ahead."

You nodded, and in a moment you took your phone to make the corresponding call to order a family pizza.

"What do we do while we wait?" you asked them, then you went to sit down again, but this time you made them open a space between the two of them, where you sat down.

"Hmm, truth or dare?" Sully proposed to your surprise, since she never used to take the lead on anything.

"That's an excellent idea, baby," Chaeyoung praised her, with a calm smile. Sully smiled too, and sheepishly looked away.

The confidence that Chaeyoung was taking increased like a snowball downhill. She had started with something as simple as smelling her scent near her neck, and now her audacity had reached the point of calling her 'baby'. It was hard to predict what was next. Chaeyoung wasn't exactly an outgoing and active girl, but she wasn't stupid, and she knew exactly what she was doing with every little movement.

"I'm in. But I think we should set the mood now," you got up from the couch and went to turn off the lights in the living room. The only lights now were the television and the one in the kitchen, "that's better," you said, and returned to sit between the two of them.

"How do we do this, then?" Chaeyoung asked.

"Let's use the bottle," Sully helped you push some things away from the table in front of you, so that only the bottle was left, you grabbed it, and spun it around. Seconds later, the bottle was pointing in your direction, "Well fuck."

"Truth or dare, daddy?" Sully asked from beside you, with an amused look.

"Dare, I guess," you shrugged.

"You want to make this exciting right away?" Chaeyoung asked Sully, to which Sully nodded.

"I dare you to stay topless until the end of the game," Sully said, and you cursed under your breath.

"The thing that hurts me the most about that is that it's fucking cold in here," you sighed, then pulled off your hoodie to toss it to Chaeyoung's side.

"Sure? I think it's a little warmer now," Chaeyoung said with a giggle.

"I don't know, you could imitate me and check it out, right?" You said when you turned to see her, and you looked at her from top to bottom.

"Let's get further in the game, and we'll see," she stared back at you, as she bit her lip.

"I'll spin the bottle, okay?" warned Sully, and so she did. This time, the bottle stopped looking at herself, "Oh come on..." you and Chaeyoung laughed.

"Truth or dare, honey?" you asked, still laughing.

"Dare. Be gentle with me, please," she gave you puppy dog eyes, and you actually considered it for a moment.

"Mmmm, I dare you to say which body part of Chaeyoungie you like the most and then touch it," you said, "if she wants to, of course," you turned to her, and she just nodded with a serene smile.

"I told you to be gentle!" Sully whimpered, putting her hands to her face for a moment in embarrassment.

"I can stand up to make it easier for you, cutie," Chaeyoung got up from her seat, standing right in front of you but facing Sully.

"T-thank you..." Sully removed her hands from her face, and then looked Chaeyoung up and down, "Can you... turn around?", the redhead nodded, and turned around. Sully took a few more seconds to look, and you already knew what he was going to say, "Alright… her ass."

"Oh wow," Chaeyoung giggled, "I knew my ass was cute, but not that cute," flashbacks of your little episode with her came to mind at that moment, and the truth was that her ass was more than cute, "Well, go ahead," she slightly leaned forward, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw how Sully discreetly bit her lower lip.

Your girlfriend slowly extended her arm, her hand now inches from Chaeyoung. She hesitated for a moment, but ended up planting her entire hand on Chaeyoung's left buttock. You pursed your lips, and then looked at Chaeyoung, who was looking over her shoulder at Sully with mutual desire. A few seconds passed, and then Sully added her free hand, to give each buttock a squeeze and then lower her hands back to her lap.

"God… done," Sully seemed to release the tension in her body with a long exhale, "Spin the bottle, honey."

"Are you ok?" You smiled in amusement, hand on the bottle as Chaeyoung sat back down.

"Just spin the bottle daddy please," she sighed, then began to chew on her nails.

So you did. You turned the bottle, and as if it were a hidden camera prank, it pointed back at you.

"Is the fucking bottle never going to point at you or what?" you complained, already annoyed by Chaeyoung's good luck.

"Don't be a crybaby," she pinched your cheek with both of her fingers, "truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Okay..." she nodded slowly as she thought about it, "Have you ever been caught having sex?" she asked, in a mischievous tone.

You almost choked on your own saliva. That was a question thrown with all the mischief possible under the circumstances, she didn't want to get any secret out of you, she just wanted to bother you and continually remind you of what you had done.

"Nope. I've never been caught," you answered confidently, faking a smile, "now spin that shit," you pointed at the bottle.

"Wow, I don't know if you're very lucky or very discreet," she said, somewhat impressed, but you could feel a hint of sarcasm. She spin the bottle.

Your prayers to heaven were heard, because this time the bottle stopped looking at Chaeyoung. You and Sully raised their arms and let out a unison shout of celebration.

"I guess it must be karma," she sighed, resigned.

"Truth or dare, unnie?" Sully asked.

"Dare. I'm not afraid of you," Chaeyoung teased.

"I dare you to get completely undressed, you can only be in your underwear," Sully said with an added touch of nerves in her voice. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, seeing your girlfriend and not being able to believe that she had challenged her to something of that magnitude.

"Damn," you said.

"Oh baby, you don't know what you just did," Chaeyoung gave her a merciful look, then stood up.

"Oof..." you mumbled, leaning back and covering your mouth to look at the two of them.

Chaeyoung got out of the space between the sofa and the coffee table, and walked over to stand in front of the television. Her hands went to the buttons of her cardigan, and she began to slowly undo them one by one. When she got to the last one, she held the cardigan close to her for a moment just to tease, and then opened it wide for you and Sully to see the white Calvin Klein bra that covered both of her breasts. The cardigan went to the floor. Her hands now went to her pants, she unbuttoned them, and she slowly lowered the zipper until you had a peek of white cloth. Then, without taking her gaze from your girlfriend, she slowly lowered the jeans to her ankles. The pants were left on the floor, and Lee Chaeyoung's body, fleshy and creamy in every possible part, was exposed before you. Your eyes were fixed on her abdomen and her perfect thighs. Sully, next to you, didn't even know where to look, she was breathing hard, biting her lip as she alternated her gaze between Chaeyoung's eyes and her body.

"Well? Are you happy, sweetheart? Do you like what you see?" Chaeyoung turned around, showing off her beautiful ass adorned by her cheeky Calvin Klein panties. The question was not directed at you, but you were tempted to answer.

"Yeah, unnie… I love it," Sully nodded in a low voice.

"Good to know," she turned around again, blew her a little kiss and winked at you before returning to sit next to you.

Everything had happened so fast that you didn't know what the hell was happening anymore. The sexual tension in the environment was palpable, not just between the two of them, the arousement that was accumulating in your body was such that you couldn't even concentrate on continuing the game properly. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Chaeyoung's half-naked body just inches from you, she had one leg crossed over the other to make her thighs even more attractive, and as the icing on the cake, she put her hand on your knee.

"Uhm... who's next?" you asked even though you knew it was your turn.

"You, daddy," for a moment you thought it was Sully who had said that to you, but the word came from the girl to your left, the same one who had her hand on your knee. You turned to look at her for a moment, and then you saw your girlfriend, who didn't seem to care that she called you that.

"Right, sorry," you nodded, feeling the weight of the intense gaze of two horny girls on either side of you. You spined the bottle, and one more fucking time, it stopped looking at you, "You know what, I'm not even going to complain this time."

"That bottle really hates you," Chaeyoung giggled, "Truth or d.."

"Dare."

"Fine… I want you to know that if Sullyoonie hadn't made me undress, I wouldn't make you do what I'm going to make you do," she clarified, "I dare you to take off Sully's pants and kiss her abdomen for 5 minutes."

"You say that like it's something I haven't done a thousand times."

"But never in front of me," her hand moved a few inches up your thigh, then patted you, "go ahead, daddy."

You didn't even have to stand up, the sofa was big enough so that you just had to turn around, grab Sully by her waist and gently push her back, making her lean her head against the armband. She didn't say anything and she didn't put up any resistance either. Her two adorable glowing orbs were fixed on you as you settled between her legs. Her face was a whole poem, a face that was already more than familiar to you, Sully was turned on, so much so that you could feel her heat without even touching her. The first thing you did was take off her sneakers, you threw them behind the sofa, and then your hands went to her pants to unbutton them, lower the zipper and therefore begin to slowly lower them until they were completely removed from her legs.

You took a moment to look at your girlfriend's hot body, you had seen that perfect naked abdomen and those thick legs too many times, but you never got tired of praising them. Instinctively, she spread her legs wide, even though her left leg was obstructed by the back of the sofa, but that was enough for you, even in the dim light, to see the wet spot on her gray panties.

"Ohh… someone's horny," you softly said, then tried to back away, but bumped into Chaeyoung, "would you mind?"

"Sorry daddy," Chaeyoung slid to the other end of the couch, giving you enough space to lean forward and float your face just above your girlfriend's abdomen.

Sully left her hands still on either side of her body as you got your mouth ever lower. You breathed against her skin, building anticipation and desire in her before finally placing a small peck on the right side of her belly button. Sully moved her hips slightly, and you heard her let out a small sigh. Not wanting to make her wait any longer and in order not to waste time, you began to plant little kisses all over her belly. She placed a hand on your head and gently tangled her fingers in your hair, while you lowered your kisses a little more to her lower abdomen. You distributed kisses there, no longer small, but more intense and wet, and you returned all the way up with your tongue. Your girlfriend gasped, and you responded with more wet kisses around her belly button.

"Daddy... I want you, both..." Sully murmured. You weren't sure if Chaeyoung had heard it, but you barely could.

"Trust the process baby, patience..." you murmured back, also kissing her waist and near her ribs. You kept kissing your girlfriend's absolutely perfect smooth belly with determination, until you heard an alarm behind you.

"Time's up," Chaeyoung said playfully. You turned to see her, her phone in her hand showing you the screen with the timer at 00:00.

"This isn't funny anymore," you grumbled, and then returned to your spot on the couch. You took a deep breath, using your willpower not to make any anticipated moves.

"Then take care of making it fun again, daddy," Chaeyoung whispered in your ear, "Your girlfriend can't wait to share that cock with me."

Sully seemed petrified for a second, it took her a while to come back to the real world and sit next to you like she had been a moment ago, with the difference that now she was naked from the waist down, with nothing more than wet panties and long black socks.

"W-who's next," Sully asked with her hands on her thighs. She wasn't concentrating anymore, and you were sure she wasn't interested in the game either.

"You, honey," you replied, ignoring that Chaeyoung had put her hand on your leg again.

She didn't say anything, just spun the bottle, which stopped looking at Chaeyoung.

"Truth or dare, honey…" Sully said to Chaeyoung, but she quickly shook her head as she caught on to what she had said, "I mean, unnie."

"Dare, baby," said the redhead, "but it's not your turn to give me a dare, it's daddy's."

Now they both stared at you. You had two possible choices: keep playing and keep increasing the tension between the three of you, or release the tension once and for all with a little coup de grace. You couldn't hold it anymore, you had two girls who drove you crazy on each side of you, half-naked and at your disposal. There was no other possible choice.

"I dare you..." you made a short silence for dramatic purposes, "to kiss Sullyoonie, right in front of me."

There was no negative or surprised reaction from either of them, on the contrary, they seemed to have been waiting for that for a long time. You leaned back, resting against the back of the sofa to give free rein to the two girls; they stared at each other for a few long seconds in which you could cut the tension between their gazes with a knife. You didn't dare move or say anything, you just waited for who was going to make the first move.

Chaeyoung acted first, which didn't surprise you at all. She moved one of her thighs up over yours, so she could reach the neck of Sully's sweater with one of her hands. She slowly pulled her into the middle of the two of them, which was in front of you. Sully also had to get her thigh over your leg in order to get closer to Chaeyoung. The two of them continued without saying anything, they only exchanged deep glances while they were almost sitting on your legs. Chaeyoung released your girlfriend's sweater, and then put her hand on the back of her neck. They were closing the distance inch by inch, without the need to rush. When she got close enough to her, Chaeyoung cupped your girlfriend's face with her hands and made their lips brush against each other for a moment, and within seconds, her lips met.

The slow and passionate kiss that happened just inches in front of you woke up all the senses of your body. You saw yourself hypnotized by the sensual dance between her lips. It was a strange sensation to see how someone else kissed your girlfriend, but it wasn't necessarily negative, in fact, the one who enjoyed that sexy scene the most was your cock, which was already almost at its maximum hardness.

You had a prime view from back there, getting a glimpse of both Chaeyoung's and your girlfriend's ass. Chaeyoung made things a little more interesting, climbing all the way up your leg to sit on your thigh, Sully did the same, and now you had two wonderful asses at your disposal, one on either side of your lap.

"Fuck this game..." you muttered, bringing both hands to their waists. You caressed both skins gently, and then her lower back as well. They didn't notice your touch, and if they did, they didn't pay attention to it as they were immersed in a kiss that grew hotter with the passing of the seconds.

You reached under Sully's sweater, slowly climbed up her back, and reached for the clasp on her bra to undo it. Noticing this, Sully immediately brought her hands to the hem of her sweater and quickly lifted it up to remove it, she dropped it to the ground, and then also removed her bra. Chaeyoung wasn't far behind, she pulled away from the kiss for a second, and she also took off the sports bra she was wearing. Her lips met again, in a kiss already devoid of any delicacy. Chaeyoung moved her hands down Sully's body, from her shoulders, down her arms and then placed both of her hands on her tits to give each one a light squeeze and use her thumbs to play with her nipples. Sully moaned against Chaeyoung's lips, and you, for your part, brought your hands to her asses to squeeze and massage them however you wanted.

Sully had her hands still on either side of her body as Chaeyoung paid attention to her small tits and took control over the kiss. The redhead's tits looked delicious, slightly bigger than Sully's. You removed your hands from both asses and now reached around Chaeyoung's body to grab her tits, giving her the same treatment she was giving your girlfriend.

That made Chaeyoung remember that you existed too, and in response she removed one of her hands from Sully's boobs and reached down to grab your hard cock over your pants. With one hand she was able to undo them, and also to pull down your zipper to reach inside your boxers and wrap her fingers around your shaft.

"Hey baby, how about we give daddy the love he deserves?" Chaeyoung told Sully after breaking her kiss. Sully turned to look at you, her eyes full of lust and her face flushed. She looked down, finding Chaeyoung's hand buried inside your boxers as she massaged your cock.

"I want us to suck daddy's cock, unnie," Sully said, biting her lip and then looking at Chaeyoung.

"Then let's suck daddy's cock, princess," Chaeyoung gave Sully a peck, and they slipped off your thighs. You got ahead of them, and moved your hips up to lower your pants and take them off. You threw your pants next to Sully's sweater.

The girls laid their stomachs flat against the couch on either side of you, and now their faces were to the left and right of your cock. You felt their hot breaths against your skin, and the next thing was Chaeyoung's hand wrapping around your base to give your cock a long lick. Sully followed her steps, licking the other side of your shaft gently until they reached the tip.

Chaeyoung and Sully began to spread wet kisses on every possible corner of your shaft, occasionally going up to the tip to share a kiss with your cock in the middle. You let out a small moan, and reached out with both arms to grab the girls' asses as they used their tongues to swirl around your tip at the same time.

A few seconds passed and they distributed a few more kisses and licks, but the teasing didn't last long when Chaeyoung wrapped her lips around your tip, slowly sucking as Sully continued to kiss your shaft and then your balls. The redhead's mouth lowered a few more inches, to have half of your cock now inside her mouth. She pumped her head slowly, salivating your shaft as much as she could before giving Sully her turn. 

Sully already knew exactly what you liked having more experience giving you head than Chaeyoung, she took a few more inches than the redhead a few seconds ago, almost touching her fingers with her lips as she slurped all the way up and down on your cock. Chaeyoung put her hair all to one side, and she also did the same for your girlfriend so that you could have a perfect view of how they were sucking your cock.

Your girlfriend hogged your cock for a few more seconds until she pulled you out of her mouth with a cute moan. Chaeyoung took you again, and with your cock already drenched in their saliva, she continued to pump her head this time stronger and more consistent than before. Sully didn't want to stay still, so she took your balls carefully with her fingers and started sucking and filling them with saliva as well.

With a sudden downward movement Chaeyoung took you directly to her throat, you held your breath, feeling the tip of your cock brush against her inner wall. She kept you there for a few seconds in which you didn't hear a little gagging sound, but what you did notice was the saliva leaking between your cock and Chaeyoung's lips, saliva that Sully was picking up with her tongue and using it to keep sucking your balls.

Chaeyoung took you out of her mouth with a strong breath, and guided your cock back into Sully's mouth, who, not wanting to break the intensity of the moment, also started giving you a quick and sloppy blow job. As Sully pumped her head, Chaeyoung grabbed her hair and forced her to move deeper. The pleasure under which your body was subjected was such that you could not produce any sound from your mouth, which was half open and only let out your breath.

"S-stop..." you tried to say once without success, then closed your eyes, and gathered your strength to try again, "Stop!" you said louder this time, and the two girls stopped.

"Is something wrong daddy? Weren't we doing a good job?" Chaeyoung asked with her eyes on you, Sully also saw you worried.

"I'm saving my load for your pussies," you said, cupping both of their chins with your fingers. That seemed to light up their faces again, “Let's go to the bedroom, now.”

The three of you stood up and made your way to the bedroom. Sully took Chaeyoung's hand to guide her as you followed from behind, watching both of their wide hips sway from side to side with each step they took. You walked into your room, and the first thing both girls did was throw themselves onto the bed with a laugh, making their asses jiggle like jelly.

"I knew cleaning the bedroom was a good idea too," you said, closing the door behind you and going to join the girls.

They were both upside down, modeling their beautiful asses for you. You knelt in the middle of their legs, and gave both asses a little spank that made them moan under their breath. You leaned forward, and gently grabbed Sully by the neck so you could kiss her, repeating the same with Chaeyoung.

You separated from Chaeyoung's lips, and you got up on your knees again, this time to get down to business. You grabbed Chaeyoung's panties and quickly pulled them down her legs, the same with Sully, to leave them both completely naked except for their pairs of black and white stockings respectively.

Your eyes directly locked on their pretty pussies, both glistening with how wet they were. You didn't want to give any of her special attention, so you used both of your hands to run your fingers up and down her slits. They looked at you over their shoulders, their eyes weak with desire.

You inserted your thumbs first, earning a small moan from Chaeyoung and a gasp from Sully as they pushed through their pussy walls until only your knuckle was out. That was just a warm up. You took your thumbs out after moving them inside out for a few seconds, and replaced them with your index and middle fingers. This time Sully did moan along with Chaeyoung.

You started to move your wrists slowly at first, prioritizing that they get used to it and enjoy the sensation, but as the seconds passed, the pumping of your fingers became more aggressive, and both Chaeyoung and Sully began to moan more and more. They both held hands, and shared a steamy and sensual kiss while you fingered them fast enough to make their asses shake.

The moans they emanated were all muffled against each other's lips, and you kept fucking their pussies with your fingers until their bodies began to slightly squirm, but you didn't want to make them cum using only your fingers, they deserved much better.

"Who wants to get my cock inside first, girls?" you asked, moving your wrists now a little slower to let them answer. Sully was about to say something, but Chaeyoung got in the way.

"I want to see you fuck Sullyoonie, daddy," Chaeyoung implored as if she was totally in need of it, "and she wants you to pin her against the bed so bad, don't you honey?" she asked your girlfriend, and then bit her lower lip.

"Yes daddy…" Sullyoon moaned, looking at Chaeyoung's lips and then back at you, "fill my tight pussy with that thick cock, please."

You were surprised to hear Sully talk like that for the first time, so naturally and shamelessly, but you couldn't help but think that she looked and sounded so fucking hot.

"Then come here sweetheart," you settled on top of your girlfriend, both knees on either side of her hips. You leaned forward of her, your left hand to the side of her head. You kissed her again, and with your free hand, you took your cock and lined it up with Sully's pussy. You brushed the tip up and down a couple of times, then slowly started to push down.

She moaned against your lips, and she gripped your forearm tight as you filled her pussy with thick, throbbing meat. Your entire cock was inside her in a matter of seconds, and you gasped as you felt the soft, tight walls of her pussy embrace your shaft as if they didn't want to let it go.

"That's it honey... take daddy's cock," Chaeyoung said hoarsely, you stopped kissing Sully to kiss her, and as you did, you began to move your hips up and down slowly, but strong, your pelvis making her ass jiggle with each crash.

You kissed Chaeyoung in the most intense and fiery way you could, attacking her mouth with your tongue to show dominance over both at the same time. Sully let out squeals of pleasure, she never moaned loudly, instead she made cute little sounds that suited her personality.

You increased the pace of your pumps, this time faster and more aggressive than a few seconds ago. You were forced to stop kissing Chaeyoung so you could focus on your girlfriend. You rested your other hand on the other side of Sully's head, then dropped forward to put your face to the side of hers.

Sully turned her face, meeting yours only inches away. She cupped the side of your face in her hand, and she brushed her lips against your cheek amidst her whimpers of pleasure. You turned your face, and consequently your lips collided with each other again.

The thrusts were fast, strong and deep, but as always, treating her like a delicate rag doll. That was Sully's favorite type of sex, she loved her pussy being pounded by the entire length of your cock, but kissing, caressing and pampering could not be missing at any time. And so you did. 

You parted from her lips, and began to give her small kisses on the temple, on the cheek and on the neck. Her neck was caught in your arm, and you held her close to you as you delivered what were already aiming to be final thrusts. Sully had stopped moaning, her face petrified with pleasure as she clutched at your forearm with one hand and crumpled the sheets with the other. The seconds passed, the crashes of your pelvis against her ass continued, and from one moment to the other, your girlfriend exploded with a louder and longer moan that even scratched her throat.

Sully violently squirmed under you, lifting her ass and looking to fuck herself against you, while she went through an orgasm that came loaded with a lot of feelings accumulated throughout the day. The magnitude of it was such that you even felt how fluids were shooting out of her pussy that drenched your entire cock, your balls and the sheet under you. You stopped fucking her gradually, with soft movements until her orgasm finally passed. You made her throw her head back, gave her a little kiss on her forehead and then winked at her.

"I love you, darling," you gave her another little kiss, this time on the nose, "take a rest, I'm not done with you yet," she only nodded weakly, and gave you a sweet smile that you interpreted as a 'thank you'.

"Daddy, is it my turn yet?" Chaeyoung said from the side of you, her calves raised and her feet moving forward and backward separately.

"Are you so in need of my cock, little slut?" Chaeyoung wasn't Sullyoon, and she certainly shared very few aspects of her personality, so you weren't afraid to treat her dirtier.

"Yes daddy, please, I need it so much!" she begged, biting her lip and following you with her gaze as you now knelt over her.

"Be a good girl and clean daddy's cock first," you moved away from her so she could turn around, put her elbow on the mattress and move closer to your cock to immediately put it in her mouth. She sucked the entire length of it with delight, tasting and swallowing Sully's fluids and replacing them with her own saliva, "enough, roll over."

She pulled you out of her mouth, your cock now slippery and perfect for her. She turned on her back for you and spread her legs wide, the left one going over Sullyoon's lower back, who was lying on both of her hands as she watched you. You settled in front of her, and slapped your cock a few times against her wet pussy as you looked defiantly into her eyes. You rubbed the tip up and down, and in one concise, deep motion, you drove your cock deep inside her pussy without her full notice.

"Holy!-" Chaeyoung moaned out loud, not finishing what she was going to say due to the natural impulse that came with being filled with cock in a matter of seconds.

You brought your hands to the space between Chaeyoung's calves and thighs and pressed slightly back so you could fuck her at a better angle from the start. You weren't kind at all to her. You began to move your hips furiously right away, causing intense crashes of your pelvis against her crotch that reverberated throughout the bedroom.

Chaeyoung didn't have to hold back anymore like yesterday, there you were in a more than safe place for her to squeal and moan as much and as loud as she wanted. You rested your hands on the mattress on either side of her, and leaned forward to get your body between her legs as you revved up the engine on your thrusts.

The bed was shaking from side to side frantically, which made it difficult for Chaeyoung to find a place to hold on as you fucked her in a perfect balance of strength and speed, where with every thrust your cock was fully in and out of her pussy, which, apart from being very fucking soft, was very fucking wet. She ended up simply holding on to your neck with both hands, digging her nails into the nape of your neck and pulling at your hair. Her eyes were teary, and her face was twisted with pleasure.

"Fuck daddy! fuck FUCK FUCK!" she arched her back and tilted her head back. She let go of your neck, and went on to grab onto the sheets, pulling them off the edge of the mattress, "I'm gonna cum daddy! Don't fucking stop PLEASE!" implored the redhead between shrieks.

That served as coal for your machine. You began fucking her furiously, letting out a low feral growl from your throat. Chaeyoung arched her back, and threw her head back amid loud, intense squeals that contrasted with her calm and collected personality. You kept pounding her pussy as hard as you could, and in the midst of an impulse to want to make her cum soon, you now brought your hands to her neck. You pressed your fingers down hard, cutting off her breath as she could only keep her mouth open.

She looked into your eyes and grabbed onto your wrists, and with a few more thrusts, Chaeyoung exploded into moans and writhing, you had to stop moving in order to not cum yet, and you just let her pass her intense orgasm. You let go of her neck, and she finally let out a long moan of satisfaction. She let go of your wrists, and stretched her arms back to grab hold of the sheet and wrinkle it, still in slight spasms. You waited for her muscles to relax for you to to slowly pull your cock out of her.

You straightened your back, and knelt down to view the hot scene before you. Chaeyoung face up, with one leg across Sully's lower back and her pussy glistening from her own fluids, and Sully face down, lying on top of her own hands and totally delighted with what you just had done to Chaeyoung.

"I'm not finished with you either, don't relax too much honey," you slumped forward for a moment, cupping the side of Chaeyoung’s face with your left hand and placing a peck on her chin.

"Anything for you, daddy, I told you I'm all yours," she said almost in a whisper, sweet and obedient.

"Yes you are," looking into her eyes, you reached down and ran your two fingers over her still sensitive slit, scooping up some of her fluids with them and then bringing them to your mouth to suck them clean, "all mine."

She stared at you without saying a single word. The eyes never lied, and you knew you had that girl more than tied to you.

Now you went to your girlfriend again, you grabbed her by the waist, and you made her lie on her side to lie down next to her. Her face was in front of yours, only centimeters away. She looked into your eyes, and she leaned forward to give you a little kiss.

"Daddy, I want you to fill me up… I'm ready for you," she reached down between your bodies and cupped your cock gently, giving it slow, gentle strokes.

"First… tell me how much you love me, baby," you made her lift her neck and slip your left arm under her so that she lay on top of it, making the closeness more intimate.

"I love you daddy..." as she started to speak, you grabbed her by the waist, pressed her against your body and raised her leg towards you, "I love you so much, and you make me so happy..." you made her hold on her leg, so you could take your cock and rub it against her pussy, "That I want you with me for life."

That was the trigger for you to align your cock against her and re-enter her tight pussy. Her folds engulfed your cock smoothly, offering no resistance until your entire length was inside her. You saw her face distort with satisfaction in great detail right in front of you, you felt her breath against your mouth, and seeking to be even closer to you, she wrapped one of her arms around your neck to kiss you while you began to move your hips to an intermediate peace.

You shared a slow and loving passionate kiss despite the fact that you were fucking her faster and faster. She stopped holding onto her own leg, instead simply letting her thigh grip your torso. You hugged your girlfriend's neck with your forearm, while your other hand went straight to her ass as you rocked your hips back and forth. You loved fucking her in such an intimate and close way, and from that position, her pussy felt unbelievably amazing, so much that within seconds your abdomen started to tingle.

As the seconds passed, you felt Chaeyoung's chin rest on your shoulder, and also her entire body pressed against your back.

"Cum daddy, give that load to your pretty little princess," she whispered provocatively in your ear as you and Sully shared moans in the middle of the kiss.

You already had the desire accumulated since the two of them sucked your cock a few minutes ago, but that was just what you needed to suddenly explode when you least expected it. A few more thrusts were enough for you to reach your ecstasy. You thrust hard, and held your cock deep inside her pussy as you shot out spurts of thick, hot load.

You pulled away from her lips only to moan loudly, Sully gasped, and she let out little whimpers as you filled her walls with your seed. She gave you little kisses on the chin and on the neck, trying to make you feel as loved as possible. Chaeyoung did the same, but she was giving you kisses on the cheek, on the temple and on your shoulder.

After a few seconds of leaving Sully's pussy completely filled, you pulled your hips back to slowly pull out your cock, it came out with a slight 'pop' sound.

"Go clean it up, baby," you ordered Chaeyoung breathlessly and gave Sully a peck on the forehead.

"Yes daddy, of course," Chaeyoung gave you one last peck on your neck before pulling away from you.

"Chaeyoungie will take good care of you, I have work to do with her," you winked at your girlfriend and released her.

Sully rolled onto her back again, when she did, Chaeyoung was already waiting for her with her face right in front of her pussy while it was dripping with your load. She spread her legs wide, and Chaeyoung held her thighs up as she began to collect all the cum that ran through her slit, Sully leaned on her elbows to see what she was doing, slightly moaning at the feel of the redhead's tongue move up and down her pussy.

Chaeyoung's ass was raised inches from the edge of the bed, making a beautiful arch with her back that highlighted all the delicious flesh of her legs and her waist. She was moving it slowly from side to side, like some kind of animal in the middle of a mating dance wanting to get your attention, and she certainly did.

You got up from the bed, and went to the edge of it to stand right behind Chaeyoung. Her ass was at the perfect height and distance from you, and you were sure that she had put herself in that pose knowing from the beginning that you were going to want to fuck her like that. Meanwhile, she had turned cleaning Sully's pussy into eating it. Your girlfriend was caressing her hair, and moving it out of her face so she could work better.

As soon as Chaeyoung felt your presence behind her, she moved her ass back a little to make it rub against your cock, which was between her two soft buttocks. Your hands went to them, and after giving each one a strong squeeze, you raised your right hand to give one of them a strong spank that was marked in red. Chaeyoung moaned against your girlfriend's pussy, which caused a chain effect that also affected Sully and how Chaeyoung's mouth drove her crazy.

You spit on your cock, making sure it was well lubricated before you took it, rubbed it a few times against her pussy, and very slowly pushed it back inside her. Chaeyoung moaned once more, and consequently, Sully too. You rested with your cock buried deep inside her, placing a hand on the buttock you'd just spanked to begin slowly rocking your hips back and forth.

Your cock was still somewhat sensitive, so you had to keep pumping slowly and safely while you returned to regain all the hardness and normality of your erection. Apparently Chaeyoung had begun to eat your girlfriend's pussy with more desire and hunger, since she had dropped her back against the mattress with one hand on Chaeyoung's head and the other on one of her tits.

Already tired of being slow and delicate, you gripped the redhead's hips tighter and began to gradually pump faster and faster. Chaeyoung's body began to rock back and forth as your thrusts became more intense, and her ass began to jiggle with each crash of your pelvis against it.

You loved your girlfriend's features, but Chaeyoung's ass was just amazing, pale, meaty and round, perfect for getting riddled with bright red marks. You lifted your hand from her buttock and brought it down again with another spank, this time stronger and more spicy. Chaeyoung let out a squeal that was drowned against Sully's pussy, but that wouldn't be the last, because you raised your hand again and spanked her again on the other cheek, while her pussy was fucked harder and harder. You didn't stop for a moment until her ass was covered in red hand marks, which looked like red paint on white canvas.

Chaeyoung was infected by your intensity and passion when it came to filling Sully with pleasure, who had her back arched and was in the midst of beautiful squeals of pleasure. She had her arms stretched out to either side, her hands crumpling the white sheets. You hadn't noticed it right away, but as seconds passed you noticed that Chaeyoung had inserted two of her fingers into Sully's pussy, and she was pumping them quickly while she stimulated her clit with her tongue.

You, on the other hand, had gone from clinging to her hips to clinging directly to her buttocks, pressing hard into the flesh between your fingers and causing your pelvis to crash into her ass with such force that even Sully's body shook.

Sully pulled herself up once more to lean on her elbows, but this time it was just the warning that she was about to cum. She only lasted a few seconds in this position, and when she fell back onto her back, she let out a louder moan as her body began to writhe in spasms. Chaeyoung kept eating her pussy eagerly, and she kept pumping her fingers at all the speed that her brain, also busy with the pleasure she was receiving from you, left her.

Chaeyoung inadvertently brought your girlfriend to a second orgasm that came immediately after the first, causing Sully to wrap her legs around her neck and lock her face between her trembling thighs. You've never heard your girlfriend scream with pleasure, but for the first time, on a small scale, she did. She even grabbed one of her pillows to put on her face and hold onto it tightly. Chaeyoung stopped pumping with her fingers, and was finally able to take her mouth off Sully's pussy so she could moan to the rooftops.

That was the perfect moment for you to grab a handful of Chaeyoung's hair and yank it back, pounding her pussy with all your might as a reward for doing such an excellent job with your girlfriend. Quickly the bedroom was filled with sounds that resembled applause due to the impact of your pelvis against her ass, and above all, the screams and howls of pleasure that came from Chaeyoung's mouth.

You grabbed her hair tightly with one hand, and with the other you returned to spank one of her buttocks. Chaeyoung screamed, and dropping her head between her arms, she fisted the sheets and pressed back with her ass as the second orgasm of the night electrified her body. She still had your girlfriend's thighs close to her, so she chose to bite one of them to cope with the intense sensations that were flowing through her body. You had stopped moving, as Chaeyoung was doing your job, moving her ass back and forth to make it crash against your cock herself.

You let her do that as much as she wanted and her body allowed, but the strength she was using and the sensual way she moved her hips was more than enough for you to take you to your second point of ecstasy. The moan you let out was the loudest you'd let out so far, you shot a thick load again, but this time into Chaeyoung's silky pussy.

When she felt the first stream of your cum fill her walls, she began to make slower and deeper movements, seeking to get every last drop out of your balls. You let go of her hair, and she looked over her shoulder at you as you squeezed her buttocks hard.

"That's it daddy... give it all to me, fill my slutty pussy with that delicious cum," she moaned biting her lip, and you stopped her to drive your cock all the way down one more time, waited for it to stop throbbing and then you pulled it out slowly.

Before your cum began to drip onto the floor, Chaeyoung climbed over Sully's body like a cat and placed both thighs on either side of her head, leaving her pussy floating above her mouth. Your girlfriend stuck out her tongue, and gladly received the cum that spilled from inside Chaeyoung's pussy. Sully grabbed onto her thighs, and Chaeyoung sat on her face as she ate her pussy clean.

"What a good girl… eat that pussy, princess," Chaeyoung said in a husky, flirtatious voice, caressing your girlfriend's hair.

You could not be otherwise than speechless. It was the most lewd, sexy and attractive scene you'd ever seen, and it took you a moment to snap out of it. Without saying anything, you climbed back on the bed and sat between the pillows, waiting for the two of them to finish.

"Come here, babies," you sighed. Chaeyoung got off Sully's face, who wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. With the bed already free, you settle and lay down to support your head on the middle pillow. Your girlfriend lay down on one side of you, snuggling into your right pec, and Chaeyoung did the same but on the other side. Sully moved one of her feet up on top of yours, and Chaeyoung moved her leg up to your abdomen to leave her thigh there. You offered your arms to both of them to lie on top of, and they did. Sully hugged you to the height of your abdomen, and Chaeyoung to the height of your chest, and with that, they closed their eyes.

You stared at the ceiling for a few more minutes, thinking about everything that had gone through to get you to this point. It had certainly been a crazy and bumpy ride, and you were happy with the way your life was at the time. But you couldn't help but think that you forgot something very, very important.

"Oh fuck... The pizza."

———————————————————————

Spren Notes:

Well once again I'm so sorry lmao. I think I overdid it.

As you can see, I put a lot of work and dedication into this piece, since it's something I've been wanting to write for a long time. And well, here it is! Officially it's the longest I've ever written, and it also has the longest fucking build up I've ever written, but I think it was worth it, it will become my favorite work so far. Without more to say, thank you very much for taking the time to read this fucking bible lol.

If you, dear reader, are interested in buying me a commission, do not hesitate to go through my inbox, I’ll be delighted!

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XVIII)

Chapter 18: Work Song

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

We’re starting to escape the angst here!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 3806

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Andrew was getting a little better every day.

He was getting up without too much difficulty these days. His sleep schedule was a mess, but he was getting some work done. He went to see his parents three times a week, saw his brother often too. He went for a swim every morning and a long walk every afternoon. Sometimes he watched a good movie, spent some time reading. He made sure to avoid being in the same room as you, and had declined some friendly gatherings because of it, but he couldn’t claim to regret this decision.

He was getting better. You were still the first thing in his thoughts when he woke up, the last image printed on his eyelids when he fell asleep, but it was a torturing routine he had grown accustomed to by now.

It was like living with your ghost. The memories of you spending time with him in all his most familiar spaces. His house, his favourite spot to swim, his favourite walks, the pub you and your friends always went to… All familiar, but with an empty space constantly by his side.

Today, Andrew was hurrying out of his house. It was still early in the morning, too early for him if he were to be honest, but his best friend could not be waiting for him on his wedding day.

Despite the sadness that usually tainted his days since that night, Andrew was excited today. Happy and excited. He secured his guitar case at the back of his car, and drove to Sam’s house. He wasn’t surprised to find your car already parked there, but it was alright. Of course, you would be there, it was planned, and known. Andrew had sent you a text the previous night, the first form of communication since your ‘talk’ at your house, asking for both of you to keep the interaction to a minimum so that the wedding would go smoothly. Sam and Daphne were the most important today, and you and Andrew could go your separate ways for good after today.

It took you an hour to answer with a short and polite message agreeing with him and promising to remain ‘professional’, as you had put it.

Andrew was both relieved and pained by that answer…

He knocked, and Sam opened the door in the span of mere seconds.

“Jesus fucking Christ, thank God! You’re here!”

Before Andrew could say a thing, Sam was grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Rings?”

“In my pocket.”

“Spare shirts?”

“In the trunk.”

“Your suit?”

“In the car. And yours too.”

“Guitar.”

“Yep, that too!”

“Your weird drinks for your throat? I swear to God, I will skin you alive if you lose your voice before singing for our first dance.”

Andrew rested his hands on his friend’s shoulders as well.

“Sam, I have everything. Don’t worry.”

“You double-checked?”

“Triple-checked. I have everything. It’s going to be just fine.”

Sam started to giggle, tears shining in his eyes.

“I’m getting married today.”

“Today,” Andrew nodded.

“Fuck’s sake…”

“You’d better let me in so I can help you get ready and you aren’t late to church.”

“Right, you’re right.”

They hugged before Andrew would come in, tight and emotional and full of happiness and excitement.

He was moving towards Sam’s bedroom when you appeared. You were walking out of the room, a bag in your hand. You were still wearing casual clothes, planning to change before the ceremony. You froze, but quickly recovered, offering him a polite smile.

“Hi, Andy!”

“Hi,” he answered with the same neutral smile.

“I’m getting out of both your and Sam’s way! I was picking up a few things for Daphne.”

“Of course. Is she alright?”

“Excited. Terrified. In pure bliss.”

“Same as Sam, then?” Andrew chuckled, and you nodded.

“I’m afraid so.”

You nodded in silence, and Andrew bit his tongue before he could ask you how you were, or tell you how beautiful you looked today…

“See you at church, then,” he smiled and you nodded, taking it as your cue to leave.

He stared as you disappeared through the door.

But then Sam was reappearing, babbling about some stressful detail that was insignificant. Andrew smiled, and patted his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get you ready. Or she’ll never say yes to such an ugly mug.”

Sam and Daphne were married.

It was official. They had both cried, had said yes (Sam was too excited and answered I do before the priest was done with the question), had exchanged rings (that Andrew did carry all morning and for which he checked approximately 2982 times if they were indeed in his pocket), had kissed, had walked out of the church, and finally it was time for the big party.

The eating and the partying were planned outside, under tents that were set in the parc of a large property the couple had rented for the occasion. It was spring, and unusually warm. A clear blue sky with only a few cotton clouds drifting by, and the weather remained that way through the beginning of the evening, as the sun was setting and the moon was slowly appearing in its crescent rise.

The speeches were spoken by a very nervous Andrew and then by you; and you both managed to perfectly balance emotion with humour and embarrassing anecdotes.

The dreaded caterers did an amazing job, that was complimented by the two mothers, and Sam threw a thumbs up at Andrew before starting to eat.

Andrew was sitting next to Sam, and you were next to Daphne, as best man and maid of honour. And Andrew was grateful for it. He wasn’t sitting next to you, and he managed to splendidly avoid talking to you during the day. Still, he could hear your laughter above the loud cacophony of the guests. He couldn’t help but steal glances in your direction every once in a while too, you looked too beautiful in your emerald dress for that.

Andrew pushed the thought away, focusing on the happy conversation that was unfolding around him, forcing a smile.

He hated himself for still wanting you this way…

But Sam and Daphne were happier than ever, and it was all that mattered, truly. They were ecstatic, laughing and smiling constantly, and stealing kisses whenever they could. And it was almost bearable then, the knowledge that you were sitting right over there, and that if he stood up and took but a step, he could hold you close once again.

Pathetic…

When Sam got up to invite everyone to gather outside for a dance, it was Andrew’s and Alex’s cue to get ready. There was a little wooden stage outside the tent as well as a wooden dancefloor, with lights hanging above the space, lightbulbs turning the atmosphere into something magical, cliché and terribly romantic. White flowers were decorating the stage, and hanging from the poles supporting the lights too. With the sky full of stars and the crescent moon above the trees, it was a sight worthy of a magical wedding.

Andrew was soon ready, all plugged in, guitar in hand, with the mic high enough to reach his lips. Alex was right by his side, sitting at the tiny electric piano. He gave Andrew a nod when he was ready, who cleared his throat to announce the first dance of the married couple.

“Daphne and Sam have done me the absolute honour to ask me to sing for their first dance. Erm… thank you again, to both of you, this is genuinely the most important event I’ve ever had to perform for, so… get ready while I try to get rid of most of the stage fright.”

Chuckles shook the crowd that had gathered in circle, right at the edge of the wooden dancefloor. Andrew tried to slow down his heart, take a couple of deep breaths, focusing on the moment, on the task at hand.

“Erm… if you guys are ready, erm… this is Work Song.”

He looked over at Sam, who offered him a nod in return. He had tears in his eyes, and Andrew had to look away, feeling his throat tighten with emotions. And he couldn’t have that now, not when he needed to sing. The first claps were played while Sam and Daphne were moving to the centre of the dancefloor, and they were both a sight to see, under the quiet lights.

Andrew was getting emotional again right before singing, and he looked for a distraction in the crowd as he started the first verse.

He noticed that many were mouthing the words, but not daring to sing. There were too many fond smiles for that, while Sam and Daphne twirled and swayed together, sometimes a little clumsily but with grins making their cheeks ache in the best way.

Andrew allowed himself to look at his friends again for the first chorus, and he kept his gaze on them despite the tears he had to blink away, and the depth that settled in his voice. By his side, Alex was being perfect, as per usual, they didn’t need to look at each other to be in rhythm. They had played this song too many times for that. Muscle memories perfectly combined.

He had to look away again, though, we he caught Sam whispering an ‘I love you’ in Daphne’s ear…

The second chorus was soon gone, and Andrew was trying to calm his nerves, to stay focused on the present, when he caught a silhouette dressed in emerald…

He almost missed a word when his gaze touched yours. And then it was impossible to look away. He blinked, but couldn’t do a thing about it.

You were so beautiful under those lights, under the moon, in this dress that suited you perfectly, for that song of love and devotion that spoke of feelings you sparked within him. He meant the words as he sang them to you. Despite how much you had made him suffer, despite all that you had done… he meant the worship he put in his words when he aimed them at you.

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

He saw your lips quiver, the way you blinked and how your eyes shone a little brighter. He wondered if you were struggling against tears too, the way he was.

And he meant it. And it was fucking killing him, and he wasn’t sure you deserved it after breaking his heart, and he wasn’t sure he deserved you at all… but he meant it. He meant it and he was ready to cry at how much he still loved you. Over a month of trying to get better at functioning on his own, and you were shattering his whole world in just a glance…

That didn’t sound fair at all…

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

He saw the tear rolling down your cheeks, he struggled to hold back his own. Still, he sang the same words again, like a promise, like a prayer, like he was begging for you to see that he meant it, that if you gave him another chance, he would probably take it.

Would he? Anyway, you wouldn’t offer it to him. You had been clear. That’s what the voice in his head kept on repeating, and yet there you were… standing and crying and staring at him with pain in your eyes, a feeling he wished he could have banished forever from your life.

Christ, he loved you still… and he would have done anything, even conquer death, for you…

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

The song died out, Andrew’s fingers knew when to stop playing. He was shaken back to earth by the loud cheering of the crowd, and by your form disappearing as you walked back to the tent in a hurry.

He turned to Sam and Daphne, who were kissing and beaming and glowing while the dancefloor was being flooded with their loved ones. Alex and Andrew gave a small bow, before leaving the stage, the guests cheering for them.

Andrew needed to see you. He needed to find you…

There you were… you were walking out of the tent again, aiming for the grass that stretched beyond the tent and towards some trees, further down the small park. You had something in your hand, he didn’t know what it was.

He wanted to follow, but he was almost tackled over by Sam instead, as he hugged his friend too tightly.

“Thanks Andy! That was perfect! Thank you!”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a chuckle, while Daphne was hugging Alex too.

“No need to thank us for that. It was an honour, truly,” Andrew smiled.

“Come on, let’s dance!”

“No, no, no…”

“Andrew, it’s my fucking wedding! I want everyone dancing!”

“I hate dancing. I don’t do dancing.”

“Tonight, you do. Come on.”

Andrew looked in your direction, but you were gone.

He heaved a sigh.

“One dance. I do one dance, and that’s it.”

“Yes, yes! Perfect, come on!”

Andrew played along, dancing with Daphne for a song. His friend tried to hold him back when he moved away, but then Alex popped out of nowhere.

“As any of you seen Y/N? I wanted to borrow her charger for my phone, she said she’d give it to me after the first dance but… can’t find her anywhere.”

Andrew’s face fell, worry making him frown.

“Have you called her?”

“Tried to, but her phone is in the tent, and she isn’t.”

“I’ll go look for her.”

“Maybe she’s inside…”

“No, I saw her hurry towards the thicket over there,” Andrew shook his head, pointing at the bundle of small trees and bushes, barely visible in the distance.

There was no light in that area. Without your phone as a torchlight, you might have fallen, hurt yourself, fell right into the arms of a complete psychopath… and you had no way to call for help. Not with the loud music that was being played.

“I’ll go look for her. Alex, can you check inside the house?”

“Andrew, she’s been gone for five minutes…”

But when she looked up at the worry on his face, Daphne fell silent.

“Alright, you go, both of you.”

“Text me if you find her,” Andrew told his friend, who merely nodded and hurried towards the mansion.

Andrew bolted in the opposite direction, his long legs devouring distance in the blink of an eye. He jogged across the grass, passed the trees, turned on the light on his phone.

He looked around but couldn’t see you.

Panic was starting to rise in his chest, get a grip on his heart and make his lungs ache for air.

“Y/N!” he called.

No response, he called again, louder this time.

“Andrew?”

He spun around, and there you were…

On the other side of some hawthorn tree. He heaved a relieved sigh.

“For fuck’s sake! Y/N, what are you doing here?!”

“I… what are you doing here?”

He texted Alex quickly, before approaching you. His tone sounded angry, even though he was simply scared.

“I was looking for you, obviously! What the fuck were you thinking, huh? Going off like that, on your own, in the dark, without your phone! Anything could have happened to you!”

“Andrew, I’m right next to the party, at my best friends’ wedding. I’m safe, it’s alright.”

He groaned in annoyance, or perhaps it was simply relief.

“You can go back to the party, I’m alright.”

“You can’t stay here on your own…”

“Why not? I’m alright.”

But Andrew stubbornly sat next to you.

“I can’t let you stay here on your own.”

“Andrew…”

You heaved a tired sigh, while he was setting his phone so that both of you were enlightened by its light.

“You’re alright? What’s going on?”

He finally noticed the way the light was getting caught in the glass of a bottle of champagne.

“Y/N?”

“I want to be alone…”

“Then come back to the tent.”

You looked up at the sky to hold some tears back.

“Hey… why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

You merely shrugged, but you were properly crying by now.

“Hey… hey, stop crying… please, Y/N…”

He didn’t think. When Andrew wrapped his arms around your shaking frame, when he cradled the back of your head in his large hand to pull you close to his chest, when he shushed you softly… he didn’t think. You were crying, you looked so upset… he had never seen you so upset before. You spent several minutes sobbing in his arms, shaking, despite the way he soothingly stroked your back.

“It’s alright. It’s alright, calm down… Christ, Y/N, calm down…”

Slowly, the tears subsided. You were holding onto his vest like your life depended on it.

“My head is spinning,” you blurted out.

Andrew took a look at the bottle. It was half-empty, and he had no doubt it wasn’t your first drink of the night.

“Champagne will do that to you.”

He kept you close even if you were calmer now. You sniffed, buried your face deeper into his chest. He merely tightened his hold on you.

“You’re okay? Feeling better?”

You slowly nodded.

“You want to tell me what happened? Why you’re so upset?”

He was surprised as you laughed.

“Not really, no.”

“Alright… We should get back there.”

But despite his own words, he didn’t move a muscle. Instead, he closed his eyes, tried to precisely carve in his memory how it felt to hold you: the sound of your breathing, the softness of your hair, the silk of your dress, the warmth of your body against his, how your frame fitted so perfectly into his embrace…

“I’m sorry you were worried. I just wanted to be on my own,” you apologized in a quiet voice, it still sounded a little hoarser than usual because of your sorrow.

“I panicked a little bit. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry.”

“I think… I might throw up…”

“Right… let’s get you inside, then. Come on…”

“No… no, stay. Please, stay…”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No! No… please, Andy. Just another minute…”

“If you throw up on me, I will get my revenge.”

“Turning me into a vampire?”

“I’ll haunt you after I’m turned into a ghost.”

“Stalk me, you mean.”

“Haven’t you noticed how much of a creep I am already?”

You sniffed once more, and he tried to look at your face to see if you were crying again, but you were hidden in his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Andy… I’m so sorry about everything,” you whispered against his heart, but he caught your words loud and clear, despite the music coming from the party.

“Let’s not talk about this now,” he whispered back, bending to press his lips to the side of your head. “We should go back. Your plus-one must be looking for you.”

“A plus-one? You have a plus-one?”

“Me? No… no, I came alone. I’m talking about you.”

“You didn’t see that I was alone?”

Your words were slurred with alcohol, but they sounded genuine, vulnerable too.

“Erm… no… I… I like… tried to avoid you all day, in case you haven’t noticed. That includes not looking in your direction.”

You let got of his vest completely. He expected you to move away, but you didn’t. It felt like you had gone limp in his arms.

“You can’t even look at me anymore…”

You started crying again, and Andrew cursed at his clumsy words.

“No, I mean… you… We’ve agreed to stay out of each other’s way, and that’s what I’ve tried to do.”

“I didn’t come with anyone.”

“Okay.”

“I fucked up… I fucked up, Andy, I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, look… let’s just…”

He looked up at the night sky, in an attempt to hold back his tears. His throat had tightened, he let out a long exhale, trying to focus on the shape of the incomplete moon, the stars that shone brightly, the happy song that was being played, he couldn’t remember the name of it. Anything to try and not crumble in your arms there and then. He had to keep it together.

“Let’s… let’s not talk about this now, okay?” his voice was soft, mainly because emotions were making it hard for him to speak. “We’ve already spoken about what happened. We just… like… We just need to move on now, yeah?”

But you shook your head.

“I fucked up. I fucked up because I was terrified. I was so fucking scared of letting myself have feelings for you… I was so scared of being too lonely when you’re away, of not being able to cope with your absence, with how much I fucking miss you every time you leave. And I was scared you could meet someone better, someone who could follow your lifestyle in a way I couldn’t and then you would have dumped me and…”

You heaved an exhausted sigh, while Andrew was remaining motionless, trying to process what you were saying.

“I should have never thought about this arrangement. I should have never accepted that stupid date. I should have never pushed you away.”

You spoke again after a short silence. Your next phrase knocked out all the air from his lungs.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you… God, I’m so sorry, Andy…”

He couldn’t answer to that. He couldn’t react to it either. He couldn’t process what your words meant…

Besides you were drunk… very drunk… this… this was a mistake…

“Let’s get you inside, Y/N, okay? Come on, now.”

At long last, you let him help you to your feet, and with his help you were able to walk back to the tent. Some members of Sam’s and Daphne’s families were staying at the mansion for the night, and there were still a few empty rooms available. Andrew got a key, and safely helped you to a bed. He took off your shoes, made you lie down, tucked you in. The time it took him to come back with a glass of water to put on your bedside table, you were fast asleep.

He took a moment to watch you like this, hair a mess of locks stranded on the pillow, looking peaceful, even if your crying was still visible. He gently brushed your cheek, dropped a gentle kiss to your forehead, and then he was gone.

[perfectsunlight]

[02] ARE YOU PROUD OF ME?

warnings: none

the soft makeup sponge gently tapped against jennie’s skin. her eyes remained shut, doing her best to stay awake at this hour of the morning. two other stylists worked on her hair while the makeup artist shuffled around her face, applying the final touches before her own busy day began.

vogue photoshoot at noon, elle interview at 3:00, and then her flight to paris at 6:00.

she mentally went over her itinerary for the day, her mind focused on the professional obligations ahead, each task meticulously planned to maintain her public persona. despite the flurry of activity around her, jennie's thoughts kept returning to the great idea of her simply canceling on everyone and spending her entire day in bed with her dogs.

the soft hum of the television in the background barely registered for her until she heard a sound she’d never imagined hearing from a tv. 

“i’m ivory!”

her eyes snapped open just in time to see her daughter’s face flash across the screen through the reflection in the vanity mirror in front of her. 

the makeup artist paused, sensing the shift in jennie's demeanor, but said nothing, allowing her a moment of privacy amidst the bustling preparation. 

jane ivory. my ivory.

jennie whispered her daughter’s name over and over again in her mind. it was only a few seconds of an advertisement for their group’s debut, but all she could do was replay the moments of ivory’s face in her mind. as the segment on le sserafim ended, her emotions swirled—a mixture of pride, regret, and an overwhelming sense of loss. 

her daughter’s radiant smile on the screen pierced through the layers of professional composure that jennie kim had carefully cultivated over the years. she blinked back tears, unable to tear her gaze away from the mirror in front of her.

the little girl she left behind was now an adult. 

“did something get in your eye?” her makeup artist asked gently, trying not to dig too deep into the idols emotions.

she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as she wrestled with the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. the makeup artist's gentle inquiry broke through the silence, but jennie couldn't bring herself to respond immediately.

“just a moment,” she managed to say, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. she reached for a tissue, dabbing at her eyes discreetly as she fought to regain her composure. the weight of years of absence bore down on her shoulders, a burden she had carried silently for too long.

as she looked at her own reflection, the woman saw traces of the person she had become—a successful idol, a fashion icon, and a global star. 

but beneath the carefully curated image lay the ache of a mother who had missed out on so much. 

the television continued to play in the background, the sound of a local pizza ad replacing the sweet tone of her daughter’s voice just moments ago. jennie closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to stay strong. she had grown accustomed to wearing masks—both on stage and in her personal life—but at this moment, those masks threatened to crumble.

“it was just an eyelash,” she finally replied, her voice steadier as she met the makeup artist's gaze. “please continue.” with a subtle nod, she signaled for the preparations to continue, silently resolving to confront the emotions that had been stirred awake.

throughout the rest of the day—through the photoshoot, the interviews, and the flight to paris—jennie couldn't shake the memory of her baby girl’s smile. the emptiness of the private cabin offered her a rare moment of solitude, where she allowed herself to feel the weight of regret and longing.

she scrolled through her jane’s debut photos, her heart aching with a mixture of pride and sorrow as she scrolled through ivory's debut photos on her phone. each image captured her daughter's radiant presence, the same smile jennie had seen earlier on the screen. tears blurred her vision as she traced the familiar contours of the young girl’s face with her fingertip.

alone with her thoughts and the distant city lights below, jennie wept for the daughter she had been absent from, and for the years lost to ambition and fame. 

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TAGLIST ⸺ ✶ @silantryoo

OPEN! COMMENT BELOW THE MASTERLIST TO BE ADDED.

[13keithxpidge13]

I wanna write an AU where Rhaenyra chooses Harwin to marry and their marriage is solidified in the eyes of the Realm.

Immediately, Rhaenyra becomes pregnant. The couple are overjoyed and the kingdom celebrates, excited at the prospect of introducing a brand new prince or princess to the world.

When Prince Jacaerys Targaryen is born, Harwin is absolutely /flooded/ with joy and pride. Jace is his precious boy, his /beautiful/ firstborn son. He looks so much like himself but with Rhaenyra's violet eyes and her gorgeous smile. It doesn't matter to him that his hair isn't white (he doesn't care /what/ the Queen says). Jacaerys is his perfect, special boy.

Not even two years later, Rhaenyra is announced to be pregnant with their second babe. Her stomach doesn't grow nearly as large as it did when she was in her later months carrying Jace which did worry the Maesters just a tad but, Harwin wasn't concerned at all. Rhaenyra was strong, stronger than anyone he knew, if anyone could pull through-it would be his beautiful wife.

And, he was right. Eight months into her pregnancy, albeit a little early, Rhaenyra gave birth to their second son; Lucerys Targaryen. Harwin's precious, sweet little second son. Tinier than most babes he is but as strong as can be nonetheless. He looks like the spitting image of Rhaenyra. Bright violet doe eyes, a button nose with freckles caked across his cheeks, and a sparkling happy smile. When Rhaenyra first laid eyes on him, she sobbed with joy and whispered how he looked so much like her mother; the late Queen Aemma. King Viserys agreed, holding his second grandson and weeping whilst gazing at his sweet face.

It was at this time that the rest of Viserys's children had begun to become more curious about their older sister and their nephews. Prince Aegon often dragged the young Prince Aemond down to sneak into his and Rhaenyra's chambers to get a peek at the two young boys when Luke and Jace were playing.

Harwin wouldn't say anything against the young princes when they sneak in, when they think no one could see them. If anything, it warms his heart to know that, despite Queen Alicent and her bitterness against his wife and their children, her boys nonetheless attempt to be close to their nephews even when their mother argues against it.

Harwin watches, amused as Prince Aegon rushes over to Jace and immediately plops down next to him from where Harwin's eldest boy is playing with his youngest. The two sit on the floor surrounded by tiny dragon wooden cut out toys and Jace squeals as Prince Aegon takes one of the toys and starts playing. Little Luke kicks his tiny four month old feet out and giggles loudly, clapping his hands together.

Prince Aemond takes a little more coaxing but, eventually, they all are playing together on the floor with the sound of happy laughter and childish giggles ringing throughout the room like church bells.

It isn't too long before Rhaenyra returns, entering their chambers and the group of children all whirl to meet her.

"Oh my," She gasps, but she's smiling and little Luke squeals, babbling nonsense and reaching towards his mother. "It seems I have a group of little hatchlings nesting in here. What are you doing away from your mother at this hour, brothers?"

"Playing!" Prince Aegon shouts and stands up, smiling wide as he raises his arms. "Mother forgot to put Aemond down for a nap so I brought him here!"

At that, his wife's smile falters just a tad. It was not secret that Queen Alicent often...neglected her children, leaving them to the servants and wet nurses instead of spending time with them herself.

But, that didn't seem to bother the two young princes as they would often sneak away to come find their nephews anyway.

"All by yourselves?" Rhaenyra asks, concerned and that's when Harwin speaks up from where he was situated beside one of the desks inside their bedroom, hidden from sight but able to keep an eye on the group.

"Don't worry, princess," Harwin spoke up and all heads turned to him. "I've been watching them."

Rhaenyra sighs with relief and stalks towards little Luke who was practically crawling over to her at this point, desperate to get to his mommy. He had always been more attached to her than Harwin but, Harwin supposed he didn't blame his son. He was quite attached to her too.

"Hello, little love," She whispers to her second son as she picks him up and cradles Luke against her chest. He coos and babbles, clutching onto her hair and nuzzling against her. "Yes, hello, my sweet boy. I've missed you too."

"Can we stay, sister? Please, please?" Prince Aegon begs, bouncing on his tip toes as he grabs at her black dress. His eldest sister chuckles and she gently runs a hand through his wavy white hair and he leans into it.

"Ah, well," She sighs in a teasing manner. "I /suppose/ you could stay for a bit while longer."

Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond cheer and Jace and Luke follow along, all of their giggles resounding and joining together.

Harwin and Rhaenyra smile at each other and he walks over to kiss his wife, his girl humming against his lips and he then plants another kiss upon her head and one on little Luke's.

It won't be for some time that they have another babe, many years but, Harwin cherishes each and every moment he has with his family. His perfect family.

[joocomics]

LOSER(S)

read part two here

pairing: youtuber!theo x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 2.9k

summary: the charming guy running the youtube channel you enjoy watching mostly because of him, and not the games he’s playing, moves in the apartment across from yours, and turns out to be the biggest asshole you’ve encountered in years

contains: neighbours au, enemies to lovers trope, switch!reader, slight angry sex, unprotected sex, cussing, banter, dirty talk, choking (m!rec), oral sex (f!rec), orgasm denial (f!rec), name calling

[ p1harmony masterlist | general masterlist ]

“Wow, you’re an asshole in real life,” you keep talking bitterly with little flames in your eyes. “I’m actually impressed with your acting skills.”

A frustrated airy laugh slips through your lips while Taeyang’s, on the other hand, curl up at the corners, amused at how seriously you’re taking this whole situation.

“Sorry to ruin the little fantasy you had of me, sweetheart.”

“You should be glad that I prefer to spend my time doing anything else than dealing with you,” you turn to your front door and flip the key, “cause I can just call the cops.”

“Are you sure that’s what you really prefer?”

This is not the first time you’re fighting Choi Taeyang in the middle of the hallway, nor it’s the last unless you move buildings. His youtube channel is growing rapidly which calls for more content and less peace for you.

He's still leaning against the door frame with his headset hanging from his neck. The subtle mischievous spark in his eyes, the one you know so well from the multiple videos you’ve seen from him, is so different in real life - straight up mean, making you wonder how you used to find his channel fun and comforting despite the terrifying games he plays.

“You’re at my fucking door almost every single night,” he continues. “Maybe I should call them, you seem more of a stalker than a marketing manager.”

“Fuck off,” you spit out entering your apartment. “You’re a pathetic loser with no life.”

“Bitch.” Taeyang slams the door of his home the second you shut yours.

A month ago you couldn't wait to finish work and hop on the bus to head back home.

Now, you go home on foot so it can take you extra minutes to arrive.

The time you finish work is the time Taeyang comes back from the gym, and by the hour you're lounging in bed ready to relax with your new favorite show is the hour he turns on the usual scary games, and transforms your cozy time in a mirage. Today is going to be no different, because he has zero empathy for people’s feelings, so you take your time even with walking towards the elevator after you arrive at your apartment building.

“Wait!”

You make out the too familiar voice echoing in the hallway along with the stamping sound of his footsteps just when you press the button.

Taeyang runs through the open doors, and you walk in after him faking a smile. His ebony black hair is half wet and his outfit casual, consisting only of a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt under his unzipped hoodie. Judging by the bag with beer cans in his hand your guesses are correct - his workout is done and he's going to take his seat in front of the computer.

The unnerving silence fills the air the second the doors close in front of your eyes.

“Next time fill up your mouth with your panties or something,” Taeyang glances up at the changing neon numbers. “What if you accidentally scream my name? I don’t wanna hear that.”

He fakes a disgusted expression and shakes his shoulders as an attempt to get rid of the image in his head.

You knew putting your earphones in to blast music as you use your vibrator is risky since sometimes you tend to be more vocal than others, but what were you supposed to do when all of his exaggerated yelling and cussing comes through the wall exactly where your bed is?

You can’t touch yourself during the day because you’re at work, and now you can’t do it before sleep because of him.

Your fake chuckle rings hollow in the small space. You look away, but you cannot escape his face though. You both see each other in the reflecting glass that’s all around you; it’s a little blurry, but not enough to not be aware that you’re staring at each other.

“Good to know you take off that headset once in a while.” You raise your chin up. “Maybe I should touch myself more often if that’s gonna help a loser like you get a life.”

The doors slide open, and you walk out first, feeling Taeyang’s gaze all over your ass.

“Is your boring corporate job stressing you out, sweetheart?” He calls out behind you, as you walk down the corridor. “Is that why you’re taking your anger out on me since day one?”

“I love my job,” you say when he catches up your pace.

“And you hate mine.”

“Because of you,” you glare at him, stopping in front of your apartment. You don’t even realise when you started raising your voice. “It’s your lack of responsibility and consideration I have a problem with, not what you do.”

“Shh, you’re going to disturb the neighbours.” Taeyang puts a finger on his lips, and for the first time you feel the urge to slap a person.

He comes closer to you while staring at your cleavage. It’s flushed with a delicate reddish color that he could associate only with himself and the emotions he brings within you.

“Do you want me to help you out with that? I can help you relieve some of the pressure, doll… most of it.”

You breathe in once, looking in his eyes.

You breathe in twice… recognising the fresh earthy aroma coming from his skin and damp hair.

It’s not your voice that gives him an answer, but your lips that smash against his own.

That’s exactly what Taeyang hoped for, and his arms immediately go around your waist, pulling you close after he drops the bag of beer cans on the ground. His hands slide down to grip your ass cheeks through the linen fabric of your pants, that’s too thin and his cock already starts to gain pressure from how much it allows him to feel in his palms.

“My place or yours?” You pull back just to ask the question then kiss him again.

Taeyang’s hands go up, sneaking under your shirt.

“You already know what my room looks like, it’s time I see yours.”

“That’s fair.”

He doesn’t leave you out of sight as he gets rid of his clothes while you unbutton your shirt. Once you’re left in your lingerie he doesn’t give you a chance to remove it, because he pushes you onto the bed, covering your skin with wet kisses. You look gorgeous in it anyways, so he doesn’t mind if it stays on a little longer.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he mutters against the flesh of your tummy before grinding his tongue up to your bellybutton. His hands are squishing your breasts harshly making you gasp. “Fuck, drives me crazy.”

His teeth bite the hem of your lace panties, pull and let it drop with a smack.

When he moves up to lock lips with yours again they seem to move even more eagerly than minutes before. His tongue invades your mouth almost with a frustration, leaving you out of breath and panting for more.

But you rather get that yourself.

“What the—“ He stumbles around his words surprised from suddenly finding himself on his back.

You swiftly succeed in straddling his hips as he didn’t have the chance to react in time to prevent you from getting on top.

“Shut up,” you say, unclipping your bra and rubbing your clit on his stiffened length at the same time. You still have your panties on and you see his gaze darkening from wanting to rip them off. “Mm, your cock is so hard...”

“Take it in your greedy mouth then.” He grips your hips forcing them to move quicker. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Yeah, but that would be too easy.”

Taeyang laughs before grabbing your arms to bring your face down into his.

You gasp through a smile creeping up on your face. You can’t hide the enjoyment from his rough responses to every single thing you do.

“These tricks don’t work on me, doll. Be a good girl and do as I say from now on.”

“You’re not the only player here, pretty boy.” You pull his bottom lip with your teeth, and his erection twitches against your clit, both from the bite and your attitude. “I will suck your dick when I decide you’ve earned it.”

Before you realise a thing, Taeyang flips you over and strips you from your panties pushing them inside your mouth. His hands bend your knees with fingers digging into your skin finally spreading you apart. As his mouth waters from the seductive sight of what’s between your thighs, yours spit out the underwear.

“Tsk,” Taeyang picks it up, and muffles your irritated whines by returning them back where they were. “What an ungrateful doll. I’m doing you a favor and this is how you say thank you?”

He holds his palm over your lips to keep the fabric in place while his other one gives your right boob a slap followed by a few more after he catches you make a muffled pleasant sound.

Eventually the grumpy look on your face dissipates into a rapture as the pleasure from his tongue comes in waves, each more powerful than the other. He alternates between sucking and lapping on your juices while also playing with the pacing of his licks over your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, you taste too sweet for such an angry girl,” he groans before gliding his tongue through your sloppy folds only to swirl the tip of it around your clit again.

And you eat pussy too well for such a loser.

Your chin begins to leak from your drooling, slipping down your neck as your panties get soaked with your moans and spit. The fact you’re not able to be loud as you need to makes your jaw clench with frustration, but your pussy even more aroused under Taeyang’s tongue.

His grip on your thighs tighten painfully limiting your shakiness as he buries his coarse mouth even deeper, grazing his teeth against your intimate lips; tongue tracing stripes from your dripping hole up to your most sensitive point over and over again. He makes out with your entire cunt the same way he kisses you - mean with a desire to control.

“I can make it feel even better if you promise not to empty your filthy mouth,” he glances at you, giving you a nice view of all the glistening fluids all over his face.

You nod too quickly, you realise, but most of the stubbornness left you the moment his tongue touched you for the first time.

You grip the sheets cause your fingers are already tempted to pull out the underwear the more his swollen tip levels with your entrance.

You’ve never taken such big size before and your heart starts racing excitedly at the thought of the appealing girth sinking inside you.

“Shit,” Taeyang’s brows knit together while his length fills you up bit by bit, tightening the knot of pleasure in his core. “You’re too fuckin’ small and tight for me.”

He inserts it all the way slowly, wanting you to feel the way you suck in with ease every inch of him; wanting you to know just how bad you needed him. However, once it’s in, his patience dies down giving his hips the freedom to move as quickly as possible.

Taeyang runs a hand through his dark hair, then moves it over your lower tummy, pressing against his cock that’s reaching the desired spot over and over again. His sharp gaze follows your eyes fluttering in bliss, as the rush he creates invades your body.

Once he leans in to hang your right leg over his shoulder for a deeper thrust, your repressed mewls rise even higher; erotic heavy growls just like in the videos he watches to jerk off.

“We get along so much better when you have your mouth shut, don’t you think?” He fans your face while holding himself up on his hands.

A groan escapes his puffy lips before he could catch it after you bury fingers in his hair and tug on the roots, pulling him closer.

With one tilt of his head Taeyang drops your panties down after stealing them from your mouth with his teeth.

“Mind if I keep those?” He asks and receives the sound of the first real raw moans of yours as an answer.

It would be a foolish lie if he says he won’t be thinking about them after this.

“A souvenir from my biggest fan…” He whispers in your ear and you can feel the intoxicating effect that his voice alone has on you.

His hips slow down for the first time, moving slowly in circles while he catches his breath.

“Shit, Tae… Faster.” You pull his hair like you’re holding on for dear life, as you sense every inch of him making you more dizzy with those slow massaging motions.

“Faster?” He repeats with a sudden powerful slam from his hips, that catches you off guard. “Are you close?” He pulls out almost all the way only to shove himself again, stabbing your g-spot. “Wanna cum… is that it?”

“Yeah…” Your whimper gets lost from the lewd noises when he proceeds to pound into you, but this time rapidly without stopping for a second. The skin on skin slapping merges with Taeyang’s hitched heavy breathing, but he still manages to catch the little broken yes-es coming from underneath him. “Fuck—“

Your mouth remains open, but not because your awaited climax arrives, but because Taeyang pulls out just before it does.

The burning dissatisfaction from what was about to be your most intense orgasm being stolen from you forces you to turn over and wail in your pillow.

“Shhh,” Taeyang turns you back around, slapping your inner thigh with his drenched cock. Your squirmy lips bring a devilish smirk on his face. “It’s not that bad, doll. You can take it.”

A moment later his eyes watch you suspiciously raising up.

You grab the base of his dick determined to take charge.

“I wanted to cum so bad from this pretty cock,” you coo moving your fist up and down, as he rests on his knees in front of you with his unbelievably captivating plump lips and cold gaze.

His face begins to scrunch up from your quickening hand, and the way your playful thumb keeps going over his red tip like it knows just when is the perfect time to do it.

“I’ve never had such a big one in my pussy before…” You add on to his arousal. “Feels nice.”

“Shit,” Taeyang throws his head back. His chest rises heavily while his abs clench from the stimulation. “Just nice?” He lifts up to look at you challengingly. It drives him nuts how you always lit up a fire in his chest by irritating him, and turning him on at the same time.

“Go on…” You provoke him, squeezing the leaky shape of his head. “You’ve called me worse than that.”

Taeyang gulps when you drop his erection only to grip it with your aroused walls instead. You both sigh in sync as you get in contact with the electrifying warmth once again, that now feels ten times more intense.

Although it’s subtle, you don’t miss the change in his expression when you begin to bounce just like you wanted to in the beginning.

“Don’t.” You command the second you sense the presence of his hands on your waist, desperate to regain control. “You’re going to let me do this.”

You quicken your movements, watching him chew on his mouth from the overwhelming rush he desperately tries to keep under control.

“Why…” Taeyang’s voice comes out too breathless to continue his question. The fact your hand wraps around his throat to put pressure on the sides of his neck doesn’t help either. This is the first time he allows something like this, and it makes his heart flutter from an unfamiliar thrill.

“Why what, pretty boy?” You slow down, curious to know what he’s thinking right now.

Taeyang only shakes his head, turning his knuckles white from gripping the sheets. He wants to push you on your back, to cuss at you and fuck you until you’re sore, and can’t mutter a single word to him… but he’s captivated. It’s like every time you touch him you secretly cast a spell on him that he’s unable to break through.

The only thing he could say is…

“Just… keep going.”

You smile, tilting his chin higher to meet his eyes.

The speed of your lower body picks up when you begin to ride him chasing your high - with the head of his cock kissing right where you need it, and the most arousing sounds slipping from his lips that begin to pout with every next move.

“Holy s-shit—“ Taeyang chokes on his moan moving his hands on your waist, but not interrupting your movements. “Y/N…”

“Not yet,” you say, feeling shivers down your spine from the way he pants your name. “Wait for me.” You release his throat, trying your best to keep the rapid pace going.

Taeyang cusses in the crook of your neck where he starts biting harshly to distract himself from how bad he needs to cum, not caring at all that you keep hissing from his sucking.

“Can’t…” he grunts against the wet skin under your earlobe. “Fuck, come on, cream my cock you slut.” He grabs a handful of your hair, and that turns out to be just enough to snap the overwhelming knot in your tummy.

You rock your hips back and forth more slowly, panting as the ecstatic rush passes through your veins when suddenly Taeyang’s weak husky voice surprises you.

“You’re amazingly hot.”

Your two fingers slip through his lips and he allows that too.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[cellophaine]

Chapter V: BACKCOURT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Toxic family dynamic, toxic parents, mild abuse.

Author's Note: Woo this is a longer one (a little over 5k 😬). In this chapter, we dive deep into Reader's background to see how she became the way she is now. Art is not in this chapter much, but I promise he'll be back and his appearance will be delicious.

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

2021. San Francisco.

4 AM. Two hours felt endless in your sleepless state. You sat up and, after a moment of contemplation, left the bed.

You settled on the couch with a glass of water and turned the TV on. Flipping through the channels, your eyes unfocused over the flashing images. A familiar face appeared for a brief second before vanishing. Your body went still, and your finger rested atop the forward button before reluctantly pressing backward. The image changed again, and Art's face filled your screen once more. His lips moved, but you didn't hear a thing. From the close-up, you could see the small changes in the face you had missed so much. His hair looked longer, and as he dipped his head slightly to hear the interviewer's question better, the movement pulled a strand of dirty blond out of the neat slicked back and drew it over his forehead. He looked much happier than you saw him last. You increased the volume to hear him better.

"I've been busy with the foundation. It's a lot of work, but I find it very fulfilling. I might be retired, but tennis is still an important part of my life, you know? And, of course, spending time with my family–"

The screen turned to black, leaving you to confront yourself. You stared at the empty screen, where Art was seconds ago, at your guilty conscience. After all that time, you were still stupefied at the mere sight of him. Your heart ached in your chest, and you felt a new kind of exhaustion taking over your body. Your loneliness crept along the edge of that guilt as you looked away from your own reflection. This empty apartment used to harbour the presence of another, but that was long gone. It took a while for this place to feel like it belonged to only you again.

A muffled sound of an incoming text came from the bedroom. You rose from the couch and went to retrieve it. The text was from your sister.

Call me when you can.

You opened her contact info and called. Two rings later, she picked up.

"Hey Soph. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine. Isn't it early for you?"

"It is, but I wasn't sleeping anyway. What's up?"

There was a brief silence on her end. You had a feeling what her call was about before she said it.

"Dad called me. He asked about you, and if you were planning on coming home this Thanksgiving this year."

"And?"

You could hear your sister's soft sigh on the other end.

"He wants to follow up with you on his cut from your second book."

The Dollhouse was partly autobiographical. It took inspiration from your childhood, grew a solid root and allowed the fictional elements to take shape and become the story it was. It spent ten consecutive weeks as number one on the New York Times best sellers list, but the aftermath dulled the achievement. Your parents picked it up, and so did some people they knew, and for a while after that, they sent you texts doused in anger and emails with thinly veiled threats. Most of them came from your dad, all of them explicitly expressed indignation and wrath, and none of them received a response from you.

"He's not getting a penny. The Dollhouse was fictional."

"I told him that, but he wouldn't listen."

"He can take it up to my lawyer."

After a moment, you asked.

"Did mom say anything?"

Your sister fell silent again. Before the release of The Dollhouse, things were already strained between you and your mom, and after, the contact slowed until it ceased to exist. You hadn't talked in a few years, and to you, it was for the best.

2006. Your hometown.

Despite school ending on the 16th, you booked the train ticket home for the 22nd. The early train was quiet as most people in this cabin retreated to their own bubbles. Some read, some slept, and some listened to music with their earbuds. The nerves in your lower abdomen seized, and all of a sudden, the cookie Grace made two days ago became so sickeningly sweet that you had to put it back in the wrapper. You sighed as you looked out into the passing scenery. Home had always been a tough subject for you, and it involved complicated feelings that you couldn't put into words. How could you confide in someone that the idea of going home filled you with a sense of dread?

Standing in front of the door to your childhood home, you took a deep breath and straightened your posture. You rang the doorbell and listened for its muffled echo from the inside. You could see that the TV was on from the bay window with the curtain swept to the side. Your dad was in his usual seat, watching a game. After a moment, you rang again. You watched as your father took a sip of his beer and placed the bottle back on the small table before reclining further into the chair. You heard hurried footsteps making their way to you, and the door opened to reveal Sophie. She excitedly called out your name and pulled you into a tight hug.

"I'm so happy you're here! How was your trip?"

"It was fine. How are you doing?"

"Hanging in there."

Your sister looked relieved now that you were here.

"How are … Mom and Dad?"

You asked, and Sophie caught onto the underlying message.

"Mom is grumpy because Dad's not helping. She's stressed out about the Christmas dinner. She hasn't decided on what to make for dessert."

"Oh, no."

Usually, by this time of Christmas, she already had a detailed plan for the big family dinner on the 25th, from appetizers to desserts to finger food before the dinner started. She prided herself on the Christmas feast, which was hosted by your family every year.

"Yep. Also, the tree hasn't been decorated."

"It's… the 22nd."

"I know. That's why Mom has been in rare form the whole week."

You grimaced. Your sister ran her hands up and down your arms reassuringly.

"You've got this. I'll be here with you."

You nodded, and the two of you headed inside. You dragged your suitcase with you as Sophie announced your arrival, but you were only met with silence. You stopped at the door to the kitchen and took in the chaos. Not a lot of free counter space was spared from the various pots and pans and unfinished dishes. Your mom was standing with her back to you, chopping vegetables and dropping them into the big pot.

"Hi, Mom."

She didn't turn around to acknowledge you, but she addressed you as she took a break from the vegetables to stir a smaller pot.

"I thought your exams were done on the 13th?"

"They were, Mom."

"Then why didn't you come home earlier?"

"I had work."

"I highly doubt that they were so busy that they needed you there."

"But … they were. It's Christmas."

"Almost Christmas. I don't see why you couldn't come home earlier and help me with the housework."

The enunciation in her words was hard to miss. She went back to the cutting board, her movement more precise now, and riddled with more force.

"I booked the train as soon as I was able to."

"My life would have been so much easier if you were a little more thoughtful than that."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I–"

She finally turned to look at you.

"Why are you still standing there? Put your suitcase away before someone trips on it and help me."

Sophie gave you a look of sympathy. You obeyed your mother's dismissal and took your suitcase upstairs to your old bedroom. Your parents made you repaint and fill in the screw marks before you left, and now it had turned into a workspace of some sort. On one side, there was a computer setup with a wooden cabinet filled with files, paper and books. The other side was your bed, with a blue sheet covering the whole bed. You pulled it off and found your old bed sheet, just like how you left it a few months ago. You wheeled the suitcase over to the old dresser, your eyes roaming over the fine layer of dust on its surface. You lowered yourself to the bed, allowing yourself a moment of seclusion away from your parents. You wanted to lay down, to close your eyes, and to escape for a while. Being here for less than ten minutes had left you with a taste of dejection. It'd started to gather in your throat, but you didn't want it to win. You were stronger than this. So you swallowed it down and buried it deep, putting on a smile before heading downstairs to join Sophie and your mother.

Your effort and helping hand in the kitchen didn't improve your mom's mood. She complained about your hair, telling you how much it irritated her eyes and making you put it up with a hair tie. She was there to criticize the ratio of the marinade and the meat, the way you prepared the rolls of grilled beef, and the piping on the cupcakes. It was exhausting, but you kept the smile on your face and did as she said. About two hours later, the fridge was filled with food and prepared ingredients for Christmas day. You went to the washroom to catch a quick break from your mother's nagging and checked your phone. There was a missed call, along with a text from Art.

I hope your trip home was good :). I wanted to call to see how you were doing.

– I'm home now. Sorry I couldn't talk. Maybe later?

He responded within the minute.

Promise?

– Promise.

A short while after that, dinner was served. The preparation was paused for the day. During dinner, you told your parents about Stanford. Your dad was silent for the most part, only responding with a grumble here and there. Your mom, on the other hand, was very inquisitive in a way that made dread grow in the pit of your stomach.

"Did you know you could also take English here? At Lawrence?"

"Yes, I know, but the program is so much better in Stanford."

"So you're telling me Lawrence is not good enough for you? I went to Lawrence."

"I'm not saying that, Mom. At Stanford, the program is really detailed, and they have so much more to offer."

Your dad decided to chime in.

"It's a useless degree anyway. You were born and raised here with English as your first language."

"There's so much more than that, Dad."

He snorted.

"So much more of my money. It's a waste."

"I promised you I'll pay you back. Besides, your money is for the rent for my first year, not tuition."

If it wasn't for the scholarship, you would have never left this place.

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have a place to live."

Your father's friend from college owned the building, so you got the shared apartment at a much cheaper price. Your rent was covered by your dad since you didn't have a lot of money when you started college.

"No, I wouldn't have. I'm really grateful for your help."

"Thank you. Wasn't that so hard?"

Your sister tried to dissolve the tension in the air, and your parents went with it. The attention was taken off of your shoulders, and you were grateful for it.

/

You went to your sister's bedroom that night to catch up. You sat next to her on the bed while she lay down with her feet propped up against the wall. Grade 11 was proven to be dull and unexciting in the small town. The conversation eventually reared its head back to your parents.

"How do they treat you here?"

You asked, and Sophie sighed.

"They're not too awful most days."

She looked at you, and you could see the empathy in her eyes.

"I don't understand why they're so hard on you."

You shrugged, looking down at your socks.

"I do. Mom has said it so many times. I'm stubborn; I don't listen to them; I wasn't a good kid growing up …"

"So what? It doesn't mean they get to treat you like this."

"Maybe they do. They just want what's best for me."

"The way they show it is not okay. It shouldn't be like that."

A part of you wanted to agree. You wanted, so badly, to believe that you were a good person. Because a good person deserved good things. And if you were the person your parents had made you think you were, then you deserved nothing at all. You gave your sister a reassuring smile despite the doubt in your head.

"I know."

"I'm sorry. It's unfair."

You brushed it off.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault that they prefer you to me. One of us has to be the favourite."

Sophie gave you an incredulous look, and you shared a laugh. You missed this, talking to your sister about anything. She turned to the side, facing you, and braced herself on her elbow.

"So, tell me about Stanford."

By the arch of her eyebrow, you could tell the conversation was going in the direction you weren't exactly thrilled about.

"It's … good. The campus looks nice, but the course work is a lot."

She rolled her eyes.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Has anyone caught your eye yet?"

Your mind went to Art, and you felt a gentle warmth that felt like a ray of sunshine enveloped your heart. You looked away from your sister briefly before uttering one single word.

"No."

Sophie sat up, pushing into your space.

"I can see right through you. You're such a terrible liar."

You kept your lips sealed.

"Come on, tell me."

There truly was no way of denying Sophie's pleading eyes, so you ended up telling her about Art after a few moments of resistance. You watched her expression change as you wrapped up the story.

"Is he your boyfriend now?"

You realized you had never had that talk.

"We … haven't talked about that yet."

"You obviously like him. Why haven't you asked?"

You shrugged noncomittally.

"I don't know. I think a label is unnecessary."

"What if someone swoops in and takes him from you?"

Sophie snapped her fingers, demonstrating the snatching of Art. You held out a hand.

"Okay, first of all, he's not an object that anyone can take. He doesn't belong to me and vice versa. Second of all, if he is so easily … taken away like that, then he never really likes me to begin with, and I'll be better off without him."

It was an upsetting thought, allowing a tendril of doubt to slither in. Sophie shook her head.

"I don't understand you."

"I just feel like we're not there yet, you know? Whenever I'm with him, I feel … seen. There's no expectation that I have to meet. That's enough for me."

"He'd better appreciate you. You're amazing."

You hugged your sister. She had always seen the best in you despite the doubts you had. You weren't entirely sure you were this amazing person your sister seemed to think you were. Breaking away from the hug, you said.

"Speaking of Art, I promised that I would call him earlier."

"Call him here."

"No."

You shook your head vehemently.

"I want to hear his voice at the very least. You don't even have a picture of him."

"No."

You jumped down from her bed, your finger pressed call on his number. Sophie blocked the door while the phone rang. To your luck, Art picked up after the third ring.

"Hey. I thought you wouldn't call."

Your sister squealed, and you had to put a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"Who was that?"

You harshly whispered, asking Sophie to shut up. She enjoyed teasing you so much that she left an opening to the door. You slipped past her, but not before she sneaked the last words in.

"He sounds hot."

"Shush."

You held your phone against your chest as you went back to your room.

"Hey, sorry. That was my sister."

"Ahh. How many siblings do you have?"

"Just the one."

Art sounded sleepy on the other end.

"You sound tired."

"It's– uh … 2 AM here."

You remembered the time difference.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry. It's only 11 PM where I am right now."

"That's okay. I like hearing your voice."

The honest confession sounded like a dream in the slow drawl of his words. Warmth dusted your cheeks, and at that moment, you wanted to ask Art to be exclusive with you. But it was a question better asked in person, you thought. So you held your tongue.

"I like hearing yours too."

His soft, drowsy sighs caressed your ear, and you couldn't contain your smile.

"But seriously, though, you should go to bed."

Art exhaled again, slow and languid, as if he didn't want the call to end. At last, he said with resignation.

"Alright, I'll talk to you later."

"Later. Good night, Art."

/

The next two days went by so quickly, with even more preparations and decorations for the 25th. Christmas Day finally came, burdened with anticipation. Uncle Eddie arrived with his wife, and Aunt Donna came by herself. The day was long, but it went by smoothly, and you hoped that it would stay like this for the rest of your time here.

Dinner came, everyone settled down, and the twenty questions game began with your uncle leading it.

"How's Stanford?"

"It's good. I'm really enjoying it."

"What is it that you're studying again?"

"English."

Aunt Donna chimed in.

"Oh. Aren't we all speaking English? Why are you taking it?"

"It's so much more than that. I'm learning the history of American literature, how it'll be shaped, and the cultural intersectionality in liberal arts. Uhm, to name a few."

Your dad decided to weigh in with his opinion.

"In other words, fancy school for useless things."

Uncle Eddie picked up from where he left off.

"What do you want to do after school?"

"I want to be a published author."

Your dad sneered.

"Great, another jobless career."

You were taken aback by your dad's downright brash statement, but you maintained the pleasant attitude you'd practiced.

"It'll be hard, but I want to do it. Or give it a try, at least."

"Writing books is not going to pay your bills. When you fail, you're going to run back here and ask me for more money."

"I'm not there yet, so we shall see, huh?"

Your father fixed his angry gaze on you. His nostrils flared, and you knew you had really pissed him off.

"You went to Stanford for one semester, and you already think you can talk back to your own father? You've forgotten your place. You can be ignorant now, but you'll see that I'm right. You'll regret not studying something that's actually useful."

"I'm not talking back to you. I just want to say that it's my life, and I should be able to live it the way I want to. And I'm very grateful that you even gave me the money for rent."

Your mom cut in.

"Grateful? You sure don't show it. And who do you think gave you that life? I did. I gave birth to you. You wouldn't be here arguing with the very people who care about you if it wasn't for me."

You had heard this argument before. Your mother continued.

"The least you can do is listen to me and take my goddamn advice so you won't end up a useless brat."

Sophie's timid voice pulled at the tension.

"Can we just get back–"

But your mother didn't allow her to finish.

"Do you know how much you cost? How much did we spend on your tutors? Private dance and piano lessons so you would have at least some skills for your future self, just for you to skip classes?"

You tried to defend yourself.

"I was 11. I didn't ask for any of it."

Your mom pressed on.

"Everything we've done is for you. But you never showed us gratitude, not even a thank you. And now, you're off to California on the way to a useless job. You will fail, and when you do, don't come to me or your father, for support."

"I will not ask you."

Your quick remark came with the bitterness that could burst at any moment, and you weren't sure if you could contain it.

"I will not take responsibilities for your failure."

At that, you lost it. Your composure, your calmness, your pleasant attitude. All were sucked out of your body, and the only thing left inside was the aggravated animosity. Its rot was spreading through you like wildfire, and you unleashed your anger. Your voice was booming, reverberating through the dining room.

"I'm not asking you to. I've never asked for any of this!"

"Shut up!"

Your dad roared. You barely dodged the gravy boat he threw at you. The ceramic bowl hit your shoulder, splashing what was left of the gravy onto your arm. The sauce wasn't as hot as it was ten minutes ago, only left a dull burn on your skin, soaking through the holes in your sweater. You sat still, not daring to move, as your body became paralyzed by what had just happened. Your sister immediately got up, only to be shut down by your dad.

"Sit down, Sophie! It's what she gets for being disrespectful."

Your mom added.

"Eat your food, Sophie. Let her think about what she's done. She's ruined dinner. She just had to make everything about her."

Aunt Donna patted your hand where the gravy didn't reach, a patronizing tone dripped in her voice.

"We're just very concerned about your future, dear. No need to yell."

Your mom and dad's voices started to blend together as they continued.

"When you crawl back from California because your dream doesn't work out, don't expect a penny from us."

"How is it that you find our life so beneath you?"

You stared at your plate, willing your tears not to fall. The conversation around you continued in apprehension, with everyone ignoring you. Your sister grabbed your hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. But you didn't have the strength to squeeze back.

You half listened to your surroundings as everything your parents said kept regurgitating like a fire alarm that wouldn't stop screeching long after the fire was gone. Your body went numb, and exhaustion draped over you like a weighted blanket. You only stood up after the adults had left the dining room with their dishes on the table, understandably for you to clean up. Sophie helped you with the task.

"Are you okay? Does it burn?"

You shook your head.

"I'll be fine. It's not that bad."

"It doesn't look fine."

You stopped dead in your movement, and without looking at your sister, you said.

"Sophie. I just want to do the dishes, and then head upstairs. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"You don't deserve it."

But what if you did? You received exactly what you needed, a punishment that reminded you of the facts: you were worthless, and your future was bleak and aimless. You avoided answering Sophie, instead directing all of your attention to the dirty dishes.

/

Later on that evening, after your aunt and uncle had left, you headed to the living room, where your parents were, with an envelope in hand. You held it out to them.

"Here's my actual gift for you."

Your dad reached for it without a word. He opened and counted the bills. Your mom got up and retrieved a familiar notebook before settling down next to your dad.

"$1,227."

Your mom wrote the number into the accounting book. After setting it aside, she stared at you for a long time before finally breaking the silence.

"You embarrassed us today."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For … talking back, and disrespecting you in front of aunt Donna and uncle Eddie."

Your mom thought about it for a moment. You hated this feeling. You knew she knew that she had the advantage, and she was making this as painful as possible.

"Hm. Have you learned nothing?"

"No, I have–"

"Do you know remember what I told you in high school? About our method of discipline?"

"Yes, I do."

"Remind me again?"

You swallowed thickly.

"You said– you said you stopped hitting me because … I was old enough to know better."

"Right. But it seems like you haven't learned anything. You still don't know better. You've always done whatever you want, you don't care about anyone, not even your own parents. Who took care of you whenever you were sick, huh? Who worked tirelessly so that you could have a roof over your head, clothes on your body, food in your stomach? And this is how you repay us?"

Your head dipped in shame.

"I'm sorry. I will do better. What can I do to show you that?"

Your dad hadn't said a word, but the disapproving glare he gave you said everything you already knew.

"You always say that you're sorry but nothing has ever changed. Get out of my sight. You're making my eyes itch."

You retreated to your room, and a moment later, Sophie knocked on your door. Her comforting presence was much needed as you drew into yourself on the bed and tried your hardest not to cry.

"I can't stay here."

"I can ask Shelly–"

You shook your head.

"No, they'll know. I can't stay here. I don't want to. I want to leave."

Sophie slid in next to you and pulled you into her arms.

"Okay, okay. I'll take you to the train station tomorrow."

After putting your clothes back into the suitcase, you sat there in your childhood bedroom, not knowing what else to do. You felt hollow, as if your insides were carved and gutted empty, and you were left with only this shell of a body. The skin where the gravy touched didn't throb as much anymore, leaving only a dull pain. Your heart was aching as if someone had taken hold and crushed it in between their palm. You wanted this feeling to go away, to disappear, so you could forget about it, so it would stop hurting. Overcame with the thought of needing some comfort, you didn't stop to think twice as you reached for your phone and dialled Art's number. You needed to hear his voice, to be reminded of what would be waiting for you when the next semester started. The ring went on and on, and when you thought he wouldn't pick up, he did. You sat up straighter.

"Art. Hi. Merry … Christmas."

The background on his end was noisy. You could hear his name being called.

"Merry Christmas."

It seemed like you had called him at the wrong time.

"Are you … are you at a party?"

"It's not really a party, just a get-together at my house. Patrick is here, and we're drinking this thing that we stole from my dad's liquor cabinet …"

He trailed off as a hiccup filled in the gap.

"It's making my head spin a little, I'm not gonna lie."

"Oh. I'm glad you're having fun."

Your voice dropped, and Art caught onto it even in his inebriated state.

"Are you okay? You sound … sad."

You didn't even realize how obvious it was, so you cleared your throat and responded in a more cheerful tone.

"I'm okay."

Art called your name softly.

"You don't sound okay. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry for bothering you. Bye."

You hung up the phone. Seconds later, Art's call came by, and you watched as it rang and ended. Then, a text message came through.

I'm sorry, I'm a little tipsy to talk right now. I'll call you tomorrow.

You tucked your phone under the pillow, not wanting to look at it anymore. You tried to clear your head and think about something else. Still, your mind insisted on reliving the mistakes after mistakes you had made today. Exhaustion eventually took over, easing you into a fitful sleep.

/

You left without saying goodbye to your parents the next day. Sophie gave you a ride to the station, and by 5 PM, you were on the train back to Palo Alto. You received a call from Art. Just the sight of his name raised a storm of conflicting emotions in you, but the side that craved his affection overturned the other. You picked up after several rings.

"Hey. Sorry about last night. I didn't know my limit."

"That's okay. I shouldn't have called anyway."

"No, no, I'm glad you called. How was your Christmas?"

"It was fine. Are you preparing to go to the ski resort?"

You kept your voice level, hoping that you didn't give away anything like you did last night.

"Yep. We're heading there tomorrow."

The crackle of the announcement system broke out over your head, notifying you of your final stop. You were about to wish him a good trip, but Art spoke before you could get it out.

"Wait, where are you right now?"

You couldn't bring yourself to answer, but Art was determined to get it from you.

"Are you going back to Stanford?"

"Sorry, I have to go."

You ended the call. Almost immediately, Art's name appeared on the screen. You declined. Seconds later, he sent you a text.

Pick up. Please.

After shutting down his third call, you turned off your device. You went back to your apartment. It was empty. Your roommates wouldn't be here until school started, so you'd have the whole place to yourself. You felt an immense relief as you finally got to be alone, and you would be for at least another week. You didn't bother unpacking; instead, you headed for your room. After changing into something more comfortable, you crawled under the cover and pulled it to cover your head. Only then you allowed yourself to cry until you couldn't anymore, until the sobs that came out of you were reduced to soundless whimpers. Sleep came easier this time.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[cactusisconfused]

I think one of my favorite scenarios when it comes to ghoap is the idea of meeting each other late at night.

-

Ghost of course isn’t new to a horrid sleep schedule, as memories of corpses, laughter and unwanted hands invade his unconscious mind. He’s lost track of the countless times where he’s woken up in a cold sweat, mind swimming and hands shaking.

He’s formed a routine at this point. Lay in the shitty cot for a just a moment, allow his breaths to mildly slow. To allow the images to fade into the darkness.

He’d get up once he feels his legs stop shaking enough to stand, though he still used whatever ledge he can to make sure he doesn’t fall. He’d make his way to the bathroom, keep the lights off and the mirror covered with a thin towel for safety.

His hand will grab the basin of the sink, attempting to not crack it. He’ll then the water on- as cold as he can get it- and will just let his hands soak. The shock of the water makes him take a breath, grounding him to remember where he is. When he is.

Then he will stand there, letting his hands go numb; once they do the faucet turns off. He grabs the navy blue towel that he always has folded on top of the toilet tank and dries his hand. He lets his hands sit in the towel for a moment, letting warmth come back to them.

He stands for a long moment. In the quiet. In the dark. It’s just him. For that one moment it’s just him.

That thought helps him somehow.

He folds the towel three times over and puts it back where he picked it up.

Picking up his balaclava, his slides it on- the faint pressure comforting on his face

Opening his door, he’s greeted with a blinding hallway; he’s yet to find a base that greets him otherwise.

Right foot first, he walks down the hall.

One step, two steps, three steps, four steps.

He counts until he gets to the mess hall. No food is being served at the hours when he will be stalking the halls, but there’s a kettle and a coffee maker and he makes do with that.

The kettle, he fills with water, just enough to fill his own mug and nothing more. He counts the seconds until the kettle whistles then puts his tea bag in. He pours the steaming water. Then, two scoops of sugar and honey if the base ever has it.

He’ll sit down at the table in the corner of the room- skewed to be invisible from the door, but the entrance is vivid to Ghost’d eyes.

He’ll drink his tea slowly, until he starts to hear muffled talking and footsteps. In the cabinet goes his mug, after a wash in the sink. He’ll make it out of the cafeteria before anyone else comes in and he’ll start his day.

That is how Ghost has dealt with his nightmares. With the repetition of that routine.

Today is no exception.

Ghost wakes with the feeling of his skin burning, screaming, skulls pleading for help- for mercy. He takes a moment.

He goes to the bathroom. Washed his hands, dried them off and walks out of the room.

He counts his steps.

One, two, three, four.

He makes it to forty two before he slows. The sound of liquid dripping with a slight electronically buzz fills his ears.

The coffee maker is on.

Ghost turns the corner and there, at the running coffee maker stands one John ‘Soap’ MacTavish. His hair and slightly ruffled and his shirt is wrinkled some.

Ghost debates on leaving.

Ghost stays.

He watches as Soap finishes his coffee, then nearly spills said coffee as his eyes land on Ghost.

“Hells fucking bells Ghost, could ye nae have said something?!” Soap attempts irritation but there’s a relived smile that sits on his lips.

“Keeping you on your toes sergeant.” Is Ghost’s reflexive answer. In truth, his brain is still catching up that his routine has changed. Like a gps that attempts to reroute despite being surrounded by only busy high ways.

“Aye, well ye’r doing a swell job at that.” The sergeant chuckles as he moves to the table in the corner with his mug. Ghost’s spot.

Ghost stands for a moment longer. He really could just leave, spend the rest on his quiet morning in his room. It would be better for his raging mind.

His legs still move to the kettle regardless.

Ghost reclaims a moment of his routine. He boils enough water to fill the mug. He puts the tea bag in, pours the water, puts in his sugar and moves to the table which Soap is sat in.

Soap gives a nod and a friendly smile as Ghost sits. Soap sips his coffee, closing his eyes as he does. The man looks tired, bags under his eyes, his shoulders hunched in a way they usually aren’t. There’s a slight tremor to his hand.

Ghost knows what he sees and Soap, putting his mug down, knows that too. Neither say a word.

A minute passed, then another, then another.

It’s Ghost that somehow breaks the silence.

“What do you call a zoo with only a dog?”

Soap slowly blinks, his eyes lifting from his coffee yo ghost.

“What?” The man’s deep voice is heightened slightly with curiosity.

“A Shizu.” Soap stares at ghost for a moment, the gears visibly turning in Soaps head. Ghost is a moment away from explaining the joke when Soap slowly smiles and gives a small, honest laugh.

“That was pure shite L.t.”

“Another.” Is Ghost’s reply.

“We doin’ this again, are we?” Again, Soap feigns annoyance, but that tired smile remains.

“What happened to the frog that parked illegally?”

Soap sighs, letting his head descend to rest on the table. “I’ll bite, what do you call a frog that parks illegally, Simon?”

A smile forms behind Ghosts balaclava. He ignores how it feels to hear his name come out of Johnny’s mouth.

“It got toad.” Ghost hopes his smile wasn’t too audible in his tone.

The rest of the morning quiet morning follows like that. Ghost finding himself the one to talk, filling the air, as Soap lets his head lay on the table, coffee long forgotten. It feels odd for Ghost, having there be silence around Soap but somehow he finds he doesn’t mind filling it.

An hour passed before Soap stops responding. His eyes are closed and his breathing even. Relaxed.

Asleep.

When Soap wakes up to a fresh mug of coffee next to him on the table as 6am alarms start ringing around base, Ghost denies any knowledge on how the coffee got there.

When the day ends, and another nightmare brings Ghost to consciousness at the crack of dawn, Soap denies any relativity to the perfectly made cup of tea sitting at Ghost’s spot at their table.

Simon thinks, as he sits down and watches as Johnny draws, maybe a change of routine isn’t so bad after all.

-

Hi! Sorry for not posting for a bit got really busy with some other stuffs. Also that soap drawing will be done eventually, just gotta get out of art block first.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.

Byeeeee

[nerdranttheories]

Okay I’m going to geek out about Toshinori’s costume designs because I’m an English major and analyzing tiny details in text is what we do and also I love??? The designs! And each one tells us so much about All Might and his focus during each costume.

Costume 1 (Young Might):

So first off, despite young All Might’s longtime dream of being a hero, his suit is mostly black. A stark difference from comics books and his later self which tend to be bright primary colors. The few dashes of primary colors he has are desaturated, even in the second instance where we see this costume. This would have likely been the only costume Toshinori designed himself, as David became his designer in college.

Obviously, others have pointed out the similarities to Nana’s suit, just like how Izuku copied AM’s, so I don’t think it will be necessary for me to point that out. But this suit is also very practical. Something the flashy All Might isn’t really known for, but let me point the details out. He has boots, gauntlets, as well as what appears to be protection for his upper torso, and even for his neck. A decent balance between more protection and more weight, which would slow a hero down. Also, unlike Nana’s suit, his extends completely down the arms. The only skin surface available is that of his hands, something that stays the same through all of his costumes and as such, must be something he personally insists on. In media, gloves often represent someone with secrets, or a guarded personality. All Might not wearing gloves shows how open he is, not just with his friends but strangers too. And it’s humble, too. It’s not an unfeeling, covered hand extending to you when you’re in danger, it’s the bare-handed reach of a friend, and I fully believe that’s why Toshi goes without gloves. Also it’s possibly a sensory thing for him as well, which goes with my canon-supported theory that this man has ADHD, but that’s a nerd rant for another time.

The colors are important because while obviously they mimic Nana, you can practically see through the color choice that Toshinori is not in his right mindset here. While later the oversaturation of colors serves to show how his own heroism has made him into something Else, and outside of his own head, leaving the man inside to shrivel away, these muted colors show that Toshinori has not yet blossomed. Also in the brief scenes we see of him when he is younger, Toshinori is very solemn. The one scene we get of him smiling when he’s young is when Izuku is comparing them at the same age, and even then, it’s more of a smirk as opposed to the signature All Might grin we all know and love. Black also is just a reasonable color for something like crime-fighting. Black shows the least grime/dirt, so he could reasonably spend more hours out in this costume without having to come home and wash it/trade it out. (Which is something that I love that this series includes, by the way!)

Costume 2-ish:

Toshinori adds some shoulder pads for the fight with AFO, probably expecting to stand side-by-side with his mentor. I could give a more full-body image but this is really the only difference I could pick out.

Costume 3 (College Might):

This is the first costume of All Might’s that is designed by David Shield.

First off, props to David. He’s an awesome designer. He not only made a new design, but incorporated several choices from AM’s previous suit, and definitely conferred a lot with Toshi on how he wanted his suit to look while still ensuring its functionality.

Black is traded for a dark, unsaturated blue, giving AM a more peaceful look, as navy blue is considered to be a calming color. (Even Endeavor wears it! But maybe copying AM and not wearing it for the same purposes?) All Might’s cape is also changed from red to blue, taking away the dark look and making it the color of the sky, again adding to that Symbol of Peace idea that is Toshinori’s dream. The gauntlets and boots remain, but the chest-piece has been removed, offering up more mobility. The yellow of his belt has been brightened, and added in place of the blues on his gauntlets and boots, giving him an overall more friendly look as opposed to the more subdued one he had before with the blue accents. The red has been removed as well, and by moving it to his body, it gives the impression of veins and the blood that is pumping away through the heart of this hero, which is fantastic for someone who cares as much as Toshinori does. White was also added vertically on the sides of the suit, thinning out the very intimidating form of Toshi and making him more approachable, while adding a more pure look to his overall form. This appears to be in part, a stylistic choice on David’s end that follows through to the other suits, though it’s hard to know if it remains on the Bronze Age Suit as well.

Overall the brighter colors telegraph that Toshinori is doing much better mentally at this point. He now has A Friend, and for the time being, is safer from the troubles at home, until he has to return.

Costume 4 (Bronze Age):

We don’t even get a full look at this suit, indicating that its time in use was likely short-lived. As I’ve seen others suggest, it seems very likely that when All Might returned to Japan, he went straight down to business and began doing vigilante work as he tried to track down AFO. However, possibly due to a combination of not finding him and All Might’s rising popularity, he seems to abandon this track and move on to a different form of heroism, which his suit symbolizes. I’ll briefly point out that Toshinori returns to the primarily black suit he had as a teenager, as well as the shadows of his face that add to the idea that as soon as he got back to Japan, he reverted to the mindset he had when he left.

Costume 5 (Silver Age):

This suit indicates to me that this period was All Might’s prime, despite his later suit being considered the Golden Age of All Might. (And even though it’s my least-favorite design.) He has the typical cape of a hero, and the bright colors are now fully of typical comic book style. The circular design on his chest indicates a target, but with being cast in white and surrounded in red, gives the impression that he himself is not the target, but the villainy around him is. Or at least, that is likely the thought process for this design. Other than the dashes of white here and there, the colors are very solid, possibly indicating a more stable, but single-minded train of thought, something AM is notorious for. No offense to Dr. Shield, but I would have mixed the colors better in here, and the cape connection is too bulky for someone who’s as jacked in the shoulders as Toshinori is. Alas, I am not the designer. We shall move on.

Costume 6 (Golden Age):

I love this suit. Plenty of analysis has been done on it already, but I think it’s a fantastic representation of how Toshinori’s been crushed under the very image he had originally wanted to create. His shadows are darkest and most severe here, reminiscent of how body-builders dehydrate themselves to get the best appearance of their musculature. His posing is also more inward, as opposed to the silver age, with the angles of his elbows being less directly out and more in, and instead of appearing confident, it’s more of how a cat puffs out its hair to make itself appear larger when it’s scared. I had a long bit to go with this but it was eaten by the Tumblr gremlins. Basically I believe this suit was made post AFO-battle. All Might is declaring he’s not finished yet, all while knowing his time is running out. This suit has several callbacks to the original suit David designed for him, with the navy, though more saturated base and the red lines running throughout the form, though the gauntlets and boots from before have been integrated into the suit itself. This could reflect David’s mindset as well, as he reminisces about the days when Toshinori was healthy and happy, when now Toshinori’s health is rapidly fading.

Anyway, here’s my costume analysis! I think it adds a little more insight to Toshinori’s mental state and situations in the years outside of the show as well as in them, and I hope you enjoyed this read! I’d love to hear other ideas too, if anyone has them!

[lost-in-fandoms]

Part 2 from this post. Here part 1. This is not very happy, I'm sorry.

cw: (sort of) discussion of dub-con of the heat variety, mentions of sexual content.

Hissing+growling

It's late afternoon when Daniel comes out of the bathroom, holding his shirt in his hands and considering if it would be worth it to put it back on again.

Max is asleep now, splayed under the sheets with a small frown on his face, but the room is still permeated by the sweet smell of hormones and the sticky one of slick and cum, and Daniel can tell the heat is not quite over yet. It makes some alpha part of him deeply content, to have their scents intertwined like this and a satisfied omega in his bed, despite all the other mixed feelings turning in his brain at the moment.

He had finally managed to talk to Christian, just before his shower, to inform him and also to ask what the fuck, and the man had confirmed what Daniel had suspected since the night before: this was not one of Max's scheduled heats. It probably was part of the reason why it had hit Max like that, hard and fast, barely giving Daniel any time to get him out of the club and to the hotel without giving their pr people a massive headache.

And now he is left with this: Max naked and spent in his bed, and a very big question mark above the state of their personal and professional relationship.

He's considering slipping back into the sheets, alpha instincts screaming at him to go back to touching his the omega, or maybe texting Michael to have a big freak out about the whole situation, when someone knocks at the door.

He makes it over as quickly as possible, knowing it's probably the food he has ordered for himself and Max, but he still hears Max shift behind him, making a small snuffling sound that makes Daniel smile.

He's still smiling as he drags the little food cart inside, turning into the room, ready to feed his the omega, a good morning on his tongue when Max hisses at him.

It almost happens in slow motion. Daniel turns towards the bed, meeting Max's wide eyes. Max recoils, sitting up so fast Daniel can almost see him getting dizzy. Max's confused expression flickers to fear for a second before shuttering closed. And then he hisses at Daniel.

Daniel instinctively steps back, raising his hands and curling his shoulders inwards, trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible, brain already scrambling to find the reason why Max is upset.

"Max, what..." he can't even finish the question before Max is hissing again, pulling the sheets higher to cover his chest. His hands are shaking.

"Max," Daniel tries again, softer this time, forcing the hurt out of his voice, every alpha part of him screaming to fix this. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Max shakes his head, baring his teeth a little, pressing his back into the headboard harder.

"What did you do to me?" he bites out, voice hoarse. Images from the last twelve hours surge through Daniel's mind, Max opening up so well for him, moaning around his knot, drool on his chin, tears streaming down his cheeks. Max on his hands and knees, back arching under Daniel's hand. Max pulling at Daniel's hair, dragging his face into the crook of his neck, right above his mating gland.

"I didn't do anything, mate," Daniel answers, knowing immediately it's the wrong thing to say when Max hisses again.

"You, you...knotted me!" There's a blush high on Max's cheeks, spreading further as he spits the words, embarrassment and anger mixing in a dangerous cocktail.

"Yes? You were in heat, and you asked..."

"I would not ask!" Max interrupts him, fists closing harder around the sheets, voice growing louder and higher. "You should have left me!"

It's a hit to Daniel's ego, this straight up refusal from Max that he would even want to spend his heat with him, but he decides to save that hurt for later, having bigger problems at hand.

"Max," he says, forcing himself to keep his voice patient and level, "I couldn't have left you like that, you were in pain. And you did ask me."

"Then you should have said no!"

Daniel doesn't understand. He gets it, that Max is confused, probably still a little out of it from his heat, but Daniel had been good to him. He had treated him right. He doesn't understand where all this anger and fear is coming from. He was helping!

"Listen, if you tell me who's your usual heat buddy I will call them for you, okay? So they can help you with the rest of it." It hurts, to even suggest it. No part of his alpha instincts wants him to leave the omega alone, no part of him wants to leave Max like this, but he knows how important it is for omegas to be comfortable during their heats, and if Max isn't comfortable with him anymore, then they'll have to sort this all out another time.

He's expecting Max to relax a little, but he bristles instead, blush deepening.

"Fuck you, I do not have a heat buddy," he spits, crossing his arms. Daniel's traitorous eyes linger a little on the swell of his chest under the sheets, the bulge of his biceps, before he's able to get a hold on himself.

Wait, no heat buddy?

"Max, was this the first..."

Again, Max doesn't let him finish, hissing loud and angry at him. Daniel's brain stumbles, too much sudden confusing information, and he fucks up.

He growls back, irritated.

The reaction is immediate. Max's eyes widen and he slumps, bowing forward until his forehead is almost touching his knees, back of his neck exposed in submission even before Daniel has the chance to start being horrified in himself.

"Shit," he swears, taking a step towards the bed and then stopping when Max flinches. "Max, I didn't mean..."

Max's shoulders are shaking. Daniel feels nauseous.

"Max, I swear, I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."

He backs away until he's pressed against the wall furthest away, watches as Max slowly straighten his back, pulling the sheet up with him. There's a blankness on his face that wasn't there before. The room smells sour, upset omega scent overpowering everything else.

"I want you to leave, Daniel" Max says, his voice just as flat as his expression.

Daniel doesn't know if his body is supposed to feel like this, if his heart is supposed to be beating this way.

"Max, I'm sorry," he pleads, some part of him acutely aware that if he leaves this room now, they'll never be the same. He'll never be the same.

Max doesn't say anything else, just looks down at his lap, looking small in the dirty sheets, distressed scent like hands around Daniel's throat.

Daniel picks up his phone and wallet, weirdly glad he had gotten dressed again before opening the door so he doesn't have to prolong this strange walk of shame now. He feels disconnected from his own body, everything feeling wrong wrong wrong.

"You should call Christian, let him know when you'll be leaving," is somehow what his voice decides to say, instead of any of the questions and apologies his brain is currently screaming.

He just barely hears Max's first sob over the click of the door locking behind him.