#he’s just a silly baby boy who can’t express himself

[heartkaji]

Oh my days

#. LOVE ME AS YOU TEAR ME APART

featuring 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

angst + fluff + slight suggestive. being friends with takiishi chika, was equal to being on a super dangerous rollercoaster ride, well friends is a word you choose to use despite him not fitting into that category knowing that you are not friends and you will never be.

wc :: 13k. written without any new information about takiishi’s past. SHORT HAIRED CHIKA. original characters added for the sake of the story(not self insters). it's all a figment of my imagination. enjoy reading while listening.

taglist :: @maruflix @heartkaji @y2kuromi @stunie @haiaus @17020

Always be careful of men because you can get hurt if you play with fire for too long. Your mother's words had been ringing in your head every single second since you were born and you couldn't blame her even if you wanted to. Because she was always right about absolutely everything and everyone, as much as you didn't want to listen to her, thinking she didn't understand what it was like to be a teenager with raging emotions and a whole life ahead. Is love medicine or poison? Not even your mom knows the answer to that and you regret not listening to her, you regret calling her stupid and whatnot when you were the fool all along.

But that didn't stop you from seeing him, the boy who was his own hero and villain. His name was coming out of your mouth so sweetly when you asked him to play on the playground, but he pelted you with sand and you cried out loud. Why is a four-year-old so ill-mannered? Where are his parents? Everyone else was wondering this as your mother took you in her arms and started soothing you by gently stroking your hair. “It's okay darling, mommy is here…” 

Her voice is always so sweet like honey, but her look directed at the little red-headed boy was so fierce and cruel. He did not react in any way — like a doll, just a body without a drop of soul. It was normal for kids to mess with others but it was not normal the way he behaved like some monster, it spoke enough for his upbringing. When your mother decided to raise her voice, he looked up at you with those golden eyes like the sun and smiled ever so slightly and imperceptibly, and your little childish brain under the influence of the strong emotion of sadness thought he was mocking you. 

“You shouldn't bully children like that! Didn't your mother and father teach yo — ?” the little boy just turned his back and walked away not caring what your mother had to say, because who does she think she is to tell him what is right or wrong? She is no one to him like he is to hers. “Hey, boy, come right back here!” but he neither turned nor returned and your mom just looked at you and kissed your forehead, sighing heavily. “When you grow up, be careful who you fall in love with, I don't want you to be with boys like him.” you were too young to understand her words, but this was the first time Takiishi Chika made you cry.

“Can you believe that some boy just threw sand at our little girl?” Making dinner also meant time to share problems within the family. And your mother is still angry with the behavior of the little boy while cutting the carrots not so calmly that your dad had to take the knife away from her. “He's a little kid, most guys tease the girls they like.” If you could go back in time you would have told your father that it wasn't true, to some extent it is, but in this case, you were bullied by some stranger, not liked.

The memory of that day in the playground lingered in your mind, even as years went by and you began first grade with all the excitement and nerves that came with a new school year. Your parents had been busy preparing everything for you: new uniforms, new shoes, and the most important thing of all, a sweet obento packed with love.

Your first day of elementary school was filled with introductions and new faces. The classroom buzzed with the sounds of children's chatter and laughter. You found yourself making friends easily, joining in games during recess, and sharing stories about dolls over lunch. The obento your mother made was a hit among your new friends, who admired the neat arrangement of rice, vegetables, and little sausages shaped like octopuses. 

As you sit at the lunch table with your classmates, enjoying your meal and the happy company, when suddenly you get a feeling that someone is watching you. Glancing up, you saw him — the same boy from the playground three years ago. He was sitting at the other table just a short distance away, staring at you with those same unsettling golden eyes. He looked slightly older, but there was no mistaking him with that short red hair.

For a moment, you froze, the memories of that day flashing back. The sand in your eyes, the sound of your mother's soothing voice, and his cold, emotionless stare. He looked away just as you made eye contact, his expression unreadable and that mocking smile was nowhere to be found.

One of your girl friends, noticing your sudden quietness, nudged you gently. “Y/N-chan, are you okay? Is that your boyfriend?”

You forced a smile and shook your head. “N-no! He’s just... someone I knew from before. He threw sand in my face when I was three!”

“He’s older, you know,” one of them said, nudging you with a playful smirk. “A whole year older. That makes him extra cool.” Another added voice in the choir, “And a bad boy! I heard he’s always getting into trouble. Isn’t that exciting, Y/N-chan?”

You felt your cheeks flush, embarrassment and frustration coloring your face. “No way. I would never be with someone like him!” Your friends exchanged glances, giggling. “You know what they say, right?” one of them teased. “If a boy likes you, he’ll tease you!”

You squint your eyes, being skeptical not wanting to give the idea any merit. Yeah, they can tease you, but not in a way that can make you go blind. “Don't be like my dad, Ami.” you retorted, recalling your dad’s words that echoed your friends' sentiments. Your mom always told you that teasing wasn't equal to affection, especially in such a harsh manner.

As the laughter continued, you watched him get up from the table, expecting him to come over or do something disruptive. But to your surprise, he just walked past you, not even glancing your way.

“See, you’re just like a princess waiting for her prince to save her from the poisoned apple with a kiss,” another friend teased, making everyone laugh again. “Maybe he’s just shy,” another one suggested with a smiling face, “Or maybe he’s planning something really special.”

If there was sand in this special thing you rather stay home and watch scary movies that make you unable to sleep. You didn't want to have anything to do with him, you were even starting to forget him, but apparently, life wanted you to remember the incident at the playground for the rest of your life. 

When the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, you and your friends headed back to class. It was P.E. time, and you were all excited to play outside. The sun was shining brightly, and the playground was bustling with activity. You and your friends decided to pretend you were mermaids, splashing around an imaginary ocean, while others were fairies fluttering about.

As you laughed and played, you noticed the second graders also had P.E. at the same time. They were on the other side of the field, playing various games. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him, all alone, away from the group, kicking a football ball around. 

You tried to ignore him, focusing on your game. But then, without warning, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head. You crumpled to the ground, clutching your head and crying out in pain. Your friends gathered around you, their faces a mix of concern and confusion. Through the blur of tears, you saw the football ball that he had been playing with, now lying a few feet away from you. The teacher rushed over to check on you, while the second graders' teacher called out sternly, "Takiishi, to the principal's office!"

You looked up, still crying, and saw him walking away, a big red dot retreating into the distance. Tears streamed down your tender face as you held your head in your hands.

As the teachers helped you to your feet and checked for any serious injury, your friends whispered among themselves, some still giggling nervously. "He did it on purpose," one of them said. "Or it was just an accident," another suggested, but this wasn't Snow White or Sleeping Beauty waiting for their prince when they fell to be awakened by a kiss. It was real bullying but the other girls thought it was something romantic straight out of a fairy tale or a movie. 

You didn't want to hear his name or see him anymore. But your parents taught you not to judge people, trying to push away the idea that he might have hurt you on accidnet knowing he did it on purpose. And speaking of parents, surely they will be angry, well at least your mom will be pissed knowing what this boy has done before and your dad will take it as an accident. You wished he was like the other boys, or maybe to behave like a real prince. At six years old you asked yourself the question: What did I do wrong?

The teachers decided it was best for you to sit out the rest of P.E. in the shade, and your friends stayed close, trying to cheer you up. “It’s okay, Y/N-chan!” Ami said hooking her arms with yours “My big sister cries all the time because of the boy she likes!”. Despite their efforts, the incident left another core memory in your childish brain — Takiishi Chika made you cry for a second time.

For your ninth birthday, you got the toy you saw on commercials every day. Yes, you may be a little too old for such things, but you're never too young to have fun. And that's why you and your friends agreed that tomorrow in class everyone should bring their dolls so that you can play. 

It was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to run in the classroom, not in a circle trying to get your doll from a group of boys who were neither your age nor a year older, it seemed that they were at least twelve. Your heart races as you sprint down the hall, tears blurring your vision. Your precious doll, a cherished birthday gift, is clutched in the rough hands of boys who tower over you, their laughter echoing like cruel music in your ears. "Please, give it back! I won't tell the teacher, I promise!" you plead, voice trembling.

The boys laugh louder, one of them tossing your doll down the hall. You flinch, expecting to hear the sickening thud of your doll hitting the ground, but instead, you hear rapid footsteps. In an instant, the boys are on the ground, sprawled out in various states of shock and pain.

You freeze, fear tightening your chest. What if you're next? What if you never see another Winx transformation or find out what happens in One Piece? Shivering, you try to move but your body refuses to obey.

The figure before you is unmistakable. The red and yellow hues, the aura of danger—it's him. He stares at you, blinking a few times before that same mocking smile from six years ago spreads across his face. His gaze, cold and intense, feels like it's piercing through you. He doesn't speak, doesn't move—just stares. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. You wonder what he's thinking, why he's acting this way, but no answers come.  

Before you can react, another voice pierces the tension. "Hey, don't cry now, here is your doll!" It's another boy, holding your now broken doll. You recognize him, he is with the redhead all the time, but his name eludes you. He hands it gently, and you accept it, despite its broken state. It's still yours.

"Takiishi, is that your girlfriend?" the blue-eyed boy asked but Takiishi ignored him. He steps over the fallen bodies, giving you one last look with those warm eyes that showed coldness, unwavering, as if searching for something within you.

"Hey, wait up for me~ It was nice meeting you!" the same boy shouts, running after the delinquent. You stand there, hugging your doll, still covered in goosebumps. Even though the fear was overpowering, you felt relieved at the same time.

For the first time, Takiishi Chika made you smile. It was a small, tentative smile, but it was there. The boy who once haunted your nightmares has given you a reason not to buy Dreamcatchers.

Being thirteen meant you were growing up, entering your teenage years, and you had to be cool, even if you had a strong obsession with that one band and several dozen movies and TV shows. You kept it cool, but when you were with your friends you were giggling like the middle school girls, in fact you are in middle school. For the past four years, you had a strange relationship with Takiishi Chika, the boy who had once been the monster in your fairy tale. After the doll incident, things changed. No one dared to cause you any harm or say anything to your address, knowing you had something going on with and although your friends jokingly call him your boyfriend, you know better. He is not and never will be your Prince Charming. Yet, you've grown used to his presence, tolerating him as best as you can.

Today was special, you felt like it was going to be. You had borrowed your mother's makeup, hoping she wouldn't notice. The thrill of trying something new made your heart race as you carefully applied pink lip gloss and mascara. It was simple, but the compliments from your friends made you feel like you had discovered a hidden superpower, even thinking that your favorite idol would ask you to be his girlfriend. You wore your makeup all day, and the compliments and flattery did not stop even after your school club activities ended, you decided to visit your favorite spot, the rooftop, with some leftover snacks.

The rooftop was your hiding place where you could escape and dream. The open sky seemed to stretch forever, and you loved the feeling of the breeze playing with your hair. Here, you could be yourself, indulging in daydreams about your favorite group and the countless movies and TV shows you adored.

As you stood admiring the view, just staring at the horizon, lost in thought. That was until you heard a familiar voice. Turning your head slightly you saw the source of the voice that belonged to Endo Yamato, and Takiishi Chika had climbed up and was watching from above. You tensed slightly, hoping they wouldn't notice you, but luck wasn't on your side.

"Hey, Takiishi, your girlfriend is here!" Endo's voice rang out, making you sigh. Not again with the boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Why does everyone have to call you that? He more or less tried to kill you, and he did it twice either with sand or a football ball.

"I am not his girlfriend, Endo," you said, annoyance clear in your voice. His teasing smile widened as he replied, "Then why are you wearing makeup? The whole school talked about how cute Takiishi's girlfriend is."

That left you confused. Other students talked about you being pretty? Being Takiishi Chika's pretty girlfriend? That couldn't be true, as he always talked nonsense, and expecting an answer from the red-haired boy was like expecting a lion to eat plants - it would never happen.

"You are so weird. No one said anything like that," you retorted, crossing your arms, and glaring at Endo, who still had that teasing smile plastered on his face. Before you could say anything more, Takiishi jumped down from a slightly higher place, landing between you and Endo.

"See, he is coming to greet you. He never leaves this spot—" Endo's words were cut off as Takiishi swung at him. Endo dodged the punch, grinning as he realized it was his cue to leave.

Now it was just you and Takiishi Chika. When you are with him, your heart burns and you don't know why. As always, he looked at you with that soulless look, his eyes still radiating emptiness, even though all his expression was something, it was nothing to you. You tried to find the right words. "Do you have always to do that?" you finally asked, referring to his sudden appearance and equally sudden aggression. His only response was a slight shrug as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Why do you always show up out of nowhere?" you pressed on. "And why does everyone think we're dating?"

Takiishi's eyes flickered for a moment, a hint of something passing through them, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "Does it matter?" he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. You couldn't stand the silence, the lack of answers, the emptiness that seemed to consume every interaction with him. Each time you tried to break through his cold exterior, you felt yourself growing more frustrated, more desperate for some sign of humanity. Today, though, was different, you have reached your limit.

"Why don't you care?" Your voice wavered your anger and hurt mingling in your words. "For the past ten years, you've done nothing but humiliate me, throwing things my way, harshly shoving me out of your way. Why do you behave like some monster?" A hiccup escaped your lips, and you could feel the tears welling up, the dam finally breaking once again.

Takiishi just stared at you, his eyes as empty as ever. His lack of reaction only fueled your rage. "I tried my best to be good, to be a human and a friend to you. But you haven't changed." The words tumbled out of your mouth, unfiltered and raw. You didn't know what had possessed you to admit what you felt to someone who seemed incapable of feeling anything.

Was it because of last week when he tripped you on the stairs, and you had to lie to your mom about falling during a volleyball game? Or when he almost punched you just because you told him he had to go to class?

You tried to find the right words, to make him understand, to make him care. "Why?" you finally asked, your voice trembling. "Why do you show up out of nowhere and act like I'm some sort of target?"

Chika harshly grabbed your wrist, he was holding it very tight, and could have broken your arm at any second, as you winced at the sudden pain. "Let me go!" you demanded, trying to wrench your hand free. But he didn't let go. Instead, he pulled you closer, his breath warm against your face. And then, without warning, he kissed you on the lips. Your mind went blank. Not knowing how to react or what to think. The kiss was rough and forceful, lacking any tenderness or affection. It felt more like a punishment than a gesture of what others could call love. When he finally pulled away, you were left gasping for breath, your heart pounding in your chest like it was going to burst out at any moment.

You stumbled back, your wrist still aching from his grip. "What is wrong with you?" you shouted, your voice cracking with a mix of anger and confusion. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand as if trying to erase the memory of his kiss.

He just stood there, watching you with that same inscrutable expression. "You can't just do that to people," you continued, your voice trembling as you were breathing heavily. "You can't just… do whatever you want."

But his eyes never wavered, and his expression never changed. It was as if he hadn't heard a word you said, as if your pain and unknown emotions deep inside your heart hidden away, meant nothing to him. And in that moment, you realized that maybe they didn't.

You took a step back, needing to put some distance between yourself and him. "Stay away from me, I hate you." you said, your voice steadier now. Hate was a strong word and it wasn't just said out of nowhere, but he deserved it. "Monster."

That special moment for every single girl who was or was about to fall in love was taken away from you, your first kiss stolen by someone like him. You knew you should hate him, despise him for what he had done. But a part of you, a small, irrational part, still wanted to understand him, to reach out to the person hidden behind the locked doors of his soul. But as you turned to leave, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the end, that he wasn't done with you yet. Takiishi Chika made you cry for a third time. And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

Words came out of his mouth after you were no longer here, but only he heard them, almost as a whisper to himself. "You are pretty." They were meant to be an aside, a secret confession cloaked in madness, but now they felt like a ghost, haunting the empty space where you used to be.

The sweet sixteen — from caterpillar to a beautiful butterfly in the endless garden called life. You grew, mentally and physically, more mature than you were a few years ago in middle school. And now look at you, first year in high school, new place and with new people, it was so nostalgic when you thought about your first day of school. 

The laughter, the smiles... and the tears. Despite everything that had happened a whole decade ago, the past is past — forgive and forget. There was no room in your head to think about it anymore, not when your boyfriend was waiting for you. Was your mother showing him baby pictures of you again? This woman loves to embarrass you, but it can't be helped, you are her only daughter.

"Ah, here she is three years old, she loved playing in this sandbox until some spoiled brat threw sand at her." you overhear her say. She still holds a grudge against him. His name has become a taboo subject, and she’d freak out if she found out he kissed you — that’s why she doesn’t know. In fact, no one does. "Mom, you should stop showing Kirihito my baby photos every time he is here," you say as your boyfriend chuckles, and your mom gets up and goes to the kitchen.

"Come and get your lunch," she calls, but before you leave the house, she tells you to be careful with Kirihito Yuu. It's your first boyfriend, and not every first try is going to be good or as expected, she wanted to protect you from bad news.

"Be careful, darling. Don't play with fire for too long or you will get burned." She doesn't understand what it's like to be a teenager with raging emotions and a whole life ahead. Your mother should stop being so judgy. She doesn't know Kirihito like you do.

"You are ridiculous, Mom," you roll your eyes as you put the bento in your bag. This conversation has been going on for almost 5 months since they found out you had a boyfriend and apparently they won't stop hinting at it.

"Just don't come back crying when he breaks your heart."

You don't say anything, your scoff is enough. Everyone likes him; why can't she? Even your dad is on her side with this. But you pay them no mind like you started doing when you entered puberty. You know everything; your parents know nothing.

Arriving at your school's gate, he holds both of your hands. "I'll see you later?" you ask, feeling his body warmth. The thing is you're going to an all-girls high school, and your boyfriend attends Furin High School. Its reputation isn't great, and your parents don't like him because they see him as one of those vulgar hooligans.

But no one could beat Takiishi Chika in terms of being the most horrible person you've ever met. He had a reputation for being extremely violent. He didn't care about anything and you knew it best by being his play toy. Even in his first year of junior school, he beat someone supposedly stronger than him, and he caused fear wherever he walked. 

Wait... Did you just think about him again?

"Are you okay, love?" your boyfriend asks, his voice pulling you back to the present. You nod your head, trying to shake off the unsettling memories. "Just being nervous is all." You smile at Kirihito, unlike someone else, he's never bullied you or been cold. Instead, he's always been your safe haven. You're not ready to say those three words yet, but you know your feelings for him run deep.

“You got this. Call me if you need anything, all right?” he said as you nodded your head, blushing as he went on his way to Furin High. It always felt like the beginning of a different world, one that you were both a part of and completely separate from. As he walked through the school gates, he was always on time for classes, or "meetings," as they liked to call them.

A whistle made its way to his ears as he saw his team leader and bowed his head. "Unusual for you to be late," the leader said, voice teasing. "Did you rob a bank or something? You look a little bit too happy."

Kirihito looked up, his piercing red eyes meeting his upper's blue ones. The leader's smirk grew wider, sensing something out of the ordinary. "I was just walking my girlfriend to her school," Kirihito said nonchalantly, though a slight tinge of pride colored his usually stoic tone.

The main reason why Furin was like it was, a place where chaos and destruction ruled was because of Endo Yamato, he was pretty well known in and outside most schools. "Oh! Girlfriend, you say? Is she cute?" curiosity piqued, as he leaned in slightly, eager for more details about this unexpected aspect of Kirihito's life.

"I guess she is," he replied, his voice flat and devoid of enthusiasm. 

"You don't sound like you love her," the leader remarked, raising an eyebrow at Kirihito's indifference "That's because I don't,"  face dull and his voice detached from emotion. His eyes, however, held a fleeting sadness, hinting at deeper complexities within him. Endo watched him for a moment longer, intrigued by the contradiction of Kirihito's actions and his apparent lack of feelings. "Well, best of luck breaking up with her."

But his curiosity didn't stop there, it was after a few hours when Endo's eyes followed Kirihito as he moved through the bustling schoolyard, a catlike grace to his steps that belied the darkness within him. He trailed behind, his presence unnoticed by the rest of the students who were preoccupied with their own dramas and distractions.

It wasn't long before he saw Kirihito meet up with a girl who broke into a smile as she approached him, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her boyfriend. A very familiar face. Hold on… Is that you? Kirihito's demeanor shifted slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible softness in his otherwise cold exterior. He reached out and took your hand, guiding you away from the crowd of students and towards a quieter part of the campus.

It was really you. L/N Y/N.

Endo Yamato hit the jackpot, he couldn't believe it. After three years he finally saw you again. He snapped a photo of the two of you with his phone, the click of the camera shutter masked by the noise of the school around him. As he reviewed the image, a slow smile spread across his face. You had grown even prettier since he last saw you before you transferred to another middle school, your features more refined, your presence more captivating. It was no wonder Takiishi was infatuated with you.

He lingered in the shadows, watching as the both of you turned to leave in the direction of the city center. “On a date, huh?” prying eyes remained fixed on you, noting the way you stood for a moment, watching Kirihito retreat before holding your hand.

He knew exactly where to find you now, how you looked, and who you were with. Takiishi would be very interested in this information because he didn't bother to like anything else besides violence. The thought of delivering such news to him filled Endo with such happiness.

As you walked hand in hand with Kirihito, the city around you seemed to fade into the background. You were lost in the moment, the warmth of his hand in yours grounding you, making you feel safe and cherished. You had longed for something like this—for love, a simple date just the two of you, enjoying each other's company without any worries.

You both decided to stop by your favorite café, the soft murmur of conversations and the gentle clinking of cups created a cozy atmosphere. As you settled into a corner booth, you couldn't help but notice Kirihito's face clouded with a hint of sadness.

"Baby, what's wrong? Did a fight break out again?" you asked, your voice filled with concern and anxiety.

Kirihito glanced up, his eyes meeting yours. "Don't worry, just a rough start to the day. Nothing that your smile can't fix," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You blushed at his comment, warmth spreading through you. Kirihito's words had a way of making you feel special, even when he was hiding his own troubles. Meanwhile, he couldn't shake the thought of how annoying and clingy you were. But despite that, he couldn't deny that you were pretty — the only thing he liked about you.

Meanwhile, Endo's mind was racing with plans. He knew Takiishi would want to know about your relationship with Kirihito. He couldn't wait to see the chaos that would unfold. Slipping away from the busy street, making his way through the narrow alleyways his sharp eyes scanning every corner. The scent of damp asphalt mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood. He found a tall dark silhouette against the dim alleyway lights, standing over several unconscious bodies. Takiishi’s fists were clenched, his breath coming in heavy, angry bursts.

"Takiishi," Endo called out, his voice steady despite the chaotic scene. Chika turned, his golden eyes blazing with a fire that seemed to burn through the shadows. "You fought these guys a week ago. Give them a break."

Endo stepped closer, carefully avoiding the bodies sprawled on the ground. "I was about to tell you something," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "But I realized you might need one more day."

Takiishi's anger could have been seen, an almost physical force radiating from him. "One more day for what?" he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

"To enjoy," Endo replied, his tone teasing as ever. "Before everything changes." He knew well enough that telling Takiishi about you would ignite a firestorm; his temper was like a blazing inferno, consuming everything in its path when provoked.

Takiishi's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his face. "What are you planning?"

Endo shrugged "You'll find out soon enough, don’t wanna spoil the birthday surprise."

Takiishi stared at him, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly as he processed Endo's words, but the redhead paid him no mind because he always talked like that. He left the scene, probably in search of something else to entertain him, as the other followed him like a loyal dog.

As they walk around the city, the usual noise of traffic and chatter blends into a monotonous hum. The streets are busy, and the neon lights cast a colorful glow on the pavement. Takiishi barely listens to Endo's stories about the latest drama in Furin, his mind wandering.

Then, out of nowhere, you appear. Standing alone at the bus stop, your presence strikes Takiishi like a bolt of lightning. He doesn’t know how he spotted you in the crowd, and he doesn’t care. All he knows is that his chest tightens and his brain goes numb. He doesn't care about you. He won't question why you left, won't let himself feel anything. But why is his body moving towards you?

Endo's voice calls out to him, urging him to stop. "Takiishi, wait!" His friend's hand grabs his arm, trying to pull him back. Without thinking, Takiishi spins around and punches Endo hard in the face. The crack of bone against bone is a well-known melody by now.

"Don't get in my way," Takiishi snarls, his voice a low growl. It's not just a warning—it's an order.

But when he looks back to the bus stop, you're gone. The bus pulls away, carrying you out of his reach. The moment passes, and he’s left staring at the taillights disappearing into the distance.

Takiishi turns back to Endo, who is clutching his jaw and staring at him in shock. The fire in his eyes dims slightly as he processes what he’s done, but he doesn’t apologize, he never does. Endo mutters something under his breath, probably a curse, expecting something like this to happen.

Chika walks alone now, and the reality of what just happened sinks in. The city buzzes around him, indifferent to his mess. He feels the sting of regret but pushes it down. There’s no room for that now. Not when he wasn't done with you, not when he needed you.

It was hard work, even when you put in extra hours after school. With one of your coworkers out sick, you had to juggle the cash register and sorting products in the warehouse simultaneously. The bell over the door jingled, and your remaining coworker nudged you, urging you to check on the new arrival.

"Hello, sorry for making you wait. What can I do for y—?" Your sentence trailed off in shock as you looked up and saw the customer. "Endo?" Standing in front of the register, he appeared taller and more fit than you remembered, but his expression was unchanged, though you noticed a few bloodstains on his face.

"Long time no see, cutie~," he greeted you with a teasing tone.

You forced a smile, masking your panic. "What are you doing here?" It was a stupid question, you knew, but his sudden appearance and choice of a nickname threw you off. 

"What? I can't buy myself a drink now?" he pouted playfully as he placed two energy drinks on the counter. "You live on the other side of town, where they certainly have the same drinks."

You scanned the items, and he paid with more than necessary. "Keep the change." He took the drinks but didn't leave. "What?" you asked, feeling uneasy.

"I came here to talk to you. As they say, the customer is always right, and you should attend to his needs."

You sighed, glancing at the clock. It was nearly closing time, and as much as you wanted to say no, you reluctantly agreed. Sitting outside, he opened one drink and handed you the other, claiming it was his treat. You murmured a thanks, sipping it quietly. Despite the silence, it wasn't awkward. Questions swirled in your mind: why was he here? Had he been in a fight?

"Who did you fight this time?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you, knowing how he was getting targeted.

"Your boyfriend," he replied calmly. Kirihito had landed a punch on Endo? That couldn't be true. Kirihito wasn't the type to get into fights, especially not with someone like Endo. Besides, you and Kirihito kept things private, away from the Furin guys. "Takiishi's been doing well, though it's been rough after you broke up with him," he continued, poking at an old wound.

Not this again. Takiishi Chika wasn't your boyfriend. You never broke up with him; you ended whatever twisted relationship you had after he treated you like nothing. But explaining that to Endo would be pointless. He thrived on these messy entanglements, relishing the drama.

"Endo, I'm not in the mood for this," you said, hoping to steer the conversation away from painful memories, but deep down you wanted to ask him so many things

"Come on, Y/N, don't be like that. I'm just here to catch up," he said, his tone mockingly innocent. "It's been too long. You can't tell me you haven't missed me a little."

You sighed again, knowing this conversation wasn't going to end quickly. "What do you want from me?" He leaned back, looking up at the sky and then at you. "I want to know how you've been. And maybe... just maybe, I want to see if you wanted to hang out someday, just like the old times."

You rolled your eyes. "No, thank you. I have a boyfriend.” and before you could say more, he chuckled. Oh, how much he loves knowing things other people didn’t. Your boyfriend was a complete jerk, a weakling, someone who was a waste of air on the Furin grounds. But he will make you see it yourself, the morning is wiser than yesterday, and he will look forward to it.

The night air was cool and refreshing the street lights casting a faint glow on Endo's face. He sipped his drink, a smirk on his lips as if he were savoring every moment. You could tell he was playing games like he always did. He was more like a mastermind, instead of a player.

Endo’s gaze lingered on you, and he finally said, “You know, Y/N, it's strange. I always thought we had a good thing going. Even if it was a bit chaotic.”

You frowned, not sure where he was headed. It was chaotic for him, but it was traumatic for you. “We had a lot of things going on, but I wouldn’t call it good.” He shrugged, unaffected by your words. “Fair enough. I suppose I’m just nostalgic. Those days had a certain charm.”

It was clear he wanted to probe deeper, to stir up emotions you’d rather leave in the past. But you decided to change the subject. “Where are you hitting at?.”

He tilted his head, considering your question with a thoughtful look. “I missed you,” he said finally, though his tone was light, almost playful. “Or maybe I just wanted to see how you’re doing, to remind you that not everything is as perfect as it seems.”

You didn’t want to dwell on his riddles. Instead, you took a deep breath and tried to focus on the present. “Look, it’s late, and I have a busy day tomorrow. It’s probably best if we wrap this up.”

Endo’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, almost genuine smile. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you a VIP pass.” He stood up, stretching a bit as if preparing to leave. “But before I go, I want you to remember something.”

You looked up at him, waiting. “What is it?”

He took a moment, studying you with an intensity that made you shiver slightly. “Life has a way of throwing surprises at us, and sometimes, it’s worth keeping an open mind. Don’t be too quick to dismiss what’s right in front of you.”

Before you could respond, he took a step back, his expression shifting to one of casual indifference. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams~”

With that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the night. You watched him go, very confused, wondering what kind of mess you had gotten yourself into without knowing it. The encounter had left you with more questions than answers, and as you headed back inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Endo’s words would linger in your mind long after he was gone. Just like you were thinking about another man when you were already in a relationship, sometimes you can't get rid of the past if it just keeps coming back to you.

You groaned softly as you woke up from the weird dream, feeling the remnants of confusion like a hungover. Endo, of all people, was in your dream, and yet, there had been something unsettlingly real about it. Blinking in the morning light, your eyes fell on the pitcher of the drink he’d given you yesterday. It was still there as if mocking the boundaries between your dreams and reality. 

Rubbing your eyes, you reached for your phone to check the date. June 21st stared back at you from the screen, bringing with it the gentle reminder of an important milestone. A message from Kirihito popped up, as you read his sweet, heartfelt message, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He had planned a special dinner for the two of you tonight, a gesture that spoke volumes about how much he cared.

Happy seven months to us, my love! It's hard to believe it's already been seven months since we started this incredible journey together. Every day with you has been a blessing, filled with laughter, love, and countless memories that I cherish deeply, every moment spent with you is a moment I hold dear. You bring so much joy and light into my life, and I’m grateful for your love, kindness, and the beautiful soul that you are. You’ve made me a better person, and I can’t wait to see where our journey takes us next. Thank you for being my partner, my best friend, and my everything. I love you more than words can express. I love you <3

But as the warmth of his words enveloped you, a nagging thought wormed its way into your mind. There was something else you were supposed to remember today, something that felt like it was just out of reach. But as hard as you tried to remember, it slipped through your fingers like sand. You were looking forward to the evening with your boyfriend; it would be special, just like every moment you spent together.

As you tried to push the nagging thought aside, the memory of last night crept back in. The way Endo just appeared out of nowhere and started saying things to you that somehow made sense. You shook your head, determined to focus on the present. Kirihito’s message was a bright spot in your day, a reminder of the love and connection you shared. You set your phone aside, mentally preparing yourself for the evening ahead, and resolved to enjoy every moment of it.

After all, the present was where your heart truly lay. The past, with its fleeting dreams and unresolved questions, could wait until you were ready to confront it. 

You got up, getting ready for school when you heard a knock on your bedroom door. "Come in!" you said as the door opened and your mother entered, holding a decorated pink box.

"Special delivery for you," she announced as she got closer to you and you took the box from her. It was elegantly wrapped, with a delicate ribbon tied perfectly around it. You recognized the handwriting on the attached card immediately: it was from Kirihito. Your heart skipped a beat as you carefully opened the box. Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, was a stunning golden bracelet with the letter K elegantly engraved. It shimmered in the morning light, and a smile spread across your face. 

Your mother's presence, however, quickly brought you back to reality. She stood there, a complicated expression on her face, of concern and disapproval. Sensing her impending lecture, you felt a wave of frustration rise within you.

"If you are going to say something bad about him, leave. I don't want to deal with your antics today," you snapped, the harshness of your tone surprising even yourself. You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, admiring how it looked against your skin.

Your mother's eyes narrowed, and she took a step back, hurt flickering across her face. "You will regret talking like that to me," she said quietly, but with a firmness that made you pause. "But it's your choice if love is medicine or poison."

With that, she turned and walked out of your room, leaving you standing there, the bracelet suddenly feeling heavier than it did a moment ago.

You leave for school, the golden accessory gleaming on your wrist as a reminder of Kirihito's gift. The morning air is crisp, and you try to shake off the uneasy feeling your mother's words left behind. Your mind drifts as you walk, lost in thoughts of your boyfriend and the complicated web of emotions surrounding you.

But then you see it. That unmistakable flash of red hair in the distance, the distinctive black gakuran jacket that seems to draw all light into its inky depths, and those golden eyes that watch you from afar. Everything around you becomes silent and extinguished, as if the world itself has faded away, leaving only a singular path that leads to him.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your steps falter as you stare. His hair, still in the same short style, catches the morning light just right. Face was still so gentle yet rough, and his eyes were still full of nothingness, but this time it seemed like the golden and warm color didn't cotranslate with his soul when his pupils dilated. He's grown, no longer the boy you remember, but the change is striking. He used to be shorter than you, but now he stands tall, almost imposing, a figure out of a memory that feels both distant and hauntingly close.

Time seems to stretch as you both stand there, locked in each other's gaze. The world around you ceases to exist; there's only him and the unspoken history that ties you together. He begins to move, each step bringing him closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you turned on your heel and started running. The sound of your footsteps echoed in your ears, but the only thing you could focus on was the sensation of his gaze following you. Your surroundings became a blur as you dashed down the street, your heart pounding louder with each step.

You didn't dare look back, afraid of what you might see—or feel—if you did. The world felt like it was closing in, the path ahead narrowing as you sprinted towards the school gates, seeking refuge in the familiar bustle of your classmates and the routines of the day.

Finally, you slowed down, breathless and shaken. You glanced back over your shoulder, but there was no sign of him. Yet the feeling of his eyes on you lingered, a reminder that some things from the past have a way of catching up, no matter how fast you run.

Behind you, you sense him still coming, a relentless presence that refuses to fade. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you push yourself harder, desperate to put distance between you and the figure from your past. The bracelet on your wrist feels like a burning brand, a reminder of the tangled emotions you can't escape.

You finally entered the school, the sight of familiar faces and the usual morning chaos offering a semblance of comfort. But the pounding of your heart and the image of his golden eyes wouldn't leave your mind. You made a beeline for the restrooms, seeking a moment of solitude to collect yourself.

Inside the quiet, sterile space, you approached the sink and turned on the tap. Cold water gushed out, and you cupped your hands to catch it, splashing your face repeatedly. The shock of the cold helped, but only slightly. As you lifted your head and looked into the mirror, your reflection stared back at you, water droplets mingling with the tears that had escaped your eyes.

Why do you feel this way? The question hung in the air, as you watched the tears and water flow down your face, leaving trails of confusion and heartache in their wake. You had everything you were supposed to want: a boyfriend who cared for you, a life that was steady and predictable. So why were you crying now?

Why does your heart beat so much for him but not for your boyfriend? The thought gnawed at you, your chest tightening with the realization. Kirihito was kind, caring, and had always been there for you. But the sight of Takiishi Chika had stirred something deep within you, something that had lain dormant for years.

Why do you love Takiishi Chika? You whispered the question to your reflection, the words feeling both foreign and familiar. He had always been a part of your life, he might have been an asshole to you but seeing him again had brought back a flood of memories, emotions you thought you had buried long ago. Takiishi Chika made you cry for the fourth time. Instead of being scared, you are more attracted to him, now.

The realization hit you like a wave, and you clutched the edge of the sink for support. The pain of the present and the echoes of the past merged into a confusing whirlwind inside you. How could you explain these feelings, even to yourself? The tears kept flowing, each drop a testament to the storm in your heart. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the questions persisted, their answers just didn’t exist. 

As you stood there, lost in the labyrinth of your emotions, the school bell rang, jolting you back to reality. You quickly wiped your face, trying to compose yourself. The day had to go on, but the image of Chika, and the emotions he had stirred, lingered at the edges of your mind, refusing to be ignored.

The rest of the school day passed slow. You attended classes, answered questions when asked, and even smiled at your friends, but everything felt distant and detached. Your mind was elsewhere, lost in the tangled web of your emotions. Every time you glanced at your wrist, the bracelet Kirihito gave you shimmered back, reminding you of his presence, his love, and how different your feelings were now.

You barely tasted your lunch, pushing the food around your tray while your thoughts drifted back to Chika. The memories of him, the way he had looked at you that morning, kept replaying in your mind. It was a struggle to focus on anyone else.

By the time the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, you felt exhausted. The prospect of going home should have been a relief, but you knew it meant facing the evening ahead—a dinner with Kirihito that you now dreaded.

As you walked home, the air felt heavy, and each step took more effort than the last. When you reached your house, the usual comfort it provided felt hollow. You opened the door, expecting to be greeted by your mom and dad, but the house was eerily quiet. 

You spotted a note on the living room table and picked it up, recognizing your mother's handwriting. "We'll be back at 10pm. If anything happens, call us. We love you. Mom and Dad."

The silence in the house amplified the turmoil inside you. You were completely alone, with nothing but your thoughts and the looming dinner with Kirihito to prepare for. The emptiness of the house mirrored the emptiness you felt creeping into your heart.

You made your way to your room, dropping your bag by the door. The thought of seeing Kirihito, of pretending everything was fine, felt overwhelming. You stood in front of the mirror, looking at your reflection again. The tears from the morning had dried, but the confusion and heartache remained etched on your face.

Taking a deep breath, you began to get ready for the night. You chose an outfit carefully, one that you knew Kirihito liked, but the act felt mechanical, devoid of the excitement you used to feel. As you brushed your hair and applied a light touch of makeup, you couldn't shake the thought that this dinner might be the last.

Your mind kept drifting back to Chika, to the way he had looked at you, the unspoken connection that had reignited the feelings you had tried so hard to forget. The realization that your heart was drifting further away from Kirihito and towards Chika was painful, but undeniable.

You finished getting ready and sat on your bed, staring at your reflection one last time. Tonight, you would see Kirihito, and you hoped that somehow, you would find the strength to face the truth—both for his sake and your own.

As the time for dinner drew closer, you knew you had to leave soon. The house was still empty, your parents' absence a reminder that you were on your own in this. Taking one last deep breath, you stood up and headed towards the door, hoping that whatever happened tonight would bring you the clarity you desperately needed.

You took one last glance in the mirror, ensuring that your makeup was intact and your expression was as composed as possible. It was going to be rough to break up on an anniversary, but you knew it was better to end things now than to continue living a lie. You smoothed down your bright short red dress, feeling the soft fabric beneath your fingertips. The color was bold, perhaps too bold for how you felt inside, but you wanted to put on a brave front for Kirihito.

Deciding against heels, you slipped into a pair of comfortable sneakers and a black purse to match them. They were elegant enough to match your dress but practical, much like the decision you were about to make. The bracelet on your wrist glittered in the light, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

Stepping outside, you saw Kirihito waiting for you by the gate. His face lit up with a smile as soon as he saw you. His enthusiasm and warmth were always so genuine, and it pained you to know that you were about to hurt him.

"Wow," he said, eyes widening as you approached. "You look stunning."

"Thank you," you replied, forcing a smile. His compliment meant a lot, but the weight of what you had to do made it hard to fully appreciate it. Kirihito's gaze fell on the bracelet on your wrist, and his smile grew even wider. "I'm glad you liked the bracelet. It looks beautiful on you."

You glanced at the bracelet and then back at him, the words you needed to say heavy on your tongue. "It's lovely, Kirihito. Thank you."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yes, let's go."

The walk to the restaurant was filled with casual conversation, Kirihito chatting animatedly about his day and plans for the future. You tried your best to engage, nodding and responding where appropriate, but your mind was elsewhere, already rehearsing the words you needed to say.

For two hours, you endured, trying to distract yourself by focusing on the person in front of you, rather than the one who had invaded your thoughts. Every time you glanced at Kirihito, you felt a pang of guilt. He deserved to know the truth, even if it would hurt him. You owed him that much.

After dinner, you walked hand in hand through the dimly lit streets, the tension between you growing with each step. You took a deep breath, knowing the moment had come.

"Kirihito, I think—" you started, but he cut you off.

"Please forgive me," he said urgently, his voice trembling. Before you could react, he dragged you into a dark alley nearby, his grip on your hand tightening.

"Kirihito, what are you—" Your words were cut off as he pinned you against the wall, his lips crashing into yours. His kisses trailed down your neck and collarbone, each touch making your heart race, but not in the way it once did.

"W-what—?" you moaned, confusion and discomfort mingling in your voice. This wasn't right. This wasn't what you had planned, and it certainly wasn't how you wanted things to go.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense. "I just... I need to feel close to you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

Your body responded instinctively, but your mind screamed in protest. You had talked about this before, about waiting until you felt ready, whether it was with him or someone else. This wasn't how you had imagined it. This wasn't what you wanted.

"Kirihito, stop," you said firmly, trying to push him away. "This isn't right."

Instead of listening, he laughed—a harsh, cruel sound that bore no resemblance to his usual sweet laughter. "Listen here," he said, his voice empty of any affection. "You are just a stupid doll with a beautiful body. Too bad you can’t do anything."

The words hit you like a physical blow. I wanted to remind you that not everything is as perfect as it seems. Panic surged through you as he grabbed your hands and kissed you forcefully, his touch making your skin crawl. You felt sick, and the realization that your mother had been right about him crashed over you with like a sudden and rapid tsunami.

Desperation fueled your actions as you struggled to break free. You kicked him between the legs, and he staggered back, a pained groan escaping his lips. But before you could escape, he pulled something from his pocket—a small, sharp object.

In a flash, he cut your wrist, and you cried out in pain. The searing sting made you gasp, but there was no time to react further. Adrenaline surged through your veins as you realized the immediate danger you were in. Summoning every ounce of strength, you tore away from him, kicking and hitting him, and ran away. The alley seemed to stretch endlessly, but you didn’t stop. The pain in your arm was sharp, but the fear of being caught was sharper.

You burst out of the dark place and into the street, your heart pounding in your chest. You glanced back only briefly to see Kirihito's shadowed figure retreating into the darkness. The world felt like it was spinning around you, and you ran as fast as you could, seeking safety out of the darkness.

Humiliated and betrayed. The sweet, loving facade Kirihito had presented was nothing more than a cruel act. All this time, he had been playing you, pretending to care just to satisfy his own desires. His words replayed in your mind: "You are just a stupid doll with a beautiful body." The disgust and hurt were overwhelming. You had been fooled into believing in a love that turned out to be nothing more than manipulation and deceit.

The pain in your wrist, while not life-threatening, was a constant, stinging reminder of how wrong things had gone. The cut hurt, but the emotional wounds were deeper, more painful. The agony of being used and belittled was a brutal blow, especially on what was supposed to be your anniversary—a day meant for celebration, now marred by violence and betrayal.

With your makeup smudged and your vision blurred by tears, you walked alone through the dark streets, feeling like a mess. The cold night air felt harsh against your skin, but the real chill was in the emptiness you felt inside. You stumbled, your heart shattered and your spirit crushed. You had no idea where you were going or what to do next.

In your daze, you collided with something—or rather, someone. You staggered back, mumbling an apology, "I-I am sorry." Your gaze was fixed on the ground, unable to meet the eyes of whoever you had bumped into.

"Who did this to you?" The voice was gentle but held a tone of underlying anger that made you shiver. You looked up slowly and were stunned to see the one man you thought about all day, Takiishi Chika standing before you. The sight of him was almost a mirage in your confused state.

His eyes were filled with nothing but pure rage and as he took in your disheveled appearance and the bloody wound on your wrist, his expression darkened. You have never seen him like that. "Y/N," he said, taking your hand in his, the movement was a bit harsh. "Who did this to you?"

You tried to speak, but your throat was tight with emotion.  All the memories you had with him appeared in your head like a movie. As for him, he didn't care if you were at school or not, he didn't care when you left him three years ago, he didn't care when you ignored him, he didn't care after seeing you in tears because of another person.

Only he was allowed to make you cry. 

Without waiting for an answer, Chika’s anger surged. “Come here, you bitch.” The voice was cold and determined as he turned towards the direction you had come from, storming off in the direction of Kirihito. You watched as he took off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, a small gesture of comfort amid the chaos.

But as Takiishi moved past you, another figure emerged. Endo, with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine, placed a hand on your arm. “I knew he would like his birthday present, though I didn’t expect him to find you in such a state,” Endo said with a twisted grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—today was Takiishi’s birthday. You had forgotten in the midst of everything, and now everything felt like a cruel twist of fate. As Endo’s hand covered your eyes, you felt a surge of fear. “It’s better not to watch,” he said softly.

Confusion and fear mixed with the anger you felt. “Why is this happening? Kirihito, then you, Takiishi—What is going on?” you stuttered, your voice trembling.

Your question was swallowed by the sounds of a struggle as Takiishi and Kirihito faced off. The alleyway seemed to close in around you as Chika and Kirihito came into view. Kirihito, his demeanor now vicious and cruel, snarled at Chika.

Takiishi moved fast, faster than any beast or monster, his anger driving him. He charged at Kirihito, his movements a blur of strength and precision. Kirihito tried to block the assault, but Takiishi’s punches were relentless. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, and Kirihito struggled to keep up, his defenses crumbling under the onslaught. Chika’s fists connected with Kirihito’s jaw, sending him reeling against the wall. The force of the impact left Kirihito gasping for breath.

“Don't play with what's mine.” Takiishi growled, his voice dripping with fury. He grabbed Kirihito by the collar and slammed him against the wall, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and determination. That boy was a monster and he was becoming one because of you.

Kirihito’s attempts to fight back were feeble compared to Takiishi’s relentless assault. He tried to push him away, but Chika’s strength was overwhelming. With a final, powerful punch, Takiishi sent Kirihito sprawling to the ground. The force of the blow left Kirihito sprawled on the pavement, barely conscious.

Breathing heavily, Takiishi stood over him, his chest heaving with the exertion of the fight. Kirihito, defeated and battered, looked up with a mixture of fear and pain.

“Touch her one more time,” Takiishi said coldly, his voice low and dangerous. ”And you are dead.”

As Kirihito tried to rise, Takiishi moved in, making it clear that he was done with him. The fight was over, and Kirihito’s attempts to get up were weak and futile. He slumped against the wall, his strength gone, as Takiishi stepped back.

Endo, still standing beside you, looked at the scene with a satisfied smirk. He removed his hand from your eyes, and you saw Takiishi standing tall, victorious, and Kirihito defeated on the ground. The sight was both a relief and a painful reminder of the turmoil you had just endured.

Chika’s gaze softened as he turned back to you, he reached out to touch your face gently, wiping away the remnants of your tears and smudged makeup. You didn’t seem fazed by the blood on his hands or the stains on his clothes. What mattered to him was the look of concern in his eyes this time they were not empty and cold, but warm and full of the sight of you.

He leaned in, his thumb gently caressing your cheek leaving a tint of your already red blush, lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the violence. The kiss was a desperate, passionate connection—a promise of solace amidst the chaos.

His lips moved against yours, each touch a balm to the emotional wounds that had been inflicted. There was an overwhelming sense of reassurance in his kiss, a silent vow that he would be there for you no matter what. It was both a declaration and a comfort, a way of saying everything he couldn’t express in words, everything he was being regretful for.

Endo, unable to resist making a final comment, let out a dry chuckle. “I’m still here, you know,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of mockery. “Not that it matters now.”

As the kiss deepened, you felt the world slipping further away, your senses dimming. Takiishi’s touch, and his kiss, were the last things you felt before the darkness enveloped you completely. The last thing you felt was the comforting solidity of Takiishi's arms as he caught you and held you close. The stressful night had taken its toll, but as you passed out in his arms, you knew that for now, you were safe.

Takiishi cradled your limp body in his arms, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry. His grip was gentle, as the weight of your unconscious form seemed to worry him, fueling his resolve to get you to safety. His gaze was locked on your face, a look of protectiveness in his eyes.

As he began to walk, the night air was cool against his skin, but his focus was solely on you. Each step he took was deliberate, each movement careful to ensure your comfort. Endo, trailing behind with a satisfied smirk, observed the scene with a sense. His role in the evening's events had gone according to plan, and he was content with the unfolding of the night. He walked leisurely, his hands in his pockets, his eyes occasionally glancing towards the scene before him.

Takiishi’s thoughts were focused on you, your well-being, and getting you home safely. Endo, on the other hand, seemed to view the situation in another way, as if the events were merely a dramatic play unfolding before him.

The clock had long struck midnight when they arrived at your home. The darkness of the night was only pierced by the dim, flickering light from a lamp inside. Takiishi, still holding you carefully in his arms, as Endo knocked on the door and rang the bell, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. The minutes ticked by slowly as they waited, the flickering lamp casting uneasy shadows across the front yard.

From inside, there was a murmured exchange, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps. The door creaked open, revealing a disheveled figure. Your mother’s tired eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight of you, unconscious and cradled in Takiishi’s arms.

"Who the hell—" her voice cut off as she saw your limp form. Her gaze darted between you, Takiishi, and Endo, recognition dawning as she remembered the redhead from past encounters. "Y/N?" Her voice broke with worry and anger as she took in the blood on your wrist and the disheveled state you were in.

"What have you done to my daughter?" she demanded, her voice rising with both fear and rage. The sight of you in such a vulnerable state was more than she could bear.

Before she could say more, Endo stepped forward, his demeanor smooth,  “We’re sorry for the way we’re bringing your daughter in,” he said, his tone deliberately calm. “But I think we’d better take care of her first and then explain the situation.”

Your mother’s eyes flitted between Endo and Takiishi, the latter still holding you with unwavering care. Her maternal instincts and concern for your health won out over her anger. Though her expression remained tight, she nodded reluctantly. “Right,” she said, her voice trembling. “First, her health. Then we’ll talk.”

She opened the door wider, allowing them to step inside. As they entered, your mother instructed, her tone sharp but her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and worry. “You come with me,”  She directed Chika to follow her, clearly intending to discuss the situation in private.

Endo, with his characteristic smirk, raised an eyebrow. “And, you don’t touch anything or think about it,” he looked around the beautifully decorated living room said, his voice dripping with casual menace. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed at Endo, but she didn’t have the luxury of confronting him at the moment. Her priority was to ensure your safety and to understand what had happened. She led Takiishi to a quieter part of the house, her steps brisk and purposeful.

As Takiishi followed, he glanced back once more at you, his face a mask of determined concern. The weight of the night’s events hung heavy, but a promise to take care of you. The confrontation with Kirihito had left its scars, but for now, the focus was on you.

Your mother’s eyes held a fierce determination as she led Takiishi through the dimly lit hallway. The sound of your breathing, shallow and uneven, filled the silence between them. She opened the bathroom door, the light from the ceiling casting a soft glow in the small room.

Without hesitation, she motioned for him to place you gently into the bathtub. The porcelain surface seemed stark and cold, but it was necessary for what needed to be done. As he carefully set you down, your mother began to unfasten the straps of your dress with a practiced efficiency born of both urgency and care.

Takiishi stood by, his eyes never leaving you, he could see the pain and vulnerability you were exposed to, and it weighed heavily on him. His heart ached for you, and his mind was consumed with worry.

Seeing your mother struggling slightly, he stepped forward to assist. “Are you going to watch or help?” her words were not meant to be harsh but rather a nudge to refocus the task at hand.

Your mother, though tense, appreciated the help. Takiishi removed your shoes and helped her ease off your dress. As the garment fell away, leaving you in your underwear, your mother worked quickly to assess your wounds. Her hands were steady, though her eyes revealed the depth of her concern.

“Go to your friend downstairs,” she instructed. “I’ll call you when we need to carry her.” There was an unspoken agreement in her tone—a mutual understanding that your immediate care took precedence over everything else.

Takiishi nodded, his expression serious as he stepped back. He cast one last look at you, his heart heavy with the burden. The bathroom door closed behind him, leaving your mother to tend to you.

The silence in the bathroom was filled only with the soft sounds of water and the gentle rustling of fabric as your mother carefully cleaned your wounds. Each motion was precise, driven by her need to help you heal and to make sense of the situation. “I told you that you would get burned. But I am glad you are safe.” she saw the golden bracelet and removed it, you won't need it anymore, so she will sell it, it's gold after all.

Outside, Takiishi’s steps were swift but measured as he made his way back downstairs and saw Endo fast asleep on the couch. A short while later, your mother called him back to the bathroom. “We’re ready,” she said softly, as he stepped inside, she motioned to the sink. “Wash your hands first.”

Takiishi nodded, moving quickly to comply. The water ran cold at first, then warm as he scrubbed away the remnants of the foreign blood. With clean hands, he turned back to you, now dressed in a clean shirt and pants, looking so peaceful and divine despite the hell you went through.

Gently, he lifted you into his arms again, cradling you with a tenderness that was so unnatural for him. As he carried you through the hallway to your room, your mother followed closely, her eyes never leaving you. Maybe he's not so bad, she thought. She always remembered him and saw him as some bad kid, a big troublemaker, and no matter how much your mother kept you out of trouble, it always came to you. Takiishi Chika was a big problem, but your mother knew that he was your big love.

Once in your room, Takiishi laid you down on your bed his touch lingering on your face as he leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours. It was a kiss filled with all the emotions he couldn’t put into words—a kiss that, if your friends from first grade were here, would have made them giggle and say: I told you so, he was a prince!

He didn't know what was wrong with him or why he kept wanting to kiss you, he just knew that he could still taste your lipgloss when he kissed you for the first time. He was intoxicated. The only way he could get your attention was to be aggressive, that's what he was best at.

Just as his lips were about to touch yours, a gentle cough came from the doorway. “You, go shower,” your mother said softly. “I will let you and your friend sleep for tonight, the least I can do.”

Takiishi pulled back, reluctantly tearing himself away from you. He stood up and moved past your mother, who still commanded a certain presence that made him respect her, even if he’d never admit that she scared him when he was four. “I put my husband’s clothes out for you. And thank you,” she added, her voice sincere. If you wonder where your dad was, he was probably in a deep slumber, hard to wake up. But he will surely be more than grateful when he finds out what happened.

In the bathroom, Takiishi showered quickly, washing away the blood and sweat of the night. The warm water was soothing, providing a momentary escape from the weight of the past. Once clean, he dressed in the clothes your mother had left for him—simple, comfortable, and clean a contrast to the violence and tension he had just endured.

Returning to your room, he found it quiet and dimly lit. Your mother had left some food and water on a small table, a silent gesture of care. Takiishi approached the bed, his heart softening at the sight of you, as he already let you in it. He laid down next to you, careful not to disturb your rest. His fingers played gently with your hair, the soft strands a comforting distraction. You are pretty, inside and out.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. He didn't care that you were so close, and he probably didn't care that he loved you. Leaving you one last kiss on your lips, before falling asleep as he already fell for you thirteen years ago. You are mine. And he was yours.

The next morning, you wake up feeling extremely tired, your body sore and aching. A sharp pain shot through your hand as you tried to move it, reminding you of the events of the previous night. Groggy and disoriented, you attempted to sit up but found yourself unable to move. Someone’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you securely in place.

Panic surged through you, and you instinctively opened your mouth to scream, but before any sound could escape, a hand gently but firmly covered your mouth.

“Shut up and sleep,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear. It was Takiishi Chika.

His voice, though commanding, had a hint of softness to it. The initial shock started to fade as you realized who it was. The memories of the previous night began to flood back—Kirihito’s betrayal, Takiishi’s rescue, and the tender care he had shown you. Your breathing steadied as you processed the situation. He was in your bed, under the same blanket, your bodies closer than ever,

“We didn’t do anything, right?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you gulped. The question hung in the air, filled with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Takiishi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rested his head gently against your shoulder, his warm breath brushing your skin. “No,” he finally said, his voice sleepy and hoarse. “We didn’t.”

Relief washed over you. It felt strange, like there was no weight pulling you back, free from the chains that were made of lies. You were ready to say those three words to the person who deserved them. “I love you, Chika,” you whispered. The way you said his name, instead of his surname or whatever nickname, felt intimate and personal. It made him feel strange. I love you. He was still learning, still getting used to you. To being soft, to feeling, to showing—to love. It was unfamiliar territory for him, but the sincerity in your voice and the trust you placed in him stirred something deep within.

As you closed your eyes, you felt his grip tighten briefly, a silent promise of protection and care, drifting back to sleep, Takiishi watched over you, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He didn’t fully understand what he was feeling, but he knew that he wanted to be there for you, to protect you, to make sure you never felt that kind of pain again. And in that moment, as he held you close, he vowed to do just that. Despite his broken state. He’s still yours.

You got your answer, even if you play with fire and get burned, love is the medicine that will cure you of the poison. Takiishi Chika made you feel loved for the first time.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[chuluoyi]

Baby gojo and daddy gojo not wanting to share mama gojo😭✋i-

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 06:20 P.M 」

aww this is so cute of course this is the first i worked on after getting back from my weekend break <3 and actually i have this one similar ask too so i combined yours with theirs! here's some cute blinking gojo in phantom parade and okay now let us have some crack and make gojo suffer

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“bwah!” a nudge.

“myah!” a shove.

and then—

“waaa!” a… slap (?) on the cheek.

“huh?” satoru winced, touching where the baby’s palm just connected with his face, blinking rapidly. so he wasn’t imagining things. this really was happening in front of his eyes.

and it was the baby—his baby.

your giggles filled the air in response.

“hey, you,” satoru took on a very stern look and an exaggerated frown, glaring at his own son. the baby merely babbled at him innocently, blinking his wide crystal blue eyes that mirrored his. “bad, bad minion. this is a very serious issue. you shouldn’t do that, you hear?”

the serious issue being each time he tried to lean closer to steal a kiss from you, your son always found a way to repel him away with his tiny hands.

you snorted at his righteous tone. “he’s just protecting me. even your kid knows you’re a danger.”

a gasp left your husband’s shiny lips, mockingly in disbelief. “me? a danger? i make your life a heaven on earth!”

“heav—pfft—”

“i give you love, food, my body—” he emphasized, pointing at himself for a dramatic effect, and you threw your head back, dissolving into a fit of laughter even more, “—heck, i even give you this naughty baby!”

“wha—no! that’s team effort!”

“still! and now he is staging an uprising against me?” satoru cheekily eyed his child, who was now clutching the fabric of your blouse, tiny fingers playing with the shiny diamonds of your necklace—a gift from satoru too, actually.

“look at him go,” he grumbled, his eyes following each little movement his son made, then dramatically yelped when the boy pawed at your breasts. “hey! no touching! those are mine!”

“please.” you almost choked on your laugh. your silly husband always had a way to make things sound funnier than they actually were, and that was what made you fall in love with him more each day, really. “the milk is his!”

“he can have the cow’s! and more importantly, it’s thanks to me that you’re so milky—”

“satoru! you’re so uncouth i can’t—!”

“see? you’re laughing so much! this proves enough that i make you happy every day!”

later that night, after you put your baby to sleep in his crib, satoru gently poked his cheek, his expression tender despite his pursed lips. “he is out like a light…”

satoru might whine a lot, but ultimately, you couldn’t miss the look of adoration and fondness that made him the father of your child. even without saying it out loud, you knew that he would willingly put everything aside and sacrifice anything—first of all, himself—if it was meant for his dearest, most precious treasure.

knowing he'd do the same for you only served to melt your heart even more. and you felt full—so full, in fact, with warmth and love and anything that was soft.

you really do love him, don’t you?

“look at him, he’s like a shrimp,” your husband pointed out, still gazing at his baby in wonder as he kept poking and prodding at the chonky rolls of his little arms, and you thought, nothing could have been more precious than this.

“satoru.”

“yeah?” he turned instantly at the sound of his name, but before he could react further—

you stood on your tiptoes and planted a swift smooch on his cheek, putting the overflowing love you held for him in it. “mwah!”

“…?!”

for the next three seconds, satoru malfunctioned. the brush of your sweet lips on his cheek was so innocent that he was rendered speechless. heat steadily gathered on his face, turning him pink despite himself.

“you…” he groaned, collecting himself, a dopey smile was quickly plastered on his face to cover up his setback as you burst into hearty laughter. “now you’ve started it…” and then he latched on you with a glint of a joker, launching a full-blown tickle attack.

“a—ah! why?! satoru! ahahahaha!”

. . .

safe to say, your wheezes effectively awoke your son from his slumber, and as a bit of payback, you left satoru in the dust to deal with the crying baby, both of them whimpering in unison since he had absolutely no clue how to comfort the little one.

[risestarkiss]

Orange, Baby!

Rise Ramblings #316

When I think about Mikey, this scene always comes to mind.

As soon as they step foot in the library to save Mayhem, Angelo instantly disqualifies himself…hilariously.

On first watch, I found it interesting that he made this decision with no hesitation, especially given the stakes.

At the time I just resigned to him being a silly silly boy, but now I know better.

Yet, before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s explore who Mikey is.

Michelangelo Hamato is the youngest turtle in the family, and it shows.

Consequently, he seems to possess a certain “youngest brother privilege" that his other brothers just can’t help but reinforce. This is the role that Mikey was born into. Therefore, he doesn’t have to push himself to be the smartest, or cleverest, or strongest turtle.

Instead, he decides to be the artist of the family. He’s a creative! He expresses himself everywhere, from stickers on his own shell, to tagging the lair, as well as on paper. The world is his canvas!

Michelangelo also expresses himself in virtually everything he does, so it’s easy to understand why he’s the most open, honest, caring, and emotionally expressive turtle of the bunch. To some it could be seen as a weakness, yet Mikey uses his emotional intelligence as a pillar of strength, of which he utilizes to uphold his brothers when they need support the most.

In the show, Michelangelo often takes on certain personas; Doctor Feelings and Doctor Delicate Touch. (For some reason, they are all doctors, but that’s beside the point.)

At first glance, the personas could be seen as silly bouts of make-believe. But I think that placing these roles upon himself for his brothers' sake is Michelangelo’s way of helping them cope with the world by offering them what they each individually lack.

For instance, Raph, Leo, and Donnie have trouble voicing their discomforts when someone does something they don’t like.

In other words, they have trouble putting their foot down.

But here is Mikey to the rescue!

Dr. Delicate Touch has no such hang-ups.

Similarly, when Donatello runs into trouble, as he is unable to recognize his own emotions, it’s up to Doctor Feelings to help his desperate client in need.

Through taking on these roles, Mikey is able to support his brothers and fill the emotional gaps in his teammates, which, inevitably makes them all stronger.

How is Mikey able to do this and how does he have the strength to take on these roles?

You could think that it’s just in his character, meaning, it’s just how he is. I don’t think so, though. He’s a free thinker, and a creative, but there’s something about these roles that is specifically catered to the needs of his family.

Then I realized, the only reason that Mikey is able to help his brothers in this way is because they first helped him.

Let me explain.

All four of the boys grew up in the same household. Although Splinter tried his very best (there is no Splinter hate here), a single depressed parent doth not a stable child make. Raphael struggled with the burden of his responsibilities as an ad hoc leader (see Being Big Red), Leo struggled with expressing his natural talents as a middle child (see Being Baby Blue), all while Donnie struggled with carving out his place on the team and his feelings of uselessness (see Being Purple Part One and Part Two).

Well, what does Mikey struggle with?

In my humble opinion, nothing.

The struggles of his brothers all related to each turtle coming to terms with themselves and coming to terms with their place on the team.

Yet, due to the love and support of his brothers and father, Michelangelo never had to ask himself if he belonged, struggle with his role on the team, or make huge life-changing decisions that could affect everyone.

Michelangelo is free to just be Michelangelo.

And as a free spirit who is completely in tune with his own emotions, he is able to do things like this:

and this,

and this.

Let’s get back to the scene in the library.

Angelo sees the high stakes of his friend’s pet disappearing forever if they fail but makes the decision to disqualify himself anyway. Why? Because he knows that no matter what he does, it will all be ok.

He has complete faith in his brothers and their ability to solve the problem at hand, so he might as well have some fun.

This not the first time he’s come to this conclusion.

Through out this entire scene, Michelangelo plays in the background.

It’s scenes like this that makes me believe that Mikey’s faith in his family knows no bounds.

Altogether, his brothers and his father were everything he needed to become who he is. Reciprocally, he is free to be everything that they need him to be and more. Over…

and over,

and over again

he trusts them completely.

And through this unwavering trust in his family, he is able to trust himself and his instincts. He knows that with everything they’ve poured into him, he can save them from, well, everything. Over…

and over…

and over again.

Hence, due to all of this evidence, I believe that through the collective love of his family, Michelangelo became the best version of the Hamato spirit, and thus, the best Mystic Warrior of all time.

All because, he’s Orange, baby!

○○○○

Previous | Being Big Red • Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[soapsbaby]

Silly Spicy Call of Duty headcanons

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x reader Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI) Themes: All NSFW but very lighthearted, nothing particularly triggering but ask to tag! Word count: 750ish

These are just silly little headcanons about them, PLEASE if you have any like these send them to me i had such a blast writing them lol!!

Ghost

Sometimes his mask slips a little and he looks goofy as hell, you have to do your best to not laugh into his face because you know he won’t let that slide.

Uses British lingo sometimes. Has called your pussy a “fanny” before. Got mad when that made you giggle.

Once got so frustrated with trying to figure out how to operate one of your vibrators that he broke it. Was very apologetic and immediately ordered you another one afterwards.

Soap

He is clumsy as hell. Every time you have tried to fuck in a position that is anywhere near athletic, something goes wrong. It’s a miracle neither of you have broken your necks trying to get it on in the shower. He will always take the fall though, protecting you with everything he has and curling himself around you even if it means he will end up bruised or bleeding.

Makes a lot of typos when sexting, never notices. Called you “baby gorilla” once (you will never let him live that down).

Gets offended when you call him “Soap” in the bedroom. You know my name, what are you calling me that for? Dummy.

König

He doesn’t usually wear his balaclava under his mask when you have sex since it gets too sweaty but since his mask is pretty loose he will sometimes have to pft-ppf-tpftt when it gets stuck in his mouth. Has almost choked on his mask before.

Gets so flustered that he will just start sputtering nonsense. Has on several occasions been so out of it that he has messed up the nicknames you use for each other. “yes show me that I am your little babygirl, wait- no, you are… I am your boy… you’re… Wait, I’m sorry”. Not a gender or kink thing, which would of course be alright with you, just him being a dummy.

Is a bit of a crier and drooler sometimes which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that he will sometimes accidentally waterboard himself in his mask and not tell you.

Gaz

Has called you mommy once and was mortified. Neither of you have really spoken about it but sometimes you will drop little hints around him to get him flustered.

Likes when you suck him off while he is playing video games but then gets too into the game and genuinely can’t help but get annoyed when he loses because you distract him.

Cpt Price

Is oblivious to any signs that you want him. Will go into Dad story telling mode and completely ignore the effect he is having on you until you grab him by the shirt and just tell him to fuck you.

Has a sex playlist called "sensual" with just the most cliché sex songs on it possible. Can unironically have sex to "Careless Whisper" and “Let’s get it on”.

Has given you rug burn with his beard before. 0/10 very unpleasant experience (you’d do it again, though).

Alejandro

Will say things that could be interpreted as sexist in the moment and then immediately get apologetic. Who’s my good slut? I mean… If you want to be. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… Are you okay with that? Okay. Cool.

Will fuck you in uniform because he knows you’re into that and then get distracted by things he finds in his pockets like shopping receipts. 

Doesn’t care whether or not you understand him, he will speak Spanish to you.

Rudy

Gets tormented by you with new pet names every day. mí amor, I don't know what a Zaddy is. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing.

In the beginning of your relationship he was completely oblivious to most kinks. If you ever expressed anything out of the ordinary to you, he’d raise his eyebrows in confusion and say something like “what? why would anyone want that?” but was always open to trying anything. Now he is probably even more of a deviant than you are.

Valeria

Has this roleplay thing going on where you are a traitor to her cause and she discovers it and gets to “punish” you. You find it a little silly but it gets her super riled up so you play along.

Secretly loves to bottom and to be taken care of by you but would never tell you (you know anyway). Thinks she is being very good at hiding it (she is not).

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More. | 2

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: short, no smut! (surprisingly), just fluffy shit for father’s day <44 😘

SUMMARY: Congratulations! You had the twins! time to deal with lewis and his new dad antics (again), but first, here’s two cute moments.

|1|2|3|4|

✮✮✮✮

“You happy now?”

You stare at your husband through tired and teary eyes, watching him cradle your daughter in his arms. You had just gone through twenty hours of labor, spending half of those hours at home and in pain and the other half in the hospital. When you got there you could barely walk, every contraction you felt striking your belly and back which made your knees weak. You swore hours earlier it was just braxton hicks, but your twins soon proved you wrong. Very, very wrong.

When you heard both their cries erupt in the room, you smiled in victory as you were finally done with the most crucial part.

“You did so good, love”

Lewis praised you with stray tears he could no longer hold in trailing down his cheeks, a sweet kiss being placed on your forehead before he did the same to the twins. The boy who was born first, with no surprise, looked exactly like Lewis. He was a spitting imagine of your other set of twins when they were babies, but that daughter of yours? All you. Exactly three minutes apart, when she arrived the nurses were starting to wonder if Lewis was in the room at all when she was conceived.

You looked at the two newborns, just as proud of your work as god himself was.

“You know, I was gonna lose it if she was a boy” You spoke while gently brushing your fingers through your son’s soft hair. Lewis chuckles and lays besides you in the hospital bed, his eyes switching attention from baby to baby, but never letting go of his babygirl. You smile and let him have his moment. You knew the hogging was mostly because of him being in shock that he actually got his girl, He’d be all over your son also come morning time.

“I’m in awe how much she looks like you. Usually they don’t look like anyone right away but wow…she’s all you, Y/N” Lewis expresses, a finger caressing her blushed cheek. You just nod in agreement, laughing at how her hair stuck up in the front like spikes while everything else laid down. Lewis was too busy gushing over both of them to point out how silly either of them looked.

✮✮✮✮

When you two took the babies home, it was hard to keep the twins away from them. Your boys were there peeking over your shoulder at every feeding, every burping, every changing, even every bath. They had started to ask when they’d be big enough to play with, a toy in both of their hands as they waited for your answer. Before you could speak, Lewis was already speaking, serving them with the facts while simultaneously burping the baby in his arms.

“They won’t be able to play with you two for a while. They’re too small right now and they don’t do much but sleep and eat”

Your boys pouted, one rolling his eyes back dramatically. “Well, that’s boring! They’re boring!” Silas, the older one huffed, sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Both you and Lewis cackled, but the boys found nothing funny. “Yes, babies are boring for the first few months”

“Why’d you go and get two more then?” Silas’s face scrunched as he asked and you tried helplessly not to laugh so loud at the poor baby that the infant in your arms would jump out of her sleep.

“Yeah, Lewis…Why did we ‘get’ two more?” Egging it on, you look back at your husband for another answer, your face riddled with amusement as he completely curves the question. “Any questions other than that? Saint?”

“So they can’t throw a ball? or catch it?” Saint inquired as he went back to the previous topic, sitting next to his brother. You shake your head ‘no’ and they both sigh.

“And they can’t talk either?” Silas asks, earning another laugh from you and Lewis. You two thought the constant questions would stop at three, but your boys were a curious pair. You’d only hope the next set were a bit more tame but with how the universe humbled you the last time...

“If you hear them talking before they hit nine months then please inform daddy so he can call Guinness world records”

✮✮✮✮

💌: again, superior trope, dad!lewis for the win, muah!💋

[horrorchicxoxo]

The Perfect Morning

Jake Sully x Human!Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the adorably short wife of Jake Sully who receives mind-blowing morning sex.

Warnings: Smut

Notes: I had to make an adjustment to the height due to concerns that were expressed to me.

Requested by @jsuli

The sunlight streamed through the windows, painting the bed where you and your husband lay with a soft glow. The warmth that it emanated gradually pulled you out of your sleep. You were cuddled close, your legs wrapped around his midsection. You were very small compared to your 10-foot-tall man, but you made it work. He found your 5’2 1/2-inch height adorable, which only made him fall in love with you even more.

As you opened your eyes, you were met with the stare of your true love. His locs spread were spread wildly on the pillow, giving him an adorably silly look.

You smiled and moved closer to rest your forehead against his own.

"Good morning, handsome," you uttered, nuzzling your nose against his.

"Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?"

"I slept very well. You completely tired me out last night. Where did you learn some of that stuff?"

He smirked, recalling last night's activities.

"I didn't have to learn anything. I just know exactly how to please my woman."

As if on cue, he grabbed your ass and pushed you even closer against him, rubbing his bulge against your core.

You mewled quietly, trying in vain to pry his hands off you.

“Jake, we can’t do this right now. The kids could be up any minute.”

A hint of mischief crossed his eyes.

“Well, I guess you you’ll have to stay quiet then, huh?”

You moaned quietly as he turned he laid you on your back. His lips found yours, passionately sucking on your bottom lip. He then trailed kisses down the side of your jaw and down your neck.

You moaned and grabbed his huge head as he licked and sucked on your breasts. His fangs nipped at your nipples, causing to jump in surprise and lightly hit his shoulder.

“Watch yourself, big boy. I do not need you drawing blood,” you scolded seductively, biting your lip.

“Sorry, babygirl. It’s not my fault that you have such a hot ass body.”

Once he said that, he continued trailing sloppy wet kisses down your body.

It wasn’t long before he arrived between your legs. He looked in awe at your glistening pussy.

“Already so wet for me.”

He immediately began devouring you, wasting no time.

Your head fell back against the pillows, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. His tongue was huge, wet, and thick. It reached all best places deep inside you, leaving no spot on you neglected.

When he started sucking on your clit, your hands flew to grab his locs, giving them a tug. He groaned at this sensation, sending vibrations to your pussy.

You bit your lip, holding back your moans. Jake lifted his head from your core to look you in the eyes.

“Let me hear you, baby. Don’t hold back your little noises from me,” he said in a low voice, kissing the inside of your thigh.

You nodded, watching as he lowered his head back down.

He went back to work on your pussy, lapping at you like a thirsty dog.

Eventually, you legs started to shake and you came hard, squirting on his mouth and chin. He rode you through your orgasm, sucking up your juices.

When he was satisfied, he went back up to kiss you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You moaned against his mouth, enjoying the taste of you on his lips. He then pulled back, staring deep into your eyes.

“Get on your side now, baby.”

You obeyed him, rolling onto your side while he got comfortable behind you.

He lifted your leg and lined himself up with your entrance. Without missing a beat, he slipped inside you. You hissed from his size, but soon that feeling was replaced by pure pleasure.

“Are you ready, baby?,” he asked.

“ Yes, my love. Pound me til’ I can’t walk for a week.”

He growled deep within his chest at that remark, and began to thrust into you. Your breasts jiggled from how hard he was ramming into you, something he enjoyed immensely. He kissed your neck while taking his hand and rubbing your clit in circles. You mewled and you raised you arm to grip the back of your neck as he did.

“Oh— my—God, Jake! Right th—there!,” you whimpered.

At the sound of this, he went harder.

You started moaning uncontrollably, your head falling back against him. It wasn’t long before that fire deep inside your belly became white-hot.

“I—-I’m —- gonna — cum— Jake —“

“Let go, baby,” he breathed into your ear, licking the side of your neck as he did.

You came hard, moaning pathetically as you squirted for a second time onto his cock. He helped you ride your second orgasm of the morning, with him coming deep inside you not long after.

He let himself grow soft inside you, pulling out with a hiss from you both. You looked back at him over your shoulder, giving him a dazed smile.

“Wow. I already know if I try to stand up, I’m done for,” you giggled.

“Damn straight. Now let me clean you up.”

He got up from the bed, ducking through the doorway of the bathroom. He retrieved a warm rag and walked over to you. He cleaned you up and once he was done, he laid back down behind you.

He leaned over you to plant a kiss against your cheek, giving you a warm smile. “I love you, my precious wife.”

You smiled, leaned you and pecked his lips a couple of times.

“I love you, too, my darling husband.”

With that, you laid back down, his chest pressed against your small back. It wasn’t long before sleep took hold once again, his soft, even breaths warming the back of your neck.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 7

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 9.8k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, dom!reader kinda, riding, blowjob, power play, descriptions of a horror movie, inaccurate portrayal of photographers and creative directors, lots of cute moments

You’re on set with the boys shooting promotional pictures for one of their new songs that Yeonjun insisted you'd be perfect for given your affinity for all things horror. It’s called Frost and the concept for the shoot is supposed to portray guys who are hearing voices in their heads trying to drive them mad and they are attempting to fight against them before ultimately succumbing to them, and so you’re doing shots of them getting swayed by the voices contrasting with others where they express fear about what’s happening to them. 

Surprisingly all the boys suit the concept well, even sweet Hyuka was doing a remarkably good job. He was doing this manic laugh and shooting you evil looks that come out really well in the pictures. 

“Wow, Hyuka. These are really awesome shots.” You say, showing him the camera and he laughs. “You sound surprised.”

“I actually am. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Well, you know I’m full of surprises, baby.” He winks, flustering you. Who the hell knew he had it in him?

“Don’t flirt with my girlfriend.” Yeonjun scolds, playfully smacking him.  

“I’m just messing with her. You should’ve seen the look on her face.” Hyuka laughs his piercing laugh, as mischievous as ever, and you give him an indignant chuckle. “You little shit!” 

You raise your hand into a fist, pretending to threaten him, and he bolts, yelling a panicked bye over his shoulder. You shake your head, staring at his retreating form with fondness. 

You’re already done with Soobin and Taehyun’s shots, both of whom did really well too, but your favorite so far you have to say is Taehyun’s. The contact lenses you have him wear coupled with his naturally very intense gaze makes it so he doesn’t need to do much to come off as intimidating. 

“Is it my turn yet?” Yeonjun asks, kissing your temple. 

“No, baby, I’ve saved the best for last.” You coo, never missing an opportunity to compliment him, just so you can see the shy, pleased smile on his face, and he gives you just that. “Beomgyu is next.” 

“Oh, are you going to be okay?” His smile falls and concern replaces it instead, making you roll your eyes. “He’s not going to eat me.” 

“No, but I’m worried about you. You haven’t really talked to him for a while. Do you want me to come oversee the shoot?”

You kinda do. You are just acting strong for him. Fake it till you make it, right? He can’t hold your hand forever. “Don’t be silly. I know you’re starving. Go eat something and I’ll call you when we’re done.” 

“But–” He’s interrupted by his own stomach growling and you laugh, leaning up to kiss him. “Go eat, baby.” 

“Okay. I’ll be thinking of you.” He shouts as he leaves, bringing his hands together across his chest and mimicking a heart beating. 

You laugh again at his antics, but quickly stop when your gaze lands on Beomgyu. He’s sitting by himself on one of the chairs, eyes glued to his phone and blocking everything else out. You walk towards him, clearing your throat. “Beomgyu. It’s your turn.” 

He sighs, pocketing his phone and following you silently. You show him where he needs to stand before getting behind the camera. 

“Beomgyu, I want you to lean onto the mirror and look into it, smiling menacingly as if you’re taunting your reflection. We’ll do another one after that of you looking terrified as if you’re trapped in the mirror. So you should play off that. Got it?” 

He nods, resting his arm above the mirror and leaning forward, staring at himself with a smile.

“Okay, that’s not really what I’m going for. I’m not feeling any chills. I want a piercing gaze and a crazed smile. Try to have your mouth open as if you’re panting, like you’ve just won a fight. Don’t furrow your eyebrows and don’t tense up your shoulders.” 

Beomgyu tries again, leaning his head down so he’s glaring up at the mirror and puts on a lopsided smirk. But you’re still not feeling it. 

“You’re putting on an act, Beomgyu. I can see you thinking. I want you to really believe it. Wait.” You walk towards him, reaching up to fix his hair in the way you want. Or more like make it more messy and unhinged. “Let’s just push this over your eyes like this…”

You’re so used to doing this, you don’t even think about it, messing with his hair and making his makeup more smudged, streaking his eyeshadow here and blotting his lipstick there. It’s only when you’re done and realize he has been staring at you that you quickly step back. “There, all good.”

You try again and again with him, but none of the pictures come out like what you had in mind. You don’t get it. He’s usually much better than this. You’ve done plenty of shoots with him before, and he has never given you this much trouble. You keep trying to instruct him but his head doesn’t seem to be in it, too distracted by something else. 

Normally, you’d ask him what he’s thinking about that got him so out of it but you don’t think you can. Things are too awkward for you and him right now and you’re not sure if opening that can of worms here is the best idea, which all just makes you even more frustrated.

“Beomgyu, the concept is mad not sad.” You sigh, annoyed after what must be the hundredth bad shot. 

“Well, maybe if you gave better directions I would know what to do.” He snaps back, irritating you further. Beomgyu has never criticized your skills before and you don’t exactly take it well, the remark hurting more that it’s coming from him. He has always been a wall of unbending support for you so for him to call you out like this causes cracks in the very foundation of your sense of self worth. 

“If my direction was bad then how come all the others had no problem following it?” You hiss, getting defensive to cover the cracks up, but you quickly back down when you see him opening his mouth to retaliate. You’re not going to get into it with Beomgyu right now. You’re at work. You can’t ruin this for yourself. 

“Forget it. You’ve already wasted so much time. I’ll get around to you later.” You shut him down and walk off, not giving him the chance to argue. 

Were you being short with him? Maybe, but you’ve wanted an opportunity like this for a long time and you were doing so well before him. You need to prove yourself. The boys are gaining more attention every day and this shoot could be really good for your career.

You also have a more personal reason to be snappy with him. After all, he has been avoiding you ever since you’ve admitted that you’ve slept the night with Yeonjun and you’re fucking bitter about that. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way and it’s driving you up the wall. You can take the pain of him not loving you back. You can take the pain of him getting angry at you for stupid reasons. But to ignore you? That you can't bear. 

______________________________________

“Yeonjun, I need you to look more sharp. I want you to look at the camera as if you’re going to devour it. Don’t look so sweet. And move your right arm up like this.” You instruct him and he follows your lead flawlessly, so different from Beomgyu, and it slowly eases your nerves and allows you to get back in the mood. 

“Good. Keep your head down and look up at the camera with your eyes. Smile a little, no, not too much. We want you to look crazy, but not funny crazy.” 

He laughs at that, offended. “Hey!” 

You snap a couple of pictures of him laughing. You know, just for your own personal collection. “Sorry, babe. There is such a thing as overdoing it.” 

He pouts, acting sulky, and you take pictures of that too. 

“What are you doing?” He raises an eyebrow and you blush. “Doing my job?”

“Those pictures would never make it as promotional pictures and you know it.” He calls your bluff and you shrug. “They can make it as my lock screen though.” 

“I knew it. You’re so down bad for me.” He laughs and you scowl at him. “Shut up. Be professional.” You demand as if you weren’t using paid time to take pictures of your boyfriend for your own personal use. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes you, “Do you think I could play the song on my phone? It might help me get more into the character.” 

“Sure, if you think it will help.” 

He pulls out his phone and plays the song, closing his eyes for a second like he does before doing a dance routine, Kai’s manic laugh from the song ringing around the room before Yeonjun opens his eyes and looks at you, completely transforming in front of you. 

“That’s really good. Keep going.” You encourage. You don’t even have to give him much direction after that, he does it on his own. You just give little modifications here and there but he’s embodying this concept so well by himself. 

“Really lost my mind. Really, really, really lost it.” He mouths the words, pressing two fingers to his head in a trigger motion before rolling his head around. 

“Remember to look at the camera, baby. Not all the time, I want some shots of you looking away so it seems I’ve caught you in the middle of it.” You keep shooting him, getting in different positions and angles to get the best shots as he gets into the music, channeling the darkness of it through him. 

“Now, I want you to snap out of it. Look around as if you’re trying to find the source of the voice.” You instruct and he does it as if a switch had been flipped. He has such a talent for this. “Grab your head and stumble around a bit as if you’re losing your balance. Good.” 

“Now look at the camera.” He looks up at you, eyes wide and filled with fear. You take a few shots before you lower the camera down. “Wow, baby, you did amazing. You’re such a good model.” You praise him and he gives you a lovely smile, completely changing his vibe once again and turning into the sweet boy that only you get to see. 

You smirk, grabbing his chin and making him look at you. “Does someone like being told he’s a good boy?” 

His breath hitches and his smile falls. Shit. You forgot that this is Yeonjun, not Beomgyu. He’s probably not into this. You let go of his chin and step away, an apology on your tongue, but he pulls you back, kissing you. “I do like it. Maybe when we’re done you can show me how much of a good boy I am?” 

Relief soothes your racing heart and you reach up to run your hand through his hair, tugging on the bright orange mess. “Only if you behave.” You brush your lips over his neck, making him shiver. 

“Guys, really? We have children present.” Soobin complains, pointing to Kai. 

“Hey, I’m not a child!” Kai protests in turn, “But I’ll agree to act like a child if it will get those two to stop. Seriously you’re worse than Beomgyu and Haeun." 

That last remark makes your face drop real quick. You're lucky Haeun was too busy to come to the shoot today. With how stressed you are, you might've snapped at her and Beomgyu and made a huge scene. You already almost did it with Beomgyu. You’re sure if she was here, you would’ve lost your cool.  

“Sorry, guys.” You step away from Yeonjun, clearing your throat. You look at Beomgyu to see him staring right at you and Yeonjun, and if looks could kill, you and Yeonjun would be dead now… wait that’s it! That’s the look you want from him. 

“Beomgyu, come with me. I think we can do your shots now.” You motion to him quickly, and Yeonjun gives you a confused look. 

“He’s got the look I want from him. Be right back.” You explain to Yeonjun, getting up on your toes and giving him a quick kiss, partly because you love kissing Yeonjun’s plump lips and partly to annoy Beomgyu further and get him more mad in order to get the pictures you want. 

___________________________

Things go much more smoothly this time. Beomgyu was giving you just the look you wanted, glaring at you like he actually wants to pounce on you. It’s great for the shoot, but bad for your heart.

“Now give me a smile.” You say and his lips move ever so slightly, shaped into a weird distorted smile that is so tense, it looks like it might snap into a snarl any second now. It’s the exact vibe you were going for and you didn’t even have to instruct him to do it. It was almost too spot on. 

“Perfect. Now grab your neck as if you’re trying to claw something out, like you can’t breathe.” Even that he does perfectly, fingers digging into his neck as if he’s not worried about his well-being at all. He’s doing it so well that you only take a few snaps before stepping in to quickly stop him. 

“Okay, that’s enough. We’re done here.” You can’t help but walk towards him, pulling his hand off his neck and inspecting the little marks he made there, smoothing your thumb over them as if you could make them go away. 

“What, I don’t get a good boy?” He asks and you snap out of your worried daze, stepping back. 

“Beomgyu…” You warn, annoyed at yourself for slipping. “Don’t start now.” 

“I guess he’s your muse now.” He mutters, looking away, and you follow his gaze to see Yeonjun looking at you. 

Is he? Yeonjun is a natural model–he has proven that today–while Beomgyu requires more prompting. Yeonjun is intense and chic while Beomgyu is ethereal and melancholic.They’re completely different from one another. Can you really compare them? 

You guess that’s a lie. Yeonjun can embody whatever concept you give him, but Beomgyu inspires you to make new concepts. He’ll always be your muse. 

You don’t tell him that though. It would only cause trouble. Instead, you deflect, “We need to do the group shoot now.”

You gather all the boys in one spot, posing them every which way you want, instructing them on where to look, how to stand and what expression to make. It’s a bit overwhelming making sure that they all look good at once, but you’ll have to get used to this if you wanna make a career out of it. 

You’re almost done with the shoot and you’re so proud of how all of you have done so far. You just need a couple more pictures and that’s it.  

“Soobin, look to the side and tilt your head a little to the right. No more. More. A little less. Yes, perfect! The rest of you stay like you are.” You take a few pictures like this, before you call out again, “Baby, look at the camera” 

When you say that, both Yeonjun and Beomgyu turn their heads to face you, and an awkward moment of silence passes before you stutter, “Yeonjun… I mean. Look at the camera, Yeonjun.”

“Awkward…” Hyuka sings and Taehyun elbows him in the stomach. 

You brush right past it, pretending that it didn’t even happen. Though your stammering and blushing doesn’t fool anyone. Thankfully though, it’s all over soon. 

“Okay, boys, that’s it. We’re done!” You cheer, exhausted but happy and confident that you’ve gotten all the pictures you needed. “Anyone want to see some of the photos?” 

They all gather to look at them with varying degrees of enthusiasm. As you scroll through the pictures, they oh and ah at their own shots while making fun of the others for any awkward ones. You expected nothing less from them. 

“Hey, how come your boyfriend got all the best shots?” Soobin grumbles, and you roll your eyes. “He got all the good shots because he posed the best out of all of you.” 

“Bullshit.” Taehyun interjects and Hyuka agrees, “Nepotism is what it is.” 

“Shut up, Kai. That’s not even what nepotism means.” 

“Oh yeah, then how come you gave him the best set and accessories?” He challenges and Yeonjun wraps his arm around you, “So what if she favors me? Are any of you giving it to her good every night? I don’t think so.” Yeonjun boasts, making you blush deeply. 

Whatever reply you were going to make gets cut off by Beomgyu slamming his drink down and storming off. 

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.” Taehyun mutters and Kai adds, “Probably pissed off that all the good shots went to the photographer’s boyfriend.” 

“Drop it, Kai.” Yeonjun snaps and the younger guy raises his hands up in surrender. 

“Ignore them, baby. I think all the shots are stunning.” Yeonjun says, holding you.

“You really think so?” 

He nods, rubbing your arms soothingly, before grinning. “But mine are the best, of course.” 

“You’re all assholes.” You grumble, pushing him away but inside you’re thankful he diffused the awkward situation. 

“Let me make it up to you. You wanna grab something to eat? I’ll buy you your favorite fried crap.” He offers and you clap, excited. “Oh, yum!" 

“Can I come too, baby?” Kai asks, making kissy faces at you before running away as Yeonjun takes off his shoe and throws it at him. 

_________________________

“Junnie?” You call out and he blinks, looking up at you. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet for a while now.” 

“I’m just a bit worried.” He sighs, making you frown. “About what?”

“I think we’re really close to being signed. We’re having promising talks with a couple of record companies and the whole process is really stressed out.” 

“But isn’t it a good thing?” You ask, confused. Didn’t the boys want to be signed for a long time? Is he having second thoughts? 

“It is, but we all know the stories of artists getting scammed by companies and having their masters stolen, or having their creativity stifled by the execs, or losing their sound… as the front man I really wanna make sure to do this right. I don’t want to let my members down.” 

“Oh, Junnie, I know you’ll do your best.” You reach out to grab his hand, squeezing in comfortingly. He’s such a good hyung to his members, always so reliable and trying to make everything easier for them so they don’t have to stress like him. “But you can’t put all of this on your shoulders only. The boys need to contribute to the decision too. After all, it’s their future too.”

“I know but it really bums them out thinking about all this. They’re here for the music, you know? Not the corporate dance.” 

“Neither are you. They’re big boys. They can handle it. They need to do this too. They need to take on part of the responsibility.” Your hand moves up his arm, stroking it. It’s not fair for him to take on all this burden by himself. Besides, it’s not good in the long run. The boys need to make a joint decision or conflict and blame could arise later. “I can’t have you losing your hair over this. I don’t really like bald guys.” 

Yeonjun gives you a betrayed look. “Hey! Are you saying you won’t be with me if I was bald?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” You confirm and he scoffs, pretending to be offended. “You’re so fake.” 

“Probably. But I took your mind off it for a second there.” You tease, using the same trick he used on you when you were crying. 

“I think you’re gonna need to do a lot more to take my mind off it.” He tells you suggestively and you roll your eyes. 

“Eat your heart attack-inducing food first, then we’ll talk.” 

He grabs a drumstick and bites off a piece of it like he’s in a cartoon, making you burst out laughing. 

"You know what I noticed?" He asks after chewing his food, and you hum in acknowledgement, prompting him to go on, "Your style has changed since we've started dating. It's become edgier and more trendy. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to impress me."

You blush, feeling caught. "Good thing you know better then."

"Well, since I know better, I won't say that I would find it really cute if you were trying to impress me or that it would make me feel really special."

"Well, if I were doing it to impress you, it would be because you're really special.” You say sincerely, looking him right in the eyes, before shrugging, “Luckily, this is all hypothetical." 

You continue to stare at him as he laughs. 

“What?” He asks, and you tell him, "You're doing it again." 

"Doing what?" He gives you a confused look. 

"Laughing in that adorable way that makes your nose scrunch up and makes me wanna tackle you to the ground and kiss you all over your stupid face." 

What happens next is so groundbreaking, you almost can't believe your eyes. You actually make him blush. And your stupid heart that has been beating non-stop for Beomgyu, falters in its incessant pace a second to let Yeonjun in. 

___________________________

It’s going good with Yeonjun. Despite the flirty and confident persona he portrays for his fans, behind closed doors he’s shown you many sweet and shy moments. He’s attentive to you despite how busy he is with his career and his clear passion for music. And he’s really, really sexy. 

Yes, his flirtiness can make you feel insecure sometimes and it does make you wonder if he’ll get sick of you one day and jump to someone prettier and new like guys in a band so often do, but you think you could overcome that feeling with time. You’re just being insecure. It’s part of his job. He’s not actually this cocky playboy. He has to act that way to bring in the fans.

Except he kind of is a playboy. He has dated many other girls before you and he has broken up with all of them. Who is to say that that won’t happen to you too soon? Who knows when he’ll get sick of you? Maybe he’s just waiting to scope out his next girlfriend before breaking up with you. 

No, you’re being paranoid. He’s just entertaining his fans. It means nothing. Just because he dated a lot before you, doesn’t mean you’re just another notch on his belt. This doesn’t mean anything, especially not his innocuous interactions with his fans. 

Yeah, you’re not bothered at all watching him deliver not-so-subtle pick up lines to his horde of fangirls and watching them giggle and swoon over him. You don’t care that he lets them touch him and hug him. You don’t even notice the panties they throw on stage for him or that they ask him to sign their bras. It’s all good. 

“You okay, doll?” Yeonjun throws his arm around you, nudging you. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t let me keep you from your girlfriends.” You mutter, pushing his arm off, and storming off. Okay, maybe you are a little bothered.

You hear footsteps behind you and quicken your pace but he catches up to you eventually. Damn his long legs. “Hey, hey, what was all that about?”

“This may come as a shock to you but I don’t exactly enjoy you flirting with other women.” You grit, your anger bubbling up in your stomach and forming acid around your bitter words. 

“You know I’m just doing my job.” He defends himself and you scoff. “Your job is singing. Not getting their panties wet.” 

“That is still part of the job. You think all those successful bands don’t get where they are by appealing to the fangirls? You really think it’s just about the music?” He may have a point but that doesn’t make you feel any better about his behavior. At the end of the day he is still acting inappropriately around girls who aren’t his girlfriend.  “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Want me to go invite some of them back to your room for some quality fanservice?” 

He laughs at that, and it’s far from the sweet laugh you adore. “You have no right to act jealous. Not when I have to watch you everyday staring longingly at your best friend. Your best friend who you live with and have messed around with before by the way. How do I know you won’t fall to your knees the moment he asks you to suck him off?”

"Fuck you, Yeonjun." You tear up at the unexpected attack, and turn around to leave. You can't believe he is throwing this in your face. 

“Wait. I’m sorry.” He holds you back, brushing your hair away from your face and seeing the tears budding in your eyes. “I don’t mean to be an asshole. I know you don’t like the way I act but it’s my job. My livelihood depends on it. I’m not doing it just for fun. You know that.” 

You look away, conflicted. Yes, you do know but that doesn’t make it suck any less. “Do you have to let it go that far though?” You pout, images of your boyfriend with his arm around random girls or letting them touch his face or hold his hand flashing behind your eyelids. 

“I will try to tone it down.” He concedes and you finally look at him. “No letting them kiss you?” 

“No.”

“No sexual innuendos?” 

“No.”

“No signing their bras?” 

“So just their breasts?” 

You go to leave but he pulls you back flush against his body. “I’m kidding.” He kisses you and you reluctantly let yourself fall into the kiss. God, why do you pick the hardest boys to love? 

Speaking of which…

“And I’m sorry for what I said about Beomgyu. I trust in you not to do that just as you trust in me not to cheat. But I’m not sorry about the part where I don’t like you living together.”

“What?” Your frown. What is he trying to say? 

“You’re in love with the guy. Living with him won’t allow you to move on. You need to move away from him to let us move on.” He clarifies, not really making it easier for your brain to compute. 

“Oh."

"We can never move forward in our relationship if you're holding onto him." He presses, seeing your resistance to his words. “Come live with me. Leave whatever this thing you have with him in the past and take the next step with me.” 

"But he's my best friend. We promised each other we'd stay together." You say as if that means anything to him, and the look he gives you is what an adult would give to a naive child thinking their family pet really went to live on a farm. "Are you going to live together even when both of you are married?"

"No. But it's too fast. He's so freaked out about everything changing. This is gonna send him into a breakdown." You resist still, maybe because some of what you’re saying applies to you too. You’re not sure if you’re ready to do this. 

"Don't you think that's a little weird?” Yeonjun challenges your statement, forcing you to examine your unusual situation with Beomgyu for the first time. “You two have an unhealthy attachment to each other. You’re not together and believe me no boyfriend or girlfriend is gonna tolerate how you two are acting. I know I can't."

But you can’t think about it too deeply right now, not on the spot like this, not when there is a plain threat in his words. "Are you giving me an ultimatum?"

"No. I'm just asking you to set some boundaries." 

Is that the same thing? You sigh. "Can you… just give me some time to think it through?"

Yeonjun doesn’t like that. "You know I'm right."

"Please." 

What he’s asking you is huge. With how Beomgyu isn’t talking to you, moving out of the apartment might spell complete doom to your friendship, and you don’t know if you are ready to risk that yet. Maybe you can work it out while still living with Beomgyu. Maybe you can find a way to move forward with Yeonjun while still retaining your friendship with Beomgyu. 

"Fine." Yeonjun backs down for now, but this is clearly not the end of it. 

____________________

When you get home, you find a strange surprise waiting for you… A pillow fort?

"What's this?" You ask Beomgyu suspiciously and he beams at you, pulling you towards the structure he made. "Come on in. Come on in!"

You let him take you inside with him, seeing it lined with pillows and soft fuzzy blankets and all kinds of snacks you could ever need. The only light illuminating the inside coming from the small laptop filled with movies for you to watch. 

"What's all this for?" You ask, very confused at the sudden change in his attitude. What has gotten into him? 

"Well, I know I've been an ass–"

You don't mean to snort but you can’t help it–interrupting him–and he shoots you glare, albeit a playful one. 

"I know I've been an asshole," He repeats, not deterred. "But I was worried about what Yeonjun was gonna do to you and I was frustrated you weren’t listening to me. I’ve seen him blow through girlfriends many times before–maybe not in a way that is meant to intentionally hurt them but he just doesn’t seem to be ready for something serious yet. It always seemed like the girls were way more into him than he was into them and that eventually leads to the relationship breaking down and the girls getting hurt and I didn’t want that to happen to you. I didn’t want you to get hurt like that.” 

His words echo your own doubts. You’ve been wondering about this exact yourself. Yeonjun is great. He’s fun and sweet and he makes you smile, but if you let yourself fall for him, will he be able to love you too? 

Is that even a fair question to ask? Doesn’t everyone go into relationships not knowing if the other person will end up liking them the same amount? And can you really be the one wondering about this when you’re the one in love with your best friend? 

You don’t say anything though, just letting Beomgyu continue, curious about where he is going with this. “But in my attempt to try to prevent that I've stupidly gone and hurt you myself. I got angry and vindictive and I lost sight of what I was trying to do… I also was being selfish because I didn’t want to lose you to him. I’m so used to it just being the two of us and it made me a little jealous that suddenly he’s taking all your time and attention. I used to be your number one guy.” 

You look at his pout, trying miserably to fight down the tears his words are springing up. He is still your number one. That’s the problem. 

“You said all of this already.” You say quietly, looking down and trying to hide your glossy eyes from him. 

“I know, but what I didn’t say is that I don't know if Yeonjun will stay like this forever or if he's going to break your heart and force me to cut his balls off, but I wanna be there regardless.” He proclaims, sounding exactly like the best friend you terribly missed, the obvious joke not taking away from the seriousness of what he’s saying. “I don’t want to lose you over this. I want us to go back to how we were before all this mess. Do you think we can do that?" 

You look up at him, his pretty face shimmering and swimming around in your tearful vision, making his already ethereal features appear celestial. He looks at you as if you could ever deny his request. How can you ever say no to him? 

"Yes, Beommie." You finally say, letting the tears fall. 

"Hey, hey…" He coos, grabbing your face and kissing your tears away. "Don't cry. You know seeing you cry will just make me cry too." 

“I can’t help it. I missed you, you idiot.” You wail, and he pulls you into his arms, rocking you back and forth and rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

“I missed you too. So much. You don’t even know.” You hear his voice falter and you know he’s crying too. 

You stay there for a while–you don’t know how long–until you and him have calmed down enough to be able to string together words again. He’s the first to pull back, but only so he can look you in the eyes. 

“You look so pretty when you cry.” He whispers, wiping your tears away and you cover the way your heart skips a beat at that with a cough, pushing him away to give yourself room to breathe in something that isn’t him. 

“Shut up.” You mumble, wiping your tears away with your sleeve before looking around awkwardly, trying to change the subject. “So what movies do you have for us?"

Thankfully, Beomgyu follows your lead. "Top gun of course!' 

You groan. 

"I'm kidding. I'm kidding. I got you one of those foreign horror movies you love so much." He shows you that he chose a French movie called Martyrs. 

"Aw, you really do love me." You exclaim, covering your heart with your hand.

“I know. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” He mutters, sitting down and motioning for you to do the same. You sit down next to him, leaving a small gap between you. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asks, and you look at him in confusion. He rolls his eyes and opens his arms to you. “You can’t have Movies and Cuddles Monday without the cuddles.” 

You hesitate for a second, wondering if you really should do this. Is this too intimate? Would this be considered cheating on Yeonjun?

No, you’re being ridiculous. People cuddle with their best friends all the time. You can do that. 

“Right.” You get into his embrace, and he holds in in both arms. 

“Okay, let’s start the massacre.” 

_____________________________

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Beomgyu groans, burying his face in your neck as screen shows the main lead being flayed alive. 

“Well, don’t do it on me!” You squeak, trying to pull away to hide the goosebumps that have erupted on your skin when his lips brush against you, but he’s holding onto you too tightly.  “Don’t go. You made me see this. I’m traumatized.” 

“You’re the one who picked the movie.” 

“Because I wanted to satisfy your blood thirst.” He mumbles and you laugh. “I don’t even like gore. I prefer the subtly creepy.” 

“Yeah like that game you like where the character takes a pill and entrails fall from the sky.” 

“Hey, entrails can be subtle.” You grumble, relaxing back in his arms. “Now shut up. I wanna see the ending.” 

Beomgyu sits in silence, holding onto you tightly as the character called Mademoiselle leans over the flayed woman to hear what she has to say after achieving martyrdom. You watch with bated breath, not feeling any of the anxiety you’re supposed to feel as the cult members ask the Mademoiselle what the main character told her–too relaxed with the way Beomgyu massages your scalp with his fingers. If you were a cat, you’d be purring right now. 

Even Beomgyu keeps his mouth shut as the Mademoiselle grabs a gun and shoots herself, taking the secret with her to the grave–the both of you seeming to be in a trance. It’s only when the credits roll does he speak up. 

“I can’t believe they didn’t tell us the secret to the afterlife.” Beomgyu complains softly, not making any move to disentangle you from his arms,and neither do you.

“Yeah right, like they would tell us the secret to the afterlife.” You snort at your naive friend, “Besides the movie isn’t about that.”

“Yeah, and what is it about, genius?” He challenges. 

“Um, it’s clearly about the exploitation of the working class so the rich can achieve knowledge and even more power–no it’s about the exploitation of women of the working class.” 

“You just pulled that out of your ass.” 

“Maybe. But that could be right.” You shrug, your shoulder once again brushing against his lips. “Do you have a better theory, idiot?” 

“Yeah, my theory is that the director just wanted to make the most disgusting movie possible and made up this whole martyrdom story to justify the torture inflicted on the characters, and that’s why he couldn’t come up with an actual answer to what happens after death.” 

“Maybe that’s the point. We were never meant to know the answer. Knowing the answer renders life and its struggles meaningless. That’s why the Mademoiselle killed herself.” 

“Or maybe Anna told her a lie that she knew would fuck her up and get her to kill herself. Perfect revenge.” 

“That doesn’t make sense. At the start of the movie we see that when Lucy got revenge on one of the families, it still wouldn’t make her guilt go away so clearly the movie views revenge as a non-viable option.” 

“Hey, when did you become so smart? I thought Movies and Cuddles Monday was supposed to be about mindless consumption of media and making stupid jokes about plots we’re not smart enough to comprehend.” He looks at you in suspicion and you meekly answer, “I may possibly have started reading some books–”

He gasps. “Books? Dear lord, save us.” 

“You’re just worried you’ll stay the only dumb one.” You poke his nose teasingly and he tries to bite your finger, making you withdraw it with a giggle. 

“Doesn’t matter. Smarts are for ugly people. I’m too pretty.” 

You smile fondly. “Yes, you are.” 

He wraps his arms around you even tighter, letting out a small contented hum as the credits roll, neither of you moving to start another movie or turn off the computer. How can you when it makes you feel so safe and content, like you could want for nothing else in the world as he strokes your hair with one hand and your arm with the other.  

Every emotion you've been working so hard to smother comes roaring back. And you realize that you and Beomgyu are not just friends. Probably can never be just friends. This is why Yeonjun insisted you move out. You can't be this close to Beomgyu without falling back into your old habits. If you wanna give Yeonjun an honest chance, you need to get some space. 

“Beomgyu… do you ever think about living with Haeun?” 

He frowns. “Why? Did she say anything to you?” You almost laugh at his look of terror. Almost. If you weren’t so terrified of what you have to say to him.

"Yeah she told me on one of our weekly get togethers." You snort, then hesitate. “It’s just… Yeonjun wants me to move in with him.” 

He pulls away from you, face hardening, and your body is suddenly left defenseless against the cold chill in the air. "What did you tell him?"

You want to tell him that you said No. You want him to take you back in his arms. Even if he doesn’t love you back, this can be enough for you, right?  "I said I'd think about it."

"Think about what? This is way too soon. You can't just move in with him. What if you break up? Then you'd be left homeless because you were so stupid as to move in with a guy you've only been dating a few months." 

His anger is like lashings to your cold skin. Why does he keep doing this to you, making you let your guard down before attacking you once more? Does he not know how hard this is for you too? "Beomgyu, you said you weren't going to be an asshole anymore." 

"I just don't understand why you'd do something like that." His frustration is palpable. He is looking at you as if you’re just doing this to hurt him. 

"Because Yeonjun doesn't like me living with you after we messed around."

You shouldn't have said that. That just makes him angrier. "And you’re just going to do whatever he tells you to do? Are you one of those girls who does everything her boyfriend tells her?"

His accusation pisses you off. He’s treating you like you’ve committed a crime for wanting to move forward with your boyfriend. "No, but he has a right to be weirded out by us living together. I know I wouldn't be happy about him living with a girl he hooked up with."

"Oh yeah, and what's next? He's too weirded out by us hanging out? Talking? Looking at each other?" 

"You're being overdramatic."

"Am I?" He shouts, “This is why I didn’t want you to date him. He is taking you from me.”

The fucking audacity for him to say this as if he hasn’t been terrible to you ever since you started even expressing interest in Yeonjun. This would never have happened if he had been an actual goddamn friend to you. 

“He isn’t taking me from you. You’re pushing me away.” 

“You know he’s only going to hurt you?” He says, hitting you right where it hurts. It’s one thing for you to doubt your relationship with Yeonjun, but it’s another thing entirely for your friend and his to keep telling you that it’s never gonna last. 

Does he really have no faith in you? Does he not think you’re pretty enough, good enough to keep yeonjun’s attention? Does he think it’s impossible for Yeonjun to actually love you? 

You start tearing up again. "Why are you being like this?"

“Because it’s what he is. You’re making a huge mistake. You're choosing this guy you just started dating over our years of friendship."

You shake your head. "Why does it have to be either or. Why can’t I have my boyfriend and my best friend?"

He lets out a condescending laugh. “I’m not the one making you choose!” 

But he is. He has been making you choose since the beginning. He just doesn’t like it because for once you’re not putting him and his ridiculous demands first. 

“He is not making me choose.” You defend Yeonjun and yourself. “He just doesn’t want us to live together.” 

“You really think he’ll end it at that? You don’t think he’ll demand more bit by bit? Next it will be ‘I don’t like him touching you.’ then it will be ‘don’t hang out with him so much’ and then ‘why do you even need to see him. We can just stay in.’ and before long he’ll have completely phased me out!”

“Well maybe there should be some boundaries. We did hook up together. It’s normal for him to feel insecure. And maybe we’re a bit more touchy than other friends are. Maybe I should only be cuddling with my boyfriend and that only my boyfriend should be kissing me…” You’re saying this more to yourself than to him. Even what happened earlier wasn’t really appropriate. It could be for completely platonic friends but you know that’s not what you and Beomgyu are. Not for you, at least. 

“See? It’s already happening!” He exclaims, and you sigh. There is no point arguing with him. He’s too upset to see reason. “I’m sorry, Beomgyu…”

"Forget it. Forget all of this." He stands up and takes the pillow-fort apart. "Enjoy living with your boyfriend." 

__________________

You quickly gathered a few essential items that you'll need along with a change of clothes before you texted Yeonjun to come pick you up. You'll get the rest of your stuff later. You just can’t handle being in this house anymore. 

"Are you okay?" Yeonjun asks when you get into his car. 

"Yeah, it's just Beomgyu is really mad at me." You sniffle, trying to hold back your tears. 

"Of course. That fucking idiot." Yeonjun curses and you agree. "Such an idiot."

"Want me to go beat him up?" He offers but you shake your head. "I really don't think you two having a cat fight is gonna lift my spirit up."

"Hey!" He shouts, offended, but he can't help but give you a smile–his sweet smile that you love so much. 

"But that might." You smile back, wiping your nose before bending over to give him a kiss. 

"Didn’t know I'd be eating snot today." He says as he pulls back and you smack him. "I wiped before I kissed you!" 

He laughs and tries to kiss you again but you push him away. "No. I've revoked your right to kisses." 

“Is that so?” He quirks an eyebrow up and you nod, indignant. 

"And what if I told you I have some great news that will make you wanna kiss my face off?" 

“What?” You look suspiciously at the massive grin on his face. "You know the director of Elements magazine?"

"Do I? Of course! She's one of my inspirations." You gush, excited at what he could possibly have to say about her. 

"Well, I've been talking to her about you–"

"What?” Your face falls, terrified. “What–what would you talk to her about me for?"

"She's interested in your work." He tells you and you give him an unflattering snort in disbelief.  "Yeah, right. What do I have to show her?"

"She's actually seen the shoot you did with us and would like you to send her more of your stuff because she thinks she may want you to do a pictorial for the magazine."

“Shut up.” You gape at him. You? Do a pictorial for Elements magazine? "Oh god, I think I'm gonna pass out." 

“Please, don’t. I don’t know how I’d be able to explain why I have a passed out girl in my car to anyone who saw.”

You shoot him a glare, but there is no heat behind it. "How do you even know her?”

"I've done some modeling for her before." He shrugs as if that isn’t a big fucking achievement, "I told you, networking is everything."

"You're amazing." You breathe out in awe. 

"I know." He replies confidently and you suddenly shriek, kicking your feet in excitement. "Oh my god, I can't believe she liked my stuff!" 

"Why wouldn't she? You’re great." You turn to him, a huge smile on your face before you bend over the console and give him a big kiss. "You are so getting laid."

"That's why I did it." He jokes, starting the car before pulling out of the parking spot. 

___________________

"Welcome home." Yeonjun says, putting your bag down in his bedroom. 

Yeah, you guess this is home now. You look around, trying to process the fact, and Yeonjun comes up behind you to wrap his arms around you. “You can redecorate a bit if you want. I’ll give you a whole corner of the room.” 

You turn around in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “You’re very generous.” You kiss him slowly, deepening the kiss as you go, pushing your tongue into his mouth as your lips move against each other. “My good boy.” 

“Oh, are we doing this?” He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“You deserve it.” You push his jacket off before slipping his white tank top over his head. As soon as his chest is bare, you attack your lips to it, kissing it all over. Your lips tingle as it comes in contact with his warm skin over and over again and you feel his little moans vibrating through his chest as he slowly gives into the pleasure, shivering a bit when you wrap your lips around one of his nipples. 

Your hands trail down his body, grabbing at his waist on the way, kneading it, before moving to his pants. You unbutton and unzip them slowly, rubbing the back of your hand over the bulge there, making his breathing stutter. 

“Baby…” He pouts at your teasing, and you lean up to give his pretty lips a kiss. 

“Want it, darling?” You ask, continuing to brush your hand over him teasingly and he nods. “Okay. Just because you’ve been so good to me.” 

You put your hand in his boxers and pull out his cock, stroking it to full hardness while kissing his addictive lips. 

“You’re so good to me, Yeonjun. You deserve to be pampered.” You tell him, twisting your hand over the head of his cock as your lips go down his neck and along his chest until you have to get on your knees to go further. You kiss his abs gently before opening your mouth and giving his skin a playful nip which makes him jump. 

“Hey, that’s not pampering.” He protests and you laugh, licking the reddening spot soothingly as you continue to tease his dick with your hand. 

“I was just thinking about how you seduced me with this at the party.” You tell him and he grins. “So I was–ahh–right? It was my rock–fuck–hard abs that got you?” 

It’s hard for him to keep a straight face when your fingers are twisting so sinfully around his hard cock. “Maybe I ran into you on purpose t-to–shit–give me the chance to take off my shirt in front of you.” 

“Diabolical.” You hum, kissing all over his tummy, getting closer and closer to his aching cock before moving up again, just to tease him, then repeating the process all over again until he starts dripping in need. 

“Baby, please…” He finally calls out when he becomes so needy that your palm gets all sticky with his arousal. 

“I got you, baby.” You finally take him into your mouth, the taste of him familiar by now. 

Over the few months you’ve been dating Yeonjun, you’ve gotten very acquainted with what he likes and how he likes to be touched. You learn what makes him tick and where he is sensitive. It’s no longer entirely nerve-wracking to be with him. There are some things you can do and say that you can rely on that are guaranteed to get him in the mood

But today is different. You’ve never tried to take the lead from him before. In a way, you’re both more confident and more nervous–more confident because you know how to do this better, you’ve done this a lot with Beomgyu… and more nervous because you’ve never done it with Yeonjun. What if he doesn’t like it? 

Your movements are slow, meant to tease and build up rather than push him over the edge. Your tongue swirls slowly around his flushed head and laps up any precum leaking from his slit while your thumb and index finger make a circle around his cock and slowly move up and down the bottom of his shaft, working him up until he’s begging again. 

“More–please, I need more.” He breathes, voice tight and needy. 

It’s a lot different from Beomgyu… If it was Beomgyu, he’d be crying and whining loudly, his mouth spouting off all kinds of filth in an attempt to get you to throat his dick. He’d be squirming and trying to push his dick further down your mouth, bucking his hips into your hand so you’d jerk him off faster… 

But Yeonjun is not Beomgyu. He stands there, as still as he can, and lets you do what you want. 

Only interrupting with a quiet plea when he can’t take it anymore. Is that better? Is it worse? You don’t know. All you know is that you need to get Beomgyu out of your mind, stop comparing them. Yeonjun is yours, Beomgyu is not. Yeonjun is here for you to touch and taste and feel, Beomgyu isn’t. Yeonjun has opened his heart up to you, and it’s insulting to think of another guy when you’re with him. 

So you get off your knees and kiss Yeonjun, letting yourself focus on him and only him. You push the rest of his clothes off his body, and let him do the same to you, letting his hands wander and squeeze and caress as he does so–because you’re his. 

You lead him towards the bed, pushing him on it and climbing on top of him, lining yourself up with his hard cock before catching his gaze, seeing the way he lies still and waits for you to do, before you sink down on him. 

He lets out a deep sigh when you’re seated on his hips, his cock buried all the way inside you. 

“This what you wanted, darling?” 

He nods, resting his hands on your thighs, not pushing or pulling, just letting you take your time. Is it a sign of patience and letting you take the lead or is it a lack of passion and indifference? These are the thoughts that plague you. 

But you’re too much of a coward to ask, so you just lift yourself up and fall down on his cock, establishing a steady rhythm. He lets out quiet moans and pants, responding to the way your hips move and your pussy works over his cock, his eyes alternating from staring at your form to rolling into the back of his skull when the pleasure becomes too much. 

“Is it good?” You ask and he nods. “So good.” 

Still restrained. Still subdued. But you take it. You take it and you run with it, bouncing faster on his cock, your gaze stuck to his face, eating up every little twitch and sigh that escapes him, so focused on him that you neglect your own pleasure, only noticing when his right hand brushes up your thigh and his thumb grazes your clit. 

“What are you doing, baby?” You ask, hand circling around his wrist but not pulling it away. 

“Don’t wanna cum alone. Want you with me.” 

Is it really you domming him if he can still do whatever he wants? You don’t know but you don’t have to decide right now. You can just take it slow. You can work things out the kinks bit by bit. 

“That’s a bit quick, don’t you think?” You venture to tease him, hoping he’d give you the response you’re looking for, and he does… somewhat. “Can’t help it. You just look so sexy bouncing on my cock. You should dom me every day.” 

You groan, thighs burning as you ride him faster, needing him to really mean it. “Don’t talk like that.” 

“Like what?” He purrs, his thumb still circling your sensitive nub. 

“Like you’re still in control.” You finally push his hand away, pinning his arms next to his head, but maddeningly, he just smirks up at you. 

“You want the control, you’re going to have to take it, doll. I am not going to just show my belly and give you the lead so easily.” 

“You’re insufferable.” You hold his wrists with one hand and use the other to wrap around his throat, not cutting off his circulation but just holding it tight enough to make a point. 

“That’s more like it.” He gasps, craning his head back to give you an easier purchase on his neck. “I’m close.” 

“Why should I let you cum?” You challenge, digging your fingers just a little more into his neck, clenching your pussy just a little tighter around his cock. 

“Because you like it when I empty my balls inside your little pussy.” He sucks in a sharp breath, his control slipping just a little bit, and you latch onto that. 

“I do like it, but what I like more is making bad boys cry.” You threaten, slowing down your movement until you’re barely riding him. “I’m sure it would feel just as good getting off your cock and making myself cum on my fingers. Just seeing your needy cock all hard and red with no relief would be more than enough to get me off.” 

He frowns. “You wouldn’t…” 

You make a show of getting off his cock and he quickly cries out. “No, wait. Okay. You win. I’ll be good.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him before going back to riding him fast, not giving him the chance to challenge you again. “Well, that was easy.” 

He does well by shutting up this time, his full lips pulled into a hilarious pout. 

“Are you close?” You ask him when his eyebrows begin to furrow and he nods. You let go of his wrist, telling him to keep them there as if you could’ve stopped him if he wanted to overpower you. 

You use your now free hand to rub your clit, pushing yourself towards your own high. 

Yeonjun doesn’t like that. “I could do that for you.” 

He tries to reach out to touch you but you let go of his throat and swat his hands away. “No. Only good boys get to touch.” 

He gives you a little whine–a semblance of what you crave from him. Maybe the rest will come in time. 

“I’m close.” You tell him, fingers desperately moving over your pussy as you ride him. “Want you to cum with me.” 

He nods, his hips moving for the first time under you, helping the both of you over the edge. 

“Yeonjun–fuck!” You throw your head back, eyes squeezed tight as your body shudders with release. Yeonjun hands reach out to hold your hips flush against his as he empties himself inside you, a long groan slipping from his pretty lips. 

“Fuck.” You gasp, falling down when your orgasm leaves you, and Yeonjun opens his arms to take you in, holding you close to him, your hearts beating rapidly still. 

This whole day has been an emotional rollercoaster for you, and the release of pent up energy leaves you spent, your body all but becoming boneless in Yeonjun’s embrace. 

He kisses the top of your head, his hand smoothing through your wet hair as the both of you catch your breath. You feel your eyelids getting heavy with exhaustion, the heat of his embrace now a familiar night-time companion, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep. 

"Thank you again for choosing me for the Frost shoot." You mumble, eyes closed. He may have just changed the whole trajectory of your career. 

"No need to thank me. It was all Beomgyu's idea." 

____________________

A/N: one more chapter to go. as always your feedback makes me update faster so don't be shy to drop in a message. the author note in the last chapter will contain a link to my patreon for the alternative ending for the losing boy so look forward to that

and for the final time

Taglist: @blxxsss@sanasour@tinkw1nks@lol6sposts@zuzuhasablog@beomsl@seolis-world @stantxtorurmissingout@wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno@leviathanlee26@yomomas-stuff@kurisaiyunobara@girlwholovekpop@zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop@skzvcr @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

[xoxochb]

daughter of chaos reader is new?? I’ve never seen of those ok umm maybe (Also congratulations on 500 feel free to ignore this ask) Daughter of chaos reader x Apollo but she’s training and he has their kid who is more then happy watching their momma practice

oooorr

Apollo meets chaos and its causes well chaos (pun intended)

⋆·˚ ༘ * he was chaos, he was revelry

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, relationship disapproval, endings kinda rushed

pairing: apollo x daughter of chaos

if you could give one sentence of advice to everyone in the universe it would be ‘don’t bring your sunny, egotistical boyfriend to meet your diabolical, dark father’. you were never close with your father in a way that you would tell him everything, like a best friend, no. your relationship was strictly ‘you do as I say and I can tolerate you’. for this reason alone is why you’ve kept your relationship with the sun god a secret from him

you father was the very being who was here since the absolute beginning of the universe, chaos. you supposed he wouldn’t be very happy with the news you brought to his palace. you also supposed that zeus wouldn’t be happy if he were to gain knowledge of his relationship also. although your relentless trips to olympus had been hidden from zeus’ watchful eyes you’d failed to keep your relations private from the prying eyes of aphrodite, and once the news got out to her you found the news spread quickly, however you were quick to shut down allegations once hera had heard through the grapevines (as unbelievable as it sounds- she quite literally heard from the vines, damn dionysus can’t keep his vines quiet)

when you take the very last step in front of your fathers throne, his dark eyes not happy to see the boy beside you illuminating light in the stygian room

your father speaks at last, “what is he doing here?”

you take apollo’s hand in yours, to calm both your nerves and his (you took notice of how his demeanor was the same as his mortal self- scared and he probably peed himself at this point)

“that’s what I came here to talk to you about” you take in a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t really know how to explain this without- well, explaining it. so I’m just going to say it: apollo and I have been seeing each other for quite some time. you probably took notice of my lack of appearance at your palace, that’s because I’ve been staying on olympus. I don’t expect to move back here unless something unfortunate were to occur. that is all”

“no” says chaos

“no what?”

“this relationship”

your demeanor switches from scared to furious in a matter of moments. “what? that’s not-”

“there is nothing to discuss, you are not allowed to see him anymore”

apollo speaks for the first time, “if I may-”

“you may not” chaos demands, “he is rambunctious, egotistical, and an idiot. he is not suited for you”

“but daddy I love him!”

“do you think that matters? love is silly, ridiculous even”

excuse, excuse, why can’t you think of an excuse at the moment you need to most?! a light blurb goes off in your head- possibly the most horrifying thing you could think to say but your mouth moves faster than your brain

you place your free hand on your stomach. “I’m having his baby!”

well that would surely do the trick…

your father doesn’t reply. perhaps he would reconsider? you turn to apollo, his expression horrified mixed with… joy? you turn back to your father, awaiting his answer

he sighs. “Is it true?”

you rapidly nod your head. no it’s not true! how on earth are you supposed to fake a pregnancy?!

“leave. before I have your nightlight boyfriend turned to ashes”

“oh! yes, uhm- yeah, we’ll be leaving”

you hurry out the door, dragging apollo with you as he musters questions

“was it true?”

you shake your head

“oh”

“I’m sorry, it was the only thing that came to my mind. I had to say something quick”

“would you mind?” apollo inquires

“mind what?”

“having my baby”

you bite your lip in an attempt to suppress a smile, shaking your head again

“before anything though- now it’s your turn to tell your father”

[plistommy]

billy and eddie taking steve to paris?…OR eddie getting bold while he’s high and just straight up telling steve to suck his cock OR steve looking to donate some of his clothes comes across his Scoops uniform and decides to surprise eddie OR billy jerking off fantasising about steve and eddie going to bone town with each other.

”You won’t believe what I just found.”

Eddie was face deep on Corroded Coffin’s new songs notes that he had been scrambling with Gareth for the last two weeks - Jeff and Freak not wanting to be a part of it this time - that he hadn’t even noticed Steve walking into the room.

”Huh?” Eddie answered, thumb resting firmly on top of his bottom lip as he rewrote view lyrics, making them rhyme better together and it was finally looking pretty good.

He let out a groan as he leaned back, satisfied with the lyrics and looked up to the doorway where he knew his boyfriends voice came from.

His eyes snapped wide.

Steve was standing there, hands on hips and a small grin on his face, but that wasn’t what got him shocked. No.

It was what he had on.

Which was the tight little Scoops Ahoy uniform Eddie saw him wearing in that ridiculous commercial for the now burned down Starcourt Mall.

He had been too much of a pussy to set foot in the ice cream parlor that summer when he knew Steve was working there and he never got to see the goods in real life before shit had gone down.

Until now.

And fuck was Steve wearing it well.

It fit like a glove on him and those tiny shorts were already killing him as it had his boyfriend's long beautiful legs on display.

He needed for Steve to turn around so he could see—

”Ahoy!” Steve exclaimed suddenly, voice high and sweet as it pulled Eddie away from his thoughts.

Ahoy?

Eddie immediately felt his cock getting hard from just that.

Steve was the fucking death of him.

”Holy shit…” he murmured, mouth gaping and Steve laughed at him as he walked next to the couch where Eddie was sitting. He leaned down to kiss his boyfriend's shocked expression, still giggling when Eddie didn’t react.

”You like it? I think it’s ridiculous, but I had to try it on when I found it from my closet. I can’t believe it’s been like, three years and it still fits. I’m not even sure if anyone would want this…”

Eddie was just nodding along as he slowly took Steve in, now so much closer than before that he had to get his hands on him.

He slowly tugged the shorts and snapped them against Steve’s bare thigh which made the younger boy groan.

”Eddie, what are-?”

”So this is the famous little outfit you worked in?” Eddie moved his hands up to Steve’s waist, tugging the hem of the blue shirt which made Steve huff.

”I wouldn't say ’famous’, but yeah… I looked so stupid, man. Like, I even had a hat, but I lost it. The only good part was that these shorts fit really well even though they’re really tight.”

Eddie had to bite back a groan as Steve mentioned the shorts. They were indeed very tight, but just in the right places that Eddie had to mentally thank the person who came up with these uniforms.

”Turn around.”

”What?”

”I said turn around, baby.”

Steve didn’t need to hear it for the third time as he slowly turned around, Eddie’s hand guiding him and stopping him when he needed him to.

Now he really let out a groan.

Steve’s ass looked fucking amazing. Don’t get him wrong, his boyfriend’s ass always looks amazing, round and perfect, but something about the way these tiny little shorts hugged his ass was fucking sinful.

Now Eddie really cursed at himself for not having enough courage to go and order some damn ice cream back then so he would’ve seen Steve like this.

He would’ve ordered something real special so Steve would’ve had to bend over to get it and Eddie would have that image of his perfect ass to jerk off to every night.

Or maybe he would’ve just taken him there. Ripped those shorts apart and bended him over the counter as he fucked him silly just to see his ass giggle with every hard and deep thrust he’d—

”Eddie? Hey, Eddie!”

Shit.

Steve was looking down at him from behind his shoulder, eyes big as he questioned Eddie, ”What is it?”

Eddie glanced up at him and down to the ass in front of him before a sly grin pulled its way into his face.

He squeezed Steve’s ass softly before pulling the other down to sit on his lap, arms wrapping around Steve’s body.

Steve let out a soft gasp, but relaxed into his arms as Eddie kissed his neck.

”You’re really something, sweetheart.”

Steve wiggled on top of him, a clear blush creeping up onto his face. He loved when Eddie called him pet names.

”And what’s that?”

Steve loved to challenge Eddie even if he knew he’d always lose.

”You come to me…” Eddie started, hands roaming on Steve’s body until they stopped on top of his bare thighs, ”in this tiny little uniform, acting all sweet and innocent, knowing how it would make me feel.”

A laugh. Steve’s laugh.

”I wouldn't know that. I just wanted to show you this…” Steve said, voice soft like honey as he slowly rubbed Eddie’s arm that was holding him in his place.

”Oh, you wouldn't?” Eddie chuckled and grinded his hips against Steve’s ass, making sure the other knew just how hard he was under his jeans.

Steve let out a soft moan out of surprise and immediately started to meet his movements, but Eddie stopped him.

”Is this how you serve your customers?”

Steve whined and pouted like a brat. He tried to wiggle around, but he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere when Eddie wasn’t budging.

Not even a please would help him this time.

So, he pulled his best smile and turned to look at Eddie, eyes glossy with need, ”Ahoy, sir! Welcome to Scoops Ahoy! What would you like to order? W-we have banana split, popsicles, shakes—”

”Mm, that all sounds very delicious, but I think I’ll just get a regular ball, a chocolate one with a cherry on top. And…”

”And?” Steve grits out, voice heavy.

”And stuff it with cream. I want it full of it so it’s dripping down from the sides.”

He saw the way Steve swallowed back a moan and he took that as a big fucking win.

”G-great! That will be 4 dollars and 50 cents!”

”Here you go, darling.” Eddie purred into his ear and Steve closed his eyes tightly. He was really trying to control himself that it almost made Eddie feel bad.

Almost.

”Thank you! Here’s your ice cream with the e-extra cream and cherry. Have a n-nice day!”

Eddie finally let go of the hold he was having over Steve and Steve immediately went into action. He turned around on Eddie’s lap, hands finding their way into the other’s long dark brown hair as he tugged it back.

”You’re mean.”

Eddie grinned and squeezed Steve’s hips.

”You love it, sailor. Now…” He slowly tugged Steve’s shorts down and gave a little lick to his bottom lip.

”Can I fuck you in this ridiculously hot uniform? It’s killing me.”

”Oh you are feeling desperate, huh?” Steve pouted as he looked down at Eddie, ”How about how you made me act two minutes ago?”

”Baby, c’mon. You know I wanted to know what it was like to be served by you.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

”You could've just come when I was actually serving.”

”I was too shy.” Eddie confessed, not caring about it because he knew Steve would never judge him for anything. And he didn’t wanna lie, not to Steve. Even if it was kind of embarrassing.

Steve's face softened, so did his hold on Eddie’s hair and he gave him this soft smile, ”Oh yeah?”

A nod, ”Yeah.”

Steve leaned down and soon soft lips were on his and Eddie just melted into the kiss. He loved to kiss his boyfriend, it was his favorite thing ever.

”What would you have done if you came and saw me like this back then?” Steve whispered against his lips once he pulled back.

He had this hopeful gleam in his eyes that made Eddie feel all sorts of emotions. Good ones, of course.

”Honestly? Freaked the shit out…” Eddie answered and Steve laughed, ”but, if we’re talking about what I would’ve wanted to do… I would’ve bend you over the counter, right were the ice creams are and fucked you in front of all the customers. I would’ve made them know who owned you and who gets to touch you instead of them.”

If the loud cry from Steve wasn’t obvious, the boy on top of him was getting really worked up again. And Eddie was loving every second of it.

”Fuck, Eds, ah- you need to fuck me right now.” Steve whined out, grinding his ass down to Eddie’s dick once more and like Eddie had said before…

Steve and his stupid slutty Scoops Ahoy uniform was going to be the death of him.

[imightgetbetter]

One More Story

wow, guess who's made a return after all! hi guys. long time no see. i have missed you all, and i have missed matty and the missus more. i'm trying to get back into the swing of writing for some self care and i hope to be more active at night after work to do that. please be gentle with this quick little piece about how matty and the missus met, i just wanted something short and sweet. i'm going to try and do the challenge @abiiors is doing, so you should see some more writing from me in the coming weeks. as always, reblog and share and send me your thoughts. i love you all. <;33

“Daddy?”

Matty turns around to see Attie perched up against her pillows, her blanket falling heavily around her waist and her tiny arms clutching the teddy bear she can’t quite sleep without just yet. He just tucked her in, gave her exactly seven kisses (all around the perimeter of her face, as he’s been doing since she was a baby), and told her he loved her and that he would be in bright and early to get her ready for school. He’s been with Attie mainly while Lennon is struggling with the Trying Twos, a time that has been marked in the Healy household as Hell On Earth, with Lennon strictly wanting her mother and screaming bloody murder if Matty tries to take her away for even a second. Matty is taking advantage of the one-on-one time, though. He knows his little girl will not be little forever, and the thought alone is enough to kill him, or make him down an entire bottle of wine in one sitting. “Yeah, baby?”

“Can you tell me one more story? I promise I’ll go to bed right after.”

Matty tilts his head, looking at his daughter with hooded eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as she mimics his facial expression. “You can’t give me that face, Attie James. It’s time for bed. You have school tomorrow.”

“Just one story, Daddy! I’ll even close my eyes while you tell it. Promise.”

Matty can feel himself giving in, and by the quietness echoing through the halls, he can tell that you’ve gotten Lennon down for bed. A win for the both of you, this evening. Matty hums to himself in consideration, and when he hears your shower sputter on, and no instant baby screams, he concedes. “Okay. What story do you want to read? If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, again?”

“I want you to tell me how you and Mummy met.”

“Why do you want to hear that story?”

“Well,” Attie begins, moving her teddy bear to between her crossed legs, the dramatization already beginning. It’s something she’s inherited from you, Matty supposes. “Mummy and Uncle Adam were telling me about how when you were little you used to tease Mummy all the time and that meant you liked her and there’s this boy at school that teases me and I just want to know if it’s the same thing.”

Matty feels a surge of emotions filter through him for his little girl, and he smiles. He pokes his head into the hall to ensure that Lennon isn’t awake and you aren’t looking for him, and when he’s made sure the coast is clear, he nods his head and turns the light back on, walking towards her bed that is much too big for her, right now, and taking a seat beside her. “What’s this boy’s name? Do I need to come have a chat with him?”

“No, Daddy. I think he’s just being silly. But I want to make sure he doesn’t like me, ‘cause if he does,” she pauses, “yuck.”

Matty smirks, “That’s right, yuck. Boys are yucky.”

“You’re a boy, Daddy! And so are Uncle Adam, and Uncle George, and Uncle Ross. And Uncle Louis! And Grandpa!”

“That’s exactly how I know we’re yucky.”

Attie rolls her eyes and shakes her head, pulling her teddy bear into her arms and cuddling into Matty’s open side, tilting her head ever so slightly to have her honey eyes meet his. “Tell me the story, pretty please?”

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her hair, his fingertips brushing through the wet curls, her tiny little breaths hitting his arm. “It all started the day Mummy moved in across the street…”

///

It started off like any other day.

Ross, George, and Adam were all sat around Matty’s room, fumbling around with a baby joint and a lighter. George and Ross were talking about girl they both thought was hot in their year, Adam preoccupied with his “girlfriend” – what could a girlfriend really be at fourteen – and Matty had one thing on his mind, besides the joint in between his fingers. He had seen this girl a few times around school, but never caught her name. She was in their year, in a few of George’s classes. Matty passed her in the corridor and saw her at lunch. She kept to herself, usually opting for a book and a highlighter rather than a group of uniformed friends.

Matty hadn’t said anything to the guys just yet, but they could tell something, or someone was on his mind. They were his best friends, after all. They could tell. Especially when he stopped ogling the English teacher and started actually doing the readings for the one class that they all shared together.

“Boys! You need to come downstairs! We’re going to say hi to the new neighbors!” Denise called from the bottom of the steps, her footsteps growing closer and the boys scrambling to hide the weed and look semi-presentable. “Really boys?”

Matty looks at her wide-eyed and shrugs, standing to his feet and shaking his mop of curls out in the mirror. “I’m good to go.”

“Oh dear,” his mother hums, shaking her head and clicking her tongue as she turns on her heel and begins descending down the stairs, tallying the boys one by one as they exit the front door and make their way across the street.

Matty nearly stops in his tracks when he sees you standing in the doorway with a stack of books in your arms. George bumps into him, “Move, Matty. You’re in the middle of the street.” George’s eyes follow the trail of what Matty is staring at and it all clicks. “She’s the girl you have a thing for? YN?” George nudges Adam, Adam nods at Ross. “That makes so much sense, now.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, boys. I’ll introduce you. Their daughter goes to your school.”

“YN is in our English class, Denise,” Ross says with a smile, walking ahead of Matty and chatting nonsense to his mother, always the courteous one.

“She’s way out of your league, Matty,” George says with a laugh. “You do realize she’s not a delinquent, right?”

“I’m aware. Thank you. But I can make a good impression. I can do that.” Matty shakes his head and picks up his pace, walking alongside his mother and plastering smile on his face to introduce himself to your parents and you, formally at least.

Denise introduces herself and Matty, shaking their hands and begin to chat small talk about the neighborhood, the area, and the school, and as Matty pretends to listen, his eyes are scanning around for you somewhere around the house.

And then it happens.

Matty sees you.

And when he sees you, it feels like a moment in a cliché movie, where time has stopped, and he knew that something was different about you. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen up close, in person, in the flesh. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart beat faster. He was sure he was sweating and maybe even looked a bit flustered, which is why George nudges him to walk over and formally introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m YN,” you said with a smile, waving quietly and setting down another box of books. Matty was sure you probably had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with how many books you were bringing inside. “I think we have English together.”

“Yeah, I think we do,” Matty smiles, stepping forward and lending out his hand. “I’m Matty. Nice to actually meet you.” You smile back at him, and Matty felt his heart flutter. Feeling this at only fourteen felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t even help it. It was happening to him. Without any warning. “This is George, Adam, and Ross.”

“I see you guys around school all the time. Aren’t you in a band or something?”

“Yeah,” George smiles, budging Matty’s shoulder with a laugh. “You should come see us play.”

“Yeah! I’d like that. I need to make some new friends.” You paused for a minute, and Matty found himself upset that he wasn’t hearing your voice anymore. It was too early to be feeling this way. He didn’t even know you. “I actually saw you guys staring at the tree in my backyard earlier,” you giggled, kicking your foot forward and swaying back and forth. “I was going to, um,” you looked around for your mother, bringing your fingers to your lips and pretending to smoke, “back there. Do you guys want to come?”

George, Ross, Adam and Matty quickly nod their heads, an excited smile filling their faces as they wave goodbye to Denise and your mother, Matty following closely on your heels as you make your way through your garden.

///

“That’s how you met? Mummy was your neighbor? And Nana introduced you?”

“Mhm,” you hum from the doorway, stepping inside and taking a seat the end of the bed, smiling brightly at two of your favorite people. “Daddy and your uncles came to hang out with me, and it’s been all of us together ever since.”

“Well, Daddy, you didn’t tease Mummy like the boy at school teases me. Maybe he doesn’t like me.”

“Daddy teased me. But Daddy was my friend, so it was different. If you don’t like this boy at school teasing you, then you should tell him to stop.”

“Yeah, I think I’m going to tell him what Uncle George told me.”

You and Matty share a look. “What did Uncle George tell you, baby?”

“Uncle George told me to tell him to eat rocks.”

Matty laughs and nods his head, kissing Attie’s head and laying her down to fall asleep. “I think that’s a perfectly acceptable response, actually. Tell him that tomorrow.”

“Matty!”

[wttcsms]

listen what about the good girl's boy best friend futakuchi ORRRR the police officer x DA with daichi. is daichi underrated enough. please pick one that is worthy and YOU decide whether it should be nsfw or not. i trust you with these

everything's blurry but you, kenji futakuchi;

pairing kenji futakuchi x f!reader word count 3.5k synopsis barely in your baby twenties, and you think life is so over for you. then, while at rock bottom, you run into futakuchi, and realize that 1) he's kinda pathetic, and 2) someone else's pathetic-ness totally distracts you from your own. so, guess you two are in it together. content contains drinking, bar setting (physical location, this fic does not set the bar for anything, don't get it twisted) prompt instead of the good girl x mysterious bad boy, it’s the good girl’s boy best friend (who’s been hopelessly in love with her for a while) x the new girl in town who’s her complete opposite

Kenji Futakuchi strategically chooses a Friday to confess to his first love — that he naively thinks will be his only love, that he naively believes his feelings are love — because it’s basically the end of the week. 

Can’t do it on a Monday; when he faces the inevitable rejection, he’ll have to sludge through the workweek feeling like the world’s biggest loser. Wednesday doesn’t work since it’s that odd day in the middle of the week where nothing important is supposed to happen; might as well not try to mix up the monotony. Friday is good because when she breaks his heart, he’ll have tonight and Saturday night to drown his sorrows in cheap liquor, and he still has Sunday to rest up and actually get over it. 

The confession goes as expected — despite his sweaty palms, rapid heartbeat, and the voice in the back of his head asking him are we sure we want to go through with this?, Kenji straightens his back and boldly confesses that he’s had feelings for her since high school. He’s met with her wide-eyed expression, a rosy blush creeping upon the apple of her porcelain cheeks, and she looks down at her shoes, too shy to face her best friend since childhood, too shocked about his crush as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. 

He already went in knowing that he was going to walk out a loser. It’s a bad mentality to have before entering a game, but he would never cheapen his feelings to the point of treating them like they’re just a part of some silly game. His heart thumping against his ribcage, the tiny adrenaline rush coursing through his veins when he finally decided to just be a man and at least make an attempt to get the girl — all of this is proof that this is real. Not a game. And yet—

“I’m so sorry, Kenny.” He would never allow anyone else to call him by that nickname; this is a privilege reserved only for her. It used to feel like an inside joke between them, but he finds himself shrinking back from her, and now the joke’s flying over his head. He’s on the outside looking in. This is not real, he decides. The humiliating “we can still be friends” conversation is happening to someone who only looks like him, he decides. His sudden desire to get shitfaced at the nearest bar has nothing to do with this awkward, embarrassing situation that is not happening to him, he decides. 

She looks like she’s near tears, and she’s such a sweetheart, that he knows that this is somehow harder for her than it is for him. The urge to console her is overwhelming, but then she speaks. 

“We’re—” She pauses slightly; she’s careful with her words, always cautious. Kenji starts spiraling, trying desperately to fill in the blanks when he sees her lips start to form that dreaded word, the F-Bomb that will surely impact his ego and blow it up, forcing him to leave it tattered on the sidewalk of her neighborhood. “—friends.” 

She says it with such finality, it’s almost like a fucking death sentence. He’s in a courtroom, and she’s the judge telling him that he’s never going to see the sun ever again. 

He makes his way to the bar in a daze, muttering to himself, playing a game. He wonders what she was going to say to fill the silence. We’re — just, only, always going to be, better off as — friends. Whatever he chooses, he’s screwed.  

“Fuck,” he groans, wanting to bury his face in his hands. The alcohol hasn’t quite hit his system yet; he knows so, because he’s still capable of rational thought. He should stop now, go home, take a shower, and hide under the covers, dead to the world until Sunday afternoon, which is when he has his upcoming game. 

“Are you done?” An annoyed voice causes him to look up. 

“What?” 

“I said, are you done? You’ve been talking to yourself for the past thirty minutes, and it’s starting to piss me off.” 

When Kenji is with her, he tries to be a better person. He knows that during their high school days, he had a tendency to pick fights, antagonize others, take delight in besting an opponent. All that holding back only resulted in him being ditched for some mysterious rich guy who drives a sleek black car with tinted windows. Maybe it’s the alcohol finally hitting, but he makes the decision to just be himself. It’s not like he gives a shit on how you’ll feel about his attitude. 

“There are plenty of other seats in this bar. Go sit somewhere else if I’m bothering you that much.” He scoffs. You narrow your eyes.

“I was here first. You should move.”

You turn your body to face him, taking in the strange man sitting one barstool away from you. He also fully turns his body so he can face you, almost childishly mimicking your movements, except he’s got one elbow resting on the sticky countertop. He looks like he wants to pick a fight with you, his brown eyes narrowed, lips curled in a scowl. The jetlag, the bartender mixing up your drink order, the lack of sleep, the awful professors in grad school, the date your parents are forcing you to go on — all of it has been packed neatly and tightly into your nervous system, compartmentalized, and promptly stowed away. 

You can feel all your built-up irritation clawing its way out of your skin. Normally, you would just roll your eyes, take your purse, and leave. Normally, you wouldn’t have even said anything. It’s not like he was even talking all that loud. Normally, you would just mind your own business. 

Then again, thinking too much about your own life is the reason why you’re spiraling, heading straight to rock bottom, no Google Maps needed for you to find your way there. Maybe it’s just better for you to pour all your attention onto this man. 

“I’ve been living in this town since I was born, and I’ve never seen you here before.” He gives you a dramatic, childish, once-over. You’re wearing slacks, pointy-toed high heels, a fucking blazer. He snorts, then thinks about her ballet flats that she favors, her fluffy sweaters, her frilly skirts. Wanting to rid himself of all conscious memory of her, he pours himself another shot, downs it like water, and works on committing your serious image to memory. He takes in your disgusted expression. 

Better, he decides. He’s not thinking about his little heartbreaker. 

“Oh, I didn’t know I was meeting with the fucking mayor.” You give him a once-over as well. He can’t remember the last time he’s been scrutinized so coldly. It’s a feeling he isn’t used to, especially now that he’s a young adult and the volleyball games he plays now don’t feel so high-stakes. You’re sizing him up like he’s an opponent. He wants to tell you that he doesn’t fight women, but he’s petty enough and drunk enough to want to push your buttons — all four of them, really, when he takes in the golden buttons of your blazer, each one of them engraved with some designer logo he certainly can’t afford. “Have you ever considered that not everyone spends their free time getting sloppy drunk? Some of us have jobs.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s a job?” He asks, blinking owlishly at you. “I don’t know what that is since I’m such a simpleton. Maybe you can go call a cab and get it to take you to your job, and let me know what it’s like. I’ll still be here when you get back.” 

Maybe in a different life, in a different situation, when you’re in a different mood, this stranger would be funny. Maybe in better lighting, he’d even be cute. 

“I said some of us have jobs. Never said I was included in that group.” The words taste bitter, and you know it’s not because of the drinks you’ve had. 

His expression softens a bit. As a child, Kenji used to poke anthills with a stick, toying with the little guys just because it seemed funny to his boyish brain at the time. Despite this, he’s not the type to kick someone when they’re down, even if you’re rude and have bad manners. 

Silence. 

This one, he doesn’t bother trying to fill. 

He watches you pour yourself a shot, and he copies you. You don’t notice, but then you’re pouring up a second, then a third, and he can’t help it; he follows along. You catch him doing it out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly, a stroke of competitiveness that hasn’t afflicted either of you since adolescence is now invigorating the both of you. He matches you, shot for shot, and oh — he is definitely going to regret this. He might actually regret this by the time Sunday rolls around. 

Noticing his hesitation and the near-empty bottle, you drunkenly call for his attention.

“Hey—” You bring your bottle to your lips, downing the rest of the contents, giving him a self-satisfied smile. When you wake up with a raging headache, hunched over the toilet, and having to show up to your blind date with sunglasses to hide your ragged state, you will regret this. Right now, you’ll take any small win you can get. 

His cheeks are flushed, his reaction time slower as it takes him a few seconds to process what he just witnessed. 

“You’re insane.” He mumbles, fumbling for his own bottle, and missing it by quite a margin. 

“Don’t bother. I beat you, I drank it faster, and I’m holding my liquor way better.” Your words are slurred, there is way too much alcohol sloshing in your otherwise empty stomach, and the fact that you can’t tell you sound totally drunk (and neither can he) is a dead giveaway that both of you need to get your stomachs pumped and hooked up to an IV, stat. 

“Liar. Look at the way you’re struggling to sit in your seat.” He’s not doing so hot himself. The only reason he’s not swaying like you is because he’s leaning against the bar counter for support. That, and he thinks any sudden movement might cause his brain to shut down.

“I’m fine.” You insist, and you look like you’re going to try to prove just how fine you are, until your phone lights up. Your almost carefree expression suddenly hardens. You decline the call, but even drunk, Kenji can feel the shift in atmosphere, the change in your demeanor. 

“You sure?” He asks. 

“Absolutely.” You reply back, with none of the conviction you’ve previously been serving up on a platter for him. He almost misses how annoying you are; the mopey version of you is no fun. 

(That, and as much as Kenji Futakuchi spends time insisting that it’s not true, his insides are just as soft as everybody else’s. If only he was an asshole. He could be stumbling back home right now.)

“Whatever’s bothering you, I’m pretty sure I have it rougher. So, don’t go throwing yourself an undeserved pity party.” 

“I highly doubt that.” At least you don’t sound so resigned when you say it. “And I’m not throwing a pity party.” Pity is for losers. 

“Oh, yeah?” He takes the bait you set out — another competition. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“My professor stole my paper and took credit for all my work, for starters.” You don’t know why you tell him this; probably because he’s the farthest thing from an academic, and unlike your classmates that you mistakenly considered friends, at least he’s not going to shun you — or, even worse — take your professor’s side. 

“Boring.” He fakes a yawn. “You downed a bottle of tequila because of that?”

You frown. “Well, what’s your deal? It better be something major.”

“Soul crushing.” He tells you, and he means it. You’re a stranger. He’ll probably never run into you ever again. His friends will never let him hear the end of it if he tells them the truth, or even worse, they’ll pity him. He decides to let you in on the secret. “I confessed to the girl I’ve been in love with since childhood.” 

You’re silent for a second, then, you toss your head back and laugh. His embarrassment quickly gets replaced with indignation. 

“What’s so funny?” 

You wipe a tear from your cheek. “Oh, nothing. That’s just the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, given the circumstances. Tell me the truth: why are you really here?” 

He blinks. “I told you the truth.”

He waits impatiently for your laughter to die down. 

“That’s your soul crushing news?” You ask him, clutching your stomach, grinning at him. You haven’t had a good laugh in weeks. You were almost scared that you had forgotten how to. 

“She’s a nice girl.” He resists the sudden childish urge to stick out his tongue and blow a raspberry. “Nicer than you.” 

“If she’s so nice, then why are you drinking alone at a bar and acting like the world is ending instead of being with her?” You point out. 

“How would you reject a guy who confesses to you?”

You don’t mention that you’ve never been confessed to. Instead, you pretend to ponder it for all of two seconds, before saying, “I’d tell him the truth.” 

“The truth?”

“If I like him, then I’ll admit to returning his feelings. If I don’t like him, I’ll tell him that.” You shrug. “Simple.” 

“So heartless.” He scoffs. “You won’t even tell him that you two can still be friends?” 

“Do you think people can still be friends after all that? Like, things will just be the same as always between you two?” You don’t sound mean when you ask him this; just genuinely curious. 

He tries to turn the attention back to you. “What if you two aren’t friends, then?” 

“Why bother telling him that we can still be friends?”

“It’s polite.”

“It’s cruel. No one really means it when they say they can still be friends. People only say that because they think it softens the blow.” You lean your body forward, palms resting on the bar stool that separates you two. You’re surprisingly steady as you tell him, “Reciprocation is true kindness.” 

Your eyes seem to sparkle under the warm lighting of the bar. He wants to blame this realization on the alcohol, but this is somehow the clearest his consciousness has been in a minute. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“If someone reveals their true feelings, you should respect them by revealing your own. I hope she told you how she really felt.” 

We’re friends. We’re friends. We’re—

a pause, hesitation, reluctance

—friends. 

He licks his lips. His mouth suddenly feels dry. He’s aware of you staring at him, but you’re so drunk, you probably don’t realize the intensity of your gaze. 

“She told me we’re friends.”

“And?” You press him for more information.

“That’s it.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “What does that mean?”

You make a face. 

“It means you’re totally fucked. Sorry.” 

He groans. “What do you know anyway? You’re just another bum in this bar.” 

“A bum in this bar who can outdrink you, and my problems are actually major.” 

“So, what? Call him out for plagiarism. Easy fix.” 

“Easy fix, my ass.” You grumble. “You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Not even going to ask you to elaborate.” Then, “Got any other complicated problems my tiny brain can’t understand?” 

“I’m totally fucked, too.” You admit. “Except mine is out of my control, and your pathetic situation was easily avoidable.” 

“How was my situation ‘easily avoidable’?” 

“Well, live a lie and don’t confess. Or, maybe just don’t like her?” 

Kenji has never met someone so interesting. Usually, when people spout out bullshit and other complete nonsense, they do it with false bravado and counterfeit confidence. You sound like you genuinely believe in what you’re saying — as if feelings are just something you can flip on and off, like a switch, like a choice. 

“Those are your solutions?” 

You nod. He can’t even find it in himself to shake his head. He’s now oddly fascinated in what could possibly be going on in your life if you’re handling your shit with such emotionless, cold decision making. 

“So, what about your other problems?” 

“The whole point of being here is so I can forget about them.” When he doesn’t say anything else, you sigh. No point in acting like it’s not going to happen. “My parents sent me out here because I’m going on a date. Some businessman I  went to high school with. They’re hoping we get engaged soon.” 

“What’s so problematic about that?” 

“Apparently he’s in love with some random girl.” 

“So you don’t want to fight for his attention?” 

“I don’t want him at all. My parents keep pushing for this, though, and since I dropped out because of the whole plagiarism thing, I don’t—” You pause. Even if he is just a stranger, airing out all your business in this dingy bar is a tad bit too pathetic for your liking. “It’s whatever.” 

He bites his tongue, resisting the urge to point out that it sure doesn’t sound like whatever. 

“I should go. Thanks for… this.” You wave your hand in the air, unsure of what to call this situation. Your moves are a bit clumsier than usual, and the heel of your shoe catches onto the legs of the stool as you’re getting up, and you can see it all happen in slow motion. You can feel the pull of gravity dragging you down, and you think for a split second that maybe banging your head on this dirty floor might actually be worth it. Maybe you’ll get amnesia and forget how shitty everything is. Maybe you’ll fall into a coma, be basically dead to the world. Maybe you’ll actually be buried six feet under. 

Kenji’s reflexes are still quick. He jumps up from his chair, and your body crashes against his. He got up way too fast, and now his head is kind of spinning. The room is spinning. He hears a faint ringing in his ears, and he blinks hard, trying to focus. Everything is blurry. 

He looks down, and you’re peering up at him, staring at him curiously. Everything is blurry but you. In fact, he could probably count your individual lashes with the way he’s hyper focused on you.  

“You can let me go now.” You murmur, and he clears his throat awkwardly, instantly removing his hold on you. He’s thankful for the shots he took because he can at least blame the scarlet flush on the alcohol instead of the embarrassment. 

“Did you call a cab?” He asks, noticing how dark it’s gotten outside. 

“I was just going to walk back. Try to sober up.” 

Sober seems like a hefty goal at the moment. “Don’t be stupid. Get a cab.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huff.

“Let me walk you home, then.” 

“I’m drunk, but I’m not dumb enough to let a strange man know where I’m staying.” 

“It’s dark, and like you said, you’re drunk. At least call that guy you’re going on a date with.” 

You frown, refusing to look at him. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“But you’re planning on being engaged to him?” 

“Like I said, we don’t have that kind of relationship.” 

In the end, you know that this stranger is right. You’re not sure which cab services are still running at this hour, and you know no one else in this town. You dial Kato’s number, pleasantly surprised that he manages to pick up on the third ring. 

“I’m drunk. I’m going to text you my location. Please pick me up.” You ignore a greeting altogether, and before he can give an excuse on why he can’t come, you add, “There’s a strange man here, and I don’t want to be alone with him.” The stranger makes a face, and you mouth out a sorry. 

Kato sighs over the line. “Give me the address, and I’ll be there shortly.”

“Thanks, Kato.” He hangs up before you’re even done speaking. 

You expect the stranger to make a teasing remark, probably boast about how he knows everything and be pleased with how you did what he asked, but he looks confused.

“Kato?” He repeats.

“Yes, that’s his name.”

“Daisuke Kato?” He presses you, and you nod. 

Maybe your paths will cross again, he decides. He can’t tell if this is a good or a bad thing, especially since Daisuke Kato is the name of the man who Kenji’s best friend has fallen in love with.

[be-my-ally]

Empty Promises (…. on the phone)

this is absolute filth and i have no excuse.

pairing: afab!reader/Elvis (actual!Elvis in my mind but since he’s on the phone and it’s from your perspective there’s not really any physical description of him so could be austin!elvis)

summary: Elvis has been away for a few nights but he’s left you a task to do while he’s gone. Tonight he calls and talks you through it. (for lack of a better expression; you’re trying to ‘train your tight pussy’ to be able to take the three fingers+ that you couldn’t in Empty Promises)

warnings: 18+, gratuitous use of daddy/pet names, fingering, phone sex, masturbation. kinda innocent!reader. Discussion of ‘getting you ready to be a woman’. very limited editing on this one so pls forgive any mistakes.

wc: 2.7k

“Hiya, Daddy.” You’re on your bed, ankles crossed waving in the air as you flick through a magazine on your tummy, you’d reached across to pick up the phone as it rang, having brought it onto the bed in preparation for his call. Waiting all evening just for him to ring, you’d gotten ready for bed now - in a little nightgown and a peignoir. You hear him chuckle down the line,

“How’d you know it was me baby girl? You just calling everyone who calls daddy now?” You giggle back at him,

“No silly, you said you’d call! I’ve been waiting for you.” He hums back to you, a laugh in his voice;

“Well that’s alright then doll.” You roll over onto your back, twirling the cord around your finger. “Have you been a good little girl? A good baby?” You squirm,

“Of course!” You’re affronted he even feels the need to ask. “Done everything you said.” You can hear his smile,

“Everything, darling?” His voice has deepened slightly and it goes straight to your lower stomach. Like butterflies starting to form.

“Mmhmm, every night. Just like you said. But….” You pause, you find yourself faltering, finding it difficult to describe what you want to; still embarrassed to say such things out loud. He waits a moment before he impatiently asks,

“But what?” You make a little noise down the line, half a groan and half a moan. He repeats himself, “But what sweetheart?” You still don’t respond and he attempts to coax it out of you in that baby voice he uses when he really wants something, “C’mon, tell daddy, baby.” You huff,

“I… can’t finish. I did the first night but I just, I keep getting so close and I can’t get myself there.”

“Oh, my darling!” He can’t help but laugh, “That wasn’t the whole point of this my love,” You huff, “but that must be tough, Daddy’ll be home soon. I’ll sort you out proper, soon as I’m in the house.” You sigh back at him,

“When will you be home?” You were getting bored without him and without anything to do with all of the boys with him.

“Day after tomorrow, baby. You know that. Boy, I can’t wait, it’s been far too long without my yittle in my arms.” You preen at his words, glad that he was admitting to miss you as much as you’d missed him.

“I can’t wait!” You hear someone talking to him in the background and you frown, you’ve not been able to talk to him in days - they’ve been on the road and moving around and busy while you were waiting for them to return - and now he’s being distracted when you do have him. You wait though, until you can hear him faintly calling out goodbyes, to say anything. “Who was that?”

“Jealous sweetheart?”

“Should I be?” You ask coyly,

“Of Joe? Never.” You laugh back at him, “Naw baby, they were just tellin’ me they were headin’ out.” You love when his accent deepens in private, like you get a tiny piece of the boy he was before the fame and dialect coaches,

“Oh.” You pause, and glance over at the clock, it’s already past midnight. “Have you got to go?”

“Nope. Told ‘em I had something else to see to.” You hope it’s you. “My baby’s been having a problem I need to sort out, thought I could give it a go.”

Your breath hitches.

“Doin’ it my way tonight, you gonna listen to your daddy? Do like he tells you.” You nod, before realising he can’t see you,

“Yes daddy. Please.” You can hear him shifting about and the creak of a chair or bed as he seems to settle himself in.

“You’re gonna start slow baby, want you to touch yourself all over. Start up top darling, touch those little tits of yours.” You heave a breath in as you settle up and back onto your bed, tucking the phone between your chin and shoulder.

“M’kay.” You start to brush a fingertip around your nipple, gently, over the top of your nightdress you haven’t really touched yourself like this before and it weirdly feels more intimate and awkward on your own.

“Now, wait a second baby, and lick your fingers and go back down. Just like daddy would do.” You comply and he can hear the wet noises that accompany you licking your fingers. You brush open your gown, and start to push the fabric of your nightdress down to better access your naked breasts. “Little girl, are you still dressed?” He could no doubt hear the rustle,

“Of course daddy.” You’re a little breathless already, and he laughs - at your state of eager excitement or at your state of dress you can’t tell.

“Well get it all off darlin’” You pause your fingers as they dry on your chest.

“But…then I’ll be completely naked, it’s too hot to be under the covers.” He laughs, speaking lowly,

“There someone in my house I don’t know about?” You’re confused for a moment, running through the current occupants in your head.

“…No.”

“Ain’t no-one gonna bother you then, so get it all off.” He huffs in your ear, “God almighty, no wonder you can’t get yourself goin’ if you’re frettin’ this much over taking your nightie off.” You know he’s joking but you can also feel his impatience and you hurry to do as he asks, stripping off. Throwing your panties god knows where. You feel outrageous completely nude like this even though he was right. Your curtains were pulled, door shut, and other than the help downstairs, you were home alone. You make sure the phone is still propped up securely, and lick your fingers again,

“Ok..El, I’m…touching myself again.” He laughs and you can hear the noises of him undressing too.

“Right darling, you’re gonna talk me through how you’ve been doing the past few nights.” You gasp,

“Oh no! I couldn’t possibly,” he growls down the phone at you, and you turn plaintive, pleading with him, “Oh, don’t make me do that El! It’s embarrassing.” He snorts down the phone at you,

“Nothing embarrassing ‘bout it mama, just doin what we gotta.” He changes his tone - he’s practically whispering low in your ear, “Makin’ sure you’re ready to be a proper little woman when the time comes, huh baby. Only got a few weeks left.” You smile at his words,

“I suppose that’s true…it’s just saying it.” You wait a moment for him to relent but when he doesn’t make any move to fill the silence you give in, “Ok. Ok. Shall I, shall I start now?”

“Yep baby, but I want you to just focus on that cute little button of yours if you’re gonna be touchin’ yourself for the second - I’ll tell you when to move on.” You trail your hand down to between your legs, following his instructions. “When you’re ready sweetheart.”

“Um… ok, uh, well, last night I got up to three, like you told me to. Been workin’ my way up before then.”

“Uh-huh, well you’re gonna be taking three of daddy’s in two days time baby, you think you’ll be ready for them?” He grunts at the end of the sentence, and you can’t hear it but you know he’s touching himself. You squirm at his words, his fingers are rather large and you know that come hell or high water they’re going in you.

“Yeah, I think it’s been trickier without you. I’m not as…wet. But, it wasn’t as hard last night so it, I, should be ready by then. I, uh, take my time with two still though.” You can hear his breathing get heavier down the line. You brush your fingertips over your clit, rubbing in tiny, light circles. “Um, but I still start just with one.”

“Yeah, doll? What do ya do? Twiddle with yerself a little and then pop it in?” You gasp at his vulgarity.

“Uh-huh, pretty much daddy. Just do what I can to get myself wet. I’m uh, still normally pretty ready by the time I get into bed. Just thinkin’ about you does the trick honestly.” You sigh at him, you can practically feel his ego inflating, but its the truth.

“You thinkin’ bout me now darling?” He’s smug, but it’s surely not anything he didn’t already know.

“Uh-huh, thinking about you touching me,” You can hear yourself gasp, and it inspires a sudden boldness, “about you licking me all over.” He chuckles lowly,

“You like my tongue dontcha, dirty little thing.”

“Uhh-huh…then I rub my finger around, and do it just like you showed me.”

“Just like I showed you huh?”

“That’s right, I…swirl it about a little bit, and uh… push it in and out, until I think I can fit a second in. Then I press down with both of them.” You can hear him lick something, presumably his palm, and the distant sound of skin on skin contact. “Then I do what you told me to do, trying to stretch myself out a little. But it just doesn’t matter how I stroke myself, I can’t seem to find my spot.” He laughs at you,

“It’s hard to find by yourself, little one.”

“And then last night...I got in my third finger, but it - I couldn't - I just had to hold it there for a little while - it hurt a little. "

“We don’t want that doll.” He practically growls as he lectures you, “Remember I told you about the slick in the bathroom. You oughta be using that to help ya anyway.”

“I can do it myself.” He hums back at your indignation.

“Well, we’ll see soon won’t we? … You still touching yourself baby?” You agree, breathy little sounds travelling with your “Ye-es”. “What a good little baby you are, my perfect little one.” You bite back a moan, there’s something about him praising you that always turns you on. “Let me hear you baby.” You comply, releasing your lip from your teeth, making tiny little ‘unh unh’ sounds. He groans, “Ok then, its late little one, best get on with it now, go on move that little hand down. Describe it to me.”

“UH-huh. I’m, uh, just, moving my hand down, oh god I’m so wet Elvis. Oh my god I’m slippery.” He laughs, “Um ok, I’m just touching my … hole with my finger, just gonna take a second.” You groan as you slip your middle finger in, index and third holding you open.

“That’s it yittle, wiggle it around a bit, though you should be used to that by now. Even daddy can fit one in ya straight away.” Your hips thrust up, and your thumb finds your clit again as you rotate the finger within.

“Uh-huh i’m doin’ it daddy.” His breathing hitches,

“Go on then, get the second one in now little one, should be ready for it by now.” You nod although he can’t see you, and your mouth opens in a gasp as you insert your index finger alongside the middle, thrusting them both in gently. You’re still nervous to be too rough with yourself, although you’d been balanced on Elvis’ before, thrashing about as he held you only with that grip while you came.

“That’s it baby, that’s it. Curl those lil’ fingers now for daddy, stroke yourself.” You do as he says and you can practically feel your walls loosening slightly with each stroke. You’re slick as anything and that helps to ease the way, can feel the damp heat growing with your heartbeat.

“I’m - uh - shit- doing it, f-fuck that feels good.” You gasp,

“Goodness, ya got a mouth on ya tonight darlin’, not very ladylike of ya.” He scolds, you hadn’t even noticed. The words slipping out as you struggled to make sense of how, just by him telling you what to do, it felt so much better than going it alone,

“So-orry.”

“Dontcha worry your pretty little head ‘bout it, you can make it up to daddy by getting that next one in that yittle cunt of yours.” The irony of it being necessary to make up to him after swearing, as he calls your vagina a cunt is lost on you in the moment. Your left hand grips the comforter, and you pull both your fingers out, feeling your soft, puffy, folds. Spreading the sticky wetness around. “Go on darling, wanna hear you.” A moan slips out of your mouth, followed by a gasp as you softly push in three fingers. It’s an awkward angle for you to do yourself on your back like this, but you can’t imagine how else you could stay on the phone. It’s less of a burn than the day before, and you wonder if it’s because what you’re doing is working, or if it’s just because you’re so much more ready doing it with him.

“Just-like I’d do, do it just like I would, spread those tiny lil’ fingers in that tiny yittle pocket.” He pauses and if you listened closely you could hear his hand speeding up, You do as he says, your chin dropping as your mouth opens. “Use your thumb baby, rub yerself.”

“Uh-huh, ye-es, ye-es daddy.”

“You close little one?” He grunts, his voice speeding up, “I’m -ah- almost there, wanna go together.” He groans and you pick up the pace, can feel yourself tensing up, just about hitting the right place and speed.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and the phone slips from its resting spot as you can’t help but turn your head from side to side. It feels like your hand is cramping as you struggle to maintain the momentum and steady pressure. You get there, shouting as you just about reach climax but you’re unable to maintain it for very long as your hips jump involuntarily and your pace is wrecked.

You can hear the blood whooshing in your ears and the pulse of your heartbeat as you come down. You feel shaky as you reach blindly for the handset again. It wasn’t unsatisfying, but it wasn’t good - it just was.

“You get there little one?” He’s out of breath, slurring his words slightly in his own post-orgasmic haze.

“Yeah,” You feel somewhat teary, and your eyes fill as you sniff, “But, it wasn’t like you do it. My hand hurts and I still feel…” you squirm, “on edge.” There’s a pause and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep. But then he speaks,

“We-ell…that’s because its a job for daddy, little girls can’t do it quite right. That’s just the way it is sweetheart.” You whine, you wouldn’t ever want to be without him but the implication that you couldn’t scared you. You hiccup down the line and you hear him shift closer to the phone,

“What’s wrong?” You sniffle again, before answering;

“I just… how will I ever do without you then?” You feel ridiculous, there’s more to life than effective orgasms but you’d had a taste now and didn’t think you could go back to pretending you didn’t know what bliss felt like.

He laughs, “Well, it’s a good job we’re getting hitched in couple ‘a weeks then isn’t it? Never gonna be without me again little one.”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL  - solid showing

Jan 20232 Wk 3

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

My School President (Fri YT) 7 of 12 - Tinn flirting using a periodic table is such a simp. I can’t with this boy. This ep made me laugh so flipping hard. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? GMMTV you tricksters, you. I’m sorry to say that even the catfishing part made me laugh. What a wonderful show. 

Never Let Me Go (Tues YT) 6 of 12 - I loved the part where Pawin speaks multiple languages: English Thai, and Mandarin. Pawin is good! Lovely diction. I like the discussion over The Kiss and I liked how clear N is about who he is and what he wants. P is the opposite, doesn’t really know what he wants, and wouldn’t know how to express himself even if he did. Yet they are still somehow sweet with each other. Pond is so cute when he smiles. 

Between Us (Sun iQIYI) 10 of 12 - I gotta say that this level of miscommunication at this point in the drama is merely ep 11 bullshit manipulation. And it is annoying. Even though i know the story has no other vehicle to drive crisis at this point in the show, I’m not happy about it. Dare I say this BL is a touch disappointing? Well, if I don’t say it, who will? WATCH ALONG HERE.

609 Bedtime Story (Fri WeTV) 9 of 11 - OhmFluke are always good, but because of the cheating thread I find it really hard to support this couple. I liked the “who done it” twist. I did see it coming, but I watch too much TV. I love GamesVee but Vee’s hair is truly terrible. 

Cutie Pie 2 You (special) 3 of 4 - Disastrous sun glasses, Zee. TutorYim did an awesome job on their sexitimes. I admit to being worried, I was a little scared they couldn’t carry physical intimacy off (holding down 3 series this year). But they did good job. Although, Nuer, if your boy is that twitchy and ticklish? Strap him down and bite. Hard. Presumably he’s not called Syn for nothing. 

I Will Knock You (Fri Gaga) 10 of 12 - Just too much blushing maiden for me to stand. And Noey’s odd blinking thing? What is with that?

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The New Employee (Korea Weds Viki) 5 of 8 - Backstory of the pen is explained, and daddy forces a conversation about it, which I LOVE. I thought his first reaction was a bit harsh, but I’m on his side. Get over your college crush, baby. Pay attention to the guy that’s in front of you. Also cat fucking things up more = classic. The guy walking by in the street who called them “cute” for a hug is my hero. I love this show so much. 

HIStory 5: Love in the Future (Taiwan Weds Viki) 4 of 10 (or 7&8 of 20) - Rich boy getting jelly. Jonny getting savvy. Boys holding hands and falling asleep together after an earthquake is cute. Office sides = best couple on air right now. I love how Vincent just casually cuts up his food and gives it to his baby boy. Tony remains evil and manipulative but hot, I shall call him: Pouty McHotterton 

Candy Color Paradox AKA Ameiro Paradox (Japan Fri Gaga) 5 of 8 - I think they made a mistake of putting Izuka Kenta into this one. He’s so good everyone else‘s performances look weak by comparison. 

Individual Circumstances (Korea Thurs Viki) 8 eps - A reunion romance between a movie director who was once promising and a writer who disappeared due to past wounds. Stars JunQ (main rapper of 2nd gen group MYNAME) and Han Jung Wan (Mr International Korea winner). I like this more than I thought I would (reunion romances are not my thing) mostly because of the bratty director character. Using a guitar to torture someone is entirely appropriate, in my book/BL world it happens all the damn time. It’s an interesting promise, I do want to know what happened in the past. The bike is silly. 

It’s Airing But I’m Not Watching It

GMMTV’s Midnight series - first segment has begun bit it’s not the EarthMix messy gays. I’m so not interested in messy hets, so I’m waiting until they grace my screen. Moonlight Chicken (Weds YT) 1 of 8 eventually.  

Gossip

Be On Cloud (the KinnPorsche people) announced its 2023 line up. Descriptions and discussion here. 

In Case You Missed It

The Star Always Follow You (Vietnam YT) ended amorphously so yeah not my thing. 

I posted a meta of all my 2022 wraps, top picks, industry stats, etc..

I ALSO posted the 2023 forthcoming BL master post. (see comments some are inaccurate) 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Frigay is BACK with a vengeance. Honestly, I like this line up. This is about the number I can handle in a week. 

Still (supposedly) to come in January:

The End Of The World, With You

Hit Bite Love

Luminous

Nilundon

Time the series

BL Fashion Hall of Shame

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

They are my children. MUST PROTECT. 

World’s best wingman. 

What did I say about biting? Tinn gets it. 

(last week)

Current Kpop earworm? And this week my OG bias has a single, two actually, but the comeback isn’t good, so I’m opting for: Letter from Park Jinyoung (GOT7). If you listen you’ll understand why I also love Leo so much. Honey voices are my weakness. 

[goodlucktai]

I don't know if you're taking prompts, but I would love to see you do a fic where Mikey runs away. I'm reading your Wishes are Fishes story right now and the scene where Mikey announces his plan to run away and I love Raphs reaction to the news. Would love to see what the big brothers do if he actually does run. Love your works, by the way. If I can write half as well as you one day, I'll die happy!

x

Mikey didn’t show up for movie night and he wasn’t answering his phone. 

Raphael is a juggernaut of a human being at all times, but especially where his brothers are concerned—and at some point when none of them were looking, Mikey had slid into the sibling role seamlessly. 

So there’s really nothing Donnie can think of that would come close to stopping him from marching up the front path of the Campbell’s big house and knocking smartly, on just the right side of outright banging, on the imposing door. 

When no one answers right away, he works his jaw and knocks again. Donnie knows what it looks like when Raph is only going to get louder until he gets results. He darts a nervous look at Leo. Leo shakes his head, arms folded tightly. Ready to let this play out. 

Donnie texts Mikey again, feeling silly for the way his fingers are shaking. It’s probably nothing. There’s no reason for him to be freaking out over six read receipts and zero replies. 

Raph is raising his fist to knock again—and from the set of the shoulders, this time he’s definitely going to be rude—when the door is yanked open from the inside. 

Mikey’s foster father says, “What now?”

Leo says, in a tone that probably sounds polite to a stranger, that makes Donnie want to shiver from how cold it is, “Hi, sir. Sorry to bother you. We’re just looking for Mikey.”

“Jesus,” the man says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It never ends.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Raph bites out, and then winces when Leo digs his elbow into his side. 

“We’re his friends,” Donnie volunteers. His eyes move past the man into the foyer, straining for a glimpse of that bright boy who so effortlessly drew the three quadruplets out of their shells. “We had plans.”

“Michael doesn’t care about anybody’s plans but his own,” the unfamiliar man says curtly. “You should find yourself a better friend.”

Despite his temper, Donnie isn’t a violent person. Raph and Leo aren’t, either. Sensei taught them self-control before he taught them anything else. Donnie knows better than to act on anger. 

But he pictures himself punching that man in the throat hard enough to make him choke so clearly that he’s distantly surprised he hasn’t actually done it. Likewise, Leo’s hand darts out to grab Raph by the arm, his grip white-knuckled. Donnie can’t tell if it’s an attempt to keep Raph in check, or himself. Maybe both. 

A sharp voice from further inside the house says, “Tony, enough!” 

The man throws his hands up in sarcastic surrender and moves away from the door. His wife glares at him as he goes by, one arm hugged around her own middle protectively. The sharp look on her face relents slightly when she looks at Donnie and his brothers. 

“I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“Where’s Mikey,” Raph grits out, very much at his personal threshold of shit he’s willing to take. Mrs. Campbell’s expression does something it hurts to look at. 

“He’s gone,” she says quietly. 

Please please please, Donnie thinks through the white-noise filling up his head. Please please please. 

“What does that mean?” Leo asks in a wooden tone. 

“His room was empty this morning,” she says, blinking rapidly. Her arm tightens around her stomach. “It’s my fault. I know I haven’t been what he needs, I know he’s unhappy here. I thought—I thought he would be excited to have a sibling.” 

Of course. Donnie understands as easily as if Mikey were standing right there to explain it to his face. 

Mrs. Campbell was going to have a baby, and Mikey would be an unwanted child again. Of course he would think so. That’s the truth of the world as he knows it. That’s the life that he’s lived, one home after another. How could he be expected to assume that someone would actually choose to keep him? 

“Here,” she says, pulling a folded piece of paper from the pocket of her cardigan. “I sent a picture of it to his caseworker already. I can’t let you have it, just in case—well, just in case. But you can read it.”

Raph all but rips it out of her hand, and holds it out so Leo and Donnie can read with him from each side. 

Their friend’s messy handwriting spills across the page in smeared graphite, a short goodbye and very little else. Donnie’s eyes are drawn to the P.S. at the bottom. 

Tell the guys I’m sorry. 

“That little moron,” Raph breathes out. He shoves the paper back at Mrs. Campbell, knowing himself well enough to know that if he holds onto it for a second longer he’ll tear it to pieces and set it on fire. She takes it quickly, looking pale and upset and worried for them. 

“Don’t be angry at him,” she says. “He’s such a sweetheart. Better than I deserve. Really lives up to his name.”

Through the dull, horrified daze he’s wading through, something about that remark pegs Donatello as strange. The name “Michael” means “who resembles god,” which isn’t the sort of off-hand knowledge he would expect Mrs. Campbell to comment on. 

“What do you mean?” he asks. He barely recognizes his own voice. 

She turns over her shoulder to frown at something short and impatient that Tony says from another room. At Donnie’s question, she says, “Oh, you know. Michelangelo? He can be a lot of trouble, but he really is an angel. Anyway, I need to go. I’m expecting a call from—”

Leo’s hand catches the door as it starts to close. All those years of single-minded focus on martial arts have made him an immovable object to match Raphael’s unstoppable force. That door isn’t moving again until he lets go. 

Beside him, Donnie thinks Raph is holding his breath. Donnie knows he for sure isn’t breathing. 

“What did you call him?” Leonardo asks very carefully. 

Mrs. Campbell looks between the three of them like she’s trying to make sense of a foreign text. 

“Michelangelo,” she says, confused by their confusion. “The name he came home from the hospital with.” A smile touches her face, the barest turn of her mouth. “When I saw his file I thought… whoever named him must have loved him a lot.”

Her husband is coming back and his voice is all loud. Leo’s hand slips away from the door. With a soft goodbye, she closes it, and leaves them standing on her porch. 

“Do you think,” Raph starts, and stops. 

“It’s not possible,” Leo says. His tone says he’s trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

But that’s stupid. It’s stupid. They know already. They’ve known this whole time. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Donnie doesn’t believe in fate or magic or any kind of higher power, but he believes in that phantom pain he’s carried in his chest his entire life. And it always hurt a little less when Mikey was around.

There may not be a god, but there are invisible strings that tie people together. There are ghosts with guiding hands. Maybe mom was helping all along, pushing them gently towards each other. 

It doesn’t matter. Donnie doesn’t care. 

Even if Mikey was totally unrelated to them and all of it was a huge, incredible coincidence, Donnie would want him back.

But if Mikey is his brother, it’ll be a lot easier to keep him. 

“Call dad,” he says abruptly. Leo and Raph turn to look at him, but Donnie’s eyes are on his phone. He’s opening that one-sided text thread. The fog in his brain is clearing and he’s all lit-up with the kind of single-minded purpose that could outrun the apocalypse. “Let’s get ahead of this.”

Pick up the phone this time, Angie.

He gives it a minute exactly, counting the seconds in his head. They’re still standing on the Campbell’s porch. Leo is making a phone call of his own. Raph is tense, a coiled spring, waiting to burst into movement as soon as he’s given a direction to move in. Then Donnie taps Mikey’s name and the blue call button and puts the phone to his ear. 

After four rings, the call is picked up. 

That dear voice on the other end, all thick and warbly with tears, mumbles, “‘Angie’?” 

It’s impossible that Donnie should be able to smile after the morning he’s had. He might have to rethink his stance on miracles. 

“We have a lot to talk about, Michelangelo,” he says. “Wherever you are, start thinking about heading home. If we have to come get you, Raph’ll be pissed.”

“I’m already pissed,” Raph says loudly, jostling close to the phone. 

“Mikey, Mike, are you okay?” Leo says over them both. 

“Sorry,” Mikey says, and he’s audibly crying now. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t want to go.”

“It’s okay,” Donnie tells him. He’s ready to bend the entire world into the shape he wants it to take with his bare hands if he has to. “You’re not going anywhere.” 

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 73″

Masterlist HERE. 

"They say she get it from her Mama…

I put that on my own mama, on my hood I look fly, I look good You can't touch my bag, wish you could I look fly, I look too good Put that on my own mama, on my hood…"

Victoria Monet – "On My Mama"

T'Challa lifted his newborn son from his fluffy pram blanket and gently burped him near the wall-sized window of the Sun Room. Nakia fed the baby constantly and after only a week of being alive, Toussaint was fatter and his belly became a round ball that his father liked to tickle.

The deep rich melanin had evened out across his son's body and looking down at the tiny face, T'Challa witnessed a mirror, a version of himself that depended on a family to raise him up the right way. He kissed Toussaint's forehead, then rocked him quietly.

"This is the best place to catch the last rays if you don't want to go outside…"

T'Challa turned to the sound of N'Jadaka's voice.

"Just sneaking in some time with him alone before I go to the ball," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka touched Toussaint's hand and the baby squirmed and grabbed a hold of his cousin's index finger.

"He's strong," N'Jadaka said.

"Here."

T'Challa handed over his son and N'Jadaka cradled the boy much better than he did. Of course, he had more experience with Sydette when she was a baby. But T'Challa learned quickly and studied how N'Jadaka moved with the little one, the natural ease giving him the confidence to do better himself. He still became nervous caring for Toussaint, so the little trips away from Nakia's side helped him shore up his daddy skills. When Shuri had been born, T'Challa had been at university and didn't have an opportunity to care for her as a newborn with so many palace attendants looking after the princess and Ramonda. Like his son, his baby sister had been a precious tiny being that made him too self-conscious about screwing up his interactions. The Black Panther had faced terrors that the mind couldn't conceive, and yet a seven-pound bundle kept him feeling fluttery in the brain and hands.

"Lotta hair," N'Jadaka said, touching a curly loc on the top of Toussaint's head.

N'Jadaka scrunched his face at the baby with various silly expressions making T'Challa laugh.

"You are good with babies," T'Challa said.

"I do alright. You'll get the hang of this cuz. Wait until he calls you Baba for the first time… man, you'll float on cloud nine. When Sydette said that to me, I swear, I must've grown fifty feet taller. Kids…they make life different… make you see things differently if you let them."

"I understand that completely now. I worry that I will be an overprotective father, or worse, a father who allows too much because how can I deny this child's wondrous face?"

"You'll find balance."

"I hope so. I would like to have a relationship with my son the way you do with your children. You are an exceptional father, N'Jadaka."

The king looked into T'Challa's eyes and a humbleness rested there.

"I raise my children the way my parents raised me, with respect, kindness, and plenty of unconditional love. They believed I could do anything I set my mind to and supported me with all of my interests. I felt at ease with them… could talk about anything under the sun and I would always know they had my back. When I had to live in juvie for almost a year, I discovered how blessed I was to have my parents. Even if it was for a short period of time. Some children never know love from the adults that bring them into the world. There's so much suffering for no reason. I cherish all of my memories with them and I try to pass on their wisdom to my kids."

T'Challa reached into the leather pouch that hung around his neck and pulled out some Wakandan currency folded into a neat square.

"Riki paid me this to make another male baby. I was told that Yani explained to him that the father determines the sex of the baby, and he asked for this money back from Nakia so he could give it to me. I am giving it back to you because Toussaint is a lot of work and I can't imagine having another baby too soon. It is your turn to bring in more boys," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka grinned and handed Toussaint back to T'Challa, palming the money in return.

"Yani will decide when that happens, but trust, I am practicing,"

T'Challa cackled and N'Jadaka lowered his head, realizing he revealed too much.

N'Jadaka started humming a little, familiar tune, and T'Challa joined in by softly singing the words to "Lullaby Little One", peering at the snuggled bundle in his arms.

"He is the best of everything that I am," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka glanced up at T'Challa.

"My father is proud of you… of us," N'Jadaka said.

T'Challa tilted his head and regarded his cousin's face with curiosity.

"I visit them…my parents…over at Black Creek whenever I need to think about my purpose and my role as king. It calms me. Reminds me of my duty to my family too. Baba loved you with all his heart and he is happy that you and I are together. He said it was the way it was supposed to be. He still watches over you too, Cuz. And your son," N'Jadaka said.

T'Challa lowered his head and let out a shuddery breath.

"Hearing that pleases me, N'Jadaka. I feel peace in my heart now that you and I are one."

He looked out over the window view of the kingdom.

"I have made peace with my own father. It has not been easy walking in his shadow. I have laid that burden to rest as you told me. You and I have children to raise and a nation to protect. Tonight is a very important gathering," T'Challa said.

The king gazed at the river below busy with night merchants and leisure boats passing in and out of Birnin Zana's brightly lit port.

"Tonight we watch nations curry favor with us. Niganda's president and the Prime Minister of Mohannda have been acting salty as fuck with our inquiries about border disputes and encroaching on our territory. Canaan and Azania have remained open on everything since the first UDC meeting. Azania has slowly been jockeying for my attention even more since we hosted the inaugural UDC in their country. They would like to host the next meeting at the end of the year. I suggested rotating gatherings as an option, although Canaan would prefer they all be hosted here."

T'Challa grinned.

"It is a sly way of getting into Wakanda twice a year," T'Challa said.

"I know. But we have to appear egalitarian. North Africa is already feeling slighted because I won't let them in yet."

"Tunisia did not help them with their behavior."

"I'll worry about the north later."

"Niganda and Mohannda will be our main troublemakers. They will be all shiny teeth and glowing eyes for you in front of the other nations," T'Challa said.

"Umama reminded me yesterday that shiny teeth don't mean people are smiling at you."

"This is true. You will learn tonight the masks those two countries have worn for centuries when dealing with us. My father kept them at arm's length for over thirty years."

"Time for me to bring them closer."

N'Jadaka checked his kimoyo.

"I'll meet you on the bridge at eight," N'Jadaka said.

The king left him alone and T'Challa gazed at his son. His kimoyos lit up with a pulsing white glow. An urgent signal from Captain America.

T'Challa used a voice command to bring up Steve's floating avatar. The deep creases on the Avenger's forehead and the tight-lipped stare conveyed a grim mood at the Avenger's compound. For a brief moment, Steve glanced down at Toussaint and a faint smile perked up the American's lips.

"Your new son," Steve said.

"Toussaint."

"That doesn't sound like a Wakandan name."

"It's Haitian. What is going on?"

"We may need your sister's help," Steve said.

"With what exactly?"

"We're in the middle of a delicate situation and if we can't solve it…T'Challa, some invaders arrived and attacked members of our team. Vision… he's in a lot of trouble and we're trying to protect him."

"Zero hour?" T'Challa said.

"I'm praying that it isn't. Can we count on your help if we can't keep him safe here?"

"Our king is prepared to assist," T'Challa said.

"Wanda and Vision were attacked in Scotland. Their assailants were after the mind stone. Please inform King N'Jadaka that we will be in touch again soon."

The fear in Steve's eyes soaked through the avatar. T'Challa ended the call and stared into the eyes of his son.

"You are not even a week old and your Baba and cousin must fight to keep the world whole in order for you to live well."

He pushed back against the cool dread gliding up the base of his neck.

The Avengers were a tight team despite their internal differences. Steve Rogers was frightened and desperate for Wakanda's backing. N'Jadaka needed to get through the night with T'Challa keeping a sharp eye for turncoats. One thing at a time though. Get through the ball and then await any more news from the Avenger's compound.

"Come, my son. Let us return to your mother so Baba can do his job."

The noble women Yani chose as her Ladies-in-Waiting prepared her fresh make-up after her dinner with N'Jadaka. Zola was a member of the Panther tribe. She had a soft athletic build with fetching eyes and was one of the first Wakandan elites to befriend Yani during her first weeks in the country. She knew all the gossip and schooled Yani about who to watch out for in the close-knit upper classes. Ilana was more guarded. Although she had been friendly toward Yani in the beginning, their friendship was a slow bloom once she became better acquainted. Her gorgeous figure and lush head of thick hair made her a stand out on the noble court, and they shared a love of music and dancing. Yani liked that she was a member of the River Tribe for it gave a nuanced look at nobles from a balanced perspective. Ramonda encouraged her to have all her Ladies from the Panther Tribe, but Yani insisted on a mix and asked Marisol and Twyla to be on her team too. It gave her the ability to have eyes and ears in the wider society since Marisol and Twyla moved outside of the palace. Twyla had her professional Eco-Tourism business and Marisol had accepted an invitation to study in the Temple of Bast while also teaching Candomble at the University of Birnin Zana. If the queen had to have a close team, then she wisely chose the best available to her, and Zola and Ilana were her best investment.

Outside of her own family, the two noble women were generous and protective of Yani as they had been trained to do all their lives if they were lucky enough to be chosen by a queen to serve in the palace. The Court of Nobles vied for positions serving the royal family, and the queen's inner circle was the most coveted placement among the women. Not only were they privy to the inner machinations of the royal family, but they were also closer to snatching up partners of high standing. There was a strict vetting process and it took a full six months to get final approval from the council of elders and the king himself. Part of the vetting process had been eye-opening and a little disconcerting to Yani. The Ladies not only served the queen but they were at the beck and call of the king too within his home, and in the past, Wakandan kings often used the women as their concubines and what the elders called "prep women" if the kings were unmarried. The sexual explicitness of what they would do for the king or queen made Yani's face burn, but it was no different than the lifestyle Ayomide and M'Baku lived high up in the mountains.

Yani studied books in their ancient family library that had illustrations and tales from past rulers, and she confessed to Zinzi and Efetobo in their private consultations that she worried that N'Jadaka's enormous sexual appetite could overwhelm her once she became queen, and she was not one to seek out the help of other women. She was too embarrassed to ask Ramonda and Umama how they dealt with their sex lives. Zinzi calmed her fears and reminded her that every generation of rulers decided how they would work out their domestic household, and that the queen had a lot of pull in nixing anything they weren't comfortable with. Shock sat on her face when she was also told that a queen could have male or female lovers if the king were away for a long time. At least they believed in equal favor.

There was no way N'Jadaka would allow another man to dick down his woman while he was gone. In the ancient books, to keep the queen from becoming pregnant from her temporary substitute, male concubines were made to wear prosthetic dicks designed in the shape of the king's phallus so that the queen's vagina would remember her husband. Yani was shown dildos hollowed out from rubbery pieces of wood from antiquity. She could see where her man's dick came down the bloodline. The Udaku's always had girth and heft.

The ancient sexual proclivities fascinated her, and she found herself questioning her moral conservatism. Once, while Dante allowed her to look at one of N'Jadaka's old computer tablets back when he was Erik Killmonger and she was learning about his family in depth, she stumbled across a hidden file of sex vids. Holed up in her suite, she watched Killmonger have intercourse with various women on his travels. Sometimes there were two or three women at a time. The experience of watching him from angles that she never saw had her sweating, and she soaked plenty of panties rewinding images of him cumming and pleasuring other women.

Yani struggled with her confusion as to how she could dread her man finding another woman to cheat with or replace her, and yet get stimulated and wetter than an ocean seeing him have sex with others. Hearing him moan another woman's name and observing his lovers lose it over him forced her fingers between her legs as her clit beat a rhythm that needed satisfying and moaning of her own. She spent hours watching the vids, not only because she missed Killmonger so much, but because her orgasms were explosive imagining him doing all of that in the flesh, right in front of her. Even when he returned and they struggled to reconnect, Yani would sneak peeks at those vids to satisfy her cravings for him.

Preparing to be his wife was an education that allowed her to look within herself and discover that she had more kinks than she realized.

Exhibitionist. Check.

Anal play. Check.

Bratty submissive. Check.

Humiliation kink. Check.

Roleplaying. Check.

Spanking. Check.

Choking. Check.

Cuckquean? Who knew?

As much as she was dead set against sharing N'Jadaka with Disa in any polyamorous royal union, she tried to understand why complete strangers with her man aroused her, and having him be with Disa bothered her so much. Perhaps it was the impersonal nature of the sex he had with those beautiful women around the world. N'Jadaka was simply fucking and being explicit to satisfy his cravings. There was no love or true affection. Truth be told, Yani sometimes enjoyed that fucking energy more than when they made tender love. Something about the way he manhandled women made her pussy jump. Especially when he slapped them for being disobedient.

Yani knew N'Jadaka found Zola and Ilana attractive. They were enamored with him themselves just as everyone was who came into contact with the king. N'Jadaka was bigger than life in person, and he oozed a dangerous charm that held people enthralled. Yani had grown accustomed to his effect on people. It made her feel powerful in his presence because he doted on her openly. Zola and Ilana did the same to Yani, their affectionate and playful manners touched on a strong sisterhood. They loved the idea of a foreign queen ruling. It shook up the elites and made their lives more interesting. Without N'Jadaka saying anything, Zola and Ilana were always the first to go on the defense for Yani if they caught wind of negative gossip toward her. The Queen's Ladies knew the pedigree and secrets of everyone and cut them to the quick if they said one bad thing about her. Marisol, Twyla, and Disa liked them. So did the children. Especially Joba and Riki. This gave Yani the assurance that she had chosen her confidantes well. They wanted N'Jadaka to succeed because they grew up hearing the stories of Prince N'Jobu and were open to being out in the world instead of hiding behind their protective shields ignorant of everything. The new king ushered in the age of far-reaching Wakandan influence and that ignited their passions for the future.

Zola held out a golden jaguar mask that would cover the top half of Yani's face.

"Do not take this off at all tonight," Zola said.

She helped Yani stick it on her face with the sweet-smelling adhesive.

"Those foreign nations need to be captured by your seductive allure and the mystery you represent," Ilana added, touching up Yani's fresh lipstick.

"This is true," Zola said, stepping back to look at the mask, "A powerful king such as ours will have the world by the balls with you standing next to him looking this captivating."

Yani turned to face the large mirror in her dressing room inside of the king's home. She almost gasped herself looking at her reflection. Zola winked at her through the mirror.

"Yes, that is our queen right there."

Ilana lifted the train for the dress with Zola's help as Yani stood to take in all angles of her reflection. She was stunning and she knew it. Tapping a nervous finger on her engagement ring she turned to her Ladies.

"Tonight, after the ball, I will be with the king," Yani said.

Both women lowered their heads at the mention of N'Jadaka from her lips to show respect for her. They slipped on gold cat-claw finger armor on her index and middle fingers. Umama sent her the family heirloom. The long and deadly-looking finger jewelry was an ancient heirloom that belonged to Queen Tiye and Queen Shuriya. Yani was given a week's long lesson on that woman and having items that belonged to queens the entire country admired was a huge deal. The elder Queen mother explained that Yani would set the new standard for how a queen should be, and to never take any interaction for granted.

"I would like for you both to prepare me for him later. He is under a lot of stress and I want him pampered. Understood?"

"Yes, Princess," they answered in unison.

"Leave me," Yani said.

Zola and Ilana departed the room to wait for her in the spacious living room downstairs. She stared at her image again and then sauntered out toward her bed chamber. Heading to her beautifully carved bureau, Yani pulled out N'Jadaka's smoking pipe that she snuck away from his private bar. She lit it up and rested on her bed, allowing the herb to burn a small cloud of smoke before she puffed on it, settling her mind for a long evening representing the entire country. She wasn't the queen yet, but the palace and the press had begun calling her the consort and she had to be on her best for N'Jadaka and the world.

The chemicals in the plant kicked up in her bloodstream and her breathing became deeper, less shallow, and anxious. She closed her eyes and focused on how she would walk, how she would enunciate her Wakandan well, and use the king's good English when necessary. Her mind drifted and she started chanting an old Wakandan proverb she learned that Queen Tiye was credited in writing. Loosely translated it meant "There is power in the walk and the word", but when recited quickly and under duress, it became a verbal narcotic for Yani to decompress whenever she worried about representing so much power. The niggling fears of not being good enough taunted her despite her assertive pushback.

Going out into the ballroom would be another performance, and as a former singer and social media star, Yani knew how to cultivate the image of a woman in control. This would be a performance of a lifetime, her coming out to the world stage. The herb slowed down the whirring in her brain and chipped away at the self-doubt and nervousness. She chanted the first Queen of Wakanda's proverb over and over until she dozed off into a twilight sleep, sinking deeper and deeper…

The scent of burning and black smoke stung Yani first before she even noticed the blazing fire. Acres and acres of lush vegetation went up in a fiery red-orange wave of flames that lit up the landscape and blanketed the blue sky above with encroaching darkness from the belching of acrid smoke. Watching the burning fields, Yani expected to see a powerful dragon sweeping down from the sky and lighting up the world. Instead, she spotted the serene figure of a woman torching the earth with fire as her other hand wielded a sharp blade.

Yani put a hand over her nose as the smoke choked her throat and burned her eyes. She coughed, leaned forward, and spit out fire and smoke from her own mouth. Startled, Yani cried out in fear and the woman turned toward her, iron black hair wild around her head like a crown of ebony flames.

"Come burn this with me, gyal," the woman said.

Yani hesitated. The wind had whipped up the flames to towering heights and the heat increased, ready to lick and scorch her skin.

"Fiyahbun for this, not you," the woman said.

She thrust the torch out toward Yani.

"Come, come…step quick. Yuh know mi…come from mi. I hear yuh sing fuh mi—"

"Queen Mary?" Yani said.

"Mi no stranger to mi own pickney. Come. Burn…."

Yani took hesitant steps, unsure if she was dreaming or high from the herb in N'Jadaka's pipe. It felt real. Smelled real. Looked real.

"Ah dou-dou, step strong. Yuh come from strong people. How yuh 'gon stand with that Big Man on the hill walkin' like that?"

Queen Mary sucked her teeth and Yani changed her pace and ground her bare feet sturdy on the earth.

When she reached Queen Mary, she took the torch from her hand.

"This too," Queen Mary said.

Yani grabbed the long shiny cutlass in her other hand and wasn't surprised to see that Queen Mary still had another torch and cutlass in her grasp.

"Feel that weight, gyal? That's the only weight you should have on you from now on. The Big Man on the Hill needs a queen to be his equal. You are that, hear mi? Burn it all."

Yani touched unburned portions of the field, and despite being in the middle of a raging inferno, the fire never touched or singed their skin. But Yani felt the heat from her greatest grandmother's body and witnessed the flames shining in her dark black eyes. Eyes as black as Sydette's… as black as Joba's.

The smoke swirled into a thick blanket blinding Yani's sight, but she kept walking forward with Queen Mary until they passed through to the other side of a pristine beach with water so clear it that made her weep with longing for her old cove. Queen Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath before flinging her torch and cutlass into the sea.

"Your turn to carry it, Queen Yani. I will rest and watch yuh for always. Be a big woman now. He 'gon need yuh fierceness when him put new babies in that belly and in your hands…"

Queen Mary reached over and placed a warm and gentle hand across Yani's stomach.

"Time will soon come when him need yuh tuh fight for dem babies, hear mi gyal? Him pickney powerful. Your blood mixed with his is so powerful that even your enemies will fear your children. Go back there now, show the world yuh come from mi. Show them how we cut and burn to the ground anyone opposed to us. You are his fire… his true blade…"

The water shimmered as Queen Mary walked across the top of it, no longer burdened with holding down the line. That was Yani's job and she gripped the torch and cutlass with a new confidence, facing the mighty blaze behind her. Walking back through the fire her body sensed a tugging back into bodily consciousness outside of the spiritual and she bolted up from the bed, her fingers clenched around nothing but air. But the sensation of the blade and torch were still there in her grasp. Glancing at her kimoyo, she knew she was late meeting N'Jadaka. She stepped off the bed and rolled her shoulders.

Show time.

N'Jadaka waited for Yani out at the entrance of the bridge. She was running late, so he parked himself between both palace structures to give her fifteen more minutes before he graced his foreign guests with his presence. From the reports inside the ballroom, the attendees were having a grand old time although they were breathless with anticipation to see the king of Wakanda in all his glory.

The doors to the East Palace bridge entrance swung open and a set of Doras with four Ladies-in-Waiting flanked Yani who made his heart lurch when he saw her fully.

"Fuck," he gasped under his breath.

Marisol and Twyla made up two of the four ladies accompanying Yani and they grinned with knowing at the expression on his face. Even his personal guards made unintelligible sounds with their mouths when the vision of a new-era queen stepped into their midst.

The deep cobalt blue of her gown stole the richest hue of the waters back in St. Thomas. Her lace hood rested across the top of her head but the upper half of her face was covered in a bright gold jaguar lace face mask that enhanced the cat-like appearance she was going for. It was designed exactly the way his Umama's decorative jaguar mask looked, with the sharp cat ears laced with saffron diamonds. The tight corset made the tops of her breasts look like lush fruit while the rest of the gown had a long train that the two extra ladies-in-waiting watched out for as it swept behind Yani a good ten feet long. N'Jadaka's betrothal beads sat snug on her waist and hips.

Stunning burgundy lipstick with gold flecks at the center displayed Yani's plump lips, and her eyes dazzled everyone who gazed at her.

A queen.

N'Jadaka couldn't move. The air had been knocked out of his chest harder than a punch from an enemy. Everyone around them stood in stunned silence and stared at his fiancé with the masked mystique. There was an aura about her that his intuition told him was spiritual in nature. Yani stood in all of her glory, but she also stood on the shoulders of Queen Mary. That energy radiated from her thick and blazing, and it was enough to make Ogum smack N'Jadaka in the back of the head with Bast kicking him in the shin, lowering his right knee for him as he brought himself low to the ground. Holding out a hand towards her, he seized the moment to show the others the love and respect he had for her.

"Queen Yani N'Isiqithi, may I have the honor of escorting you to our first formal gathering together?" he asked.

"You may," she said, holding out her hand.

Most of her long nails sparkled with the colors of the sea with blue crystals at the tips. Fierce-looking finger armor covered the rest. He clasped her hand in his and lifted up from his knee, tucking her warm fingers into the crook of his arm. Chaperones be damned, he was holding his wife's hand.

Wife.

He paused and looked down into her eyes encased in the exquisite golden half-mask. This woman was his wife. The mother of his children. The woman who held him down from the moment she agreed to be his. His sly and mouthy island girl. The one who could bring him to his knees with just a touch from her hand and a twist of her lips. N'Jadaka was ready to show her off to the world. Two diaspora babies came home to the motherland to rule it together.

He grinned. Oh, to go back in time to the cove on his first day in St. Thomas. To see her naked and swimming in liquid heaven. To know that the moment he heard her voice and laid eyes on her that she was the one to stand with him there. His heart overflowed and he patted her wrist.

"Let's go show these people royalty," he said.

Across the bridge waiting for them, royal drummers kicked off a loud rumble that would announce to the guests that the king had arrived.

"Baby, there will be wolves in sheep's clothing among the crowd," he whispered to her as they traipsed the bridge and stepped into the West Palace.

"I am prepared for them," she said.

N'Jadaka looked at Yani. Her voice sounded different. Fierce. It came out sharp like an oyster knife ready to peel away the soft flesh of mollusks. Her pace matched his and there was a synergy coursing between them that was as thick as a Wakandan winter stew. They were evenly yoked as his Nana would say. She carried a warrior spirit in her steps.

Yani glanced up into his eyes and the sparkle of light from the hall lamps leading to the grand ballroom flickered like torch flames. Ogum shifted in his chest and Bast leaned on his head harder recognizing the power of her ancestors within her.

Lifting his left hand, N'Jadaka greeted T'Challa who waited for them in front of the entrance of the ballroom. Heavily guarded, security was tighter than normal. The thumping of music bled through the doors.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Always," Yani responded.

The giant doors were opened and they were ushered to the top of the stairs that led down to the merriment below. One thousand people stopped dancing, speaking, eating, and drinking right where they stood just to stare up at the top of the landing to gaze upon the dazzling image of King N'Jadaka and his Queen-to-be Yani. He held out Yani's hand to offer her a resting balance as they took their time coming down the steep stairs. Their titles were announced as the royal orchestra played the Wakandan National Anthem with their steps.

N'Jadaka escorted Yani around the polished floor in a wide circle so that all the guests could see them. They rounded the final curve and faced an eager audience that salivated at the sight of them before a roar of applause erupted. T'Challa stood to N'Jadaka's left, his lighter blue robes complimenting the king's outfit. The applause washed over them for eight minutes straight. Yani leaned into him and whispered, "They are hungry for your grace, kumkani."

"Let's give them a show," he said back to her.

He lifted Yani's hand higher and waved a hand for her to step forward and take more of the applause for herself. She took a graceful step forward and hundreds of Wakandan nobles began clapping and singing out Yani's name with pride in their voices. No one had ever seen a consort like her before in all of Africa. He made out a chant that they echoed throughout the ballroom. The Golden Jaguar Queen. N'Jadaka swept his gaze around the entire room. The energy was electrifying. He eased away from Yani to give her more attention and the chanting grew stronger, picked up on by the other foreign guests.

Yani had star power. The grace in her walk and the seductive twist in her hips hypnotized the people there. He would use it to his advantage. She knew she was a weapon and preened before the crowd, accepting their adoration. Holding up his hand to calm the audience, the orchestra kicked into the first real Wakandan waltz of the evening with the sounds of bright horns heralding the arrival of the king. As the thumps from a bass drum pulled in the full percussive section, N'Jadaka slipped his arm around Yani's lower back and also clasped her hand.

They had practiced together sporadically when his schedule permitted, but their times together in St. Thomas dancing around the beach, inside their home, or in the privacy of their old bedroom made their coming together seamless and unrushed. Yani gripped his shoulder and relaxed into his lead hand and he spun her out onto the middle of the ballroom. No one outside of the country had ever seen a Wakandan waltz, but to the king, it was an easy transition from learning how to two-step from his grandfather. He already had the natural dancing gifts of his mother, Califia, and the magnetic grace of his father, N'Jobu, but having Yani on his arm elevated the spectatorship. Yani added sways and small dips that brought him back to Juvay, and he contributed his own touches in his hips and feet from Brazil. The diaspora styles melded with the Wakandan steps. As the drum beats dropped away from a section of the music and the triumphant horns peppered the air, N'Jadaka broke away from Yani and circled around her as the dance called for him to do, and she gathered up the hem of her dress to allow herself to wind her hips and dropped her body low in time to the measured tones of the soulful, full-bodied sound. Her Ladies-in-Waiting, Zola, and Ilana joined with Twyla and Marisol chanting out a call and response that other Wakandan nobles bounced back to them around the ballroom, adding another texture to the mid-tempo orchestral music.

Yani rolled her shoulders and spun around toward the center audience and body rolled her curves, raising her arms in the air as if she were conducting the horns. She spun back around toward him and he was right there to clasp her hand and guide her around the floor once more as the train of her dress looked like a waterfall spilling from her hips. They were joined by other partnered nobles who recognized the signal move to join the king and his betrothed. At least one hundred of the nobles present, who were of the upper echelon in status, were allowed to dance with them. They lined themselves around the king and Yani, moving in tandem to ancient ritualized steps that N'Jadaka had already shown the audience. As all the Wakandan men stepped away from their partners, several women added the new flair that Yani introduced, winding their hips and bending their knees low.

When all the women had their hands in the air like his future queen, N'Jadaka knew that Yani had shifted the culture publicly. The heavenly sounds of strings and harps cued the men for their solo dance moves as the women stood to the side with their hands on their hips in an exaggerated fashion. N'Jadaka took that as a sign for him to cut up in front of everyone. The men around him on the floor gave their best to keep the women from upstaging their king, unfortunately, Yani's demeanor, her dynamic appearance, and the internal swag she carried like body armor rose up like a storm and the women followed her lead and stalked past the men to form the opposing line that became a dance battle as the sexes faced off against one another to execute polished steps. It was over for the men once Yani started dusting her shoulders and the women followed that example by bobbing their heads in a challenging fashion as if to say, "'Sup nigga, whatchu got now?"

N'Jadaka raised his arms up and down to pump up the men and they fell into exquisitely choreographed legwork. He had never been in a fraternity ever, but the king stepped as if he went to an HBCU. The men threw down, exciting the foreign guests. Their flying arms, jumping legs, and the practiced, exaggerated turns of their heads as they raised their communal gaze skyward to welcome their ancient forebears aroused pride in N'Jadaka. He was a Wakandan king and the world would never ever see another like him again until one of his children ascended the throne. He caught a glimpse of Umama, Baba Z, Dante, and Ramonda sitting up high in private seating above the orchestra. Their bird's eye view made him feel good…watched over. Umama and Dante held their hands up waving to the music. In another protected section sat Marisol, Twyla, Zola, and Ilana who watched over Yani, ready to spring into action if she needed anything.

The dancers made all the turns around the floor that went with the music and his favorite part came up next that headed them to the home stretch…the stroll. It was a cool-down the heart rate move that allowed the men to prance one final time as they went to retrieve their partners with a dramatic flourish.

"You betta strut Big Nigga!" Twyla shouted from above.

N'Jadaka dipped his shoulders and pumped out his elbows as he slowly stepped to Yani. She had her hands on her hips and kept her head tilted in a haughty manner. All the woman thrust their chests and shoulders in time to the music awaiting their menfolk.

"Get your queen, kumkani!"

Umama's voice egged him on and he grinned, flashing Yani his dimples. Crispy horns picked back up like a clarion call to greatness. N'Jadaka lived in the moment, twisting his hips and bouncing his shoulders with aplomb. The energy from the men backing him up with bravado flowed through him as he inched his way to his woman.

He stopped in mid-step, staring at Yani for a split second before shaking his head. The music swelled all around him and nudged him to keep stepping, but N'Jadaka could've sworn Yani held a torch and machete in her hands. He blinked and her hands were still on her hips, daring him to be bold enough to take her.

N'Jadaka moved closer so that his body rubbed up against hers and he ran his hands down her shoulders, linking their pinky fingers together while he kissed her cheek in front of the entire gathering. Applause broke out and the nobles made space for the king and his queen to leave the dance floor first. The other elites in the room chanted his name and Yani's, forcing the first smile from Yani that wasn't directed at him. Instead of clasping his hand as they had practiced to walk back to the receiving line in time to the final horn blowing, Yani slid her armored index finger up his chest and pranced around him in a circle before lifting up her hand in a dainty fashion waiting for him to come to her first as she walked away a good three feet.

The Wakandan women howled and stomped their heels, ululations flew over their heads, and the cackle of his own grandmother floated down to tease him of the audacity they were all witnessing.

A queen putting her king in his place?

Never one to ever feel belittled by women he loved all his life, N'Jadaka slid his hands over his perfectly braided locs and swaggered over to Yani with such powerful strides that she immediately acquiesced the moment he towered over her and pulled her head back. He bared his teeth and his betrothed caved first by lowering her eyes from the heat blazing in his.

Yani moved her head from side to side and N'Jadaka kept his eyes on hers, moving his head to thwart her attempts to look away. She stepped backward and he kept walking forward, shepherding her into her rightful position on the receiving line. The waltz music tapered off slowly as Yani lifted her head and pressed her lips against his in complete submission, the eroticism of the moment not lost to the audience.

T'Challa met them on the side, his eyes and neck on constant swivel mode. He leaned in toward the king.

"Cousin, you have given the nobles something to talk about for the rest of the years to come," T'Challa said. "Do you need a break before the meet and greet?"

N'Jadaka shook his head and pulled Yani closer to him.

"Nah, let's feel these people out. You good, baby?"

Yani nodded, unable to speak or keep her eyes off of him.

The orchestra played the greeting march, where the foreign heads of state would walk up to meet the king and consort formally. N'Jadaka tapped an earbud where he could listen to his team fill him in on who was who and to also remind him of anything important to keep any blunders from occurring. He looked down at Yani again.

"You were swinging, girl."

"So were you."

"Do I look sweaty?"

"No. You look very handsome."

Yani reached up and wiped his lips from some of the glitter of her lipstick where she kissed him. Leaders were brought forward and introduced through T'Challa. He was most familiar with many guests from his time of rule. N'Jadaka puffed up his chest and minded his words. Yani became a gracious hostess, saying very little and only offering her hand to a select few to shake when she felt it was necessary. Everyone wanted to talk to her…stare at her up close, but T'Challa and the Doras kept the receiving line moving. She stayed friendly and open to the women and distant to the men, establishing a firm barrier of who could approach her. A soft squeeze or a heavy grip on his arm told N'Jadaka who she was comfortable with, and he stayed vigilant in moving along pushy leaders.

"The President and Prime Minister of Mohannda are up next after this group," T'Challa forewarned as the President and Secretary of State of a small African nation N'Jadaka helped destabilize in Special Forces approached him. Ogum tickled his senses and he rubbed his arm against Yani's to let her know he needed her charms even more.

"We are honored to have this opportunity here in Wakanda with you, King N'Jadaka."

The president was a squat, heavy-set man with a shiny balding head and a British-educated accent.

"Thank you for being here President Obiang. I hope your time among us has been pleasant," N'Jadaka said.

Obiang turned to the statuesque woman next to him who looked like she was ready to scratch the man's eyes out.

"King N'Jadaka, may I introduce to you our Secretary of State—"

"Madame Sacha Furaha. I am truly honored to meet you," N'Jadaka said.

It was less than a decade since he had ever laid eyes on her during a covert mission where he helped kill a brutal dictator. Sacha had sought the presidency after the assassination of her husband who staged a progressive coup to lead their country into true democracy. N'Jadaka was part of the Black Ops team that threw Sacha's husband's murderer out of a chopper right before the C.I.A. helped put in another puppet dictator. He spent several years making discreet, off-the-grid donations to her run for the presidency. The smile on his face showed he was pleased that she had at least made inroads into higher power within her country. His openness startled her, and Obiang. Yani interjected with her sweet voice.

"Madame Furaha, I have been so impressed with your work on the U.N. child advocacy program. I would love to speak with you at a later date about co-paneling a talk for the East African Health Summit this winter," Yani said.

Obiang and Sacha regarded Yani with open-faced wonder.

"King N'Jadaka has been keeping me abreast of West African nations that support world health issues for mothers and babies, and my work with the UDC is about to expand next year. I'm so happy that you were able to come to Wakanda so I could meet you in person."

Yani patted N'Jadaka's arm, giving the conversation back to him. He studied Obiang's face to see if the entry point he needed to connect with Sacha publicly was acceptable.

"I am so surprised and pleased that you would like to contact me in the future Princess Yani. I didn't know King N'Jadaka was aware of my work," Sacha said.

Obiang chomped at the bit to be included in the conversation. Lines appeared on his forehead and his jaw became tight. N'Jadaka made eye contact with Sacha.

"Princess Yani is a strong advocate for maternal health. I'll have her set up a time for you both to speak before your departure on Sunday," N'Jadaka said.

He gave Yani a look and she offered her hand to Sacha.

"I look forward to meeting you again soon," Yani said.

Sacha shook Yani's hand gently and seemed touched when the princess placed her other hand on top in a sign of true sincerity. N'Jadaka regarded the president once more.

"President Obiang, it's been a pleasure. Thank you both for being here…"

T'Challa ushered them along and Obiang glanced back trying to get N'Jadaka's attention for more speaking time, but the king of Wakanda looked away.

"Smooth as silk, Yani," N'Jadaka said.

He rubbed her lower back

"I'm sure you'll tell me later what that was all about," she said.

"Yep. For now, just know that you have blessed Sacha with the upper hand. Obiang knows that she has favor with you and will give her more leeway in their country because he sees that I talk to you about world affairs. He wants to get to me but can only do so through her at this moment. That'll keep him from sacking her. They're political rivals and their country is in turmoil again."

"Tell me what you want from her and I will get it."

"I know you will," he said, lowering his mouth near her ear. "If it all goes the way I want with your help, you and I just met the new President who will replace Obiang in their next election. I owe her," N'Jadaka said.

"N'Jadaka…" T'Challa whispered.

President Mubiri of Mohannda took hard footsteps to approach N'Jadaka. He wore an imposing military uniform decorated with plenty of colorful chest candy denoting his high ranking. All of his stars and bars indicated years of being in the Mohanndan service. Mubiri carried the ferocious energy of a warlord hellbent on bending Wakanda to his will. Tall, paunchy in the belly but strong in the chest, the dark brown skin and thick dark beard sprinkled with a few grays that defied the obvious dye job didn't take away from his formidable presence. Mubiri's Prime Minister had the long face and demeanor of an angry ram ready to butt heads with N'Jadaka at a moment's notice. Unlike the other guests, the men had their wives walking behind them. Their shiny eyes peered over their husbands' shoulders dying to get a look at Yani and him.

Yani shifted her feet and pressed her warmth into N'Jadaka's side. Mubiri had her a tad anxious, even more so when T'Challa narrowed the distance between himself and his king.

"President Mubiri, welcome," N'Jadaka said, extending his hand.

Mubiri glanced down at the friendly offer as if the Wakandan king carried shit on his hands, but he clasped sturdy fingers over N'Jadaka's and pumped them up and down pretending that he was pleased to meet him. N'Jadaka dropped his hand and turned his attention to the second sour-faced man.

"Prime Minister Ony…gentlemen, First Lady Mubiri and Lady Ony, this is my betrothed, Princess Yani," N'Jadaka said.

Both men regarded Yani with open, hateful lust, but gave her forced smiles. Their wives kept quiet but held their gaze on Wakandan royalty. The tension was excruciating. Even the Doras glared at the men ready to lift their sonic spears if the king gave a cursory signal to destroy them.

Hate.

The male Mohannda delegation hated Wakandans down to the marrow of their bones. It was little wonder they were in cahoots with Niganda to try and bring down the kingdom that had always bested them for thousands of years. Their hatred extended out from them like sharp claws against N'Jadaka's skin.

"We have observed many amazing sights in your country King N'Jadaka, but I do believe I have never seen anything lovelier than this woman next to you. Princess Yani, I enjoyed watching you during the waltz. I myself am not much of a dancer, but I would so like to share a dance with you later this evening… with the king's permission of course," Mubiri said in a softer tone.

The slick words were intended to get N'Jadaka's hackles up, but he ignored the attempt. Yani simply looked over the president's shoulder toward the next foreign guests waiting to meet the king. The slight made Mubiri's smile slide open wider revealing overly whitened teeth. He wasn't accustomed to being ignored by a woman. Ony cleared his throat and tried to wrangle Yani's attention back to them.

"My love, the other guests are waiting," Yani said, touching an ear on her jaguar mask.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," N'Jadaka said.

Yani pretended to be bored and glanced at the audience instead of the Mohanndans. Mubiri and Ony moved away in a huff.

"Lady Ony, Madame Mubiri, I love your headwraps. The colors are beautiful," Yani said as the women crossed her path behind their husbands.

Both women stopped and gawked at Yani, pleased that she had spoken to them.

"Thank you so much, Princess Yani. Your dress is gorgeous and your staff has been wonderful. We loved the flowers your office sent to our accommodations," Madame Mubiri said, her words gushing out like a thrilled teenager instead of a middle-aged woman.

President Mubiri spoke harsh words in Mohanndan under his breath and his wife scurried away from Yani with Lady Ony at her side.

"You sent them flowers?" N'Jadaka asked.

"Mmhmm. I had my staff deliver bouquets to all the women dignitaries from the royal garden. The new blooms are in and they will never have an opportunity to see the variety of species we have this fresh."

T'Challa leaned into N'Jadaka.

"President Kojo Tetteh and the First Lady of Ghana are next," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka looked into his cousin's eyes because his voice sounded tight and on the defensive. He glanced at the approaching couple and his stomach dropped.

"Oh shit," N'Jadaka said a little too loud.

Yani turned her head to see what the fuss was about and N'Jadaka braced himself to not give away anything when his former lover—and T'Challa's—sauntered their way with her popular husband.

Princess Vivienne Grimaldo, nee First Lady Vivienne Tettah still had her golden almond skin and the silky black tresses that made her a knockout. There were a few age lines near her mouth and the corner of her eyes, proof of her Monacan French heritage from her father's side of the family, but she carried the glimmers of her Senegalese heritage with her beauty.

President Tettah plastered a generous smile across his thick lips and paused in his steps when his wife halted suddenly and stared at the king.

"Erik Stevens?" Vivienne blurted in shock.

T'Challa fixed his attention on N'Jadaka as a slowly dawning realization crawled across his face.

"You're that Erik?" T'Challa said.

"What's going on?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka calmed the worry in her voice by squeezing her hand that brushed against his. T'Challa recovered quickly and shifted his body toward his cousin.

"Kumkani, may I present to you…President Tettah and First Lady Vivienne Tettah," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka offered his hand to Tettah while his wife drilled holes into his face with her brash stare.

"Pleased to finally make your acquaintance King N'Jadaka," Tettah said.

Vivienne tossed her head back, laughed out loud, and then clapped her hands together, bouncing her gaze between the two Wakandan cousins.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Vivienne cackled.

She clutched at her husband's wide arm.

"Darling, I met Erik years ago when I dated T'Challa in university. He worked for Tony Stark when he was still a teenager and visited the palace. He went from an intern to a king. What a remarkably small world!"

Vivienne reached out and gave T'Challa air kisses on both cheeks and stood back next to Tettah catching her breath from the fast clip of her words. She couldn't hide the gleam in her excited eyes from watching his every move. Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, Vivienne had a difficult time trying to stay cool and collected in front of him with her husband in the mix.

"My God, you look amazing Erik…pardonne-moi… King N'Jadaka."

"May I introduce my fiancé, Princess Yani," N'Jadaka said, maintaining his calm exterior.

Yani stared at Vivienne whose overbearing familiarity broke protocols.

"Welcome to Wakanda," Yani said to Tettah in formal Wakandan.

She held up her hand and tilted her wrist. Tettah snapped up the opportunity to touch Yani, unlike other men who were on the receiving line. Once he cradled her hand, his entire disposition and focus shifted. Vivienne watched her husband turn into a heart-eyed fan gazing into Yani's eyes. A smirk washed over her lips as she admired Yani's attire and half-mask.

"You are so beautiful, Princess Yani. Congratulations on your engagement to the king," Vivienne said.

Yani looked at N'Jadaka and he smiled. She was going to pretend to not understand English to catch him in some mess. Her keen observational skills caught the awkwardness of T'Challa and his own stilted interaction. He spoke to her in Wakandan, playing along with her charade.

"Thank you," Yani said in English, taking in the First Lady's demeanor with proper reserve.

Vivienne studied Yani from head to toe before settling on N'Jadaka again.

"Do you keep in touch with Tony? We ran into him last year in Europe," Vivienne said.

"No."

The curtness in his voice made Vivienne lift an eyebrow in surprise.

"He still talks about you. Did he even know you were royalty back then?"

"Please forgive my wife, King N'Jadaka, we do not want to take up too much time in the line," Tettah said, growing uncomfortable with his wife's informal behavior.

Vivienne glared at her husband, then glanced at T'Challa and N'Jadaka.

"My husband is right. We can catch up later on tonight. Princess Yani, I would love for you to visit Ghana for high tea. My oldest daughter is attending boarding school in the fall and I'm planning a wonderful send-off with other First Ladies in our region," Vivienne said.

N'Jadaka wasted time translating again and Yani nodded in feigned understanding, then offered her hand to Vivienne.

"Wonderful, wonderful! I have so many questions for you and I would love to be considered for any outreach you are planning in West Africa. I also have some pull in Monaco through my family. I am at your disposal. Wakanda is the future of the continent and Ghana is ready to support you on the world stage."

N'Jadaka continued translating.

"Agreed!" Tettah said, still under Yani's spell. "Ghana was the first African nation to free itself from the yoke of colonization. We were a great example for the rest of the colonized. But today, Wakanda will liberate us from the West forever. God willing."

T'Challa placed his hand on Tettah's shoulder and held out the other to show them past the king. Vivienne walked away giddy and N'Jadaka took a deep breath.

"I see chapters of our lives overlapped," T'Challa said with a grin on his face.

"She is a princess?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka nodded. T'Challa swiped a nervous hand over his forehead.

"A princess and my ex. Thank Bast Nakia wasn't here. Those two hated each other," T'Challa said.

"Did N'Jadaka sleep with her after you broke up?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka coughed. T'Challa's face went blank.

Yani slid her arm around N'Jadaka's as the last groups of dignitaries queued up to meet them.

"Both of you looked funny when she approached us, and I can always tell when N'Jadaka has messed around with a woman. He can't hide nothin' on his face when it comes to his dick," Yani said.

T'Challa and N'Jadaka both coughed loudly to drown out Yani's words as the President and First Lady of Angola greeted them. N'Jadaka was happy to speak Portuguese and move past any more Vivienne inquiries. Every few seconds T'Challa would look at him and they would both fight back the giggles that rested in their guts. There was nothing worse than an old baddie showing up in front of your woman. N'Jadaka handled himself with dignity and Yani seemed more amused than annoyed by once again having his past thrown in her face. It wasn't his fault that an old jump-off married a president invited to the king's ball.

Glancing over to the west side of the ballroom, he noticed Vivienne looking flustered as she gulped down a large glass of champagne. Scanning the guests, all eyes were on him and Yani. He shook hands with his final guests and guided Yani by her elbow to their front table. The orchestra sprang into action and hundreds flocked to the giant dance floor. Zola and Ilana brought them drinks and snacks as Marisol and Twyla took their new seats beside them to observe the excitement in the room.

Every foreign guest was drunk with the enchantment of Wakanda.

N'Jadaka and Yani nibbled on tasty finger foods and the best wines brought in from Birnin S'Yan. T'Challa stood at attention overseeing their safety. When she was ready, N'Jadaka escorted Yani around to mingle with the nobles and spend more time chatting with guests she liked. Her Ladies-in-Waiting cocooned her in a protective half-circle while she spoke with the high society who adored her and shunned the ones who wished her ill. He watched Zola and Ilana whisper in her ear. It pleased him to see that two of the most beautiful women of the elite were at their service. Their eyes were always coquettish and slightly downcast when he gazed at them directly, but they hid none of their fawning over his princess. They doted on her and cherished every second spent with their new queen. Smitten with her island ways and warmth, Zola and Ilana became Yani's champions. They cultivated a careful friendship with her that moved into a closeness that made N'Jadaka feel at ease in his heart. Yani wanted and needed more friends in Wakanda. Disa had her own life and Twyla was a busy married woman. Marisol spent more time at the Temple of Bast and away from the palace, and this left Yani alone most days. Zola and Ilana helped Yani transition back to the palace from her lake villa and he was grateful for that.

He watched them laugh together, hold hands, and gossip like old hens. It gave him the peace of mind to leave the country and know that she was cared for by women who wanted her to win with pure hearts. Zola and Ilana became his home assistants as he also made the adjustment of preparing for life as a married man with a house full of women who catered to his whims and spoiled his wife. Yani earned that soft life. The Ladies managed every aspect of Yani's day. From coordinating her daily outfits, doing her hair and make-up, preparing her baths, and organizing her social affairs in and outside the palace, their impact maintained Yani's life as a well-oiled machine. They kept in constant contact with N'Jadaka's personal assistants in the West Palace to coordinate any appearances with Yani out in public. They were her messengers and spies. Most days it felt like having a second set of Doras guarding his wife.

"She is really something."

The voice near his ear was full of admiration, but N'Jadaka put up mental defenses.

Mubiri sipped on a glass of plum liquor and his eyes darted about to see how close the Doras and T'Challa stood from their king. N'Jadaka had no fear of anyone in the ballroom. They would be obliterated the moment they attempted anything, probably by his hands rather than anyone else. The joke floating throughout the palace was that the Doras were there to protect people from N'Jadaka rather than the other way around.

Yani had passed by a group of nobles and headed to another area with her entourage to speak to other guests that fluttered around her like butterflies seeking nectar. He couldn't stop staring at her himself. An elegance shrouded her with so many admirers.

"How did a hard brute like you ensnare a beauty such as that one, eh?"

Mubiri swirled the strong liquor in his glass waiting for N'Jadaka to answer.

"She likes a roughneck with plenty of finesse I guess."

"Finesse indeed, because for the life of my dearly departed mother, I cannot imagine how you were able to take the throne of Wakanda."

"I am an Udaku. That's how."

"The most dangerous one they've ever had," Mubiri said, chugging down the last of his drink.

N'Jadaka shrugged and cut his eyes toward Mubiri's Prime Minister. Ony slinked over, blocking the view of Yani. T'Challa lingered within earshot.

"I will not mince words, King N'Jadaka. Our countries are enemies—"

"Tell me how you really feel—"

"Do not stand here and hide your disdain with smug remarks," Mubiri hissed.

T'Challa stepped forward and N'Jadaka jerked his head for him to fall back.

"Listen, Mubiri, you can hate my country all you want, but you'll never have us under your thumb, no matter how much you whine like a bitch to the U.N. and Niganda."

Ony thrust his chest out and barked, "Watch your tongue!"

A few guests turned their way and N'Jadaka pretended to laugh at a joke and slapped a strong hand on Ony's back.

"Your land claims are bullshit, just like Niganda's. And don't think I'm not aware of all the trash-talking you've been doing to the U.S. Vice President. You've seen what my country has. No other nation can defeat us. I suggest you mind your business and be grateful I'm not like y'all, bullying other countries to make myself look tough. I could easily come up with my own land claims and take back an entire shoreline on your coast if I felt like it. My great grandparents from way back were generous in not wiping your people out…expanding Wakanda when your country conducted raids to steal our women to repopulate your nation. Centuries of wars you've started have made you weak, stupid, and desperate," N'Jadaka spat out with an acidic tongue.

A bitter laugh flew from Mubiri's mouth and he sneered at T'Challa.

"It's only a matter of time before the shine of your country wears off. There are forces coming together to put you in your place. All I have to do is sit back and watch," Mubiri growled through clenched teeth.

N'Jadaka rolled his neck and took a bold step so that he was face to face with his enemy neighbor.

"Think I won't whoop your ass in front of all these people?"

"President Mubiri, I do believe you asked for a dance earlier."

Mubiri jumped at the touch of Yani's hand on his arm. He stepped aside giving the princess room to stand with them.

"Princess Yani," Mubiri said, becoming flustered with her presence.

Yani glanced at N'Jadaka, already sensing that he was ready to throw hands. The man talked tough trying to see if a new king could be bullied, and N'Jadaka was not giving him any satisfaction. T'Challa would've maintained a polite control, but the son of Califia was about that life and he didn't care if he made an international incident in his own home.

Yani deescalated the tension and disarmed Mubiri with gentle fingers clasping his calloused hands and pulling him toward the dance floor. Ony followed them to watch and T'Challa nudged N'Jadaka's arm.

"We should keep Yani around all the time. He's like a candle doused with water now," T'Challa said.

N'Jadaka kept an eye on Yani. She made a power move to defang Mubiri before her king showed out and spoiled the jovial mood in the ballroom. In a corner, the president of Niganda watched him, ready to pounce if the Mohannda delegation became bold in public.

"I'll let her work her magic," N'Jadaka said.

The king of Wakanda's mouth was in the shape of a weapon, and Yani recognized the signs that he was about to break another man in half. It was the way his shoulders tilted forward and his leg stance grew wide. Visibly he looked like a king cobra snake in attack mode and the rattle drew her attention to him.

A heaviness in Yani's hands reminded her of the words of Queen Mary and she clucked her tongue and her entourage gathered behind her as she moved like a cool wind across the ballroom. Eyes fell upon her trek toward the king and the circle of venomous men who surrounded him doing a poor job of keeping their voices down. Her confident strides had her gliding like an angelic vision in front of a thousand eyes. Having her Ladies-in-Waiting backing her up gave her presence added weight of a queendom on the come-up.

The sharp glint of N'Jadaka's gold teeth warned of bloodshed. Yani slid a soft touch onto Mubiri's silk sleeve. Wakanda's king glanced at her and the eyes watching her held others in his gaze. She arrived in a nick of time.

The tension in Mubiri's arm liquefied under her hand. She curled her fingers around the snarling wolf and pulled him away from N'Jadaka.

"President Mubiri, I do believe you asked for a dance earlier."

With her free hand, Yani dismissed her Ladies as Mubiri conceded her lead and followed her steps toward the dance floor. The orchestra played a wonderfully playful song that didn't require a lot of movement, so they swayed to the sounds keeping the proper bodily distance that prevented them from being pressed together, but close enough to speak privately.

"Have you been enjoying the ball?" Yani asked.

"More so now that we get to share a dance, princess. Wakanda is a wonder of the modern world—"

"You hate us."

Her words lingered in the air and Mubiri chuckled under his breath.

"My ire is not with you, Princess Yani, nor the Wakandan people at large. Your ruling family has never been fair to Mohannda nor Niganda."

"Correct me if I am wrong, President Mubiri, but your country signed treaties with Wakanda a long time ago and then broke them over and over again for centuries. How can you expect our people to trust you when you stab us in the back all the time?"

Mubiri's eyes narrowed and his hand on her back jammed harder into her fancy corset.

"Women shouldn't speak on politics. It is not becoming."

"I'm not just any woman. I am the king's consort. Threats against the royal family mean that your hate is directed at my children. N'Jadaka and I share three beautiful heirs."

Yani ran her left hand away from Mubiri's elbow and inched her index and middle finger up along his arm towards his neck, tracing the sharp points of her finger armor onto his visible skin. She pushed the points of the armor into the soft flesh that protected his carotid artery.

"King N'Jadaka's grandmother gave me these beautiful pieces of finger jewelry. Did you know that in ancient times, Wakandan queens wore poison-tipped claws on every finger? If they were ever captured or kidnapped, they could puncture the skin of their enemy and kill them within ten seconds without anyone knowing what happened. Blink, and yuh dead. This set I have on belonged to Queen Tiye, the first queen of Wakanda. Queen Mother said there's still poison inside these tips. There's a teeny, tiny triggering mechanism that works on how much pressure I apply…see how I have them jabbed in your throat? One slight move and a deadly liquid, like snake venom, could be released into your vein and stop your heart from beating."

Mubiri swallowed, and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His body became stiff and his breath shallow. Yani gave him a wide smile.

"I know men like to act all tough with one another, but hear mi man, I tell yuh this one time. Yuh come for mi king and I will come fuh you. Understand?"

"This is not right. You physically threaten a president in public?" Mubiri sputtered.

His lips turned into a snarl as irritation poured across his facial expression.

"Threaten mi blood and I will burn your whole country down. Don't test we…got it? It's better to get that message from me all quiet and polite rather than losing your life in a nasty way in front of all of these people by his hand."

A gleam spread in Mubiri's eyes. Whatever sourness had been there switched into something like secret laudation.

"Charming…beautiful…deadly," Mubiri uttered with a stronger breath.

He pulled her deadly fingers away from his neck, careful not to get poked by accident.

"If your betrothal doesn't work out Princess Yani, look me up. I could use a second wife like you."

"I don't walk behind my husband."

"I would have you in front of me… a tigress leading me."

"I belong to the Panther Tribe and to that king over there," Yani said, glancing over at N'Jadaka who regarded her with serious interest.

Mubiri cradled her hand and lowered his face to kiss the fragrant skin above her knuckles. His lips lingered a little too long and when he released her hand, his eyes shined with arousal.

"I should like to have had you scratch me with one of those claws, just to experience your wrath. Another time then, hmmm? King N'Jadaka is a lucky man indeed. I look forward to seeing you crowned their queen. You are quite a jewel in their treasure trove."

Yani wiped the back of her hand on her dress and sought out the company of the Council of Elders as she made her rounds again to greet honored guests at their tables. Mubiri stayed away from N'Jadaka and mingled with other presidents.

"W'happen?" Twyla asked once they were away from the dance floor.

Yani took deep breaths to control the anger that rested in her belly. No matter where they were in the world, men would always try to gain access to women for their own use.

"I let that man know that I would kill him if he threatened my family again," Yani said.

"He threatened you?" Marisol said, slamming down her glass of champagne.

Yani pulled Marisol back from throwing hands on her behalf. Zola and Ilana stared at her flabbergasted. Flashing her finger armor at them, gesturing for them to move in closer, all the women circled around to keep prying eyes and ears away.

"The Mohanndans and the Nigandans aren't hiding their hands at all. I told President Mubiri I would burn his country down myself if him harm the royal family."

Twyla covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.

Ilana shook her head in a daze.

"The Mohanndans are very sexist and mean. They treat their women like we are still in the stone age. Princess Yani, this will harm your pristine reputation with those people. He could use your threat as grounds for more aggression," Ilana said.

"That wasteman told me he would marry me if N'Jadaka doesn't. I don't think he's worried about ruining my reputation… more like enhancing his. He's an ass."

"What will you tell the king?" Zola asked.

Ilana and Zola had stress lines on their foreheads and chewed on their lips that were twisted up in concern.

"I will say nothing here unless he asks," Yani said.

"What do we do now?" Marisol asked.

"For now, I'll continue to socialize. But all of you keep your guard up. I have a feeling Mubiri and others are checking for new allies here who are against N'Jadaka's rule."

Yani studied the ballroom layout and took note of the groupings of countries based on regions and common interests. She squared her shoulders.

"Come, I think it's time I let Niganda know what I'm about," Yani said.

She snatched a glass of champagne from a passing attendant and swept her way over to the First Lady of Niganda.

"Madame First Lady Rakotomalala," Yani said, offering her hand, "I am sorry that the receiving line cut our time short to speak."

"Please, call me Onde."

Onde's smile was warm, friendly, and much too open for Yani to trust right away as being sincere. However, there were many men she had met at the ball who had wives opposite them in personality and politics.

"I saw you dancing with President Mubiri. Quite a character, isn't he?" Onde said.

"He is."

Yani glanced over toward N'Jadaka. T'Challa had left his side and he stood flanked by Baba Z and an older crowd of men from South Africa.

Onde wasn't shy with her stares. At least sixty years of age, and quite the looker still with her elegant stature and flamboyant sea foam green ballgown, Niganda's first lady exuded power and prestige.

"You are so young. I think you may be one of the youngest queens of any monarchy still left around the world," Onde said.

She held out her glass of bubbly to Yani's glass and they clinked them together. After sipping and sniffing around each other, Onde stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Yani and watched the dancing and other activity in the giant room.

"How are the other wives treating you?" Onde asked.

"They treat me well."

"Good. You are the talk of the entire ball. King N'Jadaka is quite the topic of conversation too, but you my dear… I do not envy the position you are in. Everyone here, even the Wakandans, chatter on about what kind of queen you will be. You seem quite popular with the younger crowd."

"And the older?"

"Still feeling you out because of your youth."

"What do you think of me?"

"Not sure. I have read up on you. Your background is so interesting. I like what I have learned and I am excited to see what King N'Jadaka's reign will be like for my country."

"I like how people here don't pretend with fake conversations. You all say what's on your mind."

"The King of Wakanda has made that possible. He doesn't play with his words, so no one else should either…"

Onde turned to greet Vivienne who snuck up on them from the rear.

"Onde, darling!"

Vivienne gave Onde air kisses and planted herself in the center of their group.

"This has been one of the best events I've been to on the continent since…maybe President Jabavu's coronation three years ago," Vivienne enthused.

Onde laughed and waved her hand at the memory.

"I drank too much and my husband vowed to never allow me out again, all the dancing we did hurt his feet. I had too much fun," Onde said.

"Have you danced since you've been here?" Vivienne said.

"I will later. The music is wonderful, but I want to enjoy all the sights inside this ballroom. It is exquisite. The architecture is so unusual. I loved the tour of the royal paintings, and that palace garden is to die for…"

A server walked past carrying a large tray of finger foods. Onde's eyes followed the tray and Yani giggled. Onde glanced at her, grinning at being caught salivating. Yani waved the server back over to them. Onde picked up a small, savory beef patty that Yani added to the ball menu. All the women did the same. Snacking together made Onde relax and they all chatted for a full twenty minutes before President Rakotomalala sauntered over with piercing eyes to retrieve his wife. Onde stuffed another beef patty in her mouth and licked her fingers. She touched her husband's shoulder and turned to Yani.

"Princess Yani has been a lovely hostess. I've learned so much. I think we should have her as a special guest for the Melon Festival," Onde said, touching Yani's arm.

The idea didn't please Rakotomalala. His burly frame and hard mahogany face didn't hide his distaste. Onde ignored the chilly reception.

"Men, I swear, they act like they can't set aside differences. This is why there should be more women running things in the world," Onde quipped.

"King N'Jadaka says that all the time," Yani said with pride.

"Smart man. We need more like him," Onde said.

"Thank you for your invitation to visit Niganda. I have never been to a Melon Festival before…it sounds like a lot of fun," Yani said.

"Oh, you will love it! We have so many varieties and…malala, what is it?" Onde said, staring at her husband.

"There are some people I want you to meet. Please excuse us," Rakotomalala said, whisking his wife away.

Vivienne snickered.

"Well done, Princess Yani. That is the most I've heard that woman speak in ages," Vivienne said.

"She is actually quite nice. With all of the bad blood between our nations right now, I'm surprised she would be that inviting," Yani said.

"Well, you are quite engaging. I'm glad that we can speak without an interpreter."

Yani grinned.

"I like how you move. You have a knack for making friends quickly. I should hope that could happen for us," Vivienne said.

Vivienne looked out upon the crowd.

"It's not easy coming into a world like this. I was told that you come from a humble background, but you are very skillful in navigating the unknown."

"I have plenty of experience working around all kinds of people. Even dangerous ones," Yani said.

"I see. Believe it or not, Onde is a shark, and you handled her like a pro. The Nigandans pretend to hide in the shadows of Mohannda… just like Cannan and Azania. Women in these parts are always the hidden hand propping up their husbands. It's why they fear your country."

"Yeah?"

"You are the new wild card. An unknown quantity. At least with Queen Ramonda and Queen Niyilolawa, African leaders knew where Wakanda stood. Now that we know what you really are, nothing is the same. I've been dipping around getting all the dirt in here. These people are rattled by you and N'Jadaka."

"You knew him as Erik."

"I did."

Yani's Ladies-in-Waiting stepped away as the princess took over an empty table near an ancient sculpture of Sekmet.

"He's so grown up now," Vivienne said.

She sighed and looked Yani in the face.

"When I first met him in my country, I suspected he was royalty. We hung out for a weekend with Tony Stark and I introduced him to my friends. God, he was so young and green compared to now!"

Vivienne laughed and tapped her fingernails on the table.

"Tony Stark thought highly of him. I always wondered what happened to N'Jadaka. Never knew he was related to T'Challa. Crazy times. I thought at one point that I would marry T'Challa and become the queen of Wakanda, but back then, my parents did not want me to be the queen of goat herders. Fate played a cruel trick when we broke up. How are Nakia and their new baby?"

"Do you know her?" Yani said cautiously.

"We were frenemies…no, that's a lie. She never liked me and I ignored her. T'Challa always thought I hated her, but she was just standoffish. Probably jealous. King T'Chaka respected me, but he never wanted me for his son. Ramonda was indifferent and I promise you, that was worse."

Vivienne gestured for a server to hand her a glass of wine.

"It's hard being an outsider in the motherland," Vivienne said.

She drank deeply and wiped under her lip when a bit of red wine trailed down. Yani noticed throughout the evening that Vivienne drank a lot.

"My mother comes from old royal birth lines in Senegal. She's Wolof. Highly educated and a visionary for her time. She married a foreigner and became thrust into a new monarchy. My family wanted me to marry a European with influence, but I wanted to come back to Africa…reverse the migration and come back to my roots. Unfortunately, I am considered a "toubab", a white person. The Alex Haley thing didn't work for me exactly."

"How did you meet your husband?"

"I returned home from Senegal and took a trip to London. T'Challa and I broke up while he was in school there, and ironically, he introduced me to his classmate at the London School of Economics. We hit it off and a few years later, I have three children and became the First Lady of Ghana. A happily ever after."

"Is it weird being with someone that your ex hooked you up with?"

"No. By the time we broke up, I was finally over the Prince of Wakanda."

Her eyes lit up and Yani turned her head.

N'Jadaka approached the table and sat down next to Yani.

"Did you come to see what secrets I may be spilling about your time with Tony?" Vivienne said.

N'Jadaka waved over a server and picked up a small glass of plum liquor.

"Nah, just needed a break," N'Jadaka said.

Yani touched his face. Already she could tell that the ball was draining him. He could go for several hours around a large crowd, but then he became antsy to leave and be on his own. N'Jadaka kissed her hand and glanced over at Vivienne.

"It's good seeing you again," he said.

"Same."

Vivienne looked around the ballroom.

"Where is T'Challa?" Vivienne asked.

"I sent him home to be with his new baby."

"He and Nakia must be so proud."

"They are. I hear you have three rambunctious ones at home. Your husband showed me pictures," N'Jadaka said.

"They are amazing and I wouldn't change one wild hair on their heads. What about you?"

N'Jadaka tapped his kimoyo and a recent picture of Sweet Pea, Dumplin, and Sunshine popped up.

"Look at that!" Vivienne said with delight.

"You still running through people's pockets with your poker hands?" N'Jadaka asked.

Vivienne chortled and pointed at him.

"You kind sir were the Oakland card shark. Did he ever tell you how he won four million on one poker game with my uncle in Monaco?"

"No," Yani said.

"He beat me out of half a million and used it to bankroll his next hand against three royal heirs. Then he played against a Saudi king and walked away with a cool twenty million. The palace still talks about that night and my uncle dreams of playing you again. How much of that money did you spend?"

"Gave a lot of it away to family and charities," N'Jadaka said. "The bulk of it I put into a trust for my grandfather overseen by my Uncle Bakari."

Vivienne's face turned stern. Yani gazed across their table and caught Madame Ony, First Lady Mubiri, First Lady Rakotomalala, and a few other women from Canaan and Azania moving as one unit toward a table filled with women outsiders.

N'Jadaka peeped the gathering of the herd. Vivienne leaned forward.

"Erik, you must move with stealth around these people. My husband and I support you one hundred percent because we see the vision you promote. But Ghana is just one unwavering ally for you," Vivienne said.

President Tetteh cruised by the table as a jazzy tune filled the air. He scooped up Vivienne to dance. Before she became a speck on the dance floor, she glanced back at Yani.

"Princess Yani, stay true to yourself. You have what it takes to influence the hidden hands."

N'Jadaka scooted his chair closer to her and his Doras blocked access to them.

"What did she mean by that?" he asked.

"She knows I can handle myself around all of these people."

They held hands.

"Are you tired, love?" Yani asked.

He nodded.

"Let's do one more cruise around the room and then I'll call it a night," he said.

Standing together, he held out his arm and she wrapped her hand around it. Their Ladies-in-Waiting followed in step. Zola and Ilana lifted her train as they zigzagged through tables and bid goodnight to nobles and guests. The surge of energy directed at N'Jadaka forced Yani to observe everyone with a keen eye of discernment. There were so many varying emotions on their eager faces.

Envy. Jealousy. Desire. Attraction. Curiosity. Apprehension. Lust. Wonder. Fear. Admiration.

N'Jadaka was a rock star in their midst and the people surrounding them gave her the same questionable looks. She matched the king's pace and concentrated on her queen's march with her steps to mirror his confidence. The world was his stage and Yani finally experienced up close what he was up against whenever he left Wakanda. If Africans throughout the continent were wary of him, that feeling had to be denser among non-African nations facing an unprecedented shift in global power.

President Tetteh and Vivienne met them at the bottom of the staircase that led back up to the bridge connecting the west palace to the east. Vivienne gave Yani a hug first before N'Jadaka leaned in to do the same. It was a visible sign of support. Yani knew Vivienne was smart enough to use the optics to her advantage. Ghana was in full solidarity with Wakanda.

They faced the audience one final time.

Everyone seated stood up out of respect as the royal march was played by the orchestra. N'Jadaka waved to his grandparents and then waved to the Council of Elders and nobles. They were a sight walking back up the stairs with Yani's long train scaling the steps in a theatrical display of high fashion. Reaching the top, they faced their guests one last time and N'Jadaka held her hand tight, showing the crowd that they were united as equals.

Out in the fresh air, Yani breathed in deeply, pleased that she had done her part at the ball well. At the elevators that would whisk them up to their home, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up, kissing her passionately in front of their entourage.

"You showed the fuck out. When I tell you those people had no idea who they were dealing with!" N'Jadaka gushed.

Yani turned and bid goodnight to Marisol and Twyla who were escorted by Doras to be shuttled home on the Royal Scorpion Fighter. Riding upstairs it seemed like the king's energy flowed back into him as he shared bits of conversations.

"What the hell did you say to Mubiri because that nigga didn't bother me the rest of the night!"

Their Doras and Ladies were the only ones on the elevator with them.

"I put him in his place."

N'Jadaka looked deep into her eyes.

"Word got back to me that you scared him."

"I did."

N'Jadaka leaned up against the elevator wall with his mouth parted.

"How?"

Yani held up her armored fingers.

"Here I was thinking you were just trying to calm the situation by taking him away."

He touched the side of her face with the back of his hand.

"Yani, you don't ever have to fight. I got us."

"I just underlined whatever you told him, that's all," she said with a smirk.

"Queen moves."

"Of course. My king is the most important man in the whole world."

Yani danced around the elevator, snapping her fingers and rolling her hips all around him. Zola and Ilana clapped their hands and the Doras pretended not to be impressed. Stepping out into the spacious hall of their floor, Noxolo and Aneka stood guard at the front entrance, relieving the ballroom Doras.

Aneka opened the door for them and Zola removed the finger armor from her hands along with her lace hood covering. Yani sent her Ladies away to prepare her bath and evening ritual.

"Baba! Mama!"

Sydette ran to them in her yellow nightgown and Riki stayed on her heels greeting them.

"You two are supposed to be asleep. It is way past your bedtime!" Yani scolded lightheartedly.

"But you promised we could see you if we stayed awake. We never got to see your pretty dress, Mama!" Sydette whined.

Their night nanny, Kora, stood nearby watching.

"We'll take them up, Kora. Thank you for getting up so late with them. Could you let Dakarai know in the morning that the king and I will be up late tomorrow? I won't need her until after two. She can use the free time to relax," Yani said.

"Goodnight Princess Yani," Kora said.

Yani spun around so Sydette and Riki could see all of the gown. She reached out to N'Jadaka to have him do the same, but she paused. He stood staring down at their children.

"Everything alright?" Yani asked.

N'Jadaka angled his head as Sydette and Riki touched her dress and lifted her train, hiding under it.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"This is the first time you and I have come home together as a couple… to be with our kids. It's like how I imagined, y'know? We go out for a good time and come home to our family."

"Can I see your mask, Mama?" Sydette asked.

Yani pulled it off and handed it to her. Both children took turns putting it on their faces before stopping to look up at their parents.

"Back to bed," N'Jadaka said.

He bent down and lifted both children up. Yani followed him to the in-home elevator that took them to the second floor, avoiding more tiring steps. Giving Sydette plenty of kisses from them both, N'Jadaka put her to bed, and then they walked to Riki's room and lowered his nightlight brightness. More kisses were given and the tired king walked Yani to her wing on the same floor. Zola had warm water and scented oils waiting for her out on her balcony bathtub. The heating lamps and balcony glare cover were on, and Ilana stood near the vanity mirror to collect the rest of Yani's clothing and clean off her makeup.

"Give me a little time and I'll be up to see you," Yani said.

"I'll come down to you. I want to sleep in your bed," he said.

Ilana lowered her head and averted eye contact after hearing the king would be coming down to the queen's bedchamber.

"Okay," Yani said.

"Nice job tonight Ladies. I liked how you took care of my queen," N'Jadaka said.

He left the room and Ilana checked the bed to make sure it had plenty of pillows for the king. Zola zipped in carrying warm body oils and lubricants, placing them on Yani's nightstands in reach of the bed.

"What would you like to wear for the king tonight?" Ilana asked, holding up a comm tab with images of lingerie and body jewelry.

"The king is exhausted…hmm…maybe that one…no…I want him to see a softer color. Yeah, the lavender and the full-body chain. In case he wants me. The one with the leash in the back," Yani said.

Ilana quirked her lips at the choice of a body chain. It was a seductive piece of jewelry that rested around her neck and draped across her breasts, hips, and thighs, very subtle, but the leash hinted at bondage play and choking.

Zola showed Yani a soft color palette in case she wanted some lip gloss and light makeup. Yani picked a light pink shimmer gloss, eyeliner, and blush. Ilana assisted in removing the corset gown, heels, and underwear. Yani slipped on a luxury robe and sat down in front of the prominent vanity mirror across the room where her make-up was slowly taken off and her skin hydrated with pre-bath botanicals.

"Princess Yani, you were sensational tonight," Zola gushed.

Ilana nodded her head in agreement as she rubbed Yani's scalp with hair gel removal.

"King N'Jadaka has made the other leaders aware of how firm he is in his place on the continent. You must be so pleased with everything that happened," Ilana said.

"We made a great impression," Yani said.

"I thought the king would be upset when he found out about what you said to President Mubiri. My heart was beating so fast!" Zola said with giddy abandon.

"I always speak my mind. King N'Jadaka is used to it," Yani said.

Yani stood up and looked at Ilana.

"Prepare the king's favorite nightcap and have his morning bedclothes ready on the chaise. Dust the pillows with lavender and a hint of jasmine," Yani said.

She padded out to the balcony and let moonlight bathe her skin first before Zola pulled off her robe and helped her into the large standing tub.

"Oh, God, this is perfect," Yani purred.

She dunked her head under the water and Zola adjusted the bathing neck pillow so Yani could soak comfortably.

Left alone on the balcony, she closed her eyes and listened to the gentle footsteps of her Ladies preparing the bedroom for the king's arrival. She didn't spend too much time soaking, just washed away the vestiges of the ballroom success down the drain.

Zola held out a fluffy towel for Yani as she carefully climbed out of the tub. She could've easily taken care of her grooming herself, but the perks of having Ladies-in-Waiting were not lost on her. It was pampering and catering at the highest level and she reveled in it.

She walked into a full body dryer that pulled the water off of her and then she headed back to the vanity where she was slathered with body butters, lipgloss, and a light hair oil to control the curls growing longer at the front of her scalp. Stepping into the body chain, she made sure her waist beads still moved easily. Her nudity didn't faze any of the women, their eyes concentrated on making sure she was perfect to please the king. Compliments from him were like gold, and they fed off of it with ravenous expectation. A happy king meant a happy queen. A happy queen meant their status was secure to be in her good graces.

Yani thought about the evening more. Wakanda had become the center of the world and in order for the other African nations to have roses in their future, they had to mind the thorn that was King N'Jadaka.

Ilana smoothed back a few baby hairs on Yani's forehead and the lights in the room flashed a faint lilac color, it warning them that the king was on his way. She slipped on a different ankle-length cover-up and picked out some anklets and toe rings for extra pizzazz.

Zola jumped up and held the tray that contained the king's cocktail, and Ilana stood next to her with hands folded waiting for requests. Yani positioned herself to greet him the moment he walked in.

"Kumkani," Yani said.

N'Jadaka kissed her forehead and Zola offered the drink to him.

"Thank you, Zola," he said.

He sipped and Yani held his free hand, escorting him further into her bedchamber. His scent was the fresh handmade soap he liked from Birnin Bashenga. His bedclothes were loose cotton cream pajama bottoms and a billowy v-neck drop shoulder shirt of the same color. She offered him a seat on a cyan-blue double high-back chair. He took it. Yani nodded for Ilana and Zola to pull up footstools near his feet. They did so and pulled off his slippers, beginning the careful massaging of his feet. N'Jadaka pressed his back further into the chair and closed his eyes. Yani carried away his empty glass and placed it on her dresser. She took a seat next to the king and Zola offered to rub her feet too. Yani declined, wanting all the attention to be on him. She unloosened his hair and combed her fingers through the locs. He leaned over and kissed her. His full lips devoured hers and he ignored the other women, not caring if they saw him slip his tongue in Yani's mouth. He needed her. He rested a hand on her waist and nuzzled his mouth against her neck. She glanced down at Zola and Ilana and they kept rubbing the king's feet, ignoring their affection for one another as they had been taught. She had asked them to do a traditional reception for a Wakandan king, and part of that was doing anything the queen asked.

Her lower parts came to life as he continued kissing her neck and gripping her waist tighter, pulling her in closer. When he let out a low moan at having her to himself, Yani lifted up from the seat and stepped away to face him. He rested palms on either side of the chair and his prominent erection was visible to everyone in his pajama bottoms.

Yani swallowed hard, her nerves racing. The women stood up and uncovered Yani for the king.

"Damn, baby," he muttered under his breath.

His dick jumped. So did her clit. Their gazes lingered on one another. His eyes dropped down to look at her folds and piercings. He became bold in front of her attendants and rubbed on his dick. Yani didn't know how much further she could go. The exhibitionist in her liked being watched by others, but the next steps in traditional old-style service that the women were equipped to do still seemed too much.

N'Jadaka was very aware of what was happening. He had been trained too and knew what came next and he had a playful glimmer of mirth in his eyes wanting to know how far she would go with it. A challenge rested in his gaze.

He stood and his height arched above them all like a rising sun. Ilana and Zola waited quietly with their hands folded in front of them.

"Undress me," N'Jadaka commanded.

Yani thought she would stop them so she could do it herself in private, but a part of her deep down wanted them to see what rested beneath the bedclothes. His dick pointed toward her and both women would have to maneuver his pajama bottoms over the girth. Her heartbeat sped up. Her pussy became wetter.

Zola and Ilana untied the cloth ties on the king's shirt and pulled away the top. He slid his arms out of the sleeves and Ilana folded the shirt and placed it over the armrest of the chair. Holding his arms out to his sides, N'Jadaka kept direct eye contact with Yani while the women unfastened the ties on his pajama bottoms. They pulled the waistband out over his dick and it bobbed in front of them as they lowered the pants. He stepped out of each leg hole, and Zola folded the pants and handed them to Ilana, who piled them on top of the shirt. They lowered their heads for more instructions, but they couldn't unsee the god body in front of them.

"Leave us," Yani said.

Zola and Ilana held up their hands to them and slinked out of the bedroom. N'Jadaka burst out laughing then.

"Baby, the stress on your face," N'Jadaka teased.

He gathered her up in his arms and she hid her face against his chest, embarrassed that he could read her so well.

"Ain't no way you could handle them fluffing up my dick for you," he said.

"Tonight was a big deal, I wanted to give you the full king treatment back home," she sighed into his chest.

They kissed, their tongues dancing a secret code that made them both groan. His hand dragged down to her vulva and when he fingered her folds, he pulled back from her.

"Damn, Yani. This pussy is soaked. That shit got you really excited."

His eyes looked serious as he gently held her face.

"It turned you on, didn't it?" he asked.

His voice lacked teasing, and the subdued tone only gave curiosity.

"Tell me what you liked about it, baby," he said.

He sat down on the double chair again and pulled her next to him. Their thighs touched and he put an arm around her.

"Tell me," he asked again.

She rested her cheek against his chest. There was no way she would tell him that watching sex vids of him with other women aroused her beyond belief. Yani still grappled with that knowledge about herself. The fantasy of it was a safe place, but turmoil rumbled in her midsection while she watched it in person, even if was just them pulling his clothes off and seeing his big dick and witnessing his pre-cum pooling on his tip. Her pussy clenched then. Simply thinking about it ignited her pleasure. Yani stuck to the present.

"I like that they get to see how good your dick looks. While they pulled your pants off, they touched it a little. Got to feel how hot it is…got to see how thick."

Her breath heated his skin with desire. His dick grew harder and he stood it up for her.

"You wanted them to touch it, huh? Stroke it for you?" he said.

"No…yeah…I don't know why I get wet. I don't want you with anyone else in real life…but I wanted them to do the rest of the ritual like the old days."

She reached for his dick and slowly fisted it for him. He kissed her again then stopped as his dick became slick with pre-cum.

"If you want to try and go further, explore your fantasy or comfort levels with something new… we can do that. I'm not saying that because I want to fuck them, but I want you to be happy. You're all I need Yani…"

He smothered her lips again and she twisted her thumb and index finger under the head of his dick, the mushroom cap spilling clear fluid all over her fingers. His fingers played with her pussy and her head fell back.

"You wanted to watch them oil me down…huh?"

He whispered in her ear. Yani whimpered and nodded.

"Did you want them to suck my dick too?'

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the denial wrestling in her mind.

"What did you imagine, baby?"

His tongue licked her breasts and his fingers plucked at her nipples. She was supposed to be pleasing him, showing him how much she appreciated the pressure he was under by facing nations in opposition to him. Instead, he was trying to give her the safety of exploring her imagination with him.

His touches made her skin burn with need. He rested his lips near her ear and dipped two gentle fingers in and out of her pussy with occasional rubs on her clit.

"I want to see them suck your dick… on their knees. Licking each side," she said.

He hummed in her ear and slowed down his fingers until she began panting.

"Then what?" he crooned, his voice raspy and all sexy.

She squeezed his length and started stroking it faster.

"I wanna watch you look at me while I play with my pussy…and Lola and Ilana suck yuh good and slow at the same time…and you watch me cum…and then…and then… Killmonger…yuh cum all over their faces!"

Her release clenched around his fingers and she bucked her hips wildly.

"You got Daddy's dick spittin', baby! Look at my dick!" N'Jadaka shouted.

Her orgasm continued working his digits, and she looked at his fat erection spurting cum all over the carpet. They shuddered against one another as aftershocks spiked their hot bodies.

"Fuck…you were feeling that Yani," he said.

He lifted her up in his arms like he was cradling a bride and carried her to the bed. Placing her on her back, he fingered the body chain and tugged on the leash, testing its strength. He pushed her thighs back and jerked off above her before crawling between her legs, lining up the head of his dick with her opening.

"Cumming on their faces gets you off good," he said.

He pushed into her pussy stretching her walls and grabbing onto her heavy thighs.

"You know what my fantasy is?" he said.

She shook her head, her lips pursed from the intense fullness he always put inside of her.

"I want Zola and Ilana to watch me fuck you hard. I want them to see how their king fucks his woman and fills up her pretty wet pussy with so much cum…"

He lowered his head so that he could kiss her lovingly.

"They liked seeing my dick and they will work their asses off to see it again if you let them. I bet you that they'll go to their rooms in the lower suite and play with their pussies, thinking about sucking on my balls and getting this dick to stretch them out too. But this is all yours Yani… yours to do whatever you want with it. I'll nut all over their faces if you want… if that pleases you, baby. They can oil my dick, and suck on it for as long as you want them to, but I'll only cum when you want."

Yani groaned thinking about the women sucking him off as he fucked her deep. The vestiges of shame that she carried thinking those forbidden thoughts burned away with every thrust he gave her until she was clutching and clawing his back, screaming out "Killmonger!" over and over as she exploded all over his dick.

"Help Daddy put this cum on their faces for you Yani!" he yelled.

He spilled into her, moaning her name into the shell of her ear. Strong throbs from his dick laid her out, and they panted together, trying to gain control of their ragged breathing.

N'Jadaka gazed into her eyes with so much love.

"I want this all the time, Yani. You and me coming home together every night. Being with our kids. Tucking them in at night together. Tonight, you showed me how we'll rule together. You have qualities that you have honed for years that a queen needs today. You can handle ruthless people… like you did at the compound. You can host and make people feel welcome, just like you did at your old restaurant. Plus, you know how to convey knowledge and information to people just like you did at Eco-Tours. You're intelligent. Graceful. Calm under pressure. We fit, girl. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

He nibbled on her ear, then sucked on her nipples before rolling over and holding her hand.

"In the future, I always want you to call me Killmonger in bed when we're fucking. That shit made me cum hard."

Yani giggled and he gave her dimples.

He slinked a hand behind her neck and tugged on the gold bondage leash.

"Turn on your side," he said.

"You were so tired earlier," she teased.

"Got my second wind with you."

He reached across her and grabbed a fresh bottle of lube. She helped open it and prepared her anal cavity for his dick. He grunted when he entered her, taking his time to get rooted in her ass before he pulled on the leash. Yani clawed the bed and took his anal fucking like a good girl. His moans and groans made her clit tap out and her guttural shouts of "Killmonger" heightened everything for N'Jadaka until he hunched over her back and hollered out his third orgasm. Freshly lubricated with his warm semen, he kept fucking her in the ass and begged for her to call him the nickname that terrorized the mercenary world.

They became free in the arms of one another inside the safety of their shared palace home, with their children sleeping peacefully in a far-off wing. The world outside was kept at bay with the smacking of hot, wet, flesh, fantasies shared, and a king loving his queen into submission as he twisted a thin gold leash around his fist.

Yani would have it no other way, and that pleased N'Jadaka.

A.N.:

There will be one more final chapter!

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[stvharrngton]

so we know how stevie was down horrendously bad in st3 - poor baby couldn’t get a look in no matter how hard he tried ): but imagine post st3 pre st4 steve working in family video with robs. he’s more or less got his game back. he may not be able to get a girlfriend yet but his charm is back to doing something, anything. he even manages to score some casual dates here and there and they bury the ache in his chest temporarily. one august day dustin is hanging out as steve and robin work, the older boy convincing him that he’s got the suave of ‘king steve’ again. the ladies are simply fawning over him, falling at his feet (steve’s words. he’s aware it’s an exaggeration, but henderson knows exactly how to get him riled up). to dustin’s surprise, robin corroborates steve’s claims when corned by him - she’s been there to witness it after all. but dustin can’t believe it, refuses to, simply won’t. he recalls steve in his silly sailor outfit and stumbling words and plummet from high school royalty. he challenges him, “i’ll believe it when i see it, harrington.” steve, ever the competitive, gears up for the next person that walks in, ready to bring his a-game and prove to his shithead adolescent best friend that he’s still got it. because who is he to give advice to the boy on dating, girls and love if he can’t even manage to live by his own words? not long later, the bell above the door tinkles and steve lifts his head from the computer to eye up his next conquest, his living proof that will shut dustin up for good. but his jaw slacks in surprise when he sees it’s you. you, who moved here only shortly after the fourth of july to live with your uncle for the remainder of the summer. you, who he’s only seen in passing on main street, flowers in the basket of your bike and pretty sundress floating in the breeze. you, who is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever laid eyes on, steve is sure. in fact hes positive - he’d bet money on it. dustin smirks as soon as he sees steve’s dumbfound expression, lips parted and eyes glassy wide. and when you pick a movie (beetlejuice-which steve finds endearing for some reason) and saunter up the counter, dustin feels as though he’s transported back to a sticky booth in the corner of scoops ahoy, watching as robin adds another strike under you suck. because steve is silent. he’s just blinking and stuck in place and melting at the sight of you up close because you’re so pretty. your eyebrows crinkle with confusion, but your features stay soft, warm and kind, muttering out a small “hi,” that steve woefully doesn’t return. robin, unable to watch her best friend make more of a fool of himself, eventually pushes past him with a “move, dingus,” greeting you by your name and apologising for her coworkers behaviour. steve thinks he hears robin utter something about the effects of “testosterone,” “underage drinking” and “too many blows to the head.” you giggle and chatter away happily with her and dustin who seem to be familiar with you. steve can only watch from afar, pretending to be preoccupied stacking the horror shelf adjacent to the counter. but he’s only focused on the lilt of your voice, your kind chuckle when dustin says something dorky and the way you play with the rings adorning your dainty fingers. you leave soon after, offering steve a kind smile before departing. his voice returns to him then, but he can’t get a word in before he’s being ridiculed by his best friends, robin likening him to a guppy fish with his mouth swinging from open to shut wordlessly in your face. he may as well have had a tester in his hand and shouted “ahoy, ladies,” it was that bad, dustin chastises. steve can barely believe it when they explain how they know you, that you work in the library during weekdays. that you always let robin print posters for band tryouts free of charge and allow dustin to return his overdue books late with no fines. he threatens to kill his friends for not telling him sooner. but all he gets in return is “not our fault you’re too dumb to go to the library, dingus.”

anon…. bestie.., the scream i screamt after reading this 😭 so beautifully written and SO steve pls i can’t add much cause this is already perfect 😪

poor stevie was transported straight back to scoops ahoy and his silly little uniform when he saw you, unable to speak, unable to untangle his tongue to get any sort of coherent sentence out. you were so pretty, so beautiful and you knocked him straight off his feet and robin and dustin won’t stop teasing him for his reaction, asking where king steve was 😭 but the next day he’s finding some sort of excuse to take a trip to the library to actually try and charm you this time <3