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butterymangowrites · 5 months ago

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paring: cat hybrid kageyama tobio x fem reader

warnings: dub-con, smut, hybrid au, stray hybrid kageyama, social discrimination, power imbalance, domestic life, kageyama with his platinum face card, kageyama has a tail

word count: 4.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes. thank you for reading!

Being a stray hybrid was exhausting. Tobio thought as he wandered around a new neighborhood trying to find food after every house in the last one shooed him away.

Being a stray hybrid was exhausting. Being a bone-thin, dirty black cat hybrid was worse.

He looked ghastly—hair long to his chest, cheeks all sunken, and without a smile on his face, Tobio looked unapproachable. Some people said he might have rabies, warning their own hybrids to stay away; he was scared of that, too, but only because he didn’t know what it actually was, just that it was fatal and humans hated it.

Did he have rabies? He felt fine though. Tobio thought as he put his hand through the narrow opening of a trash can that was likely to have some food waste in there. After some time rummaging through, he grabbed onto a bottle; it was milk. When he shook it softly and felt some milk left inside, Tobio got his dinner.

“You shouldn’t drink that. You will get sick.”

A voice interrupted when he was almost done with the meal. It was a human woman in very nice clothing, the kind he saw humans in the office area wear. His previous owner also wore something like this, the male one, the one who hit him when he was drunk and angry at his wife. The wife was his favorite of the two, always patted him gently on the head and gave him nice things—snacks, toys, letting him watch TV and play with a round leather ball in their small backyard. But when he knocked over some of the flower pots, the husband forbade him from touching the ball again.

The wife disappeared one day, so Tobio ran away.

“Here.” The human took something out of her shoulder bag and handed it to him. “Take this.”

It was an unopened, brand new milk bottle, looking exactly the same as the one he was holding. Too late, Tobio drank all of it, spoiled as it was, it filled his belly for the night. Together with the milk, Tobio saw a banana. He wanted that.

“Sorry, this is all I have.”

It was funny thinking back to the first time he saw you, that it was the guilt in your voice that made Tobio carefully look past his long hair at you again. Being closer in order to take the food from your hand and seeing things clearer than before, he had never seen anyone so concerned about how they didn’t have more food to give away, concerned about him. And because being a stray hybrid was exhausting, Tobio really wanted a home.

He finally succeeded that night. He found one, after roaming around for many years…

—

High up on a building, that was your place. It wasn’t big, but Tobio didn’t mind. He was just happy to be warm and have a roof over his head.

Your bathroom had a tub, small but deep, he could only fit in there if he sat with his knees up. He did that while he let you wash him, at a loss on how to adjust the water temperature and not knowing which was the shampoo and which was for the body cleaning. So he just sat there in silence, not even turning the water on so he didn’t cause any problems, till you knocked and asked if he needed help.

Your hands were smooth, slathering the body wash over his back and chest while he watched you, his now-clean hair tied up with a big claw clip. Having his field of vision expanded made Tobio feel exposed, but it was not totally a bad feeling, just a bit foreign after many years of having it down to hide his face.

“You wash,” you pointed down to his crotch, “down there by yourself, okay?”

Tobio nodded, didn’t mind. He understood you didn’t want to touch him there, you probably didn’t want to touch him anywhere, only doing it out of necessity because he was such an incompetent cat who didn’t know how to use a human's shower. He used to know, he just forgot. Tobio hoped you were not mad.

—

It was the next day when you took him to the hybrid clinic for a check-up. He was healthy, needed to put on some weight, yes, but fine nonetheless. The doctor said the hybrid was in his early 20s and prescribed some vitamins, and just like that, the visit ended. Before you left, one of the staff suggested you buy a collar.

“Is it necessary?” you asked before looking around the waiting area and saw that every hybrid wore one. “Okay.”

You bought one in a random color after trying to let the feline hybrid choose and he just stared at you. He was tall, hovering over most people in the clinic. You had to tell him to crouch down so you could put the newly purchased collar on his neck. It was blue, cartoon printed. This was why making rational decisions was important.

Next stop was the haircut. This time you handed him a magazine and tried again by letting him pick a style for himself; however, he just pointed at the first model he saw. Nothing was wrong with a mohawk, and you would have believed it was a thought-through decision if he had turned the pages of the magazine a little and at least pretended to contemplate. He did neither.

Same with the breakfast that morning, you asked if he wanted blueberry or strawberry jam on his toast, he answered with a nod. When asked again, he pointed at the jar closest to his hand and didn’t finish the toast.

The stray you brought home—Tobio—definitely understood human language and was not mute since he was the one whispering his name to you when you asked what he was called. For some reason, he just did not make decisions. And… he hated strawberry jam.

So you rectified that, selecting two most popular styles and let him choose again. But before he could point, you said, “This is your hair, Tobio. Yours. You can choose how you want your own hair to look.”

He listened and blinked. And for the first time in twenty hours, Tobio took his time deciding between things. He picked the style that would get his bangs cut very short, and if his swishing tail was anything to go by, he seemed to like the end result very much. Despite his head looking like a coconut with a wig on, he still looked good, all because of his face.

The man was strikingly handsome. Without all the matted hair masking his face, his features were bare to the beholder’s eye. Dark blue eyes, sharp jawline, small perky nose, and lips—though chapped and dry—were baby pink. He was a sight for sore eyes.

Clothes, toiletries, and extra groceries that included cat food and snacks he admitted to liking were all carried by him. It was a long walk from place to place and from the train station to yours, but Tobio didn’t allow you to take any bag out of his hands.

It was already dark when you entered your apartment. You unpacked the groceries and officially taught him how to use the shower, learning that he was illiterate when he asked if he remembered correctly which bottle was the shampoo and which was the conditioner. He got them mixed up but was right on the body wash because it was a different brand with a different label.

What you did was point out the difference in the words written on the bottles, but the easiest way you could think of was to place them in fixed positions, so you did just that, temporarily resolving the problem.

“Shampoo on your left, conditioner on your right,” you told him, pointing at each respectively. “But don’t wash your hair today, that would be a waste of the products the salon put on it. Unless it—stinks?”

Tobio, who was sitting on the rim of the tub, touched his hair, trying to pull it to his nose for a sniff, but it was too short. Suddenly, he turned to look at you, expectation clear in his eyes.

“You smell for me.” he bowed his head and waited.

“Oh, no need.” You waved your hands no. “Should be okay.”

You were not going to do it, but his head stayed down and showed no sign of coming back up. Not wanting to disappoint him, you stooped down for a quick sniff. The tip of your nose brushed against his freshly cut hair, it was soft and silky now, no trace of yesterday's dirt and grime. And it smelled so good you could have died.

Tobio breathed out a low purr before he looked up at you again, his pupils dilated. “How was it?”

“Nice,” you replied. “No need to wash it.”

“Okay.” His voice was small, faint.

Out of the bathroom, you prepared dinner for two and arranged a sleeping spot at the couch in the living room as you did the night before. Your apartment was a one-bedroom, so even if you wanted him to sleep somewhere nicer, you didn’t have a better option.

You didn’t expect to see him lying on the cold, hard floor the next morning, sleeping in the fetal position and hugging himself, pillow and blanket left on the couch.

“Why were you on the floor?” you asked that same morning while teaching him how to make basic breakfast—a bowl of cereal for you and two slices of toast for himself, this time topped with blueberry jam. He ended up asking for more with a growling belly and round blue eyes, piercing through your heart like a sharp stalactite falling down on tender meat. The damage was so severe that you had to tell him not to seek permission for food again; it was all his to have.

“My legs are too long.” answered Tobio. “They went over the couch arm—hurt.”

And the cushions were probably too small for him to sleep with legs folded. Decision instantly made, you let him sleep with you on the bed from then on.

—

It was nice not having to go about people’s houses searching for food and sleep at the train station when it rained. Tobio looked out the bedroom window, sitting on the floor with his head under the curtains, his tail flicking slowly as he watched the wet street below and couldn’t help but feel grateful for the human sleeping on the bed.

It had been one hundred and twenty two days since he had been here.

The bed was springy; it rocked a little when he climbed back on no matter how careful he tried to be, making you stir but overall still pretty much in your deep slumber. He settled on his side, laying his head on the same pillow as you. If he were to pull you to his chest, no one would see you again. Tobio was so big now with a tremendous amount of food consumed daily.

So much money was spent on him just to put skin, fat, and muscles on his bones, and you never once complained about the increasing expenses. He knew numbers now, and he saw them on the bills each time and noticed that you spent less on yourself. You had never gotten the blouse you said you wanted, and you ate half sometimes just to keep the leftover for the next day. He wished he could do more than just helping around with the household chores.

“Thank you,” whispered Tobio.

He wanted so much to cuddle up to you, sink his little fangs into your skin, and touch you in the way that would get him cute noises as a reward. He liked being close to you, finding himself awake nose to nose with you more often than not and using the time before you woke to count your eyelashes. You didn’t like any of that, always pushing yourself away and hurrying up to get off the bed.

Pouting, pouting, all he did when that happened was pout. But in his sleep, instinct took over nevertheless, he would find himself clinging to you anyway come morning, and he would pout, pout and pout…

—

This was why you never considered adopting a hybrid before you found Tobio that night. You didn’t want to feel like a scum excuse of a human being, getting so wet that you heard the squelching sound when Tobio pumped his fingers in and out of you, deep, nudging your front wall now and again, making you squirm.

You know what many hybrids were adopted and bought for, and you didn’t want to be one of those using them for sexual pleasure, letting him help around the house was bad enough. He didn’t ask to be here, you offered. What he was doing now might just mean he got the wrong idea about what he was here for.

“Tobio, no.”

“I’m so hard. It hurts.”

He propped himself up on one of his elbows, pouting while he watched his hand’s movement under your pajama shorts. “Please help.”

“Tobio, we need to talk.”

There was no talk, Tobio flipped you to lie flat on his body, his hands tugging your shorts and underwear down before doing the same with his. When your bare core touched his, the cat hybrid moaned loudly and rubbed you frantically against his cock.

It had never come this far, small touches here and there but never this.

“I—don’t want—,” you gasped, “to use you.”

“Please use me. Please use me. Use me.” He pouted more, tears welling in his eyes.

Damn those eyes to hell though you were certain Tobio himself belonged in heaven. It was these same orbs that had you ask if he wanted to come home with you, earning yourself the sweetest companion one could ever ask for.

Coming home to see the apartment cleaned, plants watered, laundry done, nothing was left to be done but dinner because he was scared he would burn the kitchen down because there was fire involved. He was getting better at it now, you feared cooking for you might be next in his plan. Power imbalance hung in the air, but Tobio had no clue.

“You’re not here for this.” You tried to say, turning away from his lips that grazed all over your face, trying to get to your mouth. “You are my friend.”

“I’m yours.”

“My—friend.”

“Umm, yours.” he purred, so cat-like. “You own me.”

Why did he only listen to what he wanted to hear? Not just yours, but your friend, that was what you were trying to convey.

“You are not a thing to be owned.”

For some reason, his eyes darkened. “Don’t be too good to me.”

Next thing you knew, you were on all fours, ass up, face down, hands in his grip behind your back. His hot shaft spread your wetness to your clit before fooling around with your entrance.

“Don’t—”

“Must be warm in there. Wetter, too.” the hybrid whined, claws sharpened, penetrating the skin of your hands. “Please let me get in, please please.”

“Tobio, don’t be bad.” That was the first time you reprimanded him, and you felt him freeze. “You’re not a thing to be used, you hear me?”

“But I’m a pet, your pet.”

“You’re not just an animal to me.”

“But that’s what I am.”

“You’re half human.”

“You don’t understand.” His mouth was next to your ear when he said it. “I am more animal than human, all hybrids are.”

Following his statement was the tip of his cock threatening to push in, you had to cry out his name again to stop the deed.

“Please. Just one dip,” he begged. “One dip and out.”

He was so stubborn, you had never seen this side of him before, literally nonplussed as to how to handle the persistence, the negotiation, and his pitiful cries. He had never been like this, even when you told him his favorite milk was out of stock, all he did was nod and say he was happy with whatever you had.

“Just once.” You choked out the words. “Only one dip and you’re out. You let me go, okay?”

You made a deal.

“Okay.”

The head was not the problem, the thick body and base were, stretching you to the point of pain. You heard a low growl rumble in his chest as he went deep to the hilt and lingered there.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, tremblingly. “Please don’t be mad.”

You couldn’t imagine being mad at Tobio, not even when he didn’t keep his word, pulling himself out and slamming back into you. Again and again he went, pulling at your wrists with each thrust for leverage. Your upper body was lifted from the bed from how hard he pulled, head lolling from side to side.

“Please don’t put me back on the streets.” He bottomed out with a cry. “Keep me, keep me.”

The wanton scream you let out was embarrassing, your pussy throbbed and clenched around his cock as he pounded on the right spot. And Tobio was a quick learner, he hammered down on it repeatedly, fucking you into the mattress until you came with a shudder, eyes rolled to the back of your head; you were glad he didn’t have to see that from where he was.

He shot out a lot of cum when he came, filling you up to the brim. One dip and out? Sure. The thing was, you weren't even mad at him. His clear blueberry eyes trained on you after he rolled you onto your back, tilting his head to one side before he bent down to give a kitten lick at your mouth.

No, you weren’t mad at Tobio, you were mad at yourself for giving in.

—

The leather ball he used to play with was for a sport called volleyball. Tobio saw it on TV one day and immediately pointed at it with excitement. So being a good owner as you were—allowing him to fuck and hold you close after each night, albeit not without some begging and whining first—you took him out to an open gym to play with other hybrids.

Him having to wear a collar when going out bothered you, and when it strained his neck while he was out on the court looking up at the ball, you told him to take it off.

“Why?” Tobio asked. Every hybrid in the gym had it on, he didn’t want to be different.

“It’s too tight on your neck.”

“It’s fine.”

A round of laughter erupted from the nearby court when a rabbit hybrid fell on her face trying to get the ball. It was from the humans who sat and watched the play, one in particular seemed concerned—perhaps her owner—seeing as he stood up and told her to get back on her feet.

“You just don’t get it.” you shook your head feebly and walked out the court back to your seat which was just a chair situated not far off the sideline. But as an afterthought, you turned around and said, “Just loosen it a bit, yeah?”

“Okay.”

You seemed to dislike the idea of him being an animal, but at the end of the day, he was. He loved watching birds from the window and making noises at them. He loved sleeping, and when he woke, after exerting himself with the chores until the energy ran out, it was nice to curl up on the couch for a nap.

It was not him who didn’t get it, it was you. Tobio liked being an animal.

So when your boss, who was one of the owners of the hybrid who played volleyball with him, approached and broached the idea of getting him on a cat food commercial you and he were working on, Tobio wanted in, even more interested when the older man said this would earn you extra money to take home after the shoot ended.

“See? Tobio wants to.” The boss gestured his hands at him.

“But—”

“Yes,” Tobio said, earnestly.

“Let’s talk about the shooting date together with the team on Monday.”

The deal was sealed.

—

The shoot was stressful for you, seeing people coo at how cute Tobio looked in faux cat ears, some even dared coming close to scratch under his chin. Tobio liked the attention, but he didn’t like strangers touching him. He would look for you, asking for help with his impossible-to-deny eyes whenever that happened, and you would come to the rescue.

“Aren’t cat hybrids supposed to keep to themselves?” you asked, walking ahead of him, just about five minutes more until you reached home. “How come you like people so much?”

“Not all the time.” Tobio replied. “I just happened to like them today.”

“Doesn’t it bother you,” You stopped walking and turned to face him. “being treated like that?”

“Like what?”

“They played with you with a laser pointer, Tobio. Trying to grab your tail, calling you names.” You held on to your shoulder bag as you spoke. “They didn’t respect you at all.”

“I’m an animal.”

“This again?”

“You have to accept that I am one and there is nothing wrong with it.”

There was no anger in this voice, never with Tobio, only dull sadness that dimmed his usual bright eyes down a notch.

“But you don’t agree, do you? That’s why you’re trying to change me.”

“You missed the point.”

“And what was it?”

When you didn’t respond instantly, he continued, “I like wearing a collar because it shows people I’m taken, taken by you, not a stray no one wants. I like that you own me.”

“Oh Tobio—”

“Is it wrong that I love doing the housework, that I don’t care that people want to give me treats and play laser pointer with me? I know what I am and how they see me. I’m an ani—”

“I don’t care that you’re an animal, a hybrid or whatever!” you interrupted with a soft shout. “I’m saying that no matter what you are, you deserve respect,” you said. “I don’t know what you experienced that made you think you can’t pick between strawberry and blueberry jam. And they can play laser pointer with you for all I care, but they should be aware that you have a life and mind of your own and not just assume they can do it without even asking. Just because you’re fine with it doesn’t make it okay.”

You paused to breathe.

“And trust me those people—those people in the studio, they don’t—they don’t understand this, yet.” You closed your eyes. “After the shoot, one of them asked me if they could buy you.”

Opening your eyes again, he was so close you had to tilt your head back to look at him.

“I don’t want to hear anyone say that about you ever again.”

His kiss didn’t take you by surprise. His tongue was welcome, and his moan was your guest. Tobio held your hand all the way home and didn’t let go even when the apartment door closed behind you and him, instead, he kissed you against it. Then from your mouth, he headed downwards.

“I thought I disgusted you.” he said, nipping at the soft flesh of the thigh he put on his shoulder.

“That is crazy. Ouch! Tobio, your claws.”

It had been almost a year already since Tobio moved in, and with his typical cat behavior, your body was full of scratches, some faded, some didn’t. He had a second haircut just two months ago, the same style with his bangs cut short, resembling a coconut for a while until it grew out past the stage, and now it was just in the right length—perfect for a grab.

He liked when you played with his hair, loved it when you pulled hard during sex. For someone who was soft spoken and had a hobby of watching birds and playing volleyball, Tobio was surprisingly perverted when it came to fucking.

The man purred loudly when he got the taste of your soaking folds, lapping greedily at the core and dragging his wet tongue up your inner thighs, collecting every drop like it was essential for his being.

When your hands remained by your sides, taking action too slow for his liking, Tobio searched blindly without pulling his face away from your nectar and grabbed one of them to put on his head. Automatically, you gripped a handful, hearing him groan with relief and satisfaction.

“So good to me.” he mumbled, his thumb leisurely circling your clit. “I like you more than anything.”

More than the milk you gave him that first night, or the banana, even the blueberry jam could not compare to you. And despite him not being brave enough to make a choice of his own haircut, he did make a choice in that moment he followed you home—he chose you.

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darlingmbappe · 2 years ago

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When We’re Ready [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: After months of not getting pregnant, your mental health takes a big hit.

Warnings: SMUT! Minors, leave. Mentions of depression, slight angst, penetrative sex, oral (male receiving), brief self pleasure, cussing, google translated French, badly spell checked. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

The days were colder and the last snow of winter was sure to come any day now. Every morning, Kylian would leave bundled up and ready to train, and you’d stay home – left to your own devices with the same bitter thoughts you've collected over the past seven months.

Getting laid off in early November seemed like a blessing in disguise, but sitting here in the chill of late February with nothing to do but wonder what the hell was wrong with your body made you realize it was more of a curse than a godsend. Maybe the universe was preparing your schedule for motherhood, you thought – needing time to ready the home for a newborn – time that you couldn't find with a job. But, still you remain jobless and without a child. Alone for most of the day, and sometimes days when Kylian went away.

Seven months seems like it’s too soon to feel this type of dreadful disappointment, especially since you’ve read it takes couples upwards of a year to get pregnant… but when you’ve prayed night after night, thoughts consumed with nothing but babies, listened to your husband raving about when the day finally comes, getting your hopes up just be let down once more… for seven months… it takes its toll.

You were surprised when you heard a key jam into the front door, a mug full of lukewarm tea clung onto your chest as you watched trash TV in the living room, pajamas buried under the comforter you dragged directly from the downstairs guest room. You watched as Ky walked toward you with furrowed brows.

“Hey.” His voice was gentle.

“Hi.” You smile forcefully. “You’re home early.”

He hums and sits next to you on the couch. “Not really… It’s past six.”

When he said this to you, even with his tender tone, he hated how your face dropped with confusion, wondering how you spent your day cooped up in here. Of course he’d noticed your deteriorating emotional strength. He wasn’t so sure how to deal with all of this, also strained from having to pretend to be strong for the both of you.

He kissed your cheek upon seeing your tears well up, pulling you into his body while you tried to hide your emotion. You laughed a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

He rubbed your back in an attempt to sooth you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, mon coeur.”

You pulled yourself together surprisingly quickly, the veil of embarrassment not unnoticed by your perceptive husband, but doing his best to not bring it up and make you more aware of his knowledge.

He ordered take out while you took a steaming shower, satisfied at the dinner table with a mouth full of chicken fried rice. Conversations flowed innocently, but your heart faltered a bit when you got that notification on your phone from your period tracking app – you were ovulating!

Great.

The distinct chime made your food so dry in your mouth, having difficulty swallowing it. You put your phone face down on the table, pretending you didn't both see and hear it.

He stares at you for a bit. You’re looking down at your plate, saying nothing, not meeting his gaze – though you felt it. He puts his hand on yours. “Bebe…”

“Stop.” You grumble, avoiding his eye contact. “I’m not in the mood.”

He sighs, clanging his fork a little louder than he intended to in the twinge of frustration. He understood, but he just wished you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself.

In December, you both had visited a fertility clinic to make sure all the gears were working correctly – and they were. It was amazing news that gave you both a fresh drive after months of let downs, but two months and four negative tests harshly dampened that high. You had been pretty hard on yourself, even if Doctor Laclairc said you had a pristine uterus and it just takes longer for some people.

The noise clattering on his plate caused you to look up, annoyed. Kylian rubbed his temples with his head in his hands, biting the inside of his cheek.

“What?” You barked. He pursed his lips and shook his head. He was holding back, you could tell. “Just say it, Kylian.”

“What do you want me to say?” He hissed from across that table.

“Whatever you’re not saying right now!”

He takes in a deep breath of air, trying his best to keep his head level. You pointedly stare at him, waiting for something to leave his mouth. He wiped his face with a napkin, tossing it back on the table. “You’re not the only one hurting.” He placed it softly, but you can hear the deep exasperation, emotionally exhausted. It shook you a little, having seen Kylian as a steady rock through all of this. His optimism had carried you through, letting yourself cry in his arms to find comfort. Sure, you knew he felt sad, but he hasn't let you see his devastation in full swing. “Do you think I’m in the mood? I’m not. It’s exhausting.” His eyes were slightly glossy as he expressed himself, voice loud but so unsure. You stare at him, silent. “But, we have to keep trying. I want this. You want this – I know how bad you want this. So, please. Give us a chance.”

His voice was so gentle at the end, emotions soaking every word that left his chest. You dipped your head down, knowing how you'd let your thinned patience steer your words and actions. Kylian never deserved the misguided anger that you let seep through. He’d been nothing but an anchor through these tolling seasons, putting your stability in front of his own.

He gets up out of his chair and slowly walks to yours, kneeling at your side where you sat and stared up at your teary eyes.

With your hand now taken in his, he places a gentle thumb on your cheek, guiding you to look at him. “It’ll all be worth it.” He confirms, kissing the back of your hand.

You sniffled, nodding as you turned your body toward him. Your arms wrapped so tightly around his neck and his around your middle. You both breathed in at first contact, some tears falling into the fabric of each other's shirts. The way he grasped you was allconsuming. It was a true embrace that you returned. He just felt like home.

You kiss his cheek, smooching the area until you place one on his lips. Now, holding his face and gazing into him, the strong wall he had built was knocked down. You saw the pain and urgency swirl in his irises. He pecks your lips, letting his hands roam slowly on your back.

You sigh as your lips quivered. All he did was run a thumb over your bottom lip, holding back his own exploding emotions.

He stood and your eyes followed him now hovering over you, both his hands cradling your face – then the pair of you found yourselves under the covers in your shared bed once more.

It’s funny. When you first started dating, the infatuation was supernatural. You wondered at the time how you could possibly ever be upset while he had his cock buried inside of you, stare bearing down into your soul with eyes that were made of magma, fingers so curious and ready to please as they got to know the terrain of your body.

You hadn’t felt the same way about sex in months. It felt like a chore. An obligation demanded by a stupid, inconsequential chime from the app that cost you €2.99 a month. Kylian would have to work himself up half the time and you were just a hole until he filled you up. Aftercare rituals now only consisted of laying still on your back with your feet in the air. An orgasm felt selfish for reasons you couldn’t explain. It’s like you didn’t dare give yourself that primal pleasure because you had convinced your body didn’t deserve it, having failed you over and over again.

This time, Kylian wanted to wash away the notion that your recent string of bad luck wasn’t caused by one individual or the other. Through his achingly slow actions, he showed you that you weren't just two separate people trying to accomplish a goal; not like when he jerks himself in the bathroom and puts his dick inside of you right before he came. You were together on this. A unified front. Bound to each other for life.

He praised your weary body, working you up like he used to. Moving at a snail pace, taking his time, dragging his fingers everywhere on your skin. The ‘I love you’’s and the expressions of devotion he mumbled against you flooded your senses. The drag of his member that squeezed against your walls, the inexpressible and constant eye contact, the lost kisses and marks left behind… It was purely and literally making love. He made love to you. You made love to him.

A fortnight passed once more and it was time for your bi-weekly personal hell. Kylian grabbed one of the many pregnancy test boxes from the cabinet in your shared bathroom, opening it for you and setting it next to the toilet – the usual routine.

He kissed your forehead. “I have a good feeling about this one.” Kylian mentioned with a grin on his face.

“I hate when you say stuff like that.” You mumble walking toward the small toilet room to leave Kylian alone by the his-and-hers sinks.

He stops you with a hand on your arm. The look on his face was exasperated. “Come on.” He pleads. “Amour, you have to have a little bit of hope. This isn’t how we thought it was going to be like, and I know that. I feel that. But, can you please just… fake it? For me?”

You sigh with a hand on your forehead, then churning out a grin for your husband. “I have a good feeling about this one!” It was a little too enthusiastic.

He chuckled slightly at how forced your words sounded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That was a really good try.” Kiss. “And I appreciate the effort.”

You shake your head with a breathy laugh, but the knot in your stomach stays put, even with the tiny little grin that found its way onto your face without permission.

You’d found the easiest and cleanest way to pee on that stick after doing it so many times. It was generally quick and you didn’t find it gross at all anymore. You set the capped test on the back of the toilet seat and grab some toilet paper. When you stood up, you looked into the bowl before flushing, and the knot in your stomach intensified.

Kylian leaned against the marble with his arms crossed, looking up at you when you opened the door. “I’ll set the timer.”

You pressed your foot on the trash can pedal and threw the plastic stick inside. “Don’t bother.” You mutter, walking back into the bedroom and throwing yourself on the mattress, body turned opposite of Kylian.

He runs a hand over his scalp, feeling the anger simmering at the surface, letting his feet guide him out of the tiled room. He sees you laying on your side, staring at the wall.

“I don’t know what else to say to you!” He cries out, staring at your back as you curl further into the pillow. “We’re both doing our part. Everyone said it would take time. We knew this would take time! Not everything is going to go our way, but we cannot stop trying. I really need you to start believing we can do this. We can!”

“I can’t, Kylian!” You sob, letting yourself breakdown. This anguish was brutal and completely unforgiving. “I can’t do it.” Your words barely make a sound; calling it a squeak would even be generous.

His heart breaks and it softens him up a little. He didn’t mean to shout, but everything has just been building and building up inside of him. “Hey…” He coos, crawling on the bed over to your side, holding you apprehensively while you cry into your pillow. He pressed you close to his body when he felt the shaking of your weeps, spooning your figure that jolted in tandem with your cries. “Shh, shh… I know it hurts, amour. I know.”

“Something’s wrong with my body, Kylian. I don’t care what Doctor Laclairc said. She got it wrong. I know she did. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, bebe. Nothing is wrong with you.” He squeezes you tighter. “Nothing is wrong with your body. Even if we find out that this isn’t part of our journey, I will never stop loving you. Okay?” His assurance only made you turn into him, burying your face in his shirt, leaving a wet stain in your wake.

You took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself, only succeeding in halting your wails of sadness, but the tears still fell freely. “I just got my period.” You confess, feeling a wave of shame and guilt once more about your failure to conceive. The bloody toilet paper was a haunting image in your mind. Kylian shuts his eyes and just squeezes you, trying his hardest to make you see that it was okay. “I can’t take this anymore, Kylian, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head, absolutely wrecked by the sight of your broken down persona. He’d catch you staring off into space, a depressing dullness surrounding what used to be an incredibly compelling aura. You were a shell of yourself for months now; going through the motions of daily life with a dark vail behind your eyes, losing interest in the things that used to make you happy.

He silently cried, but you felt the drops on top of your head. “It’s okay.” He murmurs in a shaky voice. “We can start trying again in the future. Maybe it wasn’t time for us yet.”

You sob again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re okay. We’re okay, amour.”

You continue to cry, Kylian finally allowing his tough-guy front drop in this moment of vulnerability. For better, for worse, in sickness, in health, ‘till death parts you from one anothers soothing embrace, you are together through it all.

The months leading up to that next summer were mundane. You’d found another job after coming to the realization that you weren't cut out to be the cute stay-at-home wife, but instead craved some sort of responsibility of your own. Kylian felt like you shouldn’t even have one because he could easily take care of you. Being married, his money was your money, but it was never about the money for you. You needed to dig yourself out of your depression hole sooner rather than later, and a consistent schedule was sure to be a nice addition to the rebuild of your mental health. Thank god for time off, though. Your bosses were huge Mbappé fans (like huge), and you weren’t past milking that for whenever you needed a couple days. You never took advantage of their generosity, but it was nice to know you could.

Summer in Paris this year had been nice, but Greece had won your heart. Kylian’s cousin’s destination wedding had been planned on a secluded portion of Corfu. The resort was huge and the pair of you were able to sneak away from your usual work duties for two days to attend. The private jet made for an easy travel plan and really any excuse to use it was sufficient enough.

The last time you’d seen most of Kylian’s family was a year ago – that night you couldn’t keep it in your pants. You had spiraled when you got to thinking about seeing them again a couple weeks ago, pleading with the gods that none of them asked about you and Ky having children. It’s been a little over five months since you decided to put the thought of babies on the back burner. Closing in on half a year and it is still painful. Mentally, you both were prepared to welcome a bundle of joy. The pregnancy books Kylian had picked up were buried deep in drawers you never thought about opening. You’d finally gotten your sex drive back in these months, having to re-learn to separate the pleasurable act with the tedious work of baby making.

Sometimes you guys used condoms, sometimes you didn’t. Still, your period came and went like clockwork. You still hadn’t erased that little habit of resenting your shedding uterus every month, but you definitely felt like you were making progress.

“This is nice.” You compliment the outdoor beachfront venue, walking hand in hand with your husband into the reception.

He looks around. “Yeah, makes me rethink our wedding.”

You scoff. “Shut up! Our wedding was awesome.”

He laughs. “Relax! Jokes, jokes…” He goofily defends, walking you both over to the open bar and ordering you a drink. “Martini?” He double checks.

“Please.”

He nods, ordering himself a whiskey coke, leaving the young bartender a tip that made his eyes almost pop out of his head.

For most of the night, you had to keep biting your tongue at the waves of people that came up to Kylian and asked for pictures. Sure, they were nice about it, but he was just trying to enjoy himself – and Kylian didn’t like telling people no. Especially not his cousin's friends. Him being whisked away left you clinging onto Ethans side most of the night, finding that Wilfried and Fayza were preoccupied with spending time with the family they didn’t get to see very often.

But, oh, the wandering eyes of a sixteen year old boy threatened to leave you on your own when he spotted a young girl about his age scrolling on her phone with the most bored look on her face.

“Ethan, no!” You whined as he brushed his suit of any pieces of lint, ready to get up and greet her. “Don’t leave me, please.”

He laughs. “Dude, you can’t keep a lion in its cage.”

You made a stank face at his bad metaphor. “That doesn't even make sense.”

“Ya-huh.” He enunciated back, typical sibling tone. “Me – Ethan – is the lion. Mystery hot girl,” he points, “a gazelle. You – sister in law– cage.”

You roll your eyes, noting to have a conversation with Kylian about his little brother's ego. “This is a family wedding, Ethan.”

“So?”

“So, what if she’s like a distant cousin.”

He makes a grossed out face. “Why would you say that? She is not my cousin.”

“You don’t know that, little man.”

“Don’t call me little man.”

“Aw, is little man embarrassed?” You coo, teasing grin plastered on your face.

“No, shut up!”

“But, you’re an adorable wittle man.” You baby-talk, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He swats your hand away as you laugh at him.

“Stop!” He stands up and smooths out wrinkles. “I’m taller than your husband.” He reminds you. “Little man, my ass.” He scoffs, giving you the middle finger teasingly and secretively in case his family saw the obscene gesture. You discreetly give one back as he walks toward the girl, a flirty pep in his step while approaching her.

You sigh to yourself, looking around and noticing that you didn’t actually know where Ky was. Last time you checked, the groomsmen had bombarded him with selfies by the DJ booth while he tried to have a conversion with his great auntie. You grab your martini and get up from the fountain ledge you sat on, a little tipsier than you thought you were. You stopped and looked around for him.

“Cute, right?”

You look to your left to wherever that feminine voice came from. A blonde middle aged woman in a red dress stands next to you holding a glass of champagne.

“Sorry?” You ask, unsure if she was talking to you or not.

The lady points to a table a few yards away – and there he was. Kylian sat talking to some people, a toddler resting on his lap. He had a huge smile on his face, poking at the little girl's cheek to get her to giggle. You grinned at the sight, loving seeing him so happy.

You turn back to the woman to respond when you look down at her dress. She was pregnant. Very pregnant. She tips back her champagne. “Don’t worry. It’s ginger ale.” You nod at her, chuckling a bit. “Kylian’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

You turn your attention back to him just as the little girl stuck her whole fist in his whiskey, taking a piece of ice and trying to put it in her mouth. You laugh out loud when he frantically tries to pry her little hand open. Successful, he meets your eye and his smile was radiant and full of life, shaking his head.

“He’s my husband, actually.”

She looks down at the empty martini glass in your hand. “No kids yet.” Her British accent was thick and assertive.

You shake your head at the stranger and set the empty glass down on the empty table next to you. You felt a little awkward having this conversation with someone you don’t even know the name of. She must be some extended family or the wife of a distant cousin. She seems kind, but you weren’t big on sharing your personal life with anyone you didn't trust, much less know. Especially since you’ve been with Kylian, what you say affects him. He’s in the under bright spotlight and scrutiny of the public, and if you’ve learned anything while being with a global star, it is that some people will stop at nothing to get a story.

The woman tips back the rest of her ginger ale and sets her glass down next to yours. “Are you guys trying?”

She has an audacious look now that she stands in front of you and it makes you feel unsettled. “I’m sorry?”

The lady laughs a little. “I just wondered if you and Kylian planned on starting a family any time soon.”

You couldn’t stop the bewildered look that now took over your features. “Uh…” was all you could really say. You don’t know this woman, she doesn’t know you. It’s a loaded question and frankly quite bold of her to come up to you and ask. “What?”

“Kids.” She repeated, apparently not caring about the uncomfortable shift in mood.

You opened your mouth, but had no idea what to say. You stuttered and tried to calm down with a forced chuckle. “What did you say your name was?”

She discreetly huffed.“Scheana Kingsley.”

Definitely familiar, but you just couldn’t place your finger on it. ��Right.”

She waits. “So… any comment?”

“Hello.” Thank god. Fayza. She put a warm hand on your shoulder, perceptive to how tense you looked with this woman. “Scheana.” Fayza sighed. “Laurence is over by the cheese platters.” You loved how politely she just dismissed her.

The Scheana lady forced a smile at her. “Oh. Thank you.” She waved a hand goodbye with a disappointed breath. “Good talking to you.”

Your mother in law turned to you with a much clearer show of annoyance. You laugh lightly in disbelief. “Scheana Kingsley… should I know her?”

“You probably know about her. She writes for some news-gossip-pop-culture magazine.” She informs you. “Well, calling it news is charitable.”

“Unbelievable.” You scoff, crossing your arms at the revelation. “Who let her in here?”

“She’s married to Laurence over there. We try to keep our distance from them.”

From across the patio, Kylian turns his stare at you and his mother talking. You looked annoyed and frustrated, which made him so nervous. He excused himself from the small talk and speed walked over, thinking he might have to diffuse the situation – or maybe even get a scolding from his mother and his wife. God, he really hopes you two weren’t talking about him.

“My beautiful ladies.” He greets, kissing his mothers cheek then yours. “Everything okay?”

You smile at him. “You been having fun?”

“Yeah. Lot’s of fun.” He looks between the two of you. “You two are good, though?”

“Oh, no, we're fine.” You laugh it off.

“I saved your wife here from a conversation with Scheana Kingsley.” Fayza mentioned.

He shakes his head, scoffing a bit. “That woman… She has ambition, that’s for sure.” Now you remember why she sounded so familiar. Kylian had complained about his thrice removed family member’s new girlfriend a few years back and how she was a pushy reporter for The Paris Culture Magazine. “I’m surprised Laurence has kept her around for this long. What’d she say to you?”

They both turned their attention to you, waiting for you to say something. You shrug, but Kylian noticed the trepidation in your stare. “Nothing, really. Just some weird questions… I don't know.”

Thankfully, Fayza didn’t push it further, but you knew Kylian’s assuring hand on your waist meant that he knew something was up. You hadn’t asked Kylian if he’d shared with his parents that you were trying to get pregnant, but you doubted it. You would have noticed her demeanor change around you, given you saw her quite frequently. Besides, he would have checked with you before sharing that information with anybody.

There seemed to be a pattern occurring with you and Kylian leaving family events early, but the two of you were not only exhausted, but just not having a good time. The drunker the bridal party got, the more confident they felt hounding Kylian for selfies and videos. As for your mood, it was in a steady downward spiral ever since your interaction with Scheana. Just locking eyes, you both understood that it was time to surrender back into your suite.

He held your hand out of the elevator, swinging your arm back and forth. The pair of you had an overly tipsy pep in your step from the drinks you’d forgotten to count through the night.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” He kissed your cheek, a smirk overtaking his face.

You giggle shyly as he unlocks the door to your room, letting you walk in first. You went directly to the bathroom, your bladder begging for some relief. Kylian wandered in to brush his teeth as you turned the shower on, taking your jewelry off as you let the water warm up.

Kylian looked at your reflection in the mirror, shirt buttons completely undone. You were dazed. Quiet. He hated that look. He’d seen it take over you for months and finally, you were getting better.

He spit the toothpaste in the sink. “What’s wrong, bébé?”

“Huh? Oh. Nothing. I’m fine.” You turn your back to him. “Will you unzip me?”

He turns, slowly pulling the tiny zipper all the way down. He kissed the skin where your neck met your shoulder. “Did Scheana say something to make you upset?”

You shrug, taking the dress off and neatly hanging it on the towel rack. “She couldn’t have known. I don’t think she meant any harm.” You hop in the shower, shutting the foggy glass door and let the hot water run over you.

Kylians blurry figure leaned against the other side to continue talking to you. “What’d she say?”

“Just asking questions.”

“About?”

A big sigh leaves you. “Us, I guess.” Kylian listens, knowing you have more to say but are just keeping it bottled up. There was always a clear guide of communication between you two, especially because you were really good at letting things eat you up from the inside. You fiddle with your wet hair and Kylians frame behind the foggy glass stayed put. “She just… It was just weird. She wanted to know if we had plans to have kids anytime soon.” You chuckled, hiding your dejection with the sound. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s not okay.” He indicates. “I’m sorry she badgered you tonight, cherie. She crossed a line.” He sounded a little angry.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. It’s fine.” He opens the shower door, causing you to jolt a little. He steps in, raking his eyes over your naked wet body quickly, and you his. “Yeah, sure, you can join me.” You joke as he reaches for the soap bar.

“It’s not fine.” He discards your dismissiveness, rubbing your shoulders with the foam. “I’m gonna talk to Laurence about that.”

You melt into his touch. “No, really, you don’t have to–”

“I’m going to.” He whispers, kissing your cheek. “No one makes my wife upset and gets away with it.” His hands roamed down your arms. “My hot wife.” His breath tickled your ear. “My sexy wife.” He presses his body to yours, nudging your cheek with his nose until you turn your face, kissing you feverishly.

You hum involuntarily into his mouth when his tongue decides to poke its way in, hand now feeling you up, tits squished between his fingers.

“Someone’s eager.” You laugh as he forces you to turn around, the hot water beating your back.

He bites the side of your neck dramatically and you laugh harder, pushing him away playfully – but he pulls you back into his chest, smiling dotingly with you safe between his arms.

“You wanna?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You made a pensive face, pretending to really think about it. “I could be convinced.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe.” You smirk as he bites his grinning lips, hands lowering and squeezing your ass harshly.

“Do you know how hot you looked in your dress tonight?” He continued feeling you up, dick pressed against your thigh, slowly getting harder by the second. “I swear, I was so close to sneaking off to some empty part of the beach and bending you over. Driving me crazy.”

Your hands ran down the rigid muscles on his chest, feeling electric under his burning stare, hot at the thought of him fucking you out of impulse. “Do I make you feel all hot and bothered?” You ask, his stare is so dark. So needy. You lean in only a little, teasing a kiss on his lips, but never truly meeting their plush touch. “Do you start thinking about what you would do to me? Thinking about touching me? Fucking me?” He growls at your words, tilting his face forward to try and steal a kiss. “Show me.”

He grips the flesh of your ass and pulls you even closer to him, frantically showing you his desire for you with a hungry kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and he moves his hands upward and begins pawing at your exposed breasts. The steaming water dripping down your entwined bodies made everything slick, slippery, conditions that caused you both to grip to each other's bodies for security.

You reach a hand down and grab his growing cock, pumping it loosely, trying to get him fully erect. A moan vibrates out of his throat as your movements focus on his sensitive tip, thumbing the slit, feeling him grow and stiffen in the palm of your hand.

You kiss down his neck, then move to whisper to him, sultry as ever. “Am I doing something like this when you fantasize?”

He nods under your spell, eyes drooping in pure lust. “Uh-huh. Just like that.”

Gaining control over him, you waddle your bodies back until his back hits the wall. He shivers at the cold tile in the steamy shower, but forgets all memories of the chill when you kiss down his neck, lowering your body on your knees, hands trailing down so slowly, mouth inches from his swinging member. His hips jut forward and it hits your cheek. You follow it with your mouth, letting it graze your lips in passing. The blinking stare and batting lashes almost drew blood on his lower lip from how hard he bit it.

“Open up, ange.” Angel, he called you, but you were so sinful. On his knees in front of him. Droplets reflecting off your skin from the harsh light. His eyes felt undeserving of seeing you so ready to praise him. It made him feel so mortal, so lucky. He thanked the higher power that brought you to him, feeling an intense desire to take care of you – tend to your every wish.

You took hold of him with a sure fist, darting your tongue out and licking one long strip from his base to his mushroom head, letting your lips wrap around him and sucking to hear his moan. His face scrunched. His skull lulled into the wall.

You took him in your mouth a little over halfway, moving your mouth in tandem with your hand, enjoying the way his cock nudged against the back of your throat continuously to your rhythm.

“Oui, dieu.” God, yes. He fisted the back of your sopping wet hair, pulling you off of him and forcing you to look up at him. “Touch yourself for me, baby.”

You shut your mouth and swallowed harshly. He ran his thumb against your lips, hooking it on your bottom row of teeth, opening you up once more. Your tongue licked the pad of his finger, dipping your hand between your legs and quickly finding your clit. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened. As the moan slipped from your throat, he placed your face directly back to his throbbing cock. Now, he had control of your movements, using your hair as a handle for his intentions, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft in quick movements. You gagged when he began thrusting concurrently to the tempo he stuffed you into his pelvis, heavy heaves and grunts erupting from his chest.

You gargled and gagged on your own spit and moans of pleasure from your own fingers, tasting the salty precum that dripped from your chin as you harshly sucked off your loving husband. You kept your vision from squinting together as you met his eyes through teary eyelashes. He fucked your face like you hadn’t had sex in years, rough with his actions and getting off on the way you were taking it.

His dick disappeared inside your mouth swiftly and urgently until he couldn't resist. He stopped thrusting, looking deep into your eyes – mouth still stuffed with him. He pushed his hand, demanding you take every inch of him down your open throat. You choked on him, the muffle of your gagging making him see stars.

You hit his thigh after a few seconds and he pulled his hand away. You gasped for air, noticing for the first time how sore your knees were against the hard tile. He let out a long hiss at the loss of your mouth, watching through heavy blinks as you sat against the opposite wall in the small area – knees red and patterned with the lines from the floor. Your chest moved with your big breaths, smiling and commending yourself for the avidity in Kylian’s eyes.

With your knees pulled to your chest, you slowly opened your legs, fingers playing with yourself as you made a show of how good you were making yourself feel. His pupils dilated at the way you ran your free hand across your thigh then up your chest, pitching a pulling your nipple with your lip tucked between your teeth.

He whined – a desperate noise that came up naturally. He reached down to touch himself to the sight of you, pumping a slow fist against himself. His long strokes teased his tip until he shuddered, eye contact non-negotiable. You couldn’t look away if you tried. Your swirling moans echoed in the small chamber – his eyes glued to the way your own fingers stretched and spread your pussy. Your own were attentive to the tug at the nape of his base. Though, you both looked up at the same time, hypnotized by your partners mutual ogling. He steps forward, hand still on himself. You reach for his hand and he helps you up, immediately pulling you by the small of your back into his lips, tongue lapping yours, absolutely famished.

He had clocked the little ledge in the corner from the second he walked into the intimate shower. He put his hand out behind you so the edge wouldn't hurt you, then used his strength to hoist your slippery skin up onto it. He placed himself between your legs, your back pressed to the wall, the shelf only fitting half of your rear — but it was the perfect height for him to fuck you like he wanted to.

He lined himself up quickly and desperately spreading your pussy wide open for him, pushing in and dragging out. One long moan came straight from your throat, clinging onto his neck to keep yourself in that same position.

“Fuck.” He grumbled. “You feel so good.” His pace was deadly, tip poking and poking that spot. It made your eyes cross, resting your damp head on the wall. “Been wanting to do this all night. Merde. Les choses que tu me fais, tu me rends fou.” Shit. The things you do to me. You make me fucking crazy.

You moaned in response, too focused on the way his neatly trimmed pelvis rubbed against your clit every time he pushed inside of you. It felt euphoric. Magical. Goddamn perfect. The only words you could muster out made him giggle through his heaves. “Please don’t slip.”

Your arm knocked over a few shampoo bottles when he buried himself deeply inside of you and stopped – making you borderline scream from how deep he actually was, and this position made everything feel… more.

He groaned so loudly, his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’, and you understood why when you felt him cumming inside of you, hot spurts surely dripping out. You didn't notice him biting your forearm until he let go of it, keeping his mouth against you before turning to look into your eyes. A slightly apologetic look turned cocky when one hand reached for your sensitive nub, rubbing just the way you like it, still inside of you.

“Oh, shit…” You breathed, eyes connected to the way he pleased you. “I’m fucking close.”

“Vulgar tonight, are we?” He teased your language, a tired smirk on his face.

“You just…” you begin, but he shuts you up with a small unprecedented thrust. “Fuck!”

He hisses, not really being able to take the overstimulation, but continuing to push into you sporadically – purly for your pleasure. Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to reach your climax.

He didn’t need the warning upon feeling your legs give out slightly, pressing against you to keep you on the shelf. They started shaking as your eyes closed, a fierce moan exploding from your wet parted lips. He moved his hips with a contorted face until he felt you calm down, now whining and whispering to the touch of his fingers as they slowed down, pressing down harder on you before disappearing altogether.

You pat his back lazily and he pulled out of you carefully, setting your wobbly legs on the slippery floor. You’d completely forgotten the shower was on as you watched it drain down. Kylian held your waist steadily, both breathing heavy. He lands two gentle taps on your bum. “Let's not waste anymore water, yeah?”

The vacation, though brief, was absolutely refreshing. It gave time that you and Kylian needed to feel closer. The offseason couldn’t come soon enough. You didn’t have to revolve around his schedule during those weeks because he was just home already. To you, there was nothing better than coming downstairs at 2pm on a Tuesday and seeing Ky there, drinking orange juice straight from the bottle, or being able to binge a series with him much quicker because he had time for more than just two episodes. By all means, being married to him shouldn’t be easy, and it’s not necessarily that simple… but it should be way harder. Maybe you were just more patient, but you’re almost certain it has everything to do with him. He made time. He made an effort. He tries his damn hardest. How could you possibly hold that against him?

You didn’t notice the way you were staring at him, chin in the palm of your hand, daydreaming about your entire history with Kylian Mbappé – a man with no time to spare, but he damn well made sure you fit in his schedule.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He grins, setting down his coffee across the table from you in your shared Parisian home.

You blink, smiling in embarrassment. “No reason.”

You push some eggs around on your plate. He leans forward. “What were you thinking about?”

You shrug at him, still smiling. “Greece.”

His laugh gave away his fondest memory of that trip. “We gotta do that trip again soon, amour.”

“Yeah, like they’d give you that kind of time off twice within two months.”

His head shakes, snickering at that complete impossibility. “I think they’d send me a fee for even asking.” He looks at the time on his phone. “I should probably get going, though.” He gets up and collects his things.

“Drink lots of water today, okay? It’s supposed to get really hot around noon.”

“Yes, dear.” He drones jokingly, smirking as he makes his way over to you, pecking you quickly. “Love you.”

You squeeze his hand quickly. “Love you, too.”

Now, your separate days begin – his a little earlier than yours, but you still just wanted to envelope yourself back inside the covers. You were thinking about calling out sick, which wouldn't be a complete lie. The scrambled eggs were not sitting right this morning, or maybe it was the Thai restaurant you ate at last night. Either way, you couldn’t remember where you put the Pepto-bismol. The empty space in the medicine cabinet left you wondering if Kylian had drunk up the last bit and hadn’t bought a new one yet.

You maintain your breathing steady to keep yourself from throwing up as you shuffle through the drawers. Praying it was in the last one, you pull it open desperately, but only facing three boxes of pregnancy tests. The rush of everything fell still, the air much quieter as you got flashbacks from last year.

You didn’t let yourself think about it much, but you never really got over not getting pregnant. Mentally and emotionally, you were still there. The pain and devastation got easier to mask, but they stayed with you.

It was time you got over it, or at least lost the fear of not being able to have children... the fear of not being able to provide Kylian with a child. If you kept on being bitter about this whole ordeal, you don't know if you'd ever be in the right headspace to try for a baby ever again.

You stare at the tests and shake your head. “Fuck it.”

You snatch one from the drawer and beeline to the bathroom, peeing on the stick and thinking about how dumb it was that you had let this trivial little test ruin your for months. This time, you wouldn’t feel the dread collect inside your stomach. It would be okay. It wouldn’t hold power over you anymore.

Immediately walking out, you press down on the pedal of the trashcan and you watch it fall into the bin, feeling proud of yourself for not caring about that little plastic stick or what it had to say about your body. You weren't pregnant right now… and that's okay.

You sigh, a proud feeling swirling with sadness was still progress.

“Oh, no.” You mumble, feeling your stomach churn and running back toward the toilet, puking horrifically. It was a bad one. Maybe calling out sick was for the best. Who knows, it could be a stomach bug and contagious… but, unfortunately, you felt a lot better afterwards.

It was probably best if you went to work. There’s a promotion you’ve been chasing and you had just taken those days off for the wedding last month. Trudingly, you got ready to leave the house, rushing a bit since you hadn't realized how late in the morning it was.

Thank god you went. It was a hectic day; some project deadline wasn’t met and, for some reason, people turned to you for the solution. You were still relatively new at the company, but today, you really felt like you were doing something right. You left the office with a pat on the back from your big boss. That felt amazing. Kickin’ ass and taking names.

You were late coming home, texting Ky to let him know that you wouldn't be there when he got back. He texted back a simple:

Ky: :(

To which you responded with:

You: Bad day?

Ky: Just miss you. You were on my mind a lot today

You frown while walking to your car, wanting to get home quickly and hug him tightly.

You: Baby :( I’m on my way home now.

You: I have a big kiss just for you <3

The second you walked through the door about half an hour later, Kylian embraced you tightly, taking you by surprise but you easily fell into his arms. You could feel his stress radiating from his body as he followed at your foot around the house. He was quiet in asking if you wanted to take a shower, but his eyes were loud in telling you he just needed to be close to you tonight.

It was an innocent shower, his silent begging for a back rub and skin-to-skin contact was obvious as he kept his hand warmly on you at all times.

“You okay, hun?” You ask gently, tracing the frown line between his eyebrows after turning the water off.

He nods, eyes sleepy even though it was only eight o'clock at night. “Have you eaten?” He changes the topic, opening the shower door and wrapping you in a towel.

You shrug. “I haven't really been hungry today.” Ever since you threw up this morning, the thought of eating made you grimace. “Did you feel weird after last night's Thai?”

“I felt fine. Why? Is your stomach bothering you?”

You shake your head no as you shuffle through your drawers. “Just a little queasy this morning.”

You both get dressed quickly and lazily, surprised at how early you were deciding to turn in. Kylian was quite a bit needy tonight, pawing and tugging you close to him while he put on Pretty Little Liars… He would deny it to anyone, but he was obsessed with that show.

“What the hell is she wearing?” He tusks at the screen, apparently not approving of Spencer's outfit for the Prom.

You giggle into his chest, shaking your head slightly. “I’m gonna go pee.” You pat his bare chest and leave his side, hopping over to the ensuite.

You wanted to be quick about it, your feet cold from the chilly tile and lack of socks. Kylian had opened a new toothpaste packet and left the empty box on the counter. You roll your eyes. He’s notorious for leaving things that should be trash anywhere but the trash can – an unfortunate side effect of having someone pick up after you as a professional athlete. You bitterly grab the cardboard box and press your foot down on the petal of the trashcan, but freeze when you spot the pregnancy test you took that morning. You wanted to look at it.

Is it worth looking at it? You hadn't even thought about it all day, which is a huge step for you. Only a few months ago, you would have been debilitated at work – and you sure as hell wouldn't have been able to step up like you did. You would have been crying quietly in your cubicle, taking far too many bathroom breaks.

But… it was winking at you. Calling your name. Taunting you face down in the plastic liner.

With a gulp and a deep breath in, you shook your head disapprovingly at yourself. It’s gonna be negative, you think, preparing yourself for disappointment as you fish it out of the bin. You gave a deep sigh before letting your eyes trail down to your hand where the thing burned a hole on your skin.

The gasp that came from your mouth was severe, loud, alarming.

Two lines. Pregnant.

“Oh my god.” You mumble, much too quietly for Kylain to hear you behind the closed door. You begin laughing as it settles in what you’re seeing. “Oh my god! Kylian!” You desperately call. “Kylian!”

“What happened?” Kylian shoots out from under the covers and your current brain functions were a little crossed as you gaped at the test. The positive test. “Babe?” He comes into the bathroom with a furrowed and concerned look. “Are you okay?”

You respond with a look he was unfamiliar with. Immediately noticing the tears that had collected on your lash line, he reached for you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, seeing him for the first time as the father of the child inside your stomach. “Kylain.” He had never heard his name come from your lips with as much affection as it did right now.

He gladly took the hug you attacked him with, but the mood inside the bathroom was a little bewildering.

“What’s going on, amour?” He coos, but you can only sob joyfully into his shoulder, holding the test behind his back as you embrace him – staring at the double lines like it would suddenly turn in one and you'd realize that this was never real. But it was. The results were right there in the palm of your hand. He mistook your cries for sadness, placing an assuring hand on the back of your head. “Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was so soft.

“I love you so much.” You smile, pulling back and planting a long, wet kiss on his unexpecting lips.

He’s so confused. “I love you too…” He raises an eyebrow when your hand meets his, an object placed in his palm. “What is this?” He asks before looking at it.

It takes a second for it to process, and you find yourself wishing you had a photographic memory, wanting to see his first face of realization again and again for the rest of your life. His eyes might as well have fallen out of his head with how wide his eyes went.

“Wha…” He stutters, completely transfixed on the test. “Is this real?!” He finally looks at you, excitement would be the biggest understatement of the century.

“Of course it is.” You squeak, still clinging onto your husband as you both look at the stick. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.” You both take a big breath in, crying simultaneously, absolutely elated.

Kylian stares at the stick with a squinty and wrinkly smile before he looks at you — eyes tender and grateful. He drops the stick in the sink basin, grabbing your face with his two large hands, forehead pressed to yours to let the moment really register. He kisses you as best he could with the smile that engulfed his features, wrapping you up in his arms, truly holding you.

“I love you.” He whispers from his chest, an earth shattering smile finding a permanent home on his face. “We’re having a baby.”

A/N: Okay, I don't hate it, but it's not my fav. It's finals in uni and I'm a wee bit preoccupied with those responsibilities. Still though, I think I had some good parts in here! It's mostly just the ending that's bugging me. Also, I know nothing about pregnancies and all that jazz so this is pure Google info so I apologize for any inaccuracies!

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @footballfeverr @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss @christianpulisic10 @pleasantducktimetravel @forevernightmaree @sachaa-ff @neymarloverxxx @4nn4rchive @lunamelona

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eddiemunsonw · 1 year ago

Text

Buzzing Adventures

Eddie x fem!reader

Summary: Your favorite vibrator breaks down in the middle of a pretty neat feel-good session, downright ruining your mood. Luckily, Eddie knows a thing or two about satisfying you as well.

CW/Disclaimer: Ah yes, smut. Vibrators, a very determined Eddie. Established relationship. Humor and fluff.

Author's note: There may or may not be a part 2 to this at some point. Also the header makes little sense, I just wanted to show the skilled pleasure set that is Eddie's mouth and hands in one image.

Words: 5618

As your mind drifted off into your deepest desires, you turned up the vibration. Soft moans escaped your lips as you chased your high, both your hands working hard to get there with the help of your vibrator. Your hips bucked up against it when it didn’t seem to hit the right spot the way it usually would and you slowly realized that the battery was dying.

“Fuck… Not now!” You groaned, tossing it aside to finish it off with your hands instead. It was disappointing. Your hands could do the trick just fine but sometimes you just wanted that extra edge your vibrator could give you. You contemplated going for it again after replacing the batteries but soon came to realize that the batteries had never been the problem. It simply broke. Just your luck. Sulking, you tossed the vibrator in the trash after taking the perfectly fine batteries out again and sighed. You hated buying vibrators. Not because it was embarrassing, but because you never knew which one to pick. The options were endless nowadays. You decided to leave it for now and started on making dinner for you and your boyfriend.

Eddie worked part time at the garage around the corner which usually meant he’d come home greasy and dirty in the worst and best kind of way. Very fuckable, but none of the furniture was quite Eddie-proof when it came to how dirty his work clothes were. After causing a permanent stain on the couch on a particularly heated late afternoon, you had both decided it was best if he just took it all off immediately and only touched anything after getting out of the shower.

It was always easy to hear when Eddie came home. Keys clanging on the trinket that you had made specifically for your keys, shoes being chucked off and his footsteps echoing all the way towards you.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you softly with a kiss on your cheek, making sure he was leaning away far enough. “I’ll be in the shower. Looks delicious.”

“It’s your favorite actually,” you called after him. Eddie let out a happy noise as he rushed upstairs and you smiled to yourself. You weren’t making anything special. Just some pasta recipe that you had tweaked and added things to until one day Eddie had moaned at the first bite and you knew you had done something right.

You were about to serve dinner when you heard his footsteps come back downstairs again and soon enough his arms were wrapped around your waist and your neck was showered in little, noisy kisses.

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

Eddie got a drink for the both of you and sat down with a frown. You figured he was just lost in thought about something and focused on filling both your plates, until he spoke up.

“Why is there a vibrator in the bin?”

You groaned and threw your head back in agony.

“It just stopped working all of a sudden, I hate it. I don’t want to deal with buying a new one,” you sighed and sat down as well. As you took a sip of your drink, Eddie gave you a look as if you had just told him something awful. Worse than a sex toy that just yeed its last haw.

“So… did you finish?”

“Hm? No. I was out of it after that. Just gave up.”

Eddie nodded as if he made a deep, thoughtful, very important decision.

“I’ll do it.”

You frowned.

“Do what?”

“I’ll take over. It’s my time to shine baby,” he told you with a grin as he lifted his arms above his head and cracked his fingers. “I’ve been waiting for this day my whole life.”

“It was your dream job to be a vibrator?”

“What? No! This is my chance to prove that I’m better than a vibrator.”

You smiled at him affectionately and leaned over to cup his jaw.

“Oh, Eddie. Baby. You’ll always be better than a vibrator, don’t be silly. It’s just… the functions are nice, you know? Fast, intense, that kinda stuff.”

“I can be fast and intense,” Eddie muttered.

“I’m sure you can babe.” A quirked eyebrow raised on his end. “I know you can.”

“So? Let me prove it to you that I can cover for its absence until…” he sighed, pausing for dramatic effect, “you buy another… or whatever.”

A laugh left your lips and you shrugged, playing it off casually despite the very vivid images playing in front of your eyes. You knew very well what Eddie could do to you with his set of very skilled fingers and tongue. The thought made you push your thighs together.

“You wanna prove that now? ‘Cause I’m still...”

“Still what?” Eddie smirked at you, leaning forward with a smug smile. “Horny?”

Despite the heat that welled up on your cheeks, you decided to tease him right back.

“Yeah. I was actually in the middle of imagining riding your co—”

Eddie’s hand flew up to cover your mouth and a groan escaped his lips. He narrowed his eyes at you while his hand went under the table to adjust himself in his sweats and shook his head.

“You can’t just say shit like that, sweetheart. Jesus Christ.”

Now it was your turn to smile smugly.

“Little horndog.”

“M’ not little, y’know.”

“Oh I know,” you teased some more, biting your lip as you knew that would drive him mad. Eddie grabbed your face with both hands and gave you a loud kiss on your lips.

“Menace. Is it because you’re in need?”

“It just might be,” you mused. Eddie nodded and got up from his chair, his arousal already evident in his pants.

“Alright. I’ll clean up here, you head upstairs. I’ll be with you soon.”

You shook your head and got up as well, taking both your plates towards the sink.

“Not yet baby, we literally just ate.”

“Hmmmh fine. I suppose I can wait for my dessert a little longer,” Eddie sighed dramatically, but not before his hand briefly slipped between your legs for a teasing squeeze.

“Ed!” As you tried squirming out of his grip, Eddie pushed you against the counter, his hands on your waist, thumbs pushing under the fabric of your shirt. His lips grazed your neck and as much as your exclaim had tried to slow him down, your body reacted a total opposite. Heat made its way straight to your core as he nudged his hips into you, rocking slowly while he kissed your jawline.

“Wanna eat you out so badly sweetheart. Need’a taste,” he whispered against your skin. As his hands worked their way up, the friction his hips created made you whimper slightly. His hands gently cupped your breasts and you had to bite down a moan. You had felt worked up for so long that his voice did a number on you (more than usual) and his warm breath tickled your skin.

“Keep talking like that and there’s no need, babe,” you groaned.

“Oh? Sweet pussy’s all wet for me already, huh?” Eddie muttered softly, lips briefly brushing yours. Another whimper left your lips. That bastard. He smirked at your reaction and brought his lips close to your ear again. “You do realize that whether or not you come right now, my dessert’s still waiting for me behind those soaked panties, sweetheart?”

And just like that, he moved back and resumed cleaning up the table as if he hadn’t just riled you up fifty times the amount you already had been. It had actually been like… ten, but seeing him all dirty from work added another five. You couldn’t help it. With all of his latest efforts, you were ready to jump him on the spot.

“I’ll be upstairs,” you announced tight-lipped and you noticed the hint of a smile on Eddie’s face just as he turned away from you.

“Good girl.”

*-*

As you lay there, you wondered whether you should just take off your clothes already. Get it out of the way. You listened to the distant noise of pots and pans being put back into their respectful places and sighed to yourself. It felt impossible to relax despite the fact that you and Eddie had had sex lots of times. Lots. Of. Times. You were simply nervous because you didn’t know what to expect. He was a god at eating you out, treating your cunt like it was his last meal every time he indulged himself. He always made it sound like it was his treat rather than yours. Thinking about his tongue between your legs made you squirm and you wondered what his plan was to “replace your vibrator”. You knew he had ambition for the weirdest things (you loved him for it), but this was a new one.

Just as you were pushing your leggings down your legs, Eddie walked in. You hadn’t even heard him walk up the stairs.

“Starting the striptease without me? How dare you,” Eddie tutted as he sat on the edge of the bed, enjoying how him watching you made you squirm. It would simply never bore him. You shook your head.

“Not a striptease. Just a girl trying to get out of her goddamn leggings before her boyfriend showed up.”

“Strip for me anyway, though?”

It wasn’t a question even if he made it sound like one. Eddie’s eyes watched you intently as you rid yourself of your leggings, socks joining in before you started on your T-shirt.

“Everything?”

“All of it. Wanna have free range to play with your tits baby.”

His hands already worked up and down your calves, fingertips inching closer to your panties every time he passed your knees. By the time you had lost every piece of clothing on your top half, his fingers finally curled around your panties and pulled them down. Your arousal was clear as day and Eddie moaned at the sight. Once he had taken them off, he gave you one look before he stretched the fabric with both hands and took one, broad lick of your juices that had leaked onto it. He closed his eyes as he did it, moaned when he tasted you on his tongue. And this was only the beginning.

Eddie put your panties aside and stripped himself all the way down but left his boxers on. He nudged you to scooch up and spread your legs generously so he could properly lay down between them, headfirst.

The first time you felt his lips between your legs was when he kissed your inner thigh. Slowly, with purpose. His tongue dragged over your skin and his eyes fluttered shut just like yours did. As impatient as you often felt, you would rarely complain and tell him to hurry up. There was something sweet and highly arousing about watching him kiss every sweet spot of your thighs. He loved your curves, loved that he could dig his hand in and give it a jiggle. It used to embarrass you until Eddie got upset on behalf of your thighs as they were the most glorious thighs he had ever seen. He made you learn to slowly love yourself. How could you not, when a guy like him, when your Eddie, treated your body like his treasure? Self loathing came more difficult when your boyfriend seemed to melt at the sight of you. Got hot and bothered at your slightest touch and looked at you as if you were his dream come true.

You were in such a daze while enjoying his love, the lips that expressed them as you gazed at his eyes that were closed from pure enjoyment, that you didn’t notice he had reached the middle. Despite his gentle start, you still jolted when he licked a featherlight stripe over your pussy lips, matching the groan that left his mouth as well. He was too eager and indulged himself immediately, licking away strongly as you gasped and tried to remain somewhat human as your soul left your body.

“E-Eddie— fuck—”

Your voice brought him back down from cloud nine and he rested his cheek on your thigh as he pulled away slightly after a last, teasing lick.

“What setting do you want? Soft, hard, pulsating? Something else I don’t know about?”

A disbelieving chuckle left your lips. He was really serious about this, wasn’t he? As he waited for your response, his hand massages your other thigh, thumb inching closer to your core. He loved to tease.

“How are you even— I like to start slow, work my way up,” you told him softly, knowing there was no way out of this. Your cheeks warmed up as it felt that you were spilling a dirty secret despite him knowing nearly everything about you already. Ever since you started to get intimate with Eddie, communication has always been a priority for the both of you. Eddie simply nodded, lifted his head off your thigh and leaned in, inhaling your scent with a sigh before he nudged his tongue against your clit. You had no idea how he did it, but he was doing it. His tongue moved so quickly against you, yet with the gentle pressure of a low vibration setting, that it felt quite similar. Except… wetter. Warmer. Better. Your back arched, your hand flew to his hair and a warm chuckle escaped Eddie at the confirmation that he was doing something right. His grip on your thighs tightened as he wrapped his arms around, pushing your legs wider and keeping them in place.

“Oh god, Eddie!”

You squirmed under his touch and you could feel your juices mixed with his saliva drip down between your ass cheeks onto the mattress. The very mattress Eddie was currently gently grinding his hips against. His lips wrapped around your clit to suck on it and it was almost too much if it hadn’t been for the fact that he pulled away from you and made you buck your hips against nothing. He took your hand in his and guided it to his other hand, tapping the dents between his knuckles one by one.

“Left for softer, middle for harder, right for pulsating.” He traced a circle on top of his hand with your finger. “Do that for a surprise and lastly, flat hand on mine means stop. Oh, and use my hair to drag me up or down. ‘Kay?”

You nodded, though you felt compelled to mention that you could also just tell him these things. He smiled knowingly and shook his head.

“Toys don’t talk, baby. Nor do they understand your pleads for mercy. I’m just your toy for the moment, doing whatever it is you like.”

As if those words already didn’t nearly make you come on the spot. You nodded again, rested your hand near his own as he took hold of your thighs again, only this time he didn’t keep you in place. Tentatively, you tapped the dent between his first and second knuckle. Immediately Eddie dove back in with enthusiasm. His tongue flicked over your sensitive bud countless times and sure enough, when you tangled your hand in his hair to push him down he complied instantly. His tongue dragged through your folds and you could feel a faint buzzing whenever his nose happened to hit your clit. Curiously, you moved your finger between his second and third knuckle.

“Oh fuck!”

Setting one was nothing compared to setting two. It had you clawing the sheets and it took you everything not to immediately squish your legs together. You moved your hips against his face without holding back and a barely suppressed moan left Eddie’s lips. You had half the mind to smile to yourself, as toys also don’t moan, but you knew he’d moan ten times as much had it been any other situation. The guy loved eating your pussy.

“N-Normally I imagine how you moan against me, it’s so— hot, when you do that. It’s like I can almost hear it.”

Eddie’s brows furrowed just a little, as if he was thinking, considering… His moans slowly started to pick up and his hips rutted the bed harder.

“That’s it, god that’s it, oh god—”

Your lingering smile quickly disappeared when your finger had, apparently, unknowingly dragged a circle over his hand. Your vibrator definitely didn’t have this setting. He spit straight onto your clit and sucked it between his lips. Without losing suction, his tongue grazed over it in rapid speed making you moan loud enough for the whole block to hear you despite your closed windows.

“Eddie, Ed, fuuuuck baby please!”

You could only chant his name as your orgasm washed over you with an intensity you had never experienced. Your legs squeezed together while you rode his face, hand guiding his head by grasping his locks not too gently. He groaned softly, loving how you used him until it became too sensitive. Normally Eddie would move away from you at the perfect time, knowing your bodily reactions well enough to know when to pull himself off. Except… he didn’t stop this time. You let go of his hair but his tongue followed when you attempted to move and you desperately tried to remember the sign for stop in your dazed state. Was it two fingers between his knuckles? Your legs started to shake as he started to slowly pulsate his tongue against your clit. Wrong gesture. Had this one even been mentioned? Was it a combination? Another attempt got him to speed it up and your hand flew back to his head again as you tried to pull him off. Apparently that was not part of any setting.

“I f-forgot—” you mewled and the softest chuckle left him. “I’m- I’m gonna—”

A second orgasm followed quickly and you grasped his hand desperately, finally making him stop. He selfishly delayed moving back completely by noisily lapping up all of your juices first, as he simply couldn’t help himself. His bangs stuck to his forehead and his whole face gleamed in a mixture of sweat and come. He crawled upwards and laid down next to you, taking you in with a lazy smile before he wiped off his chin with the back of his hand and gave you a kiss. You kissed him back eagerly, your fucked out state wanting nothing more than his sweet touches now. His hand came up to cup one of your breasts and he gently started playing with it. Squeezed and jiggled it, flicked his thumb over your nipple until it hardened again. He often played with them when you were both just relaxing in bed, or the couch, or wherever else his hand would naturally be close (in a private setting - most of the time).

“Hey baby,” he whispered softly before pressing another kiss on your cheek this time. “Forgot to play with your tits so I’m catching up now. You mind? Don’t want them to feel neglected.”

You were still catching your breath so you simply nodded and relaxed your head against his shoulder. His hand occasionally moved from one breast to another, his tongue poking out in concentration sometimes.

“What about you?”

Eddie looked down at his underwear that didn’t really reveal anything at the moment and smiled bashfully, his face disappearing into your neck out of shyness.

“Uh. Eating you out was enough for me baby.”

A smile teased your lips and you combed your fingers through his hair. You left kisses along his temple and let your hand wander down his chest to his stomach. His breath hitched just a little and when your hand disappeared into his boxers and you wrapped your hand around his half hard erection which was slick from the come that had dripped down. He bit your neck and whimpered.

“I think you’ve got one more in you, what do you say baby?” Your whisper had him buck his hips into your hand. His teeth sunk in harder followed by licks to soften the burn and his voice was more of a whine when he spoke.

“Please.”

———————————————————

You were watching a movie, but you weren’t exactly watching it. Your eyes were focused on the screen, sure. But your mind was with the cock your hand was wrapped around while your thumb spread around the precome that had gathered at the top. Not only that, your mind was also very much with the fingers teasing your clit menacingly slow. You both loved to spend about a whole movie duration teasing each other before you had sex. You didn’t always last until the end of the movie before you hurried to the bedroom and sometimes all the action happened while some talk show ran its course. Today it was a matter about who would give in first. Judging by Eddie’s short bursts of breaths, you guessed it would probably be him.

Your mind wandered off to two weeks ago, when he decided to be your vibrator for a day. You have had plenty of sex since then, but not… Like that. That had been something else. He had bought you a new one shortly after, with all kinds of new functions you hadn’t even tried. Your distraction was noticeable in your actions as your hand slacked in movement and Eddie tilted his head to the side as he impatiently bucked up into your hand once.

“Where’s your pretty head at?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Uh-huh, gathered. ‘Bout what?”

“Well… now that you got me a new vibrator… Does that mean you’ll be out of service?” You asked him with big doe eyes. Eddie snorted and bit his lip to let his self satisfactory grin pop up a little slower.

“Baby, the Munsonator is at your service anytime you want. Just let me know so I can down some caffeine first,” he told you with a hand on his chest and a salesman grin.

“Munsonator?” You giggled and Eddie slapped your clit playfully, making you yelp. He scolded you softly.

“Don’t laugh. I believe you gave it a 20/10 review last time. Better get used to the name cause it ain’t changing.”

You stroked him a little tighter, making him whimper and look at you offended. A shrug.

“You slapped first.”

“But you like that, baby.”

You glanced at him seriously and slowly but deliberately spread a new serve of precome around the head.

“So do you, it seems.”

“When you squeeze me like a tube of toothpaste? Of course something slips.”

“Mhm sure,” you sighed and loosened your grip to the point that you were barely touching him. He only lasted about fifteen seconds before he started to complain and searched for friction by moving his hips around.

“Oh come on, baby.”

You continued.

“Sweetheart.”

A smirk teased your lips but you didn’t budge. Suddenly, the phone went off and Eddie got up to pick it up but not before slicking his fingers through your folds and sucking them clean as he walked away with a shit-eating grin at the sudden whimper that left you. You couldn’t follow the conversation but when Eddie returned, it was obvious he wasn’t happy.

“Rain check, princess. Idiot Gareth’s car won’t start. I bet he barely even tried. Asked if I could pick him up at a bar he just called from. So…”

Eddie palmed himself, the head of his dick still poking out above his waistband from the half assed attempt to pull them up just now.

“Shit. Why did he have to call, man,” he groaned, rubbing his free hand over his face. You wordlessly beckoned him closer with your fingers and the subtlest hint of a smile and mischievous glint in his eyes popped onto his face. Once he stood in front of you, your face was lined up perfectly with his cock as it had many times before in that exact position. He cupped your face, smirk widening as he rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Gonna help me out real quick, sweetheart?”

A teasing grin grew on your face as you nodded. “Didn’t tell you to come here for no reason big boy,” you mumbled while your hands already pulled his boxers back down. As you moved your hand towards his mouth, he knew to spit and did so after licking your hand. Just because he could. You rolled your eyes lovingly and started pumping his hard length with the slick that he had gathered for you and soon enough he threw his head back with a groan. His hand flew to your hair, keeping you in place as he thrust himself forward. He looked down, eyes lustful. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth.

“Can I please fuck your face baby, please please please?”

Three quick taps against his thigh sufficed for your answer and he wasted no time thrusting his hips back and forth into your warm mouth. Whenever he took control, he often didn’t last long. Got the job done with an overwhelming enthusiasm. He could do it slowly, obviously, but in situations like these the goal was to come quickly. He whimpered, words leaving his lips hard to decipher as he got closer to his release.

Hips stuttered as his breath hitched, a groan loud enough to wake the neighbor’s hamster escaped his lips as he released himself into your mouth.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuck,” he was rambling now, chasing the remnants of his high as he scrunched his brows together. “FUCK. Baby…” It was a near whine that slipped from his lips when you let go of him with a pop of your lips and licked him clean from whatever cum had slipped past. He cradled your cheek, watching in awe as he nearly always did. Always in disbelief that you were his.

“Now, off you go,” you told him with a sweet smile before you pulled your shorts back on and got up from the couch to give him a kiss. You knew he wanted it. The man loved tasting himself on your tongue. Before Eddie could lose himself in your kiss, hands digging harshly into your sides, you leaned back and pecked him one last time on the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll make it up to you tenfold when I get back. Promise. ‘Kay?” He gave you a nod for emphasis.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And waiting you did. 30 minutes turned into an hour, an hour turned into two. It wasn’t the first time that a quick visit to Gareth turned into a whole evening and normally you wouldn’t mind as much. But he promised. Besides, you had no idea what to do with dinner now. Did he have some yet? Were you getting takeout? Should you just order for yourself? You were slightly worried, but since it had happened before you tried to shake it off. Since you weren’t really hungry, but still quite horny (thanks for nothing, Eddie), you made your way to the bedroom and grabbed your brand new vibrator. Well, brand new save for a few times. You were still getting used to all the extra functions the old one didn’t have. The fact that it wasn’t just a straight stick but rather one that aligned better with your body was also new to you. It was easier and more comfortable to insert and it even came with a part that hit your clit just right simultaneously. To top it all, it had a suction function you found a little intense still and five vibrational settings instead of three. Eddie had really gone all out with getting you a new one.

Once you made yourself comfortable, you started by using just your hand at first, gathering slick from between your folds to spread all over to help the toy along in its movement. Upon trying the suctioning again, your hips bucked as the feeling brought you back to Eddie’s lips wrapped around your clit, sucking gently. Your hips bucked again involuntarily and gasps escaped your lips as you found the perfect angle to pleasure yourself on all your favorite spots. With your free hand, you teased your nipples to become even harder and you let your legs slack onto the bed. Moans left your lips with smaller intervals, the intensity of the toy picking up.

You didn’t hear him come in and loudly complain about Gareth. Moaning his name became your one and only priority and only when you suddenly felt a pair of lips wrap around your free nipple, your eyes opened. You were so close when he kissed you feverishly, tongues fighting for dominance as his hand wandered down to your core. With a quick but sudden motion he swatted the vibrator away, leaving it to gently buzz elsewhere on the bed. The helpless whimper that left you would have left him feeling guilty if he hadn’t already planned to blow your mind. He wandered down with ease to take over what he had taken away moments before and with only his tongue he managed to give you the most intense orgasm you had had in weeks. He overstimulated you a little until you begged him to stop and something told you he was punishing you for continuing on your own.

“Eddie, please,” you whimpered, hand tugging on his hair not too gently. He smirked and kissed his way back up your body until he could lay down next to you at eye level. His eyes met yours, hand coming up to smooth down your hip. The buzzing of the vibrator entered his mind again and he briefly scowled as he reached back to turn it off.

“What do you have that I don’t, huh?” He mumbled to the vibrator as he moved it around in his hand. He couldn’t help but wonder about it all. A smile played on your lips.

“You should try it. I bet it can feel good for you too.”

Eddie turned his head in surprise, cheeks heating up as he put the vibrator back down on the bed. It was as if you had read his mind.

“Uh…”

“If you want to, of course. I mean… it’s pretty great but if it’s not your thing—”

Eddie shook his head a little too eagerly for someone who had never thought about using a vibrator on himself. You figured as much, with all the “subtle” questions he’d had about it.

“No, no, I want to, I just… I thought maybe you’d find it… weird?” he said hesitantly, trying to avoid your gaze a little.

“Why would I find it weird?”

A shrug.

“Because.”

“Baby, I’d find it hot.”

Eddie lifted his head again, looking at you for sincerity. To make sure you weren’t making fun of him. He knew you wouldn’t, you would never. But still.

“Really?” He sounded hopeful and it was at that moment you were certain he had been curious for a while. You took his hand in his and nodded.

“Really. So hot. Wanna see you fall apart when you use it. Maybe… I could use it on you sometime. But you should probably explore yourself first, I think.” you told him softly. His fingers pressed against yours until they slid between the gaps and he sighed, eyes on your interlocked hands.

“Dunno about that. I kinda like the idea of you being with me, guiding me through it or whatever.” He was properly blushing now and he looked quite endearing.

“Baby. I’d love nothing more.”

His shoulders sagged in relief and he gave you the sweetest kiss.

“Alright, then I really want to try it.”

FIN

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfics #stranger things fanfics

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ethicaltreatmentofcowplants · 3 months ago

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Asylum Challenge: Day 12

(Nothing to see here - just Vlad very excitedly browsing through Trendi by the looks of his current get-up)

This was the first of three days where Wicked Whims... kind of got out of hand until everyone figured out what they were into, I guess 🤔. Also I realised that I'd set the lot to the FLIRTY trait for one day and forgot about it which was... a chaotic combination to put it mildly.

So while nothing explicit will be shown, just something to keep in mind, I guess?

Look at her, look at her, she's no good at yoga. I had considered a Spa Day pack aspiration, since Lilac will likely need the inner peace going forward, but then I saw how grindy they all were.

So... Lady of the Knits!

Level One: Humble Knitter

❌ Knit for 5 Hours (2/5) ❌ Start 3 Knitting Projects While Inspired (0/3) ✅ Knit on a Rocking Chair

No, she isn't Whims related below the waist - it's just flesh toned underwear. (I had to take a second look too.)

Another early riser (easy for someone who doesn't need to go to bed) was Vlad. Along with Rory. The two... well, one occult heavyweight, and one tissueweight, actually managed to have a civil moment, perhaps with music loving Rory appreciating Vlad's skill on the piano.

Oh wait, L. is up. There goes the ceasefire, if not the entire neighbourhood.

Meanwhile the Roswells had a moment over breakfast. Could a GOOD traited Sim and her EVIL husband ever make their marriage work? Now that they're played Sims, apparently not.

While Lilac took a THOUGHTFUL SHOWER to get those creative juices flowing (takes on a whole new meaning with this mod 😬), Jacques woke up in a sad mood thanks to those voices in his head.

Clearly whatever leftover gourmet dish that Raj made the night before was the only cure.

Meanwhile Ted apparently tried to enlist Vlad in order to sway Meredith over to their EVIL ways, but as Vlad was seemingly more interested in having Ted's opinion on his potential Trendi buys, it wasn't working. Thanks to their POSSESSED late night strolls and chats, Ted is the one person in the household other than Lilac who has a positive relationship with Vlad.

As unlike L., for the most part Vlad is actually trying to be cordial to most of the household, the Watcher does lowkey feel sorry for him about this.

THOUGHTFUL SHOWER did the trick, and Lilac was able to start her three inspired knitting projects! Since that glitch where you can't resume projects is still hanging around, she wasn't able to finish them, but we'll take any loophole that we can get.

Rory started a new freelance career as a programmer (great way to work on her handiness too being a werewolf I guess 👍) while Meredith apparently didn't get the memo that On Wednesdays, We Do Crafting Hour.

Lilac kindly pointed out that mixology with the globe bar just over there would count as a creative skill. Perhaps as a result of her less than stellar relationship with Ted, Meredith appears to have decided that yes, actually a drink sounds real good right about now.

Ted literally could have gone and done anything else in the house, but instead he goes and plays Road Warrior or whatever near where Rory is trying to work, and freaks out because he's next to a transformed woof-woof. I don't think that Rory's the problem here...

Raj seemingly did not appreciate the Watcher telling him to make himself useful and to take out the trash.

It must have frozen over in Tartosa and the gameplay hell that is the My Wedding Stories pack, because L. was actually nice to Lilac! Oh right, the Watcher got her to 'scope the surroundings,' and Lilac is apparently 'very attractive' to her too.

The Watcher set the one person in the household who doesn't need to eat on the task of cooking dinner, mainly so that he's close by so that I can cancel his autonomously eating it when he has the vampire weakness where food makes him sick. Because he has a knowledge related aspiration, he's actually at a decent culinary level.

Looks like L.'s niceness allotment for the year is about to expire.

Ted and Jacques were impressed with Raj's alleged unaliving of a workplace rival, offered to recruit him to the round table of villainy. He said that he's good, thank you.

Yup, L.'s niceness streak aged like warm milk. And a reminder that she thinks Lilac is hot too!

While Vlad wisely stayed out of things by doing the dishes (he acquired the NEAT trait at some point, which is very useful to have in the household's vampire), Rory must have taken issue with L.'s meanness, because next minute they went outside, Rory was walking in with a spring in her step and L. was bruised and battered.

Just how long is it going to take these apparent occult geniuses to learn not to forbidden word with Rory?

Lilac must have been especially appreciative of her shieldmaiden in furry armour, because well. This was the one animation it was safe to show you. In fairness, it's a pretty cute one.

In less exciting news, Lilac is now on the second stage of the Knitting aspiration.

Level Two: Thread Setter

❌ Achieve Level 4 of the Knitting Skill (3/4) ❌ Knit While Listening to Music ❌ Sell a Knitted Object on Plopsy

My head is feeling full and gluggy so I may post the next couple of days in a few hours.

#my sims #lilac moon #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 gameplay #asylum challenge #sims 4 asylum #vladislaus straud #rory oaklow #l. faba #meredith roswell #ted roswell #jacques villareal #raj rasoya

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k3nofficial · 5 days ago

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Health & Wellness Journey....

Good morning Angels! Let me just start off by saying I am soo happy with how far I've come in the last couple of weeks. Being realistic I've had my days but what I've noticed is my bad days don't turn into bad weeks anymore. Before if I had a bad day I would bring it into the next day and sabotage my entire week because of that one bad day. Now I'm able to almost completely reset at the start of a new day which is crucial.

Yesterdays recap:

I meal prepped for the week. All anti inflammatory meals and protein focused. Baked sweet potato bites, honey lemon shrimp, salmon salad, and white rice. Today I plan to put together some more things. Like little fruit salads with fruit that's already chopped and washed off for a quick snack, Overnight Oats for breakfast, Broccoli for lunch and dinner sides. Last but not least my gut and immunity shots. Consisting of Oranges, Ginger, Turmeric, Lemon juice, and Black pepper. If time permits I also want to make some chicken that I could eat for lunch and dinner.

I'm so so glad I did this I just know it's gonna make my week a lot easier. This was also my first time meal prepping so I'm very excited.

Todays morning recap:

Breakfast- Scrambled eggs w/ tomato's, green peppers, onions, and cheese. Chicken Sausage and Strawberries. A cup of green tea with lemon (and made my matcha after).

Wrote in my Gratitude journal & did my morning prayer.

Taking my vitamins after I upload this :)

Started on laundry (starting with my sheets).

I started my morning a little differently today. I woke up took the sheets off my bed and hopped in the shower. I'm normally a shower at night gal, But I wanted to try showering in the morning to see if it helps start my day with a better energy. I think it did. I felt more ready to start the day and get things done. I was moving a lot quicker too! I'm probably am still going to shower tonight because I need to work out today. Being honest I haven't done a workout in like 3 days :( I'm not proud of it but I'll get there. We're getting the basement done and its gonna have a gym so hopefully that will help having a dedicated place to go and workout in. In the meantime I do wanna get in the habitat of getting some sort of physical fitness in because I know it will help me so much!

Anyway girlies it's Sunday Reset!

Change Sheets.

Deep Clean bathroom.

Deep Clean room (including vacuuming & wiping down surfaces).

Finish Laundry (and put away if time permits).

Take out trash.

Clean up kitchen.

The best part of Sunday reset is waking up the next morning with a clean space and a clear mind. Anyway... That's all for now! Sending peace and love through the screen! 😘

#healingjourney #self growth #self improvement #journaling #becoming her #becoming that girl #it girl #glow up #health and wellness

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guilty-pleasures21 · 8 months ago

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Yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!! You SUCK!

I've been reading up on Spiderman lore so I can fix the whole Miles storyline in this series ... but oh my god, guys, it's so complicated 😫. And also, I'm not too familiar with most of the characters because I'm a DC fan, so actually, I'm thinking of cheating a bit 🫢 ...

6. Sigh. You're trash, you know that?

Part 1 - the machine

Part 2 - the period

Part 3 - the sparring

Part 4 - the socks

Part 5 - the sick day

Warnings: descriptions of depression.

----------------------------------------------------------

She curled up in the corner of the sofa, her every movement feeling like she was pushing through jelly. She tilted her head to the side and a warm tear fell loose from the corner of her eye.

“¡Hola, querida!” Miguel greeted her as he stepped out of a portal and into her living room. He deactivated his mask, revealing his beaming smile to her, then his expression fell when he saw the miserable look on her face. “X?”

His heart thudded rapidly in his chest as he rushed over to her and knelt down by her side. She clutched her pillow tighter to her chest and he felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her trying to hide her features from him. “Querida … ¿Qué pasa, mi amor? (Darling ... What's wrong, my love?)”

Great, now she’d ruined his entire day and made her own mood worse by forcing him to worry about her. Why couldn’t he just … not care? Why couldn’t he just overlook her mood and pretend that nothing was wrong? She pressed her pillow to her face and sucked in a deep breath, trying to push the negative thoughts out of her mind: she had to get used to allowing someone to look after her now, without beating down on herself for being a burden. Her sweeter-than-caramel boyfriend had never made her feel like a burden - even when they hadn’t even been dating yet - so she had to stop thinking of herself in that way too. She sat up and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, still hugging her pillow to her chest.

“I’m okay. I think I’m just getting my period soon. I’ll be fine, I just …” She swallowed down the lump in her throat and glanced away, unable to stand the concerned look on his face. But that wasn’t fair to him: he’d been through so much already, and she’d finally made him feel safe enough to be soft with her. She wasn’t going to take that away from him now. She forced herself to turn back to him and brushed her fingers across his cheek tenderly. “Go take a shower, Miguel. You should relax. Let me get your dinner ready.”

Her voice was so soft as she spoke, so defeated. It was even worse than that time she’d asked him to go to the supermarket with her. She stood up to head to the kitchen, but he lay his arms by her legs and leaned over her, holding her down on the sofa. “Querida.”

Miguel looked up at her with wide eyes and she felt the pressure begin building behind her eyes again. He reached up to wipe the tears off her cheeks and she sniffed softly.

“I want to take care of you,” he continued gently. “How can I help?”

Her heart swelled in her chest and she inhaled deeply to try to stop another round of tears from spilling down her cheeks. She took his face in her hands and leaned forward to meet his gaze. “You can help me by going to take a shower.”

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then stood up and waited for him to do the same. Miguel pushed himself to his feet and turned to face her, taking her hands in his. He gave her a questioning look and she returned it with a soft smile. He guided her arms around his neck and pulled her into his chest, resting his head on her shoulder as he did so. “Are you gonna be okay? I’ll be quick.”

X gave a soft snicker and pushed against his chest, signalling for him to loosen his grip on her. She looked up at him, her expression a little less tense now that she was in his soothing embrace.

“Don’t be quick, Miguel. Take as long as you want,” she instructed him, sliding her arms back around his neck and hugging him tight. “I want you to take care of yourself so you can take care of me. Just for a bit. Is that okay?”

She pulled back to look up at him in question and he cupped her cheek in his hand, his gaze travelling over her features carefully.

“Of course it’s okay, querida,” he reassured her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “I want to take care of you.” She’d been so sweet to him, so loving and so patient, and all he wanted to do was show her how much it meant to him to be given such an important place in her life.

“And I want to take care of you too,” she replied quickly, the knot in her stomach slowly beginning to untangle itself. She stroked Miguel’s cheek gently, then stretched onto her toes and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “But we’re going to have to take turns. Some days, I’m going to need more support and some days, you’re going to need more support. We just need to make sure to communicate properly.”

She shrugged, like it was no big deal that he’d finally found someone who thought it just as important to look after him as he did for them; someone who made it so easy to share the burden with, the both of them supporting each other equally. He sighed, his shoulder slumping as he relaxed at her firm tone: she could take care of herself. She didn’t have to, not now that she had him to do it for her, but he could take a breath knowing that she’d be fine even if he wasn’t there to keep an eye on her every second of the day. He took a step and nodded.

“Vale,” he relented before pulling her back to him to press another kiss to the top of her head. He released her, then turned around to start heading to the bathroom. But he stopped when he reached the door to her bedroom, hesitating as he curled his fingers around the frame. “¿Querida? Are you okay to help me with my dinner?”

“Of course!” she replied before he could even think to feel ashamed for having to ask her to care for him. His expression softened as he looked at her and he smiled before disappearing into the shower. X walked over to the kitchen to begin preparing his food, that slight bounce returning to her step again.

She lay ramrod straight on her back, trying not to fidget and wake her boyfriend up. He’d gotten up early to go on a mission, then almost fallen asleep on the sofa earlier after dinner. She turned her head to check if he was asleep and released a breath when she saw the peaceful expression on his face. She resisted the urge to reach over and run her fingers through his hair, not wanting to disturb his sleep. Instead, she sighed and slipped out from underneath his arm.

He patted the bed, searching for the small and soft form of his little girlfriend. But all his hand met was empty mattress. Miguel frowned and opened one eye to look at her.

“Querida,” he mumbled, pushing himself to a seat when he saw her standing by the bed. “¿Qué pasa, amor? (What happened, love?)”

“I’m fine!” X whispered quickly, holding her hands up in reassurance. “Just go to sleep, Miguel! I’ll be back in a bit.” He rubbed his eye and she felt her chest warm at the sight of his tousled waves. He was so cute when he was sleepy.

“Where are you going?” Miguel asked, his voice heavy with sleep. It made her want to crawl back into bed and just curl up in his arms. She pulled her gaze away from his and cast her eyes down, shuffling on the spot guiltily.

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted, glancing up at him nervously to gauge his reaction.

She wanted to take a pill; he could tell by the ashamed look on her face. But what did she have to feel ashamed about? It wasn’t her fault that her body worked a little differently to the majority’s. “Go take a pill, querida. I’ll wait. Do you need anything else?”

She bit down on her grateful smile, her heart fluttering at how fully he accepted her. She shook her head in response and zipped out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Miguel sat back against the pillows and closed his eyes as he waited for her. He didn’t have to wait long, however, because she was quickly sliding back under the covers and tugging on his shirt to pull him back down beside her. He shuffled down the bed again and wrapped her up in his arms tightly, quickly falling back to sleep as he cuddled her against him.

Gwen tapped her fingers on the countertop, thinking. “Hey, so, have you guys ever been to Earth-1?”

Hobie straightened and shut the fridge door as he twisted his head to look back at her. He shook his head around the pear in his mouth and Gwen turned to Pav for an answer instead.

“Nope,” Pav replied, uncrossing his legs and swinging them over the edge of the island in the pantry. “We’re not allowed to.”

“What?” Gwen asked, even more curious now about the alternate dimension. “Why?”

“It’s impossible,” Hobie corrected, resting his elbows on the countertop as he swallowed the bite of his pear. “It exists in a different part of space or something.” He sank his teeth back into the fruit and took another bite of it, the sounds of his crunching filling the air around them.

“I thought Miguel said something about brains?” Pav pointed out, his features scrunched in concentration as he tried to recall what exactly Miguel had told them when they'd asked.

Gwen’s gaze bounced between the two boys, utterly bewildered now. “What?”

“Oh!” Pav’s eyes lit up with excitement as he realised a possible solution. “We can always always ask X! She’s really good at explaining things. I asked her for help with my chemistry homework once and she taught me how to read the entire periodic table! I haven’t gotten less than an eighty five on any test since!” Hobie nodded in agreement as Pav hopped off the table and gestured for them to follow him.

She'd been in a much calmer mood when she'd woken up that morning - even just half of her sleeping pill was enough to muffle her thoughts for three days. Miguel had suggested she follow him to HQ, still too concerned to let her out of his sight, and she'd agreed without putting up much of a fight - she knew she'd just laze around the house then feel bad for wasting the weekend away otherwise. He hadn't needed her for anything specifically though, and she'd wanted to take a break from the lab after having been stuck in one all last week at work, so she'd gone to the games room instead to continue playing one of the adventure games she'd started on a few weeks ago.

“X?” Pav inquired, poking his head into the room to look for her. X glanced up quickly to flash him a welcoming smile before she returned her attention to the screen. Pav strolled into the room, the other teenagers following behind him. “Are you busy?”

“Just … one … second …” X replied, frantically smashing the buttons on the controller. She exhaled in delight when she completed the level, then she paused the game before turning to the others. “Yup! What's up?”

“We wanted to ask why we can't travel to Earth-1,” Pav inquired point blank.

“Oh.” X pursed her lips and tilted her head as he thought about it. Then she smiled. “Eldritch horror.”

The three teens shot her confused looks and she stood up, her mood elevating as her brain chewed over the explanation. “Okay, so Earth-1 is where all the … ‘creators’ are. It’s like, if I wrote a story, or I just came up with one in my head, I become the Earth-1 to all of those worlds.”

She paused to check if they were following, but found all of them shooting her with bewildered expressions.

“So,” Gwen began, uncertain, “are you saying that we’re all created by someone else? Like, am I just a story?” She shifted uncomfortably, her unease growing as she considered the theory. X bit her lip, trying to find a more digestible way to phrase it.

“Er, sort of. Oh!” Her eyes lit up as she landed on another analogy. “It's like God, right? You can't visit your own God.” The room fell into silence again as everyone tried to process her words.

“Then … if we all exist in different people’s minds,” Pav began slowly, “how can we visit each other?”

“Well, it’s like when you share your story with someone else, right?” X replied easily. “Then that world exists in their mind now too.”

“Oh. Okay,” Pav finally relented. “It sounds simple enough.”

“So …” Gwen interrupted, still dissatisfied. She clutched her head as she tried to process the information she'd just been given. “We all exist on a different plane, and then anyone I come up with exists on a different plane too?”

X nodded and Gwen hung her head, looking sick. “Ugh, I think I’m going to throw up.”

X grinned and scooted closer to Gwen to give her a reassuring pat on the back. “Hey, don’t worry about it! You just focus on your school and being a teenager and stuff. You’ve already got a million problems to deal with without adding another one to your plate. We’ve got you.”

Gwen looked up and felt her lips reflexively curling at the ends in response to the warm smile X was giving her. She didn't think she was ready yet to completely trust someone else with her burdens, but it still felt nice to know someone cared enough to pose the offer. “Thank you.”

X shrugged like it was no big deal, validating the lonely teen’s problems and giving her a safe place she could go to. But it was so much more than a big deal for Gwen.

Pav grinned and folded his arms across his chest. “I told you she was good.”

X raised an eyebrow in question. “At what?”

“Explaining stuff,” Pav replied. “Miguel always makes everything so complicated.”

X smiled mischievously at the mention of her boyfriend - she'd never get sick of calling him that. Well, maybe until they decided to get married; then she wouldn't be able to wait until she could call him her husband. Her body heated up at the thought. “He's a complicated guy.”

Hobie snorted at her teasing and rolled his eyes in agreement. “Ain’t that the truth.”

X immediately feigned a frown, her lips continuing to twitch at the ends in spite of the furrow of her brow.

“Hey! Don’t bully my boyfriend!” she chastised him, letting the smile take over her face fully. “Only I get to do that. And maybe PB.”

“As you wish, princess,” Hobie snickered, delighting in the way X wrinkled her nose at his teasing.

“Ugh! You’re so annoying, Hobie,” she groaned.

He twirled her hair around his finger as they sat together on the sofa, watching TV. She'd gotten her period yesterday, so her mood had elevated drastically since then. He'd been relieved to find that she'd returned to her usual cheery self again, but he had to keep reminding himself to not make too much of a fuss out of it. It was a constant thing she'd always have to deal with, she'd explained to him patiently, and he'd tire himself out if he invested so much energy into worrying about her every single time. He shifted in position, moving his arm so it curled around her waist instead, then he slid his gaze over to her to gauge her reaction: she was still focused on the television. Perfect. He snuck his fingers beneath her shirt, brushing them lightly along her skin and she tensed up immediately. Miguel raised an eyebrow at her response and leaned over to murmur in her ear.

“You're pretty stiff, cariño.” He pressed a kiss to her neck and slid his hand higher up her side. “Maybe-”

X interrupted him with a squeak as she grabbed his wrist to stop him. Miguel straightened and shot her a quizzical look, his heart starting to thud in his chest nervously. “X? What's wrong?”

“Nothing!” X replied quickly, releasing her hold on him and turning to face him. “I just … Um, I don’t feel very comfortable today. ‘Cause of my period? So, is it okay if we, um, maybe not have sex today? Is that okay?” She wrung her hands and winced as she waited for his response. Miguel shot her an incredulous look.

“Of course it’s okay!” he assured her, confused by the question. Why would she think she even needed to ask?! “Why wouldn’t it be?” X fidgeted with her fingers, embarrassed.

“I don't know! I mean … I just thought …” She glanced up at him and her gaze began bouncing between him and her hands as she spoke. “I mean, we have sex, like, all the time. I just thought that, maybe, you liked it like that?”

Miguel furrowed his brows, growing more confused with each word that fell from her mouth. “Are you saying that you're only having sex with me because you think I like having sex all the time?”

X’s eyes widened with mortification at his question.

“No! No way!” she insisted immediately. “I don’t …I love having sex with you, Miguel! Oh my god, you're so good at it! I just … I don't know, I thought that, maybe, because you're a really good looking guy … and good-looking guys are just almost always looking for sex … I dunno.” She shrugged and Miguel frowned at her vague explanation, still unable to comprehend where she was coming from.

“So, now you think I just want to have sex all the time because I'm good looking?” he asked. X groaned and hid her face in her hands.

“Oh my god, no! That’s not …” She peeked at him from between her fingers, then lowered her hands to reveal her embarrassed smile. “This is stupid. But, basically, it's okay if we don't have sex today, right?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Miguel sighed. He pulled his crazy little girlfriend back to his side and pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he cuddled her close. “You don't have to ask, querida, just tell me.” His girlfriend curled into him, pleased.

“Okay.” She slid her arms around his waist, hugging him as she craned her neck back to grin up at him. “I love you, Miguel.”

He smiled and bent over to give her a quick peck on the lips. She really was so ridiculous sometimes. He loved it. “I love you too, X.”

Tags: @leahnicole1219 @heubstr

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sophisticatedgia · 1 month ago

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I made dinner for my boyfriend, his roommate, and myself! Daiya gluten free Alfredo w mushrooms sauteed in organic olive oil w garlic and onion powder. Yay! But I forgot my boyfriend doesn't like mushrooms. He says there are maggots in them. Ooopsy, so I picking out his mushrooms now. Then bon appetit!

Today I organized my area of belongings in his apartment. Organized and cleaned bed, did two loads of laundry. Took out trash twice and did the dishes!

My boyfriend rode his e bike today and used public transportation, im impressed and proud of him. He's been playful and upbeat. I also organized some of his many cords and put them in tote bag.

See im not useless! I am in a good mood. I've been connecting with different females on Tumblr in a friendly manner, it makes my life more bubbly!

I do however wonder why real life friend alix hasn't texted me. I tried calling her once and texting her once. We were supposed to do a self love photoshoot together. Is that sophisticated? Not exactly, but sounds fun!

Alix if you can hear me, hiya! I miss you.

Today I am wearing my green fairy shirt. the fairy honestly reminds me of one of my mutuals lol. I remember back in the day when I told her I had OCD and hyper fixate on people's blogs, she was very kind to me and said something like, "im glad my blog is a comfort to you" . Thank you for being my mutual again @fieldsarebreathing 🧚!

her photography is so elegant and dreamy, dark and often earthy. It's gorgeous! I want to post more of her photography on here but difficult to find.

Waiting for my bf to get out shower so we can eat~~~~

White clean sheet, beige clean pillow cases. I made a TikTok complaining about how a friend said I looked like Courtney love. I got mostly positive feedback. My bf was like omg why u lifting ur shirt up? For a minute I really thought he was angry with me. I almost deleted it. From now on I'm going to be modest (which is more sophisticated hopefully) and keep my tummy covered in photos....even though he was just joking around and bein playful.

I remember when I was a strict Christian I would avoid mirrors and tell myself constantly "it's what's on the inside that counts"

Anyway time to eat with boyfriend! TTYL 🐾

#Vegan food #Vegan Alfredo #communication #Fluff #Bulimia recovery

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f0reversharky · 2 months ago

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hate comments - Aj Shabeel

Pairing: Aj Shabeel X Plus sized reader (reader named Ashley)

Summary: Ashley got famous by being in the beta squad and her tik tok account etc..but since she got together with Aj Shabeel she has been getting a lot of hate comments about her body etc..

Warning: body shaming,cursing, SH

"fat""imagine aj dating her""aj deserves better tbh""eat a salad hon""what does aj like abt her so much cuz honestly ""obese""someone take her away from fastfood"

Ashely sat there scrolling thru all the comments she got on her tik tok video and it broke her heart, i mean why are people so rude these days, ashely knew that she shouldnt think about the hate

but she has been thinkinh for days about how she looked and how aj looked i mean there was a huge difference and it made Ashely feel more insecure but she didnt wanna worry anyone so she kept quiet

she had kept quiet for so many months and its honestly breaking her into pieces she has gone quieter then usually and has no appetite anymore

"FOODS HERE" Ashley heard niko yelling from downstairs but she was to lost reading the comments that she didnt even hear aj walking into the bedroom

“Baby?” Ashley snapped out of it and looked at him closing her phone “yes?” she asked looking at him

“U okay?” aj asked with a look of worry, Ashley gave him a nod and a small smile “hm alright come on foods here” aj said grabbing Ashley’s hand

Ashley got up from the bed and walked with aj downstairs and they sat down at the table while everything was placed down already “dig innn” Kenny said

And everyone took they’re food but Ashley just stared at the food swallowing thickly and chunkz looked at her with a confused look “Ashley why u not eating it’s Chinese ur fav”

“Uhm im not really hungry I’ll just save it in the fridge for tomorrow or something” Ashley said nervously and everyone just nodded with a confused look

Aj grabbed Ashley’s hand rubbing his thumb on the back of her hand softly while Ashley just smiled at aj

AFTER DINNER

Ashley was in the bathroom looking in the mirror and pulling onto her stomach and arms while frowning she took her phone and went back to reading the comments

Not realising tears were rolling down her face she put down her phone sniffling quietly so aj wouldn’t hear her she looked around and her eyes landed on something in the shower

A razor she walked towards the shower and picked up the razor and then she walked back infront of the mirror she bit her lip nervously and lifted the razor up against her arm and she made her first cut

She felt relieved when she felt the pain she felt like she deserved it

She quickly started making more cuts and she watched the blood dripping down her arm she loved the pain

Ashley panicked when she heard a knock on the door “uh y-yes?” She asked trying to make her voice sound Norma she heard aj talking “u doing okay in there?”

“Yes I’ll be out in a sec!” Ashley said as she wiped her tears and grabbed a paper towel trying to clean the blood and she threw the paper towel in the trash and put the razor back in the shower and she walked out trying to hide her arm and she walked passed aj

To her closet and picked up a hoodie putting it on quickly “were u crying love?” Aj asked with visible worry again and Ashley shook her head no trying to act confused

“What no that’s ridiculous I just yawned so my eyes teared up you know”

Aj nodded not really believing her but letting it go for now “wanna watch a movie in the cinema room with the other members it’s ur favorite avatar the way of water”

Ashley quickly nodded and she walked with aj to the cinema room and she saw the others sitting there and she also sat down aj sitting next to her and sharky played the movie

everyone watched the movie quietly, aj kissing Ashley’s hand once in a while halfway throught the movie kenny spoke up "ash aren't you hot, its so hot in here"

Ashley just said "no im cold" aj raised his eyebrow as he looked down at ash "you aren't getting sick are you"

ashley quicky shook her head no as she gave Aj a reassuring smile as Aj just gave her a soft kiss on the top of her head

"im gonna go get some popcorn anyone want some?" sharky spoke up and everyone said yes although ashley didnt say anything and Aj gave her a soft nudge saying

"love you want some?"

ashley looked up at aj and muttered quietly "no im okay thanks"

aj gave ash a look with worry but didnt say anything, as everyone was talking waiting for sharky to come back so they can start the movie again

ashley started to feel numb and empty again, "ill be right back" ash said as she quickly stood up and left the cinema and walked upstairs to her room

and then she walked into her bathroom taking her razor from out of the shower she unlocked her phone and started looking at the new youtube video she made with the beta squad

and looked through the comments, she felt her eyes tear up as her hands shaked

"oh Jesus why did you make me like this" ashley muttered to herself as she lifted her sleeve up and put the razor to her arm for the second time of the night

she was about to cut herself until she heard aj his voice from the doorway "love, i need you to put down the razor for me"

ashley froze as she turned to face the doorway and infact Aj was standing there with a tears in his eyes, ashley sobbed as she fell to the ground and Aj quickly walked over to her

Aj sat down on the ground and pulled ashley in his arms, Aj took the razor from ash and threw it somewhere on the ground as he held a sobbing ashley in his arms

"whats going on?" sharky his voice was heard in the doorway where the other members of the beta squad were also standing

Aj didnt explain as he just said "can u bring me some disinfection and some bandages please"

sharky nodded as he quickly left the bathroom leaving the other few beta squad members there with aj and ashley

"baby could u lift both of your sleeves for me please" Aj muttered softly as ashley nodded sobs leaving her mouth as she lifted both of her sleeves

the right side of her arm scattered in scars and cuts, you could hear the gasps coming from the doorway and sharky coming back with some disinfection and some bandages

"thanks" aj said as he took the stuff from sharky and looked down at ashley lifting her head up from his shoulder as she brushed her hair out of her face

"im gonna put some disinfection on ur arm alright it might burn a little love" Aj said softly as ashley nodded and Aj put the disinfection on her arm and then bandaged her arm up

"come on love lets go to your bed" Aj said softly as ash nodded and stood up with the help of aj since her legs were shaky and then walked to her room and sat down on her bed

"we will give u guys some space" chunkz said as aj nodded and gave them a tight lipped smile as a thank you as the members left the room and aj sat down next to ashley "how are u feeling love?"

ashley just shook her head as she stared at the ground with tears running down her face

"take ur time darling" aj whispereds as he held her hand

"i feel so numb Aj, i get so much hate about how i look a-and whenever im alone my thoughts come up and i dont know if i can do this aj"

aj frowned and rubbed the back of ash her hand with his thumb "baby i need you to listen to me very carefully alright, your a child of God, you are his qreation you should be happy and proud, you are such a beautiful person love you are strong and gorguese why would you listen to the haters"

ashley shrugged as she stared down at the ground

aj lifted her chin up with his index finger "Ash, you are beautiful believe me alright, i mean God created you baby you should appreciate his art work"

ashley chuckled softly as she nodded "i know but i know im big but hearing it from other people hurt me you know"

aj nodded quietly "baby how about we go look for a therapist that can help you"

ashley muttered "i guess maybe then i will be more confident"

"i love you ash, dont forget that" aj muttered as he pulled her in a soft kiss

YALL THIS TOOK ME A FEW MONTHS BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT AND GOT BACK IN MY WRITING ERA, im not feeling the best rn thats why its sad but God will help me through this rough patch, God bless all of you xx

#beta squad #mental health #aj shabeel #plus side girls

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v-taehyung-kim · 2 years ago

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Watch Me Undress

He watches her strip her clothes off, get in the shower, spread her legs and fuck herself in the hopes that he is watching her… she gets off being watched, and he wants nothing more than for her to be a filthy slut with her legs open for him. He’s not real, but oh.. he is. And he’ll make sure she feels it.

genre: exhibitionism, voyeurism, supernatural!au, ghost!jk, dom!jk, voyeur!jk, submissive!reader, exhibitionist!reader

Warnings: filthy. dirty. slutty.

————————————-

“Fucking hell it’s hot out,” I groan, getting the last few of the boxes inside. Did I really need to move in today of all days? I’m boiling in this heat!

I’m finally moving into my new apartment, after the roommate I lived with became a total dickhead and I needed to get out of there. Living alone is the best, a luxury I can luckily afford.

This new place felt… odd from the get go. I was in a hurry to get a new place so I picked whatever I could find. This place screams “a person died here” but hey, nothing a lil’ Ikea can’t fix. Honestly, I don’t care. I’m not scared or believe in any of that supernatural shit. If I don’t see it, I don’t care. Party it up.

That being said, it’s not fun to feel like I just saw someone from the corner of my eyes. But oh well, this is my place now.

Unpacking stuff for my bedroom took the rest of the day, what fun! I made it look all pretty and comfy, now the vibes of this place feel a lot lighter. See? All we needed was a little decor. A little glow up.

———

Dinner meant no more dickhead roommates asking me to wear skimpier clothing to pay lesser rent, and also comfortably dressing down. If I want to be half naked while eating a bowl of wings, so be it!

I do a little happy dance making my way to the kitchen, and I swear I hear a little snicker come from behind me. The hair at the back of my neck stands and I immediately turn around to, of course, find nothing.

What the fuck was that.

I slowly turn back around and walk towards the kitchen. Now I feel really really weird.

I swear it was a snicker? A human… snicker…

I heat up some wings and went to sit on the couch to start eating. Ah what peace… to sit in your underwear, eating greasy spicy wings, watching trash tv.

Except. I don’t feel at peace whatsoever.

I keep feeling like I’m being watched, and it’s way too fucking cold. It’s like a 100 degrees outside, and it’s freezing in here. Maybe it’s because I’m barely wearing anything?

I swear someone is watching me and I’m confused how my mind even came up with that conclusion, with no realistic root cause.

I switch the TV off to sit in silence for a minute trying to understand what I’m feeling.

And now it feels creepier.

I suddenly feel even more exposed and naked, and I just want to crawl into bed and hide in my blanket.

I get up and do exactly that.

———-

What? Where the hell am I?

I look around and it’s my new apartment… only it’s empty and the room is lit red.

I’m wearing the same set of underwear I slept in yesterday and it’s… hot in here…

Why do I feel things…

Suddenly there’s a mirror in front of me and I look at my reflection. My hair is messy, sexy and my lips are red and plump. My underwear set looks strangely sexy, and I feel… seductive…

I feel myself getting hotter and I close my eyes and sigh.

I feel a cool breath hit the nape of my neck and it sends chills down my spine.

I look up to see a very, very handsome man standing behind me. His jaw chiseled to perfection and messy curly strands of hair falling on his face, eyebrow piercing glistening, tattooed hands with thick bands of rings decorating his fingers, his black leather jacket barely hiding the thickness of his biceps… fuck. His face is hiding in my neck, breathing on it gently.

“Wh-what are you…” I let out, breathing heavily.

I suddenly feel so exposed, with him looking like that in his leather jacket and me exposed standing in front of him… I could fall to my knees.

“Ssh… it’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” he whispers in a low tone and fuck, I don’t think perfection is the word for whatever he is.

I lean my head back to rest on his shoulders as his hand comes up to wrap around my exposed neck. He’s biting my neck, moaning, and I know I’m going to pass out in pleasure without him doing much.

“Please,” I beg, whimpering.

Within a second, he pushes me against a wall only to stare directly into my eyes.

“I want you to only beg.”

His eyes are dark, seductive and I don’t think I can ever stop staring. Fuck, this level of sexy has to be demonic.

I blink a few times, only to wake up to a ceiling in front of my face than his eyes.

What the fuck?

Was that a dream?

———

Am I expected to go back to a normal life after that dream has effectively changed me forever?

I’m still wearing that same underwear set, and I cannot get him out of my mind.

Who even was that?

And that feeling of being watched has not gone away.

And for some reason… I like it.

In the dream, I was exposed in front of this man and I enjoyed being looked at like that. Maybe I enjoy being watched?

What if I am being watched?

So… what?

I’m sure nobody actually is, and it’s all in my head- maybe I should make use of this.

I don’t think getting over that dream is happening any time soon and fuck… that man…

I strip off whatever little I’m wearing, and get out my vibrator that I keep close.

Fuck.

This already feels good.

I love being watched.

I’m on the bed of the same bedroom I saw in my dream, with the lights turned down.

If I am being watched, I hope I put a good show on.

Please watch me.

Spreading my legs wide pretending I am being watched, I give into how dirty I feel and enjoy the pleasure I’m getting from this.

The feeling of being watched intensifies by a thousand, and it’s only helping me feel even better.

Now that I feel like I do have an audience, I moan even louder, enjoying how dirty I feel.

So I’m a filthy slut that loves being watched. Maybe that dream was just for enlightenment purposes, so that I know exactly what I like.

Fuck if only that man was real, and could watch me right now.

————

I’ve been questioning my sanity ever since I got off by pretending I’m being watched.

Questioning both in the sense that: why do I enjoy something like that, and why does it feel like I’m being watched NOW more than ever? It’s no longer a doubt in my head, I KNOW I am.

I’ve been searching this house for cameras only to find nothing.

Of course there’s nothing.

Then what the fuck is it?!

Suddenly I hear something fall and now chills are going up and down my spine. I run to the kitchen to see where the sound was coming from, only to find a cereal box on the floor.

Hmm.

Yup.

This place is fucked up.

From the corner of my eye, I swear I see a black leather jacket and immediately turn my head to confirm.

Fuck. Is it my dream that is haunting me?

I need a shower.

A cold shower.

——-

The cold water feels good on my skin, and my scalp. I feel like all the thoughts in my head are being shut up and I can finally relax.

Even in this seemingly haunted place, a cold shower is comforting.

Just as I sigh in pleasure, I feel a hand going up my leg.

A hand?!

I look down and see nothing, but my body is shivering.

I feel a slight touch over my lower stomach going down to my centre and for a moment I choose to believe it’s just water dripping down.

Fuck it feels good, whatever it is.

I feel my nipples harden with the more sensations I feel down there, and I know it’s not water.

I know something is messing with me.

“Please stop,” I beg, voice quivering with fear.

This isn’t a joke and fuck why does it feel good?!

All the sudden, I feel absolutely nothing. I take this change to sprint to my bedroom, despite being naked.

Getting dressed in an oversized tshirt, I crawl into my blanket and hope sleep takes over me.

I’m going to sleep scared but it’s not like I can do anything.

I know this thing isn’t evil… it’s just… what the fuck?

———

I wake up in the red room again.

On my bed.

Wearing the same oversized t shirt with nothing under.

The room feels hot again.

I feel hot again.

It’s that man again. Looking into the same mirror where we stood. He’s running his hands through his hair…

“Comfortable bed?”

Huh…

Fuck. His voice. Fuck, fuck. No wonder I feel hot.

I sit up straight not answering his question, covering my lower parts.

“I asked you a question.”

“I-I… yes,” I say softly, intimidated by his dominating tone of voice.

“Good. It’s fun to see you.. enjoy… that bed,” he says, winking at me through the mirror.

“What… do you mean?”

“Do you want to find out?”

He asks, turning to face me.

Suddenly I feel so exposed, so aware that I’m not wearing anything under this shirt.

“Take off that tshirt,” he says, coming towards me, his eyes getting darker and his steps slow.

“I can’t… I can’t, I’m not wearing anything…” I say, feeling slightly scared but I know I want to be naked for him. I want to be watched by him.

“I know you want me to see you like that. And I’m not asking.”

“But… who are you? I can’t do this,”

“Don’t lie to me. Take it off.”

I slowly take it off, covering myself with my hands because even though I want this, he makes me feel way too shy.

“Stand up.”

His veiny tattooed hands gesture me to stand up, and his messy hair cover his eyes, making him look more intimidating than before.

Standing up, I realise I’m fully naked in front of this man that I don’t even know.

“Yeah, you like this don’t you? Little miss exhibitionist slut? Bet you want to strip in front of an audience…” he says lowly, circling me.

His hands reach for the lower part of my stomach, trailing downwards and I swear I’ve felt it before.

Fuck.

His other hands slightly goes over my ass, his touch feathery light.

“Yeah you fucking like this,” he growls in my ear. I can feel his cold lip ring hit my ear and his rings right above my folds.

“Stay like this.” He backs away, just to stare me down.

“I’m giving you what you want. I’ll watch you.”

Inspecting me and staring at me, I feel myself get really, really wet. Fuck. This is a dream, though…

He smirks and laughs, coming closer again.

“Back to bed.” He pushes me down the bed, and it wakes me up.

I wake up in the same bed.

Wearing nothing.

———

Everything is weird.

Every night, I dream of him.

And every night, he commands me to do things I know I secretly would love to do.

I feel so dirty, so filthy, so liberated.

I feel watched everyday, and I get off it.

I’ve never felt more pleasured. Both in real life, and in my dreams.

He doesn’t do anything to me… and I haven’t asked him to… but I want him to.

And he’s not even real.

Standing in my bathroom and looking into my mirror, the image of him standing behind me flashes in my mind.

Fuck…

I take off my towel to be naked, to feel as dirty as I did when he stood behind me. Closing my eyes, I sigh.

“Attagirl…” a seductive whisper says, and my eyes shoot wide open.

There’s no one here…

“Who’s there?! What are you?!” I yell, looking around.

“Whatever you want me to be.” The same voice says, and I know it’s him.

From my dreams.

“Y-you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Do you want to?”

“Fuck! Just stop scaring me! Please! Please stop this,” I beg, nearly crying.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn around.

It’s him.

Standing right there.

Looking the same as he does in my dreams.

“Y-YOU!” I screech, tripping backwards and hitting a wall.

“Me. Jungkook. Yeah,” he says casually, running his hands through his hair. I should not be finding this erotic right now.

I yell at the top of my lungs and he grimaces.

“Shut the fuck up, princess. I’m not alive but that doesn’t mean my eardrums can’t be ripped apart.” He says, strangely gently.

NOT ALIVE?!

“WHAT? WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” And can you ask me to shut up like that again? Fuck. No, wait, he’s not even REAL?

He walks closer to me, coming up really close. Pushing me against the wall with my hands above my head, he looks straight into my eyes.

“Like this?”

“Y-yeah… but answer me… what are you…? What is this?”

“Do. You. Like. This?” He asks again, his dominance dripping with every word.

“I like it.”

“What do you like?”

“T-this…”

“Be fucking descriptive, love.”

“I like being pushed against the wall like this,” I whimper. I suddenly realise I’m completely naked in front of him, once again.

“Nah.” He says, tongue poking the inside of his cheek and eyes rolling.

Fuck.

“I swear…” I say softly.

“You like being naked like this, and I want you only like this,” he whispers into my ear, making my body go warm.

I feel my inner thighs wet with all the arousal I’m feeling, making me whimper even more.

“But I’ll let you in on a few secrets first,” he begins, pulling away and handing me a towel.

Wrapping the towel around me while shivering, I feel scared to know what’s coming next.

It’s as if a fog took over my mind to not let me fully realise that there is a strange entity right in front of me, that’s made me feel things I didn’t think I could.

None of this is normal, how am I not calling the cops?! Or a doctor?! Am I going insane?!

“No you’re not. Come,” he responds to me thoughts while taking my hands and guiding me out to the living room, sitting me down.

“What the fuck are you?” I say, finally a voice coming out of me.

“Ah, you can speak.” He smirks, knowing full well his effect on me.

“You never gave me a chance to speak in every dream I’ve seen you in,” why am I joking around when this is not even a REAL PERSON?

“What can I say, my hands on your throat seems pretty ideal.”

Fucking hell.

“I own this house,” he says.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“This is my house.”

“No, I believe it’s mine,” I say, not actually believing that.

“I am the original owner, I used to live here. I don’t anymore, of course. I’m stuck here, which is fair, because it’s my house.” He says, very casually, while taking a seat.

“What happened to you? Are you a ghost?”

“If that. But sure, maybe. I can’t remember what happened and I don’t care. I love it here. You make it even better,” he says, very seriously.

“So whatever I’ve been feeling about being watched…”

“Me. And I know you knew it’s me. Didn’t you?”

“Did I?”

“Well, were you spreading your legs at the thought of someone else watching you?”

My face turns deep red. He knows everything about me.

“How do you know… what I was thinking…”

“Not sure. Not my experience with any of the people that stayed here, you’re the first.”

“You’ve seen other people do this? You enjoy it?”

“You’re the first. And I do enjoy it… and you enjoy being fucking filthy, don’t you?” He says, taking off his leather jacket.

Fuck, I absolutely cannot deal with him looking like that right now.

“I enjoy watching you be naked for me. I know it’s for me.” He says lowly, getting up and coming towards me.

Pulling my chin up to look at him, I whimper staring into his eyes.

“Fuck. I can give you what you want if you want it…” he whispers, getting closer.

“Watch me.”

“I do.”

His lips trail down my jaw down to my chest, and I know I won’t be able to bear this any longer.

“Fuck.” I moan out loud, eyes closing.

“Let’s.”

Note: If you guys want a part 2, let me know.

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dragonmistressivy · 5 months ago

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So today went worse than i thought it would. The Vatican was way too crowded and hot and i ran out of water. Also the soreness in my feet was overwhelming so i could barely walk. Then we went to the colosseum and i was too exhausted to fucking care about it even tho that is one reason i wanted to go on this trip. Also then we had to walk to the roman forum. And that was for another hour. Then we had to walk to dinner which was like another 20 minutes. And as you could guess they had nothing in would eat not that i was hungry. Then we had like 2 and a half hours of free time to explore rome. It was pain. On the way back to the bus to get back to the hotel i fell doen like 8 stairs so my left arm, back, and taibone hurt so much(no bruising yet) also i actually cried for the first time in years from how painful it was. I was crying and asking my mom why did i have to sign up for this trip and can we please just go home. We can’t go home until the trip ends. I am in pain. And the only reason i didn’t hit my head and possibly died(i wish i had) was because i was wearing a backpack and my water bottle took a lot of the force. Luckily nothing in my bag or my body broke. If my nintendo switch had broke i would be pissed. Whoever made marble stairs deserves to go to the 9th circle of hell for all eternity. I hate stairs because i have god awful coordination. I trip all the time. And i almost feel so many time in the Vatican. I want to go home. I am in so much pain and Tylenol didn’t help when i had it this morning or after the Vatican visit. I want to be home in bed not having to have suffer even more. Literally everything here brings me suffering somehow. Like seriously how. My body hair is starting to be visible. Thank god i always wear clothes that completely cover my body. Unfortunately i can’t shave it all off because i don’t have the time or space. I can’t shave while standing up so i do it in the bath. And there has only been showers here. How are all the cis girls completely hairless and the guys almost hairless like they were when we arrived. How? Just how? Why do i have so much body hair? Why. Why must all the thing to remove hair either not work, be too painful, or not be possible for me to do. I can’t do laser hair removal until after i turn 18 and probably long after that because i can’t work because i will breakdown if i do and then i have college after my senior year and i will not be able to work and go to school at the same time wirhout failing at school and missing work. I will fail at everything. I am a failure. Why was i born. All i do is waste and waste. For example the dinner they give us first me just goes stand in the trash which is a waste because it should be going to someone who’ll eat it instead of giving to me then the trash. Also we have wasted like 6.5k for me to go on this trip and all i am doing is complaining and being a annoyance. I am worthless. I will never be happy. And seeing all the girls and the way they look and how they have friends and partners makes me want to die. Or the trans guy on the trip who looks exactly like what he wants to look like, has a gf, and has friends and loved ones who care for him in more than just their physical health. I will never get what i want no matter what. I was given a shit hand. Why fate do you like playing with me? This trip is pushing me closer to committing. I can’t stand existence and this trip is making it at least 10x times worse. I hate it. I want to have never signed up for this trip 2 years ago. I am suffering and in pain so much here. Please put me out of my misery. It will be mercy

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powpowpunchout · 2 years ago

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Thanks

“Well now, this has been fun as always!” Tiger smiled at Bull, who was sitting on one of the black benches pressed against the wall of the training room.

Bull wiped the sweat off his face with a towel, “Yes. Thank you again for the help. I hope it was not too much of a hassle.”

“Nonsense.” Tiger hummed. His gem flashed and he teleported to the opposite side of the room where the front doors were, “What are friends for?” He asked as he crouched beside his orange gym bag.

Bull watched as his friend started to shove his belongings into the bag, not even bothering to quickly clean his face off or take a swig of water like he usually does. Granted, all Tiger did today was hover in the air and move his hands about, but regardless, Bull couldn’t help but raise a brow.

Speaking of water…

Bull grabbed his white water bottle that sat next to his deep-red gym bag and started to chug it down.

When he tore the bottle away, heavy pants left his mouth.

Ice cold water paired with the training room’s fans blasting above felt wonderful after two hours of nonstop training. He couldn’t wait to get home and shower as well, the feeling of his gym shorts sticking to his skin always made him feel grimy. He doesn’t know how Tiger can go about boxing in his usual long, orange pants.

Tiger’s told him before that the material of his pants were on the thinner side–Bull’s even felt them himself–but still, the sweat he’d work up if he wore those would be horrendous.

Bull went to take another sip of water but stopped, “Don’t forget to clean off your–”

“I’m not a heathen!” Tiger exclaimed, shooting back to his feet, “I wasn’t planning on leaving this place filthy. Here, I’ll do it now.”

Tiger narrowed his eyes at the black wipe dispenser near the double doors. He clapped his hands and several wipes shot out. They flew over to whatever equipment Tiger had touched, which wasn’t anything too much, just a couple of dumbbells, some benches, and a pull-up bar that he rested atop of.

Tiger then summoned a couple more wipes to quickly clean off the treadmill, a punching bag, and several more dumbbells that Bull had used this morning.

Bull opened his mouth to thank him–but he quickly shot out of his seat when he saw the wipes approaching his bench. They cleaned off his seat and flew with the rest of the wipes.

Once everything was spotless, Tiger motioned the wipes towards a trash can. They gracefully flew to their destination and performed a little loop before diving into the hole.

“There.” Tiger smiled, “All clean.”

“Yes,” Bull looked around the place, “thank you.” He took a drink from his bottle, “You are in quite the rush today.”

“I have lunch with Overload in about two hours.” Tiger said. He snapped his fingers, and his gym bag flew over to his side, “I have to go home–”

A clone of Tiger appeared and started to pace around, “Shower.”

Another appeared and also paced around, “Get dressed.”

And another, “Pick up lunch.”

And another, “And hopefully meet Overload in time.”

Bull’s eyes followed the real Tiger, who was now pacing along with his clones, looking more frantic by the second, “You have two hours. I am sure you’ll meet him in time.”

“Yes, but I kept him waiting on the night of our dinner. I’d feel terrible if I ran late again.” Tiger’s gem started to flash.

“He will be fine waiting an extra minute, surely.”

“Still–” Tiger brought his head up. He jumped when he saw the face of one of his clones. One of its eyes was much larger than the other, the whites oozed down its cheek and into its mouth, where it fused with the exposed teeth. Tiger’s face curled into disgust before he shooed the clone away, along with the others.

Bull wafted away the smoke of the clones, “If you were worried about your lunch today, you did not have to help me–”

“Oh, stop. I wanted to. Now then–” Tiger hovered off the ground, matching Bull’s height, “Would you like me to teleport you home?”

Before Bull could answer, Tiger grabbed him by the shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut and his gem flashed.

High winds rushed by Bull. He gripped onto his towel and bottle tightly while the end of his shorts flew with the wind.

Bull watched as the training room turned into streaks of colors that raced passed them. The black, white, and grays soon mixed with streaks of blues and greens–

Bull shut his eyes. The wind was starting to sting them. Even then, he could still see bright flashes of color.

He dug his feet into the ground–was he even touching the ground anymore? He could feel something scrape against the bottom of his shoes, but it was impossible to tell if it was solid at all.

The colors grew brighter.

The winds grew stronger.

Distorted ruckus blasted in his ears.

Car horns, warped voices, bird screeches–

And then it stopped.

Bull stumbled back and hit a cold, coarse wall.

He cracked an eye open. Tiger was still in front of him, holding onto him with a smile on his face as the sun shone on him from behind.

“Here we are!” Tiger said, his gym bag poofing back to his side.

Bull blinked and turned his head.

Behind him was a tall, peach-colored, concrete fence that protected his front yard. The top and bottom of it was aligned with orange, glossy bricks.

“Thank you.” He finally said, still trying to readjust to the steadiness of… Everything, honestly.

“A heads up next time, please. I would appreciate it.”

It’s not that he didn’t appreciate being teleported around–he preferred it much more than taking a cab or walking out in the open–but it was always so… Disorienting.

“I’m sorry, it’s just–oh dear, you’re so sticky.” Tiger shuddered. He took his hands off Bull and wiped them off his pants. Bull chuckled.

“My turn to apologize then.” He tried to wipe off whatever sweat still clung onto him with his towel, “Heading off now?”

“Yes, yes!” Tiger clasped his hands together, “Call me if you need anything, I’ll come by as soon as lunch is done. Goodbye! Farewell! Love you!”

Bull raised his hand to wave goodbye–but Tiger and his bag teleported away.

He lingered outside for a moment, still staring at where Tiger once was. He kept his back pressed against the cold concrete and looked at the blue sky. He noticed some dark clouds in the distance. It might rain today. He might not have to water his plants today. His eyes then traveled down to the forest in front of him. The forest that surrounded the long, black road that weaved its way through his neighborhood.

He stared into the forest; stared through the thick leaves and twisted branches, trying his best to peer through the tangled vines and past the large bushes to see if there was anybody hiding in there.

He couldn’t see anyone, but he could hear rustling. A part of his brain told him it was most likely a squirrel running around or a bird flying off a branch, but the other part of his brain told him not to risk staying out any longer. He started walking.

He stared at the road ahead. The trees covered it with their shadows and dusted its edges with pollen, fallen leaves were scattered everywhere, along with the chipped shells and tops of acorns. As much as Bull wanted to take a moment to appreciate the scenery, he barely paid it any mind. He just kept staring ahead, his eyes peeled for any deranged fans.

Any time he heard something, he’d whip his head around to make sure no one was following him.

The fact he was a World Circuit boxer and was jumping at every little sound? It was embarrassing.

He knew his neighborhood was nearly an hour drive from the city, he knew the entrance to his neighborhood was gated off–even his own house had a gate that needed a password–but that’s never stopped people before.

If people see a gate, they’ll climb past it.

If people see a lock, they’ll break it.

And if people see a locked door, they’ll smash it.

He was thankful that he was able to get a sturdier fence and lock after those feral fans had broken his first ones; since then, hardly anyone has managed to get onto his property, making him feel safe at home. For the most part.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop crowds from standing outside his gate after his latest matches. That didn’t stop them from screaming his name and flashing their cameras, keeping him up for countless hours when all he wanted to do was rest and recover.

It’s a shame, honestly. He used to enjoy walking along the side of the road and taking in the view. Then his address got leaked.

Now he couldn’t even enjoy his time in his own neighborhood. There was always that feeling that he was being watched, that eventually, a swarm of people would find him.

It was a horrible stress he thought he had finally left behind when moved away from his home country, but it seemed to have followed him.

Nowadays, he just stays inside his house, only leaving for boxing matches or going shopping at whatever stores were open at the crack of dawn.

He’d only buy the essentials, of course. Food, clothes, boxing equipment.

He’d hurry into the stores, grab what he needed, then leave.

How Bull longed for the days he could stop by a bakery or a little local store and take his time, buying whatever caught his eye, how he’d love to go to a restaurant with his friends at a normal time and enjoy their company, and how he’d love to go onto a bus and witness the liveliness of the city.

He’d love to be a part of a community. He’d love to stop and make small talk with friendly folks. He’d love to go shopping at a normal time where there were other people around him, people who don’t constantly invade his personal space or run away in fear.

The closest he had to that was the WVBA stadium, but even then, those issues were still prevalent.

He was grateful to have people like Tiger in his life, and Sandman as well, who’s spent plenty of evenings chatting with him when neither of them could sleep.

As Bull approached the padlock hook to the center of his arched iron fence, he thought about his neighborhood.

It wasn’t even a proper neighborhood.

The houses were too far apart, the trees hid them far too well, and the neighbors spoke far too little.

He couldn’t recall the last time he had spoken to any of them, he couldn’t even recall their names.

He held his water bottle firmly with one hand and punched in the lock’s code with the other. He then slipped past the gate and quickly closed it from behind.

He took the towel off of his neck and clutched onto it tightly.

He ordered a punching bag from a sports store a couple days ago. He wondered when they were going to deliver it–

His foot hit something.

He looked down and saw the morning paper. Plastered on the front of it in big bold words were: ‘BREAKING: MR.SANDMAN CALLS HIS OPPONENT A NOBODY.’

~ ~ ~ ~

Octave slammed the back doors of the stadium open.

He stormed through the private halls with a scowl on his face. Any passing employee who happened to lock eyes with him was met with a glare.

He gripped onto the handle of his worn down, dark-taupe colored domed lunchbox so tightly he thought it was gonna snap.

The higher ups wanted to talk to him.

They called him yesterday. Multiple times.

He missed the first few because Macho Man kept bombarding him with a hundred calls, but he managed to pick up after their fourth attempt.

They didn’t tell him what they wanted to talk about, only that it was urgent.

Out of all the days to have a meeting, out of all the days the higher ups just had to have him, it was today.

And Octave had a good guess as to why.

Aran.

Bear Hugger probably got his fingers snapped, went crying to the employees, and everyone immediately suspected Aran, cause who else would it be? And the moment things started heating up, Aran probably threw him under the bus so the punishment wouldn’t be as bad.

That snitch.

That good for nothing rat.

Octave has lunch with Tiger in not even an hour, and if that stupid meeting takes too long, he’ll just get up and leave.

Octave turned the corner and saw the doors to the staircase ahead.

If those higher ups accuse him of throwing those mouse traps into the locker, he’ll shut them down.

All he did was prep the traps. He didn’t even touch Bear’s locker.

Octave swung the doors open and marched up the stairs.

If Bear actually went out of his way to whine about a couple little traps, he needed to grow up.

That sucker can get punched in the face hundreds of times, hit his head on the floor, get struck in the gut and be just fine, but some nipped fingers is enough to make him go crying?

Unless his fingers broke or got snapped in half, he can tough it up.

Octave angrily eyed the doors to the third floor.

If he sees Aran in that office? If he finds out Aran actually ratted him out? Octave was gonna–

Octave opened the third floor’s doors and was immediately met with Macho Man hogging up the entire frame. He wore a deep, dark blue–almost black looking–robe with shimmers of gold scattered along its ends. He had his sunglasses indoors–of course he did–and was giving Octave the biggest smile ever.

Macho Man snapped his fingers, “Overload–!”

Octave slammed the door shut.

He turned around and threw his head against the wall.

No.

He was not going to put up with Macho today.

He has lunch with Tiger. He has to deal with the higher ups.

Octave’s eyes trailed back down the stairs. He could try to run back down, go to the main floors, and try to find the nearest elevator… But that sounded like way too many obstacles to go through. No way was he going to deal with all the people on the main floor. The bright lights, people touching him, the possibility of hearing someone whistle–No, no, no. That all sounded awful.

Octave sharply inhaled before he opened the doors again.

“Overload!” Macho said again, still smiling.

“Move.”

“How are ya li’l dude?” He asked as he took his sunglasses off.

“Bad. Move.”

“Awh, what?” Macho’s face dropped, “That ain’t gonna do. What happened?”

“You’re here. Move.”

“Psh, had me worried there for a sec, bud.” Macho ruffled Octave’s hair. Octave grumbled in response.

He tried to open the other door–but Macho’s legs must’ve been in front of it or something. He couldn’t get it to move.

“Anyways, I was walkin’ round here a couple days ago and…” As Macho started to ramble, Octave clutched onto his lunchbox and tried to squeeze past. He tried to see if he could wedge his way through what little space Macho left, but any time Octave came close to touching Macho’s tight, slick, overly-tanned skin, it made him want to hurl. He had to step back.

“...And as soon as I saw it, I hadda find someone…” As Macho kept talking, Octave tried to push him away with his foot. He didn’t budge. He didn’t even notice.

Maybe he’d be able to move Macho if he pushed him with his hands, but he’d risk getting spray tan on them, and he’d rather die than go to lunch with spray tan on his hands.

Octave glared at Macho. He was still blabbing away.

He felt anger boiling inside of him–rage rising to the top of his throat–but he swallowed it.

“I have a meetin’.” He muttered through gritted teeth.

“Oh I know, you’re already in it!” Macho said.

Octave’s stopped.

He stared at Macho.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, I’m th’one who set up this whole meetin’ thing with ya. You kept accidentally forgettin’ to answer my calls, ‘n I really hadda speak to ya, so I had th’hire ups reach out to you instead.” Macho stroked his chin, “I was gonna have us meet in one of ‘em fancy office rooms they had up here, but th’higher ups didn’t wanna gimme a room cause it was gonna be a ‘quick meeting’. I even offered ‘em, like, $5,000 and told ‘em it was super important, but they still said no! Weird, right?”

Octave kept staring at him, “What?”

“That’s what I’m sayin’! Super confusin’, but whatever, glad ya made it!” He gave Octave a hard pat on the back.

Octave couldn’t believe that Macho Man, Super. Macho. Man. Wasted his time with constant phone calls, made the higher ups call him, and made him storm all the way to this stupid stadium because he thought something serious happened.

That old hag.

That walking piece of leather.

That stupid, nasty, dimwitted–

Whatever. Okay.

It’s whatever.

At least Aran didn’t rat him out. Whatever.

“Whaddaya want?” Octave finally asked.

Macho chuckled, “I was already tellin’ ya earlier, but hey, if ya like hearin’ my voice that much–”

“Get on with it.”

“I was walkin’ round th’stadium, right? And then I passed by th’trash can and saw someone threw away ya newspaper clippin’!” Macho dug into the inner pocket of his robe and whipped out the framed clipping. There wasn’t a scratch on it.

Macho continued, “When I saw that bad boy, I knew ya were probably runnin’ around, worried outta ya mind over what’s happened to it. Dunno which jerk went ‘n did that to ya, but when I find out–”

“Did ya actually dig through th’trash to get that?” Octave pointed at the clipping.

“What?! I ain’t no animal! I paid one of th’staff members to do it.” Macho raised his head and put his hand on his chest as if he were some valiant hero.

“Right.” Octave said. He grabbed the stupid thing and slipped it into his lunchbox.

He looked back at Macho, who was still wearing that big smile with eagerness in his eyes.

“Seein’ as we’re both here…” Macho started.

Octave pressed his lips together. Oh boy.

“How bout we have some good ol’ quality bondin’ time ‘n get lunch together?”

Octave rubbed his eyes, “Yeah–hey, no. I’d rather get shot in an alleyway. I’m good. I already got lunch planned with someone else–”

“We can have a second lunch then, easy.”

“No.”

Macho Man opened his mouth, but Octave shut the door and rushed down the stairs.

That was a nightmare, but at least it was over with.

He’s got a little less than an hour to find the Major Circuit’s control booth, hopefully that’ll be enough time.

~ ~ ~ ~

Bald Bull leaned against the stone railings of his balcony, maroon flip phone pressed against his ear as he looked out at his garden.

The wind was starting to pick up.

He watched as his plants swayed along with the breeze, the occasional leaf and petal flying past him as his phone rang in his ear.

He nervously eyed the mosaic lamps he had hanging around the garden, along with the few bird feeders that hung from the trees. He might have to bring those in, the lamps especially. If either one of those shattered, he’d be stepping on shards of glass for the next several months.

The water in his pool occasionally crashed against the rim. It honestly sounded soothing, and while he was concerned for his outside decor, the wind felt quite nice as well, especially after such a hot shower.

His long, thin, light-teal colored linen cloak flowed with the wind, as did the ends of his loose, dark cyan sweatpants that went just past his ankles. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, it was a little too nice outside for that.

The phone kept ringing.

Bull brought his eyes to the newspaper he held atop the railing. He moved his hand slightly so he could get a better look at the photo on the front page.

It was a picture of Mr.Sandman standing tall, his head raised and hands on his hips. Even in such a grainy black and white photo, he looked as powerful as ever.

Bull skimmed a couple of the paragraphs. Nothing in particular caught his eye yet. These were just the same sort of questions Sandman typically answered. Maybe on the next page, he–

The phone clicked.

“Hey Bull, how’s it goin’?” Sandman asked, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.

“Ah, cannot complain.” Bull said, “Been training mostly, and you?”

“I’m…alright, a bit…ya back home I’m guessin’?”

Bull stopped to process what Sandman had said.

He couldn’t tell if Sandman’s phone was having issues, or if his signal was that bad, but the way Sandman’s voice kept fading in and out made it nearly impossible to understand whatever he was saying.

“Yes, I ah–” Bull brought the paper to his face, “Saw the paper. Called your opponent a ‘nobody’, huh?”

He heard Sandman groan.

“No, yeah, that–it’s not what it sounds like. I was just tryna answer stuff, then…started bringin’ up…guy, and I just told ‘em straight that I didn’t know…”

“I can hardly hear you.” Bull said, “If now is a bad time, I could call you later?”

“No, no I’m… With Joe.”

“If you are out with your friend, I do not want to interrupt.”

“No, I–hold on.”

Bull propped one arm up on the railings as he listened to Sandman fumble around, then everything went quiet.

At first, Bull thought Sandman hung up, but then he heard another muffled voice. Before he could make out what it was saying, Sandman spoke up again.

“Is that any better?”

“Yes, yes, much more clear.”

“Bull!” Joe’s voice suddenly rang through,”Did you read the paper?!”

Bull blinked, “Ah, yes. Yes, a little bit, but I saw the title and thought it was a bit odd–”

“It’s nonsense, that’s what it is!” Joe’s raised voice got a bit distorted through the phone, “The way those journalists just go about thinking they can twist every little word and action that someone does is despicable! I mean, all Sandman did was answer their questions and–and I just realized I haven’t even asked about your day. How are you? Is your day going alright?”

Bull let out a chuckle, “Fine, thank you. And you?”

“I’m doing good–well, no. My morning was fine until I read this piece of junk.” Joe said, followed by the sound of paper being thrown, “Oh, people just love to take everything to the extreme, I don’t know how you guys put up with it. I remember someone interviewing me back when I only had 40 losses, and when I saw the things they wrote about me? It–oh! They accused me of being on the verge of tears while answering their questions! I remembered from then on, I swore to only do interviews with smaller groups, or people aspiring to be journalists, not those big-named fancy ones who think they have a right to twist people’s words.”

“That’s just how they get people to read their stuff.” Sandman said, ”It sucks but it’s–it pays the bills.” Sandman’s voice trailed off. Bull couldn’t help but lower his brows.

“Yes, nothing new there.” Bull mumbled. He turned his head and looked at the two dark brown, wicker armchairs that sat in front of the wall. Their cushions were a deep magenta, and in between the chairs was a small, round, wooden table that had his tea and a little golden bowl with sugar cubes in it. He almost forgot about those.

“I could tell something was off when I had read the headline.” Bull said as he sat down in one of the chairs, “You usually save that sort of talk for the matches.”

“Yes, but apparently waiting is too hard for people.” Joe said, “You know, maybe instead of trying to exaggerate every little thing someone says, people could use their energy to drag that other champion right over to our stadium so this nonsense can–”

Sandman cut him off, “Woah, woah, woah, let’s not give ‘em any ideas.”

“It will probably happen anyways.” Bull muttered, “That other champion has been appearing more and more. He excites the people. They will not quiet down until you fight.”

“I know.” Sandman mumbled.

“But…” Bull’s hand lingered over the bowl of sugarcubes before he finally grabbed one, “You are the champion. It will be done and over with before you know it.”

“Still.” Joe huffed, “The fact you’re more of a subject to them than you are a person…” His voice dissolved into grumbles. The sound of paper rustling stung Bull’s ears, “Who wrote this blasted paper anyways?” There was more rustling, “Percy!? Who names that child Percy!? This isn’t the 1800s anymore–!”

“Pretty sure there’s a lotta people with the name Percy, Joe.”

“Still!”

As the two went back and forth, Bull placed the sugarcube under his tongue, letting it dissolve under his tongue before he took a sip of tea.

He couldn’t help but worry for Sandman. He knew Sandman doesn’t get as overwhelmed by the paparazzis as he does, but he also knew the horrible stress that came from being a World Circuit boxer–and to be the champion? Bull couldn’t begin to imagine what Sandman had to put up with.

“I’ve seen gossip magazines with much more pride and transparency than these papers.” Joe said, snapping Bull back to the conversation, “Sandman answers a couple of questions and suddenly he’s ‘riling up a nobody’, and don’t get me started on that article they wrote about you–”

Bull sat up, “They wrote about me? Again?”

What did he even do to warrant an article this time?

Joe sputtered. Sandman sharply inhaled.

“It’s just stupid stuff, like always.” Sandman said. Bull set his cup aside and started flipping through the paper.

Joe started to ramble, “I thought you already knew and–and I was going to mention it sooner but got off track and, oh dear. Oh, I am so sorry you had to find out through me.”

“It’s…” Bull’s voice trailed off when he finally found his article.

‘BALD BULL NEGLECTS FANS!’ Is what the title read, and they used that same exact picture of him that they always used whenever they didn’t have a new one to work with.

The picture of Bull screaming into the camera with absolute rage in his eyes.

Bull remembered the night that photo was taken all too well.

It was years ago. He had just gotten his second loss. He remembered how brutal the blows were, how his opponent’s words stung, and how they reminded him a little too much of home.

He remembered the audience trying to rile him up, how they added to his opponent’s insults, how their camera flashes blinded him with each second of the fight, how they hissed at him whenever he got a good hit. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong that night, but as soon as it was over, he remembered how he pushed himself off the ring’s floor and clutched at his gut as he tried to leave.

He remembered the bile that threatened to leave his lips. He remembered how he gripped onto his side burns so he didn’t get tempted into hurting himself further. And he remembered how everyone was standing in his way.

Being silent didn’t work, telling them to move didn’t work, the security guards were barely any help, and when Bull felt someone grab him from behind? Not even pulling him by the arm, but grabbing his body? He yelled.

He screamed at the top of his lungs.

He hated that moment, he hated himself for it, and he hated that that’s what made people finally step back.

It’s bad enough that such a moment kept him awake at night, that it constantly lingered in his mind along with every other miserable thing he’s done, but the fact that other people still use it against him to this day? It made him so… Bitter.

Bull skimmed the article.

“It’s nothing interesting, really.” Joe said, “A bunch of adults couldn’t stand the fact that you didn’t make it to your 800th interview. Not like that was their last opportunity to bother you or something.” He huffed.

“Yeah, I turn down interviews all the time.” Sandman added, “They get all mad, sure, but they don’t write interviews bout it.”

“This is what happens when you don’t have a hobby.” Joe grumbled.

“This is their job, Joe.” Sandman said, though he didn’t sound particularly pleased.

Bull kept staring at the photo.

“Again, it is fine. People write about me all the time. It will pass.” Bull started to crinkle the edge of the page, “This call is not about me anyways. Sandman, you will be alright?”

“Yeah, hey, don’t go worryin’ bout me.” Sandman said, followed by the sound of something shuffling around, “I appreciate it, but you got that fight comin’ up soon, don’tcha?”

“That’s right. Best of luck to you!” Joe said, “I need to head off to the stadium in a bit. ‘World Circuit Champion’ over here keeps forgetting to grab his water bottle, so I need to do all the heavy lifting.”

“I’m gonna get it later, Joe.”

“You’ve been saying that for the last five days!”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna pick it up on the sixth.”

“Unbelievable.”

Bull let out a dry chuckle, “I will not keep you then.”

“Oh, you’re fine. It was fun talking about–well, no. It’s never fun to talk about the news, but it was nice talking to you.” Joe said, “Good luck with your fight, Bull, I’ll be sure to watch it on TV!”

Joe hung up, and then it was just Sandman and Bull.

“You will call me if you need anything?” Bull asked.

“Hey, I’ll be good.” Sandman said, “Just hittin’ a speed bump, that’s all. Hope you get a break from those fans soon.”

“Thank you.” Bull’s mouth stayed open, wanting to say more, but when the words couldn’t leave him, he hung up.

~ ~ ~ ~

Octave roamed through the private halls, eyes scanning the name plate of every door until he stopped at one with the symbol ‘CB2’ on it.

Octave twisted the knob. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. He wondered if Tiger left it open for him.

When he slipped inside, he was met with a flight of stairs.

A flight of very… Narrow stairs.

It was uncomfortable to look at. He couldn’t pinpoint why, it just was.

Maybe it was the fact the staircase was so thin compared to the others in the stadium, maybe it was because the walls were completely spotless, or maybe it was the way the stairs started to slant if he stared at them for too long. Either way, they were strange.

He heard muffled voices and footsteps coming from the end of the hall. He didn’t want to get caught in here, so he closed the door.

As soon as he did that, the air suddenly got thinner.

Octave started walking up the dark gray, rubber stairs. He clutched onto the handle of his lunchbox tightly.

Octave hated how small the steps felt. He hated how the backs of his shoes hung off the edge. He hated how there weren’t any railings. He hated how stilted he felt.

He pressed a hand against the wall to keep himself balanced.

This place smelled like nothing. The stairs didn’t have a scratch on them. The walls were too smooth. The white lights above didn’t buzz or flicker. He’s been to hospitals livelier than this.

Octave turned a left corner–the sharp edge of the wall nearly nicking his skin–and continued his way up.

His hand went over a gritty portion of the wall. As his fingers scraped over the uneven surface, he recoiled and tried to wipe the sensation off his hands.

He brought his head back up and saw a dark gray, metal door with a worn down knob and a window that showed nothing but darkness.

Octave grabbed the knob, opened the door slightly, and–

A loud, ear piercing squeak filled the air.

Octave cringed.

That sucked.

He swung it open faster–only to hear it collide with something and let out a loud ‘BANG!’

The sound echoed over and over until it slowly faded back into silence.

Octave poked his head out the door. Hopefully nobody heard that.

There shouldn’t be anybody else here beside him and Tiger though, right?

Where the heck was ‘here’, even? He thought he was heading towards the Major Circuit’s control booth, but he couldn’t see one darn thing. Even with the light coming from the staircase, the entire place was pitch black.

Octave looked down. He could sort of see a metal bridge in front of him? And if there’s a bridge, that means there’s gotta be a rail–well, the stairs didn’t have any rails. Maybe he shouldn’t keep his hopes too high.

He stretched one arm out into the darkness, aimlessly feeling around until he felt a cold, coarse pole. He gripped onto it, and right on cue, some low, warm orange lights turned on.

He looked up and saw the small spotlights that hung from the ceiling. They weren’t much, but at least he was able to see where the heck he was standing now.

He scanned the area.

The bridge was… Surprisingly wide. Wider than the staircase, that’s for sure. Its color was some sort of brownish-gray that reminded him of wet mud, and seeing how much chipped paint and dents the bridge had made him question the stability of it. When was the last time this dang thing had a maintenance check?

There were thin metal poles along the sides of the bridge that connected to the ceiling… Probably. Maybe. Octave couldn’t really tell. He tried to see where they stopped, but it was impossible to tell with all those wires wrapped and tangled around each other.

He started walking. The bridge creaked and groaned with each step he took.

He looked past the railings–

He had no idea why he did that.

It’s still completely dark.

There was nothing to see.

He couldn’t tell how high up he was.

He still wasn’t sure if he was even in the right room.

The place felt big, that’s gotta mean something, surely.

It also felt… Off.

‘Off’ in the way that despite not being able to see anything, he could still sense a vastness all around him, he could feel the presence of hundreds of people despite being the only one here, and despite the absolute nothingness that surrounded him, he could feel the way the darkness hugged onto him.

It was as comforting as it was unsettling.

Octave took a whiff as he walked on. There was a faint scent of salted popcorn and sticky soda that lingered in the air. It clashed with the metallic stench of the bridge, making for an odd combination.

Octave stopped.

He looked around again. He watched as specks of dust fluttered and glistened in the orange light. Then he cleared his throat.

The sound boomed throughout the room, getting distorted with each bounce off the walls until Octave couldn’t recognize it as his own.

He suddenly heard a loud click.

He whipped his head over, watching ahead as a dull, white light suddenly poured out of large rectangular windows he didn’t know was there. The light was just enough to illuminate a small portion of chairs in front of it before it dissolved into the darkness.

Octave leaned past the railings and looked at the chairs ahead. They were so small. Jeez, just how high up was he?

He looked back to the windows and was able to make out the shape of a room that jutted out from the circuit’s wall.

“Welcome, welcome.” Tiger hummed, his voice filling the room.

At the very end of the bridge, a puff of purple, glimmering smoke appeared.

Tiger’s hand emerged from the smoke and wafted it away in one graceful sweep, revealing his attire. It was pleasantly simple, a thin, dusty-maroon, medium-length, silk jacket with dark red buttons that traveled all the way up to the vertical collar around his neck. If Octave narrowed his eyes, he could make out a small, subtle pattern of swirled floral that covered the top. Tiger’s plain pants were a darker, duller shade of violet, while his shoes were dark brown and polished. The leftover sparkles from the smoke really added to the charm of it all.

Seeing Tiger all dressed up like this made Octave wish he had at least taken a shirt with him so he wasn't just wearing his boxing attire, but the thought didn’t cross his mind earlier.

Tiger bowed, “I certainly hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle to find your way here. Come in.”

Tiger gestured into the darkness behind him–suddenly, a door opened, and more of that dull light came pouring out.

“Nah, wasn’t too bad.” Octave said, walking towards Tiger, “Didn’t know they left this sorta place open.”

“Oh no, they don’t. I had to use my magic to unlock it.”

“Breakin’ ‘n enterin’. Not too shabby.” Octave smirked.

Tiger chuckled.

As soon as Octave set a foot inside the control booth, he was immediately taken aback at just how bright it was.

It wasn’t the lights themselves that were bright, oh no, it was all those screens.

Nearly every wall around them had screens mounted onto them. The wall at the far end of the room? It was completely covered in TV screens that glowed an obnoxiously saturated blue.

The long wall to the right of him? It had multiple… Servers? Were that what those big, black rectangular thingies with blinking lights were called? Either way, they aligned the wall, and whatever space wasn’t taken up by them were instead taken up by more screens.

There were even screens right next to the door. Who needs screens by a door of all places? What if someone swung it open too fast and smashed into them?

Then there was the left side of the room, the side where the giant windows were. It was practically framed by computers.

Not even the center of the room was safe.

There were two rows of light gray tables that stretched across the place, and guess what covered them? Even more computers.

It didn’t even look safe. So many of them were pressed together, stacked on top of each other, or were sitting way too close to the edge. Hundreds of wires were tossed around the table tops and looped around their legs, some screens were completely obscured by the wires, and the way they all tangled together on the dull, indigo carpet? Talk about a tripping hazard.

Octave couldn’t help but wonder if anyone’s ever tripped and cracked their head open here.

“How are you?” He heard Tiger ask, followed by the door slamming shut.

“Not too shabby, just–” Octave narrowed his eyes and scanned the grayish-blue walls for a light switch, “Ya good if we keep th’lights low?”

“Of course. Not a fan of this place?” Tiger tilted his head.

“Nah, it’s fine, just real bright is all.” Octave finally spotted the dimmer switch to the left of him. It was nearly hidden by a standing spotlight and whatever else the staff had left here to collect dust. He shot his arm out and lowered the lights. A wave of relief followed.

“Here, let me help a little more.” Tiger said. His gem flashed and he quickly waved his arm across the room. Octave watched as tens of computer screens suddenly went black. There were still several more on, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was moments ago.

“There we go.” Tiger twirled the tip of his mustache, “Is that any better? I unplugged a few. I’m sure there wasn’t anything that important on them.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Octave looked over the room again. It was honestly much nicer to look at.

Everything had now been consumed by hues of dark blues and violets. The few screens that were still on had a much more gentle glow to them, carefully illuminating the edges of the tables and whatever tech sat atop of them. Octave knew there weren’t only computers in here, but frankly, he’s never been good at remembering the names those fancy devices had. He’s never been good at using any of those devices either.

He sort of knew how to work a computer, but he hated staring at the screen for too long. He couldn’t imagine working at a place like this.

“How ya doin’?” He finally asked Tiger. He noticed little lights coming off of some black, rectangular boxes scattered under the tables and between the computers. They’d flicker every once in a while, giving off small, yellow and orange glows that gave this blue room some much needed warmth.

“I’m splendid! Even more so, now that you’re here.” Tiger smiled as he spun into the air.

Octave watched as Tiger flew over to two black swivel chairs and teleported them to the desk in front of the window.

As Tiger made space on the desk, Octave started to walk over.

The smell of the control booth reminded him of printer paper, a strangely nostalgic scent for him.

He thought back to when he used to get a heaping package of that paper as a gift when he was a kid. He’d tear those packages open and spend hours folding the paper into whatever he could think of, drawing the characters from his favorite newspaper comics, and filling up page after page with his latest story idea. It was one of the few highlights of his childhood.

“What’s in the box?” He heard Tiger ask. He was sitting in one of the chairs with his legs crossed.

Octave gave his lunchbox a pat, “Lunch.”

Tiger blinked, “But I bought you lunch?”

“Oh.” Octave sat next to Tiger, the chair let out a squeak, “Didn’t think ya’d actually pull through with it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Octave just shrugged. He placed his lunchbox on the desk. There was enough room in the front half for him to actually eat and rest his arms on, but the back was completely taken up by a large, elevated, dark gray pad with hundreds of dials, switches, and buttons. There were plenty of little lights that illuminated from the pad that gave off a gentle amber glow, and though some of the lights flickered, he didn’t find it too annoying.

A neatly folded cardboard box with a golden sticker on top suddenly poofed in front of him.

“I remember you mentioning you wanted a burger,” Tiger said as Octave opened the box, “but they had several different types, and I didn’t want to get you one you didn’t like so I got you the standard one.”

Octave peered inside the box and got a good look at the burger surrounded by plenty of fries. It looked delicious–it smelled delicious.

“How much do I owe ya?” He asked.

Tiger swatted at the air, “Oh, don’t worry about that. I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Yeah, well…” Octave pressed his lips together. He then opened his lunchbox and dug through it. He set aside a bag of chips, a plastic water bottle, and that stupid framed clipping, before he pulled out a clear plastic bag with chocolate chip cookies inside.

“Here.” He tossed the cookies towards Tiger. Tiger used his magic to stop it midair before it hit the table.

He brought the bag closer to observe the cookies, “Where did you get these?”

“Stole ‘em from some old lady.” Octave said. He took out a fistful of napkins from his lunchbox.

Tiger chuckled, “First your suit, now these cookies. What are you going to steal next?”

“Hopefully th’Major Circuit belt.”

Octave set the napkins next to the burger. He then shut his lunchbox and slid it under the table.

“Thank you, Overload.” Tiger smiled. He teleported the cookies to somewhere safe before summoning his own lunch. It was stored in a mental container that was a bit smaller than Tiger’s face. The top of it was a vibrant coral-color with white, flower patterns covering it.

Tiger popped the lid open, looked back to Overload, then raised a brow, “And what’s that?”

He pointed to the framed clipping.

Octave threw his head back and groaned, “Got it from Macho Man.”

“Oh, him.” Tiger’s said, tone drenched in disgust.

“What, don’tcha love him? Everybody loves him.” Octave smirked.

“Oh, he certainly loves to tell himself that, doesn’t he?”

Octave chuckled. He grabbed the frame, “But yeah, bumped into him earlier ‘n he gave me this hunk of junk.”

Tiger rolled his chair closer to get a better look.

His eyes scanned the clipping, “It doesn’t say anything all that interesting, I’ll be honest.”

“Yeah, but I’m stuck with it now.”

“Why don’t you throw it away?”

“Cause th’last time I threw it away, he fished it right out ‘n gave it back to me.” Octave chucked the frame back into his lunchbox.

Tiger propped an arm atop the desk, “He’s rather fond of you, isn’t he?”

“Don’t remind me.” Octave rolled his eyes and shoved a few fries in his mouth.

“Do you know how it even happened? Did you say anything to him?” Tiger flicked his wrist, and a glass bottle appeared next to him in the air. Inside was… Something pink. Maybe it was a yogurt drink?

Tiger grabbed the bottle and started to unscrew the lid, “I mean, anyone who isn’t in the World Circuit–save for Aran, of course–gets brushed aside. He can’t even be bothered to remember our names–do you know how many times he’s called me by the wrong name?!” He exclaimed, “Grounded Tiger, Twinkle boy, ‘That one guy with a mustache. No, the other one.’ It’s madness!”

He took a sip of his drink, “Yet he remembers yours. He even willingly talks to you. It’s… Bizarre.”

“That’s th’thing, I dunno!” Octave said, sounding just as thrown off as Tiger, “Guy hardly looked my way before, then, jeez, I think it was round th’time I beat Disco? Guy just latched onto me. Wouldn’t be too bad if he had anythin’ smart to say.”

“Honestly, he’s unbearable.” Tiger placed his bottle back in the air and let it hover, “A little while ago, he agreed to help a friend of mine with some interviews, and when the time came, he just–just left with no warning! And that’s not even the worst part.” He leaned closer to Overload, “The worst part was that miserable apology he gave. Super Macho Sorry, it’s–!” Tiger folded his arms and slid down his chair with a scowl on his face.

Octave let out a dry laugh, “Sounds like good ol’ stupid Macho Man.”

Octave reached inside his takeout box and took out his burger.

He heard Tiger huff. He glanced over and watched Tiger teleport a fork into his hand and dig into his meal.

Whatever Tiger was eating smelled real good. It had a strong tangy aroma with a kick of spice and a hint of sweetness.

It was a bit tricky to tell what he was eating though, thanks to the odd mishmash of colors and lights in the room. Octave could sort of make out rice with sliced up chicken that had been tossed in some sorta orange-reddish sauce, and it looked like there were a few small pieces of naan that rested on top as well.

Tiger raised his head, “I know I criticize Flamenco for being rather…” He gestured with his fork as he tried to think of the politest words he could say, but Octave spoke up.

“Stuck up? Full of himself? Pretentious?”

“Yes–yes to all of that.” Tiger set his fork back into his container, “But compared to Macho Man? He might as well be the most humble man alive.”

Octave smirked, “Man, ain’t that sayin’ somethin’.” He leaned back on his chair, “At least Macho ignores most of ya, Donny can’t keep his nose outta anythin’ even if his life depended on it.”

“Oh, don’t get me started on that. Once I was on the phone with Hondo–I don’t even remember what we were talking about–but after I hung up, Flamenco approached me and started offering to help with my ‘relationship issues’ and I–I was speechless!” Tiger threw his hands up, “I couldn’t say anything for a moment. He kept going on and on about loving your partner and working through the problem together, and when I told him I was on the phone with a friend, he just winked at me and told me to remember his advice anyways.”

Octave’s mouth hung open.

He stared at Tiger for a moment.

“How did ya not blow up the schmuck then ‘n there?” He finally said.

Tiger let out a wheeze, “No! Gracious no, I could never! It was annoying, sure, but I couldn’t–”

“Seriously, who says that sorta stuff?” Octave exclaimed, “Sorry Don, not everyone bases their entire personality round their relationship, they don’t need ya stupid advice.” He put his half eaten burger back in the box, “Man, ‘n th’fact he keeps that sorta attitude in th’ring too? It’s crazy. ‘N people eat it up! I dunno how anyone can actually like th’guy.”

“It’s just–” Tiger rubbed his temples and sighed, “It’s very, very irritating, but luckily it’s not something he does often.”

“Still, annoyin’.” Octave rolled his eyes.

The two continued eating.

Octave glanced at the array of buttons, switches, and dials that covered the large board in front of them. He tried to read the text written under the notches, but they were far too tiny to make out.

“Do ya know which one of these things can turn on th’ring’s lights?” He asked Tiger, gesturing towards the board.

Tiger looked up from his meal, “Yes, I–” He quickly covered his mouth with a napkin and finished eating, “I had a couple of moments to mess around while I was waiting for you. I believe it’s…”

Tiger raised a finger up. He stroked his beard and lowered his brow.

“This… One?” He said while hesitantly flicking a switch.

A loud ‘CLACK’ echoed outside, and suddenly, a couple of white spotlights turned on and lit up the ring. They weren’t too bright, which was perfect, and Octave could actually see something else besides total darkness.

“See! I know what I’m doing.” Tiger smiled proudly.

“Ya sure do.”

Octave rested his arms on the desk and stared out through the window. The ring was real tiny from here, and the way it sat in the middle of nothing? The way its blue mat glowed? It almost looked fake, like it was a toy, or a projection, or something he was watching on TV.

In a way, it reminded him of being a kid and watching live boxing matches at home. He’d always sit with his face practically pressed against his parents’ TV screen, his eyes wide open so he could witness every precious second of those fights. He remembered how his eyes burned and how sore his nose got from being squished against the screen for so long, but it was all worth it to see which boxer came out on top.

He could still recall the smell of plastic and the fuzzy feeling of static that danced across his skin as the commentators shouted in his ears. It always felt like he was a part of the audience itself.

Octave’s eyes flickered back to his takeout box before they went back to the ring.

“Speakin’ of annoyin’, ya know who else I can’t stand?” Octave asked.

“Disco Kid?” Tiger said.

“Nah, nah–I mean I can’t, but he ain’t who I’m thinkin’ bout.”

“Who then?”

“Joe.” Octave said, peering at Tiger.

“Really now?” Tiger raised his brows, “Does he make a lot of noise?”

“Well, he sings sometimes. That get’s annoyin’, ‘n he ain’t good at it either.” Octave started, “But nah, he’s got this–this attitude to him that drives me up th’walls. I dunno, I see it all th’time. He’ll be chattin’ with th’World Circuit guys or talkin’ to someone like Don, ‘n he always has this dang smile on him.”

Tiger tilted his head, “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“It’s–” Octave’s mouth hung open for a second, “He looks smug, that’s what it is. Got that look on his face like he thinks he’s better than everybody else, ‘n th’way he acts when people do things he doesn’t like? It ticks me off.” He folded his arms.

“I suppose I’d have to talk to him more to understand.” Tiger mumbled, “I know most of my other friends speak to him outside of the stadium–I know Bear loves to meet up with him for brunch–but I hardly…” His voice trailed off.

“He’s suckin’ up to th’other circuits, that’s what.” Octave scowled, “ ‘N since he’s got such a garbage record, they feel sorry for him. Only reason they stick around him.”

“That’s a little far fetched, don’t you think?”

“What? It’s not like this only applies to Joe or somethin’. Th’weaker guys get boosted up all th’time.” Octave shrugged, “Like you–” He pointed to Tiger, who immediately put his hand to his chest, offended.

“No, not like that.” Octave quickly added, “Not sayin’ ya like Joe, but ya gotta good amount of wins, yeah? Ya got more than Don, but Don’s still th’top of the circuit ‘n gets people slobberin’ all over him. That’s what sucks bout ‘em–bout this dang stadium sometimes.” Octave grumbled. There was a small, red flashing light he could see out of the corner of his eye that was starting to get on his nerves, but he pressed on, “Ya can do everythin’ right here. Ya can knock down freaks left ‘n right ‘n give th’press what they want, but some slackin’ schmuck can come waltzin’ in and win ‘em over easy. It’s stupid.”

Tiger stared at Overload for a moment.

He then let out a quiet sigh and gently propped his head up with his hand, “It can get a bit draining to think about it that way, can’t it?”

“Exactly. It’s like–why do ya even bother?” Octave never tore his eyes away from the ring.

It was quiet for a few. The only sounds filling the air were the quick clicks of lights, the low hums of the computers, and the gentle whirs of the ACs.

Tiger stared at the lights reflecting off of the window. Their warm, faded hues blended into one another and reminded him of how the city looked at night when he viewed it from Bull’s house. The constant, little flickers on the devices carried the familiarity of stars, and paired with the quietness of the room and a friend being right beside him? It was oddly yet wonderfully peaceful.

“I can’t speak much about the circuit rankings nor Don’s placements, I don’t understand most of it, frankly, but if the WVBA has taught me anything…” He slowly stretched his arm out, reaching for the drink he had left hovering in the air for far too long, “Most of the other boxers here hardly care about everyone else’s record–of course, there are exceptions, like Macho Man.” He rolled his eyes, “But do you think Bull and I would be friends if either of us cared so much about numbers? We talk to each other all the time, and I’m sure the same could be said for Joe.”

Octave went to take another bite of his burger, “Sweet ‘n all, but numbers kinda matter here.”

Tiger raised his head, “I’m sure even if you had 30 losses and 2 wins, there’d still be people who’d care for you.”

Octave raised a brow, “Yeah, like who?”

Tiger paused.

“Overload, I’m right here.” He pointed to himself.

“Oh.” Octave blinked, he looked back to the window, “Yeah, that’s right.”

As Octave kept eating his meal, as he kept staring at the ring, he couldn’t help but feel… Weird. This whole thing felt kinda weird, he didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t weird in a bad way–he didn’t think Tiger was weird either–but the way they talked to each other felt off.

If he were to have this sort of conversation with Aran, Aran would’ve called him a dolt and told him to stop spewing crap before giving him a shove, and Octave would’ve spat an insult back, followed by a punch to the arm before they moved on. There was hardly ever a quiet moment between them–and honestly, Octave preferred their constant blabbering so he didn’t have to hear whatever annoying sound Aran was making–but Tiger didn’t act like Aran.

It’s not like Octave expected him too, that’d be dumb, but the guy didn’t crack that many jokes. He wasn’t sure if he’d describe Tiger as constantly serious, frankly, he had no idea how he could describe him. He didn’t think Tiger was bad or anything, he just couldn’t shake off the strange feeling that’d follow them along.

Tiger continued eating his meal. Octave watched him from the corner of his eye.

Tiger was staring through the window. He wasn’t sure if Tiger was looking at the ring, the barely illuminated seats surrounding it, or the lights reflecting off the glass, but he seemed at ease. He had a nice smile.

‘Nice smile’. Who thinks like that?

No one thinks like that.

Octave shook his head.

“So…” Tiger said, grabbing Overload’s attention, “Going home after this?”

“That’s th’plan.” Octave picked at the edge of the box’s flaps, “Been gettin’ some bad sleep recently. Dunno why. You?”

“Ah, that’s never any fun.” Tiger lowered his brows, “Hopefully you’ll be able to sleep soundly tonight, hm? As for me…” Tiger glanced into his nearly empty container and popped the lid back on, “Bull’s fight is very soon, so the next few days I’m just going to help him around and watch his fight. Today, though? Hopefully go home and unwind.”

Octave nodded. He stared at Tiger for a moment, watching as he teleported his container and drink away before cleaning his hands off with a napkin. A part of him felt like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what.

Suddenly, a ping was heard.

Tiger’s gem flashed and he teleported his phone out of his pocket.

He flipped it open, “Oh, I completely forgot to teleport Bull’s gym back over.” He poofed his phone away, “I suppose I’ll do that first.”

Octave looked away, “Gonna head off then?”

“There’s no rush.” Tiger hummed, “I don’t mind spending a bit more time with you if you don’t mind.”

“Nah, yeah, I don’t mind. S’all good.”

Octave and Tiger sat in silence for a moment.

Octave watched Tiger’s hand slowly stretch out and hover over the board. He then flicked a couple switches.

The first light to turn on was a red–almost pink looking–spotlight. It was thin and zipped around the empty ring. The second and third one arrived at nearly the same time. One was a yellow with a shade so sickly it could be mistaken as neon green, while the other was a gentle blue light.

As the red continued to bounce around, the yellow and blue spotlights slowly maneuvered around the ring in large, circular motions, glazing over the seats they passed in their respective colors.

It was strange to see such lively lights dance around an empty room.

It almost felt like they weren’t supposed to be here, that he and Tiger had spent so much time talking to each other that the hours just slipped away, and now the stadium had closed down and they were the only two left.

Octave couldn’t help but be reminded of the nights he and Aran spent together walking through the streets. They’d roam around at midnight and talk aloud, their words and laughter bouncing off the walls of the alleys they’d pass while the rest of the world slept. Those were the sort of nights where it felt like the city was theirs, that nothing out there could stop them, that they could do whatever they wanted because the moment they went back home and their heads hit the pillow, they’d forget every single word they’ve said to each other.

The urge of wanting to say something to Tiger rose in Octave’s throat again. He didn’t know why. He still didn’t have the slightest clue what he could even say, what there was to say. Whatever words his mind tried to create all just clashed and shattered against each other, leaving him nothing to work with.

He didn’t dwell on it too much, though. As long as he was still with Tiger, everything felt just a bit better.

~ ~ ~ ~

Bull leaned against the white walls of his kitchen, newspaper in one hand as he kept his eyes glued to the wooden floor. He was low on tea, so he came down to make some more, and as he waited for the water inside the teapot to heat up, one phrase rang through his mind.

‘It’ll get easier.’

Bull’s heard countless variations of that phrase for years, even long before his boxing career.

For every harsh word thrown at him, for every insult that pricked through his skin, for every ounce of cruelty people spat his way, there was always somebody waiting on the sidelines ready to tell him that all of this will make him tougher. That soon, this treatment will bounce off of him and he’ll carry on, unbothered.

It was the sort of mindset Bull despised yet constantly used to reassure himself.

Every time he’d open the paper and read an article that slandered him, he’d tell himself that words on the paper can’t penetrate through him, and then he’d flip the page. Whenever crowds of people followed him and called him disgusting things in an attempt to rile him up, he’d keep his head high and trudge through. Even during the matches themselves, if he found himself getting hurt over the mockery his opponents threw at him, he’d tell himself it’s a part of the sport and throw a few lines of banter himself.

He’s put up with these terrible words for years, he should be able to tough it out, yet for some reason, they loved to cling onto him.

They’d wrap themselves around his body, digging their nails into his chest and gripping onto his throat until tears pricked his eyes. They’d lean into his ear and repeat themselves over and over until they were a constant source of noise in his mind. And when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he’d give himself quick hits to the head as if that would somehow knock the thoughts out of it.

It was humiliating, honestly. A man his age and at such a high ranking in the WVBA, someone who has been so exposed to this sort of treatment since childhood? He should’ve gotten over it by now. He should be unfazed. The other boxers didn’t seem to mind, so why did he?

Even with genuine criticism given to him, he couldn’t help but take them as personal blows to his character; an insult to all the hardships he had been through to get to where he was now. It was miserable. He couldn’t even critique himself without the weight of others' words piling on top of him.

Bull glanced back at the newspaper in his hand.

He doesn’t know why he brought it along. He hated it.

He hated what it said about him, he hated what it said about Sandman, but he still clung onto it.

His eyes flickered over to the blue flames below his teapot, then they went back to the paper.

It was crinkled, terribly so.

He lowered his brows as he eyed the title of his article.

He shouldn’t read it.

Not again.

He knew it’d make him feel worse than it already had. It’d probably ruin his appetite and tear into his mind even more, but despite all that, he opened it and brought it to his face.

‘Selfish’, that was one of the first words his eyes landed on. His lips curled to a frown.

‘Cold’ was the next word his eyes darted to. A word that loved to latch onto him anytime he ignored the press.

‘Hateful’, he crinkled the pages further when he read that.

‘If he were anything like Mr.Sandman…’ A quote said–he tore the paper away and cursed to himself.

It was cruel of them to bring Sandman into this, it was cruel of them to make him feel so bitter towards his own friend, and it was cruel of himself to read this paper again.

‘If he were THIS boxer’, oh, how they loved to make those comparisons. How those ‘If’s’ loved to follow Bull all the way to his room and keep him up at night.

If he wasn’t a coward, he’d be able to deal with the paparazzi better.

If he wasn’t so sensitive, he wouldn’t be affected by the criticism.

If he wasn’t stupid, people would love him.

If he was anyone but himself–

If only he was anyone but–

The teapot let out a sharp whistle, snapping Bull out of his thoughts.

He stared at his stove and watched the steam shoot of the spout.

He looked back at the paper.

He hated what it said.

He hated that picture.

And he hated how he looked.

He needed to throw it away.

As he walked over to the stove, he popped the lid to his trash open and threw the paper inside, yet when he closed it, the words still managed to seep their way through the cracks and grip onto his shoulders. They pressed their weight against Bull’s back while he took the pot off the stove and prepared himself a cup of tea.

~ ~ ~ ~

Octave strolled through the private halls again, lunchbox in his hand and his head slightly raised. His hair bounced with each step, and he couldn’t help but feel something was a bit different about the stadium.

The air felt cleaner, the people were quieter, and he noticed he felt lighter as he made his way to the stadium’s back door.

Maybe Macho Man left the building. The place always gets better the moment he’s out of the stadium, or maybe it’s because of that lunch with Tiger, or maybe it was because it was about to rain.

He loved the rain, the heavier the storm, the better. He loved how dark the city got, he loved the earthy smell it brought, and he loved how it drowned out all the world’s ruckus.

He didn’t enjoy getting drenched though, so when Tiger mentioned to him that a bad storm was supposedly coming soon, that was Octave’s cue to head back home.

As he turned a corner, he got a whiff of the familiar, subtle scent of vanilla. Joe must be here. He loved to spray on any sort of cologne that reminded him of baked goods. Octave wondered why in the world Joe was here. Maybe he was finally retiring. Good riddance.

Either way, he really didn’t want to run into Joe, so he picked up the pace.

When Octave reached the doors leading to the back parking lot, he pushed them open and immediately heard an ‘Oof!’

He raised a brow and poked his head out.

Bear Hugger stood in front of him, surprise on his face as he stared down at Octave.

“Heya Octave, how are ya!” He smiled. Bear wore his usual blue overalls and a blue beanie to match, though Octave noticed some ink splashes and paint stains littered on the front of his overalls. He also had a tote bag held closely to his side.

Octave’s face scrunched, “Fine. Leavin’.”

Bear stepped aside and Octave pushed the door open further.

“Ya know, I hadda gut feelin’ to bring my bag along, ‘n I’m sure glad I did!” Bear said as he dug into his bag.

Octave rolled his eyes. He didn’t wanna stick around and talk about whatever junk Bear wanted to show off this time, so he tried to keep walking–

“Here ya are!” Bear shoved a glass bottle in his face.

Octave jerked his head back–

Then he stared at the bottle.

It was about the shape and size of those old soda bottles that were displayed at his favorite diner.

And inside of it was maple syrup.

“I gotta call from th’custodians a li’l while ago.” Bear started as Octave took the bottle from him, “Apparently while they were cleanin’ round th’locker room, they heard a loud sound comin’ from my locker…”

Octave rotated the bottle in his hand. The neck had two thick grooves stacked atop each other. It made for an odd shape he’s never seen before.

“They were afraid another squirrel got stuck in there, ‘n they didn’t wanna open it ‘n risk th’little guy runnin’ around ‘n scarin’ anyone…”

Octave noticed that the bottom of the bottle had thin, unsteady, swirly lines and music notes engraved into it.

“Plus my li’l buddies get freaked out when I ain’t round to help ‘em, so they could scratch people–anyways, anyways!” Bear threw his hands up, “I threw my stuff on ‘n rushed outta th’house, but a part of me just kept screamin’ that I hadda take ya bottle with me.”

Octave’s never had any sort of fancy syrup before. Just the cheap plastic bottles he’d find at the grocery stores for a dollar.

“Sorry again for th’wait ‘n the whole dinner stuff ‘n–well–hope ya like it!”

Octave’s heard passing conversations from the other boxers before about Bear’s maple syrup. Apparently it was great.

“Welp, I ain’t gonna keep ya any longer. Ya have a good day now, y’hear?”