#slight love triangle

[cuntyhunty22]

Oh- this thing I'm writing.. it's 🥵😮‍💨

[akazoo06]

Hiya again tumblr! I've been doodling so much its insane I can't seem to sit down and make a full piece.. so for my sanity ive picked out some of my best doodles to share here! I share basically more less finished ones on my Twitter if you're interested in that! :3 (_small_bug_)

Anyhow it's a real mixed bag here since these are over the course of a few weeks now ^^

Btwwww If anyone has any silly little GF related doodle requests btw please send me them! Maybe scribbling other people's ideas will get me to follow through on my own big ideas

[emmster]

Ch 3. Pt. 3

Going to the tower next. And who is Soap heating I wonder 👀

[triangle-strategy-notes]

The Hierophant and Automatons Concept Art

Concept art for the Hierophant and the other puppets/automatons you face in the final battle! Translation notes and image id under the cut.

Translation notes:

Japanese doesn't usually include gendered pronouns, so when I use "it" and/or "her" for the Hierophant, I'm inserting those based on my best guess given the context—it's not anything the designers intended to include.

The word I translate as puppet/doll/automaton is in most cases the same word, but I use the different English translations interchangeably depending on the context.

"Homunculus" on the first page is literally "nculus". I'm assuming it's shorthand for homunculus so that's what I put for clarity, but I might be wrong about that. On the second page, the actual word for homunculus is used explicitly.

"The threads are manufactured using a special growth process" seemed to have a typo or two. I tried to account for that and I think I got the translation more or less accurate, but I still feel a little bit uncertain about it. Notably there might be something about 2 strands being woven together.

"Do not defy" might have also been translated as "do not betray [me]".

Image Ids:

[Image id: Two pages from the Triangle Strategy artbook centered around the Hierophant and the automatons. The first page is titled, "C Hierophant (puppet) Rough Draft". There are several drawings of the hierophant and her doll-like construction. One note reads, "Sought after and made a human". Another reads, "A. Puppet — Ball-jointed doll". There is a subheading labeled, "B. Flesh" with some text that reads, "Even though it comes from a desert country, the skin is white and pure to the point that it looks bloodless." Another note reads, "Lifeless eyes" and another says "Do not defy". One note that points to the Hierophant's clothing says, "The garment is modeled after the Goddess of Salt's." Another reference drawing has the note, "The most complete one at the moment (Hierophant Puppet)". Another note says, "I call it 'homunculus', but it's in fact only an extraordinary puppet that has the appearance of being alive. That said, it was indeed given some human body parts during its creation… The human 'hair' is not only the doll's puppet strings, but also its internal parts, which enable the puppet to circulate magic efficiently and to manifest a level of power beyond that of a mere puppet." Another note gesturing to the puppet strings says, "The threads are manufactured using a special growth process." Another says, "Countless unfinished things." One drawing has the puppets attacking and grabbing onto a man with a sword. A nearby note reads, "If they get a hold of you, it's pretty dangerous!" An illustrator's note at the bottom reads, "The request for this included a surprise: 'the hierophant is a puppet!' I remember having a lot of back and forth about what puppets are in the context of the world, and Mr. Ikushima's ideas concerning the setting also helped. (Yasuaki Arai)".

The second page has several images, including one large one of a smoky purple room with automatons crawling down from the ceiling with Idore in the center pulling the strings. To the side there is another illustration of the puppets hanging up near the throne room's domed ceiling. At the top is a note that says, "From a distance, it looks like there is a painting on the ceiling, but in fact there are count- less unfinished puppets hanging in the shadows, and the puppeteer can control them all at once to attack." Another nearby note reads, "In the shadow of heaven, countless unfinished puppets are hanging." Next to Idore is the note, "His Excellency, The Puller of Strings. Controls countless homunculi at the same time and causes them to attack. Similar to spellcraft, it is a highly refined technique." There are some additional drawings of the automatons and hierophants showing some of their more inhuman traits, as well as some conceptual drawings of internal organs including a brain. A note reads, "If they really are just puppets, then there's no need to bother with brains or internal organs." At the bottom is a designer's note that reads, "This is a rough idea of the final boss Idore, the Hierophant, and the other puppets. I believe we also make good use of Mr. Ikushima's ideas in the battle planning. (Arai Yasuaki)" /end id]

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thinking evil thoughts (best friend’s brother trope)

[faulty-writes]

[ Hello my dear followers and or fans, I present to you, Katsuki x Rejceted!Reader Part II. Just so you know, this continuation was picked by readers like you. Fair warning: This turns into a jumbled love triangle, so I suppose minor angst is to be expected. Even so, I hope you enjoy this piece. In order to keep with the "years later" theme, this jumps ahead in time. But not too far ahead. ]

[ Chapter Two Summary: After seeing you at the provisional licensing exam, Katsuki begins to struggle with his past and present feelings for you. This leads him to ask your closest friends, Camie and Inasa, to convince you to meet him at a coffee shop for a much-needed talk. Things get more complicated when you misunderstand Katsuki's words and Inasa reveals feelings you never knew he had for you. ]

“Come on! At least tell them, damn it!” He snapped at Camie who crossed her arms and turned her back on him. They had just finished the remedial training course, and although cheerful children echoed in the background, it didn’t calm her anger.

What Katsuki did to you was wrong and failing the provisional licensing exam served him right. “Why would I do that? You’re totes hot, but you’re like one of the meanest dudes ever and you hurt Y/n’s feelings!” she declared, stomping her foot against the ground.

Her eyes focused on the bleachers where you sat. Although she couldn’t see your facial features, she knew you were smiling. Much like Seiji, you were given permission to observe but also support her and Inasa.

She seemed content and over what had happened to her during the provisional licensing exam while you remained paranoid. You passed the first round of the exam only to realize she was missing. When you looked for her, you became the next target of an attack.

You frowned and grazed the scar on your upper arm. Only your closest friends and teachers knew about the incident which you were grateful for considering the media would explode if they found out more than one student was targeted.

Katsuki growled, curling his hands into fists. “I know what I said before, but listen to what I’m saying now, damn it!” he hated that he had to plead with a moron in order to talk to you. “HEY!” A loud booming voice echoed from behind him.

“What’s going on here!?” Inasa shouted with a wide smile. Camie turned around, somewhat relieved to see him. “Bakugou wants to talk to Y/n, but he’s such a meanie. I don’t trust him around them!” she explained, pointing her finger at him.

Inasa tilted his head, placing his hands on his hips. “Y/n!?” he exclaimed before approaching Katsuki who scowled at him. “How do you know Y/n!?” he asked, not quite demanding but not quite willing to have his question disregarded.

Katsuki glared at him and remained silent. “They went to the same middle school, but Bakugou was mean to them when they confessed and at the provisional licensing exam!” Camie explained, again pointing her finger at him although he looked like he was going to bite it off.

“Why don’t you shut the hell up Glamouroki!?” he snapped. She rolled her eyes and pouted in response. “See, totes mean,” she commented crossing her arms. “What did I just say!?” he screamed with his hair standing on end.

“It’s none of your damn business what happened in the past!” Inasa listened to the conversation, scratching his head. “Wait!” he shouted. “Y/n confessed to you!?” he shifted his attention to the bleachers, and his heart accelerated when he saw you.

“Mm…” He pulled his hat down to hide his face. He recalled you had come to him before the provisional licensing exam started and how Camie explained some “rude but hot guy” made you upset and that he needed to cheer you up.

‘Was Bakugou the one she meant?' He thought, feeling jealous. Yes, he was usually a happy-go-lucky individual. But it was different when people hurt those he cared about or his pride. He hadn’t told you yet, but he had feelings for you.

He loved and admired the dedication and work you put into becoming a hero from the start. But do you still love Katsuki? If you did, he had no right to stand in your way. From what he could gather, Katsuki wanted to talk to you and seemed angry that Camie refused to help him.

As much as he hated the thought of you being with someone else, if it made you happy then he needed to help in any way he could. “We’ll help you talk to Y/n!” he declared, daring to pull Katsuki against him in a half-attempted embrace.

“Get the hell off me!” the angry blond was ready to use his quirk if need be. “Huh?” Camie blinked and tilted her head, clearly confused. “What do you mean? He and Y/n are so not meant to be!” she commented, wanting to protect your best interests. “They're totally the beauty, but Bakugou will always be the beast!” she added.

Katsuki stiffened and glared at her. “What the hell did you just say!?” he demanded, breaking free of Inasa's grip. He laughed in return and shrugged. “You never know until you try and if Y/n has feelings for him, we'll help!” he said, slapping the angry boy on the shoulder.

Whether you still had feelings for him or not wasn't known, but since the provisional licensing exam, he couldn’t stop thinking about you or the past the two of you shared together. No, he wasn’t attracted to you, or at least he refused to admit it. But there was clearly something to patch up between the two of you.

Camie crossed her arms. “What do you want to say to them? Like something romantic or cool?” she asked, even if Shiketsu had a strict no-dating policy, she couldn't help but get excited over the idea of romance especially forbidden relationships, they were the cutest! Katsuki clenched his jaw, shifting his gaze to the bleachers.

You were now standing with your hands pressed against your chest, gazing at all three of them. ‘Damn it…’ he thought. ‘I can’t believe I’m gonna say this,’ he turned back to Inasa and Camie. “Just tell them to meet me at Katz Caffeine Coffee Cafe in Esuha City tomorrow at noon!” he snapped before walking away.

“Is something wrong?” Shoto asked, noticing Katsuki’s scowl was deeper than normal. “Be quiet icy hot bastard!” he replied, pushing past him without a care. Shoto blinked, clearly confused before looking at Camie and Inasa who shrugged in response.

“I don’t get what his problem is,” she commented, placing a hand on her hip. “He’s obviously frustrated that he hasn’t talked to Y/n until now! Let's tell them the good news!” Inasa replied happily, despite feeling an ache course through his chest.

Camie frowned, others believed she was absent-minded and stupid, but she knew when something wasn’t right, especially when it involved feelings. She didn’t like the idea of Katsuki being close to you much less trying to talk to you.

But Inasa was her friend, and if he thought it was okay, she trusted his judgment. “I bet they’re totes happy we passed this time!” she said, clapping her hands before grabbing the front of Inasa’s costume to pull him along.

“Hm…” Hizashi had been watching the spectacle and couldn’t help but scratch his head. Katsuki seemed to have something important to say, but how did he know you when you attended Shiketsu High School and weren't even a part of the exam?

“Something ain’t adding up here,” he muttered before looking at Katsuki who seemed to be having an argument with Shoto. “Hey!” Camie exclaimed wrapping her arms around you. “Oh, uh hey,” you said, returning her embrace although she sensed something was off.

“Something wrong?” she asked, pulling away. “Well,” you turned to look at Inasa who smiled. Others commented that he looked happier around you, but it was typical to be happy with friends and family. Then again, you noticed a glint in his eyes whenever he gazed at you.

While you couldn’t quite identify what it was yet, you did know it was warm and caring. “Actually um…” you curled your hands into the bottom of your shirt. “Were you guys talking to…Bakugou down there?” you asked with a pointed finger. “Mmhm!” Inasa responded and you frowned, feeling anger wash over you.

“Why would you talk to him!?” You demanded, glaring at both of them. “I said not to!” Camie exclaimed, holding her hands up. “But Inasa like insisted,” she added, casting the blame on him. You turned to Inasa, your anger fading.

“Why did you, w-what did he want?” you asked, knowing you may have jumped to an unfair conclusion. After all, you didn’t have the right to tell your friends who they could and couldn’t talk to. Inasa noticed the saddened, pained look in your eyes and turned to Camie who shrugged.

It was difficult to tell what was on your mind sometimes and your friends knew better than to push you. But that didn’t stop their concerns. Inasa took a deep breath, forcing a smile back onto his face before touching your shoulder.

“He wants to talk to you!” His words made you jump. “W-what?” you responded. “He wants to talk to you!” he repeated, lowering his hand. “He even wants to take you to a coffee shop!” Your eyes shifted back and forth, processing the information.

“Coffee shop?” you asked, looking at Inasa with a confused but still hurt expression. “Yeah!” Camie said, stepping in between you two. “He said something about a coffee shop in Eusha City,” Inasa nodded. “Katz Caffeine Coffee Cafe! He wants to meet with you tomorrow at noon!” he announced, grinning like a madman.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you almost hated yourself for feeling hopeful. Katsuki had broken your trust and heart many times, you thought you had overcome your feelings for him by now but deep down you still felt something for him.

Maybe your feelings for him would always be a part of you or they were trying to tell you something or you were just young and naive. Then again, perhaps he just wanted to apologize or talk about something completely unrelated to your feelings.

Either way, you wouldn't get anywhere unless you faced this issue or learned to live in peace with it. You snapped out of your thoughts when Camie laid her hand on your shoulder. You forced a smile when you turned to look at her.

She was a comfort, despite what happened at the provisional licensing exam still haunting you, both she and Inasa were friends you appreciated. “So…are you going? I mean, he's still a total babe even if he’s a meanie, well maybe not as much of a babe as Todoroki. That guy is a total snack!” she commented.

“Um...right,” you replied with a shrug and walked away. “I think it’s time we get back home. I need time to think about this.” Camie and Inasa exchanged looks before following you. “We could totally have a sleepover and help you decide!” she offered, pressing her hands together hopefully.

You gave her a half-smile, and although you wanted to be alone maybe that wasn’t the wisest decision. “Can I come too!?” Inasa exclaimed, making you laugh. Yeah, you were grateful for their friendship. “Are you sure about this?” Camie asked the following afternoon.

You looked at the ground, ignoring the passersby on the sidewalk and the traffic on the street. You were standing in front of the Katz Caffeine Coffee Cafe with your stomach in knots. It was because of that anxious feeling that you skipped breakfast for fear you might throw up or get nauseous.

You nodded. “I…I think I’ll be okay. I mean if something happens, I’ll just go home, that’s all,” you said nervously chuckling and Camie frowned. “You can totally text or call me, kay?” she still wasn’t sure about this, but she’d always have your back.

You nodded again and looked at her with a forced smile. “Thanks,” she returned it and slapped you on the back causing you to stumble forward. “Totally no problem! That’s what friends are for!” she said, giving you two thumbs up.

“Chat it up and have a sick time!” she said, waving you goodbye as she walked away. “Heh,” you returned the wave half-heartedly before turning to the cafe and taking a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing,” you said, your mind racing through different scenarios of what could happen.

You ordered a latte and sat at one of the corner tables, waiting for Katsuki to arrive and trying to calm yourself. ‘Deep breaths, come on! You’re a hero! You shouldn’t be so concerned about romance…he’s just a friend, right?’ Well maybe “friend” was stretching it.

‘Yeah, remember that! Not a friend! Friends want you, he didn’t so that’s his loss, right? Right!’ You frowned and slammed your head against the table. Why were you giving yourself a pep talk? ‘Nevermind that, just focus on breathing’ You couldn't let this anxiety overwhelm you.

After taking a few sips of much-needed caffeine, Katsuki finally arrived and glanced around the establishment before spotting you. He clenched his jaw. What the hell were you doing in the corner? Were you ashamed to be seen with him?

Well, guess he should be grateful you were here. He glanced away, trying to push down the unfamiliar sensation of butterflies in his stomach. He took a deep breath and stomped over. Your throat tightened when you lifted your head and saw him.

That nervous feeling overwhelmed you once more, and you hoped your coffee would stay down. Silence filled the air as he took his seat and folded his arms across the table. He impatiently tapped his foot, and you glanced down, flushing.

‘This is so awkward’ you thought before jumping in your seat when he exclaimed, “You won't say anything, damn it!?” You looked at him wide-eyed, but your shocked expression turned blank a few seconds later. His attitude has been the same since you were young.

Guess some things never change and while there was an odd comfort in that, eventually change had to happen. Something had to give. You wrapped your hands around your latte cup, finding comfort in its warmth.

“I-it’s nice to…see you again?” you said, shifting your gaze to the table. He scowled, “That’s all you have to say!?” he snapped, and you glanced at him with knitted eyebrows. “But you’re…” you paused, and he leaned forward.

“I’m what, eh!?” he shouted, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re the one that wanted to talk to me,” the words made your tongue feel like lead. You watched as his eyes widened and he leaned back. “Pff,” he clenched his jaw and turned his head, gazing at the wall instead of you.

“Yeah, so what if I said that?” he replied, ignoring his abnormal heart rate. Damn it, he was never good at expressing his emotions, especially to you. He didn’t like you in middle school but since seeing you at the provisional licensing exam, he couldn’t get you out of his head.

At first, he tried to ignore it but that was a useless effort. He needed to face this and figure out what he felt toward you. He also thought about the past you shared together. There had to be a small part of you that still had feelings for him, right?

You sighed and propped your elbow on the table. That nervous feeling slowly depleted. “You didn’t pass the provisional licensing exam, huh?” you commented, and Katsuki’s hair stood on end. “Why are you bringing that up?!” he exclaimed, obviously sore to talk about something that hit his ego.

“No reason!” you said, holding your hands up. “Just…” you latched onto your bottom lip and leaned over the table. “You know what happened to Camie. Do you think anything else suspicious was going on?” you asked. “What are you talking about?” he demanded with a snarl, and you glanced away.

“Camie was attacked and then...” you pressed a hand to your chest. Despite not wanting anyone else to know, something kept nagging you to tell Katsuki. “Well, when I tried to find her…I was attacked too,” his eyes widened and he pressed his hands against the table, leaning over it which made you lean back in return.

“What do you mean you were attacked!?” He was uncertain if he was angry at you or himself for not being there to protect you. “Keep your voice down!” you hissed, annoyed by his behavior. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves.

“We got separated during the exam and after I passed, I tried looking for her. I thought I saw her with Midoriya, but when I approached well…” You frowned and Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “Spit it out already!” he demanded, hitting the table with his fist.

You couldn’t help but think back to the conversations, or lack of, you had with him years ago. Back then you wouldn’t have thought you’d discuss something like this with him. Ironically, you always pictured yourself being with him and becoming successful heroes together.

“They looked like her, but the way they smiled sent a shiver down my spine, and when they-” you wrapped your arms around yourself, tracing the scar on your upper arm with your thumb. Katsuki narrowed his eyes, concerned and impatient to hear the end of your story.

“They attacked me, it was nothing major but…I had a bit of trouble after that. They impersonated my best friend, and now every time I look at her, I think of them.” You frowned and sighed, pressing your hand against your forehead.

“I know that’s terrible, and I know Camie would never hurt me, but it’s still scary to think that someone you care about attacked you,” a chuckle left your mouth, and you leaned back up, allowing your hand to fall by your side.

“Heh, sorry,” you said, scratching your head. “I, uh, d-don’t really know why I told you that but-” Katsuki growled. “What the hell are you apologizing for?” he questioned. “Uh, w-well I…” You became quiet, unsure how to answer his question.

The fact that he glared at you didn’t help. “You need to get stronger if you don’t want something like that to happen again,” he said, pointing his finger at you. “E-excuse me?” you replied without thinking. You pressed your hands against the table and stood up.

“I trained very hard to get to where I am. I trained hard to impress you but you…you weren’t interested in me that way. Then you asked me to come here only to tell me that if I was stronger, I wouldn’t have gotten attacked by someone that looked like my best friend!?” You exclaimed, gaining some attention from the other patrons in the cafe.

“That’s not how I meant that, damn it!” Katsuki shouted in his defense. “And I’m sure ‘that’s not how you meant it’ back in middle school either or at the licensing exam,” you hissed before walking away only to stumble back when he grabbed your arm.

You immediately jerked away, trying to get out of his grip. “Let. Me. Go.” You growled, glaring at him. Anger flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth, but no words came out. Damn it, why are you so hard to talk to? His hand tightened around your arm, making you wince in response.

“Fine!” he said, releasing you. “Go ahead! I’m still gonna be the best damn hero and you’re not going to be a part of my life!” He knew as soon as he said those words, he would regret it. His heart sank when he saw sadness fill your eyes.

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper before you turned and walked out the door. Tears rolled down your cheeks by the time you reached the sidewalk. You decided to hide in the alleyway next to the cafe so as to not draw attention to yourself and wiped your eyes.

“I should have known he wouldn’t change…” you said in a broken whisper before pulling out your phone to call Camie. She impatiently tapped her fingers against the table across the street from the cafe. “Camie!” A familiar voice echoed through the air.

“O.M.G. Finally!” she said, motioning Inasa over. He smiled and plopped into the seat opposite her. “So what are we doing again!?” he exclaimed in his usual over-excited manner. “Duh, we’re spying on Y/n!” she said, crossing her arms.

“I so don’t trust Bakugou around them,” she turned her head, narrowing her eyes at the cafe. “Hm?” Inasa tilted his head and rested his elbow on the table, cradling his cheek in his hand. “You don’t trust him?! I didn’t trust Todoroki at first. He's still a rival but I know he’s strong and has a change in his eyes now!”

She leaned across the table. “I create illusions hun, but I can see through them. Y/n tried like super hard to get Bakugou's attention, but he was super mean to them! I’m not sure if that guy has a heart, but they are so not meant to be,” she said, making an “X” shape with her fingers.

“After what he’s done to Y/n, do you trust him to make them happy?” she asked, and Inasa’s smile faded. “Well…no!” he said, and Camie tilted her head. “Then why did you convince them to meet with him? Isn't that like the opposite of what you're supposed to do when you don't trust someone?” His smile returned.

“Maybe! But if Y/n has feelings for him, I want them to be happy!” he shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “Mm…” Camie tapped her cheek. “I don’t think Bakugou can do that. I'm not sure if he's even capable of smiling, his face would so crack if he did,” she commented, expecting a serious reaction.

Instead, Inasa laughed, and his hand slapped the table a few times. “Of course, he can! I know I've liked Y/n since I first saw them. That’s why I'm happy I enrolled at Shiketsu and I know anyone would do whatever they can to make them happy!” His laughter faded and he glanced away.

“Even if that means they're happy with someone else,” Camie glanced back and forth, processing the information she had just been told. “Wait!” she said, standing up. “You like like, Y/n!?” she exclaimed, happily folding her hands together.

Inasa grinned, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah!” he declared, and she squealed before a soft vibrating sound filled the air. “Hm?” She took her phone from her back pocket and looked at the screen, gasping. “It’s Y/n!” she said, immediately sliding to answer.

“Hello!?” she heard gentle sobs before your broken voice came. Her eyes widened and her body stiffened as she clenched the phone against her ear. “What?! I totally knew this would happen! Where are you?” Inasa leaned over the table, his heart racing with anxiety. 

“Uh, huh? We’ll be there, yeah Inasa and I are…uh, nevermind. Like stay put!” she urged before hanging up, lowering her phone, and looking at Inasa with a frown. “Let’s go!” she said, motioning him to follow her across the street.

“Right!” he shouted in response, jumping out of his chair which hit the ground with a loud thud. Normally he would pick it back up, but there was no time. You were in danger! Well…maybe not danger. But you needed help, and he wouldn't waste time.

“What happened?!” he urged, following Camie. “Duh, Bakugou was mean again, he should really try shutting up!” she replied, urgently looking around the perimeter of the cafe and ignoring the passersby on the sidewalk while guilt washed over Inasa.

He thought talking to Katsuki would make you happy, but maybe you didn’t like him so much after all. “Y/n said they were waiting outside the cafe but…” she paused and glanced around again. Inasa followed her motions, looking left and right for you.

“I don’t see them! Did Bakugou do something to them!?” she questioned with an angry pout. Inasa frowned and walked down the sidewalk, catching the sound of soft crying. “Hm?” his eyebrows rose, and he followed the source to the alleyway where you were slumped against the wall.

“Y/n!” he cried, rushing to your side, and wrapping his arms around you. The sudden embrace made you gasp, but as soon as you realized it was Inasa, you sobbed and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Camie!” he screamed, hearing her frantic footsteps.

“What?!” she screamed back, rounding the alleyway corner. Relief and concern enveloped her features when she saw you safe and sound in Inasa’s arms. Much like him, she rushed to your side and embraced you. Sandwich hugs were the best, and surely, would make you feel better.

You turned, looking at her despite tears obscuring your vision. “What happened? Did he like hurt you?” she asked, reaching over to push your bangs out of your face and feeling her heart sink at the sight of your tears. You shook your head, curling your fingers into Inasa's shirt.

“Mm…” she looked at Inasa who mirrored her frown. “Why don’t we get you back home!?” he suggested, reaching up to cup the side of your face. The palm of his hand felt warm against your wet cheek as did his thumb which collected your tears.

“Then we’ll cheer you up! Promise!” he said with a bright smile. You sobbed when you saw it but nodded in response. “Yeah, we’ll make you forget about that meanie!” Camie added, gently stroking your hair. “Uh, does anyone know what’s up with Bakugou?” Eijirou questioned, leaning over the couch.

Kaminari placed his hands behind his head, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Beats me, he kicked open the front door and rushed to his room,” he responded looking at Eijirou who turned to look down the hallway.

“Maybe we should talk to him,” he knew Katsuki liked his space, but this was different. He wanted to know where the angry blond had been and what had happened to make him stay in his room for hours like this. “That won’t be necessary, yo!” a familiar voice shouted.

Eijirou jumped and turned around. “Mr. Yamada?!” he exclaimed, and the older man smiled. “Don’t you cats worry about a thing. I’ll chit-chat with him,” he said as he walked away. “Someone has to…” he muttered under his breath. Kaminari and Eijirou exchanged glances, both confused.

‘Damn it!’ he clenched his jaw, hating the tears that continued to roll down his cheeks only to be absorbed into his pillow which he was currently burying his face in. ‘That's not how I meant it…dumbass took it the wrong way!’ As his fist contacted the mattress, he trembled violently.

He hated this damned feeling. It made his chest ache and feel heavy. What the hell was this feeling anyway? Did he actually feel hurt by your reaction? He pulled his head up, sniffling before growling and violently rubbing his eyes to stop his tears.

‘Why the hell am I even crying?!’ He hated crying, it was a weakness. His head jerked to look at the door when a series of knocks sounded. “Go away!” he snapped, hating that his voice sounded broken before he buried his face in his pillow again.

Hizashi frowned upon hearing Katsuki’s response and leaned back, taking a deep breath. Yeah, everyone was entitled to privacy, but as a teacher, he was used to breaking the rules when his students clearly needed help. Invading Katsuki’s privacy, in this case, was necessary.

He grabbed the doorknob, walked through, and watched the angry blond sit up on his bed. “Listen you spikey-haired idiot I-” he paused when he saw Hizashi. Silence lingered through the air for a few seconds before he snapped, “What the hell are you doing here!?”

He huffed and placed one hand on his hip, pointing at Katsuki with his other. “I thought something was up at the redmedical training course!” he announced. Katsuki’s eyes widened but as usual, he tried to put up a front and looked away.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stated, crossing his arms before falling back onto his bed and turning his back on the older male. Hizashi narrowed his eyes. “Something happened, didn’t it?” Katsuki remained silent, refusing to answer but the silence spoke for itself.

“Be honest,” he said in a deep and serious tone as he sat down on the bed. Katsuki turned his head, glaring at him. Hizashi noticed how red and irritated those eyes and cheeks were. He shifted his glance to the pillow, noticing the darkened spots on it which indicated the boy had cried.

This wasn’t normal behavior for any student. Frankly, as hot-headed as Katsuki was, he was still a kid and still susceptible to getting hurt. “Does this have anything to do with Y/n?” Those eyes that once glared at him widened again.

“I thought something funky was going on. How close are you to those Shiketsu kitty cats anyhow?” Not that heroes didn’t form connections. In fact, hero students should make connections with one another, regardless of what hero school they attended.

This is because you never know when you'll need to pair up with another hero out on the field. But the conversation he overheard concerned him. Katsuki had never begged to speak to anyone before and was not interested in friendships. He preferred to do things alone.

Some heroes, like All Might, could handle things on their own. However, even the former number one needed a helping hand when the situation called for it. Katsuki stared at the older male with moist eyes that threatened to spill over. He slowly turned and sat up, placing his hands on his knees.

He refused to look at Hizashi and swallowed the lump in his throat before uttering the words, “I…I like them, damn it…” He hated this. He hated knowing he had a weak spot for you. Hizashi knit his eyebrows. “Huh?” he replied scratching his temple.

You swallowed what remained of your tea, being careful not to let Inasa’s jacket slip off your shoulders. Camie smiled and leaned against you. “Feel better?” she asked, and you nodded before glancing away. You actually felt exhausted, and your chest still ached, but you didn't want to worry her.

“So! What happened between you and Bakugou?” Inasa asked, walking into the room holding a tray with a tea kettle and some snacks. He grinned as he placed it on the table and sat next to you, crossing his legs, and looking at you attentively.

You snickered. The way he acted reminded you of a small kid, but it was endearing. You took a deep breath, and that fresh pain coursed through your chest. It acted as a knife and reopened the wound of your broken heart.

You looked between Inasa and Camie, reminding yourself that they were your closest friends, and you could tell them anything. “I…mentioned what happened at the provisional licensing exam,” you said, tightening your grip around the now-empty cup of tea.

“Huh?” Camie tilted her head. “Wait, do you mean like what happened to me?” You frowned and looked at her before nodding in reply. “I…I also told him how…how I got attacked and he said…” you sighed, feeling a small flame of anger ignite.

“He said if I were stronger that wouldn’t have happened, but I trained so hard over the summer to impress him and now I feel…stupid and-” You clenched your jaw, and your hands trembled, threatening to drop the cup you held.

Camie and Inasa looked at each other before she touched your shoulders, and he grasped your shaky hands in his own. “You’re totes strong enough! And your hot bot was worth all the training!” she said and Inasa nodded.

“That’s right!” he confirmed, gently taking the cup away and placing it on the table before grabbing your hands again. “No matter how strong a hero is, they have their struggles. But if we work in harmony, victory is certain!” You frowned, noticing that same unknown glint was in his eyes.

“I worked with Todoroki during the provisional licensing exam. I still don’t like him, but he is a worthy ally!” he said, smiling a bit, but you glanced down. Silence filled the air and you sighed. “What if he’s right though?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“What if I’m not strong enough, what if something else happens to someone I care about and I c-can’t save them?” you squeaked out, feeling your eyes water over. Again, silence filled the air and Inasa tried to suppress his anger.

To know Katsuki’s words hurt you enough to make you doubt your abilities as a hero was unacceptable. However, he didn’t want to act on his anger. Instead, he wanted to make you smile again and take the hurt away, convince you that you were the strongest hero out there.

He turned to Camie, “I want to be alone with Y/n please!” he announced, and you lifted your head, wiping your eyes before looking at him. She blinked, surprised by the request but smiled and nodded. “Okay!” she replied, giving two thumbs up before walking away but stopped short.

“Oh wait!” she said, turning around to grab Inasa’s shoulder. She leaned down, holding her opposite hand against his ear, and whispered, “Your totes a better match for them!” He smiled, happy to know she supported a possible relationship between you and him.

Inasa turned to you after Camie closed the door. “W-why did you ask to be alone with me?” He smiled and let go of your hands before moving closer to you. Unintentionally, you flushed, and his smile grew. He enjoyed seeing your shy side as it contrasted with the strong heroic side he saw at school.

“I…I’m sorry,” you said, not wanting the awkward silence to take over. “If...I upset either of you, I didn't mean to, and-” You paused and wrapped your arms around yourself, once again making sure not to let his jacket fall off your shoulders.

Your thumb grazed the scar on your upper arm. Inasa reached into the jacket and grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your opposite arm to get a better look at it. You weren’t ashamed of your scars, but his intense stare made you feel subconscious.

Then he traced his thumb along the length of your scar. “Uh, heh...” You nervously laughed out loud, feeling goosebumps at the spot where he touched your skin. “Is something wrong?” When he leaned down and kissed it, your breath caught in your throat.

Your eyes widened, and you noticed a look of loving concern when he lifted his head back up. You never imagined Inasa making a move on you. While he took charge during training exercises because of his strong quirk abilities, his romance handling was completely unknown.

You cried out when his hand tangled itself in the back of your hair, but any further noises were muffled when his lips were pressed against yours. He knew what he was doing was irrational and normally he wouldn’t do this kind of thing with a friend, but that’s just it.

He didn’t want to be your friend. If Katsuki had broken your heart, he wanted to fix it and pour every ounce of love he had into you. Your hands curled into his shirt, and your eyes fluttered. This kiss…it felt warm and needed, but images of Katsuki flashed in your mind causing you to whimper.

“Hm?” He pulled away, panting softly. “Did I hurt you!?” he cried out, grasping your shoulders in panic. Your hand was placed over your mouth. Your eyes were wide with shock but not disgust. Your gaze lingered on him for a few seconds before you shook your head and lowered your hand.

“I…I think I need to lay down,” you said, pushing his hands off your shoulders before standing. Inasa frowned and placed his hands firmly against his sides before bowing. As usual, when he bowed, he went overboard. You flinched when his head hit the table, but he didn’t shout or make any indication he was in pain.

“I apologize if I made anything awkward! I just like you and want to be more than friends!” he announced, never ashamed to express how he felt. Your hand grasped your chest where your heart beat rapidly and yet still felt broken and heavy.

You frowned and glanced away. There were no words. How can he say that he liked you when he knew your past with Katsuki? How could he kiss you after what happened today? “I understand if you need time to think this over!” he said, standing up with a large grin.

“Just know I won’t break your heart if you give me the chance. I’ll make you forget about any heroes that have treated you wrong like Bakugou!” Again, your heart sank at the thought of Katsuki. “T-thanks,” you said before walking toward the door, realizing you were still wearing his jacket.

“Um, d-do you…” you turned. “Do you want your jacket back?” He smiled and shook his head. “You can keep it! I hope it brings you comfort!” he replied. “O-oh, um...” A soft blush dusted your cheeks, his jacket was pretty big on you, but it smelled good. Like musky cedarwood and sea salt air.

“Thanks again?” you said, shrugging before you finally walked out the door. Camie was leaning against the hallway wall and tilted her head when she saw you leaving. “Huh? Hey, what’s up!?” she called after you. “Nothing,” you replied, continuing to walk away.

“I just need to lie down,” she frowned and scratched her head. “Well okay, good night!” she called before Inasa popped his head out the door. “Goodnight!” he called before looking at Camie who was dying to find out what had happened between the two of you.

“So, you got into a heartbreak situation because of a word misunderstanding, yeah!?” Hizashi exclaimed and while Katsuki would normally threaten him to shut the hell up before someone else heard, he glanced down and wiped his eyes before nodding.

“I don’t know what the hell their problem is…” he growled in frustration before the older man laid a hand on his shoulder. “There’s more than one problem in this equation, ya dig?” he said wiggling his finger. “Pff, mm…” Katsuki glanced away.

“First things first, ya gotta settle your differences and apologize,” he said, rapidly poking Katsuki’s forehead. He growled, grabbing Hizashi’s wrist and pulling it away. “Stop that,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

“Why the hell would I apologize? The only thing I did was tell them I didn't feel the same way and to get stronger damn it!” he argued, but Hizashi snickered and crossed his arms in response. “Sounds to me one of those things isn't so true anymore,” Katsuki growled but said nothing.

“As for apologizing, you just need some training!” he said before spreading his arms out with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m all over this! Consider me your new emotion coach! We’ll get you and Y/n back in good standing!” He grinned and placed one hand on his hip before extending his other out to Katsuki.

“Sound like a deal!?” he asked excitedly. Katsuki glanced at that hand with his eyebrows lowered and a scowl across his face. He hated to admit he needed help. Why? Because he didn’t need it! He was going to be the future number-one hero, damn it.

But like that Deku, you had always been a thorn in his side. Maybe a slightly different kind of thorn. He knew he didn’t have any feelings for you in middle school, but when he saw you at the provisional licensing exam things changed.

Of course, being the person he was, he refused to admit it and used anger to hide his feelings. He hated talking about damned feelings, and those dumbass friends of yours, Glamouroki and that other loud-mouthed idiot, proved of no use.

If he really wanted to get your attention or at the very least get back on speaking terms with you, maybe he could accept a different kind of help this time around. “Fine!” he said, grabbing the older man’s hand with a firm shake. “Great!” Hizashi replied.

“We’ll start tomorrow, ya dig?!” he said, making his way to the door. “Now get some rest, a hot head like you is gonna need it!” With that he walked away, hoping the efforts he was about to pour into Katsuki would be worth it. 

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

FOURTEEN

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic. So, dear readers, just as in this fanfic it's meant to imagine Remus Lupin as being Andrew Garfield and Sirius Black as being Ben Barnes, now I present to you the fancast of Severus Snape as being actor Enzo Vogrincic. Imagine him as Snape if you can.

THIRTEEN FIFTEEN

Your childhood wasn't easy, even though your parents loved you. This was because they didn't love each other. Your father always had a secret passion for his old college friend, Dumbledore. He spoke about Dumbledore with such tenderness that it was almost impossible for you not to realize they loved each other. When you were little, you used to ask your father when he would take you to meet Uncle Dumbledore. Your mother would get furious about this. They would argue, and your father would usually disappear for a few days. But he always came back. It took you almost fifteen years to realize he returned for your sake. Their marriage only held together because they wanted to be good parents to you. Fortunately, your father eventually realized that the love of his life was more important than living a lie. After that, you learned to split your time between your father and your mother. Amidst all this, your father decided to help you distance yourself from Snape by asking Dumbledore to hire you as a replacement for Lily Potter as the art teacher. This brings you to your current moment, where you find yourself teaching your students to ride beautiful horses because your father told Dumbledore it wasn’t fair for you to punch your student’s father and not receive any punishment.

"Professor, what are we doing outside the classroom, surrounded by horses?" Draco asks with a look of disdain for the situation. He obviously knows that he's going to have to ride the horses, given that everyone is wearing equestrian attire.

"You don't need to be a genius to figure out that we're going to ride the horses. Or do you think they gave us these fancy, tight clothes for no apparent reason?" Harry responds, adjusting his glasses and looking at Draco with a decidedly arrogant expression.

"Look who learned to give sassy replies. For your information, Potter, this outfit isn't that fancy, and it's probably tight on you because you put it on wrong. Which definitely disqualifies you from judging anyone else's genius. Now if you'll excuse me—or even if you won't." Draco speaks confidently and quickly adjusts Harry's outfit with surprising efficiency. You're even a bit shocked to see them interacting this way. Sure, the way they talk to each other is still ruder than you'd like, but they seem to be improving.

"You'll be horseback riding today by order of Headmaster Dumbledore. I did some horseback riding during my teenage years, and now I'll be teaching you how to ride. First, let's get the horses familiar with you. Who wants to volunteer to go first?" you say, positioning the horse next to you and adjusting the saddle. After checking that everything is in order, you see a line of students stepping back from you. Poor things, they're scared.

"Is there any chance I can escape this activity due to feeling queasy in high places?" Draco asks, pretending to sway. He's a mediocre actor, but his effort is nice to see. When he glances at you to see if you've fallen for his act, you simply shake your head, disapproving of his little performance. Harry laughs almost too loudly, while Ron, standing behind them, rolls his eyes.

"Now that Malfoy has finished his show, can we get back to focusing on the activity?" Ron Weasley says, teasing Draco. Draco seems irritated by Ron's comment but appears to ignore it. Hermione promptly raises her hand, volunteering to be the first to mount the horse.

"Granger, put your foot in the stirrup, and I'll give you a boost to get into the saddle. Once you're on the horse, make sure to hold firmly onto the reins," you say, helping your student mount the horse. Within minutes, she's already riding. After much reluctance, your other students are riding almost comfortably. The last to mount a horse is Draco, who needed to watch his peers enjoy themselves before deciding to trust you and the horse. But at some point, between Weasley bragging about his bravery and Harry appearing very excited.

"Are you sure this animal won't hurt me?" Draco asks as he leans on you to climb onto the horse. You giggle and then look at him, trying to show confidence even though he is scared.

"I will be close to you at all times. As long as you treat this horse with affection and trust, he will reciprocate. If you want, you can touch the horse to find out." You say, petting the horse that Draco is riding. Draco makes a serious face but seems to give you a vote of confidence, petting the horse as you are. The horse neighs slightly, and Draco withdraws his hand, but you firmly hold the horse while gesturing for Draco to continue holding the reins tightly.

"Malfoy, stop being a coward and come on!" Harry shouts as he enjoys riding through the forest, staying close to Draco. Draco then begins to ride slowly, being guided by you. It's clear from his face that he wants to keep up with Potter but is still hesitant.

"Potter, pay attention to what you're doing and leave me alone. Professor Y/L/N is the one insisting on having my company for longer. It's not my fault that you're a mediocre student and she prefers to stay close to me," Draco responds pompously, as if he's getting extra attention for being an incredible student. It's funny how the two are always getting on each other's nerves.

"Boys, it would be more appropriate for both of you to mind your own business, at least while you're learning to ride. And I can assure you that there's no favoritism on my part with any student. I helped Harry just as I'm helping you, Draco," you say as you start to let Draco ride on his own. He keeps his eyes focused, watching both Harry and the horse intently.

When confidence finally kicks in, Draco rides more skillfully, chasing after the other students as if it were a race. The truth is, none of them were very far ahead, so it almost looks like a line of horses being ridden by students. You then try to help other students. Hermione is so confident with her horse that she even goes over a large branch with it. Ron is learning to communicate with his horse, which is reluctant to move. You give the horse some affection and lead it to drink some water before Ron can ride it again and manage to trot along smoothly this time. Pansy seems very confident in her riding skills, so when she tries to make the horse jump and it only neighs, you have to tell her that horses need to build a bond with their riders before performing great feats. Luna seemed so out of sync with her horse that at times it was as if the horse was guiding her. She was enchanted by some trees and plants she found in the forest. Harry and Draco, after a while, began to ride around each other. Harry's horse had white fur, and Draco's had dark fur. It was almost as if they completed each other. Everything was fine for a moment until you heard a loud noise, like someone firing a shot into the air.

"Kids, hold tight to the reins and stay calm. I'm going to get each of you off your horses," you say as you observe the horses becoming agitated. Some neighed, others just shied away. With agility, you managed to calm most of the horses in time to help the students dismount. Only Draco and Harry were left on their horses when something hit Draco's horse. The shock was so great that the horse bolted, carrying a very scared and screaming Draco with it.

Immediately, you look at Harry, and with a non-verbal agreement, you mount his horse while he stands in front of you. There's no time to waste, so this is the best you can do. "The path to Hogwarts is along this trail ahead of you. Go there and get a professor to check on the horses. Hermione, make sure to inform them that there was a gunshot. Stay there; Potter and I will bring Draco back." You shout as you prepare to go after Malfoy. You hold the reins firmly and set off in pursuit of Draco's horse.

"I think I can see Draco's horse from here, Professor. It's on our right, heading towards the stream," Harry says, so focused on helping you save Draco that he's practically become a tracker. You ride quickly, trying to keep Harry secure so he doesn't fall. You take a shortcut when you notice the horse is heading towards the place where you first transformed. You quickly arrive at the spot where Draco's horse is headed and, when you arrive, you stop it from moving forward by using your horse and Harry's as a blockade.

"Calm down, boy. Calm down," you say soothingly as you dismount. Draco's horse seems to obey you after a few whinnies. The horse is stressed but calms down enough to allow you to get Draco off. Malfoy has trapped his arm in the reins, probably while desperately trying to stop the horse. He's groaning in pain but visibly relieved that you're there.

"You should thank the professor before whining like a baby. We saved you from a real mess," Potter says while still adjusting himself in the saddle. Malfoy takes advantage of the fact that you’re focused on improvising a bandage for his arm and throws a rock at Potter. For some reason, Harry had taken off his helmet, so the rock hits him squarely on the forehead.

“Oops, wasn’t meant to hit you for real,” Malfoy says, and you finally finish bandaging him before heading over to Potter, who is holding his hand over his forehead. You remove Potter’s hand from the injury and see blood oozing from it.

“Son of a bitch, pathetic egotist,” Harry yells, holding his hand against his forehead and murmuring in pain. After finishing bandaging Draco, you take a handkerchief from Malfoy’s pocket and press it against Harry’s forehead to staunch the bleeding.

"Before you two kill each other, let's head back to Hogwarts. Draco, lean on me, and I'll help you onto the horse. Harry, keep that handkerchief pressed to your forehead with one hand and hold the reins with the other. I'll guide both of you and the other horse. Don't do anything stupid," you say with a certain authority. The two seem to listen, and minutes later, Draco finds himself clinging to Potter to avoid falling off the horse. In silence, for the first time, you all make your way back to Hogwarts. When you arrive at the school's entrance, Sirius is anxiously waiting for you.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asks, coming very close to you, his concern evident. He takes the horse from your hands, and for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you there.

"Black, Professor Y/L/N is fine, but your godson and I are injured. So, if you could stop flirting for a moment," Draco says irritably. You and Sirius look at him, surprised by his words. Harry uses one of his hands, previously holding the handkerchief to his forehead, to slap Malfoy, who winces in pain.

"Malfoy, to you it's either Professor Black or Cousin Sirius. Now shut your mouth and lean on me," Sirius grumbles, picking Draco up as if he were a small child seeking comfort. With Malfoy in his arms, Sirius carries him inside. You quickly approach Harry and help him down from the horse. The bleeding on his forehead seems to have decreased significantly. You assist Harry into the school, and you all head to the infirmary. After handing the boys over to the nurses, Madam Pomfrey asks you and Sirius to wait outside.

"You surprised me today. Acting irresponsibly, putting your safety at risk. Including taking my godson along," Sirius reprimands you. You look at him and laugh, which might seem strange but makes sense to you at the moment.

"You are something else, you know. I thought you were genuinely worried about me, but it's just another way for you to accuse me of doing something wrong. It's wrong for me to bite Lupin, it's wrong for me to use your godson's horse to rescue your cousin in the forest, it's wrong for me to exist. I'll never do anything you think is right." You laugh as you speak. It's almost a joke, being constantly criticized by Sirius.

"I was worried about you. I admit I’m hard on you, probably because I want to push you away. But when our students came back terrified and told me there was a shot fired, and that you ran off after Draco and took Harry with you, I feared for you. I don't want to lose you, just as I don't want to lose my godson or my cousin. Somehow, I've grown attached to you as if you were mine. But I keep messing up with you." Sirius says, handing you a cigarette from his pants pocket. You don't usually smoke, but while trying not to worry about your students, you think a cigarette might ease the tension.

"Maybe you just push me away because you don't want to commit to me, at least not romantically. Maybe we should try to be just friends, without any romantic tension." you say while taking a drag from the cigarette, facing the open window near the chairs in the waiting area. This area is more like a corridor with a few chairs and two divided windows for anyone who wants to lean out to smoke or get some fresh air.

"This might not be the right place to talk about this, but who cares. I can't just be your friend, and I don't think Lupin can either. I'm attracted to you in such a different but intense way compared to how I feel about Lupin. I don't know if this makes any sense, but Lupin is probably my soulmate. And yet, I still want you. Just like, at the end of the day, Lupin wants you too. And I know you feel this attraction for us as well," Sirius says, moving closer to you as he smokes, both of you facing the window.

"But if we keep this up, I'll be the one who gets hurt. You two prioritize each other. I'm just the second option. It's foolish to continue this. The right thing to do is to give up on any romance and try to be friends. Don't you think?" you say, sounding weary. In reality, you are exhausted. Thinking about your relationship feels like a certain waste of time.

"I just want you to keep in mind that if you want, Lupin and I are ready to give this a chance. And even if you don’t, we’re both here for you." Sirius finishes his cigarette and gives you a kiss on the cheek. He then leaves, leaving you contemplative as you throw your cigarette away upon seeing a nearby sign that reads "No Smoking."

[broken-glowsticks]

What Once was Mine

Chapter 7 - He who Loves Her

Genre: Childhood friends, Eventual Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Love corner/love triangle, love rivals, Series. Not all chapters will be proofread!!

Warnings: 18+, mdni, mentions of sex and alcohol consumption, additional warnings will be added to individual chapters as needed.

Additional tags: slight angst

Previous • Main • Next

As much as he tried to hide it, Hyunjin was more than unhappy that you were leaving him earlier than he anticipated. Normally, he would just be pouty but ultimately understanding that you had to leave, but the sheer fact that you were leaving to go see Seo Changbin of all people was enough to fill him with undiluted irritation. Not that he would ever let you know that.

“Are you sure you have to go, Beautiful?” Hyunjin whined, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You ask me that every time,” you chuckled, shoving your clothes into your duffle. “You had me all last night and all this morning, it's time for me to return to reality, you big ol’ whiney baby,” you playfully scolded, running a hand through his hair and kissing his temple. He groaned in response, flopping face-first into the bed.

“When will you just stay with me forever?” Hyunjin mumbled into the plush sheets, more to himself than anything else.

“What was that, you pouty drama queen?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin gripped, pushing himself off the bed to follow you to the door. “Call me when you get there, okay?”

“Yes sir,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his middle and pulling him for a tight hug, one he reciprocated enthusiastically.

Idly, Hyunjin thought about tipping your chin up to stare longingly into your eyes to show you how desperate he was for you to stay. To smother you in sweet and passionate kisses before you went. About caressing you gently until you couldn't help but melt into him and think about nothing but his touch. About how he wanted to do absolutely anything to make you forget this other guy and stay with him. But he didn't do any of that, instead he simply sent you off with a smile, asking you to come see him again as soon as you could. He would soon come to regret not acting on his impulse that day.

○●☆♡☆●○

It was barely two in the afternoon when you arrived to Changbins apartment. You felt a weird mix of guilt and anxiety as you parked, feelings stemming from the fact that you came here directly from Hyunjins. Part of you debated over calling the whole date off, but a knock at your window startled you so severely that the thought flung itself from your mind. Looking out of your window you were pleasantly surprised to see Changbin leaning against your car.

“What are you doing out here?” You asked him once you opened your door.

“I happened to be getting home from work when I noticed you pull in. I thought I'd give you a little scare and come say hi,” Changbin said with a sly grin, closing your car door for you.

“Well, congratulations, you got what you wanted. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” you pouted, hugging yourself.

“Awe, I'm sorry Y/N, what can I do to make it up to you?” He asked lightheartedly, resting an arm against the roof of your car, his face coming in close to yours. You felt a giddy thrill run through you as Changbin slightly caged you in against your car.

“Well… you did promise me a date. That's why I'm here, isn't it? You're forgiven as long as I have a good time.” You said coyly, refusing to meet his eyes. You could feel his chuckle rumbling in his chest with how close he was to you.

“Fair enough, Princess,” He murmured against your ear, causing shivers to run down your spine. “Well then, we should get going then. I just hope my plans are good enough,” he said, taking your hand in his and leading you to his apartment.

“You have plans? I thought you just got home.”

“I may or may not be completely lying and have no plan whatsoever,” Changbin admitted with a laugh, all his confident swagger suddenly replaced with bashfulness. “But I hope I can impress you anyway.”

You couldn't help but melt a bit at Changbins words.

“I'm sure whatever you come up with will be great,” you reassured, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

Changbin felt his heart flip flop, this was progress right? You explicitly called this a date, you reciprocate his flirting, and even that little squeeze… He had to remember that you weren't his girlfriend yet, but that was hard to do when you were already acting like you were. Or maybe that was just his imagination running away with him.

“Well, first things first, I need a shower. Maybe some food after? Would you like to go out or stay in?”

“Hmmm, let's go out,” you say with a grin, you had stayed in for your last two meals, you'd like something different. You suddenly felt that odd mix of guilt and anxiety blossom in your center again, were you going to feel this way every time you even thought about Hyunjin today?

You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from overthinking this, but it didn't do you much good. What was wrong with you? It's not like you've received any kind of explicit confirmation from Changbin that he’s after a serious relationship, hell, this is only your first date after all. You shouldn't be feeling so guilty for having sex with someone else when you're not dating the guy, you're perfectly within your rights to sleep with whomever you want until you are 100% sure that he wants something official and exclusive. You knew all of this, but you still couldn't help but feel a sense of shame every time Hyunjin came to mind.

Once you two entered Changbins apartment he urged you to make yourself comfortable, offering you a drink and the use of his large TV in the living room while he went to wash up.

“If you're feeling tired from the drive, you can even take a nap in my bed. Wouldn't be the first time you slept there,” His words caused you to flush at the sudden reminder of the morning after karaoke. It had been about, what, two months since that day? Maybe longer? It felt like it was only yesterday.

“And maybe you can finally give me my clothes back?”

“Maybe I like keeping your clothes hostage?”

“Maybe I might have to steal more of yours then.” Changbins eyes darkened at your words, a smirk playing on his lips, you knew a look like this well. You weren't aware that sweet, soft Changbin could make such a look. It gave you goosebumps.

“Maybe I was hoping for that. After all, I think you look hot in my clothes, Princess,” he said, his voice a rumble.

He didn't leave you any time to reply, leaving to shower. You sat on his couch, stunned by the interaction that just happened. It was different from when you two kissed in your bed, that night you two were both spurred on by darkness, proximity and alcohol. This time it was daylight out and both of you were entirely sober.

You shook your head, once again trying to keep yourself from overthinking and also trying to keep your mind out of the gutter. You reminded yourself once again, this was only your first date with him. Turning on the TV you tried to pick out something that would keep your attention, eventually settling on continuing a drama you had found with Jisung. He'd be pissed you watched ahead without him, but it was an emergency.

By the time Changbin came out of the bathroom, washed and changed, you had calmed down and were fully invested in your drama. Changbin adored seeing you wrapped in the blanket he usually left on the couch. You had drawn your knees to your chest, pillow secured tightly in your arms as your eyes remained glued to the TV.

“Should we stay in instead?”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, causing him to laugh. You fumbled for the remote, pausing your drama and standing abruptly.

“No, no, no. You took the time to get ready. We should go out.”

“I dressed up for you, Princess,” he stated bluntly. “As long as you like what you see, nothing else matters.”

“O-oh, I… I see,” you stuttered, blushing as you found your eyes wandering in directions he wasn't. “Well… we can stay in then, I guess.” You felt like a child the way the volume of your voice dwindled.

“I'll order some take out then, Chinese?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great, continue your show while I order,” he said simply, pulling out his phone as you resumed your spot on the couch. You thought you were going to have a moment to collect yourself, but Changbin gave you no such respite, plopping down directly next to you.

“In the mood for anything specifically?” He asked innocently, but all you were able to focus on was the press of his arm against yours and the smell of his cologne.

“Uhm, beef and broccoli?”

“Not an orange chicken girl?” He said as he selected items from the online menu, slinging his arm behind your head to rest on the back of the couch.

“I like it, but it tastes different at every place. I'm not always in the mood for flavor roulette.” You were suddenly so aware of his every movement.

“Fair enough,” he said, wrapping up the order. “Alright, there we go, all ordered.” You smiled shyly, watching him set his phone aside and place all his attention squarely on you.

“I assume we'll go get it together when it's ready?”

“You assume correctly, Princess,” Changbin replied, dropping his arm from the couch to wrap it around you, pulling you close. “Now, what are we watching?”

○●☆♡☆●○

Dinner was delicious and while you refused to continue the drama with Changbin, for fear that Jisung would be extra upset that you not only watched ahead and but also watched it with someone else, you had found a funny movie that you and Changbin both enjoyed.

It was dark out now. All the food was eaten, Changbin had wrapped you both in a large, fluffy blanket, and you two were snuggled together on the couch, halfway through the ‘To All The Boys I've Loved Before’ trilogy on Netflix. You felt so comfortable being pressed against him, his arms around you, your head on his chest as you two watched Netflix together. It was sweet. It was intimate, and it was something you wanted more of. And it was at that moment when you suddenly hoped Changbin was aiming for more with you. That he was wanting more of you, too.

You have had nights like these with Hyunjin, nights where he held you against his chest and played with your hair as you watched something together. Those nights were always nice. You always loved them, but they were always missing something. You were always aware that no matter how much Hyunjin doted on you, no matter how much he spoiled you or told you he loved you, you always knew he was never in love with you. His kisses weren't the kisses a boyfriend would give his girlfriend. You knew this.

Your mind shot back to a night Hyunjin had dragged you out to his favorite club a year after graduation. He loved it because not only did it have good food and great drinks, but because it had the best selection of girls.

“I've seen plenty of guys here too, give it a chance. You might meet someone you like,” he had told you. He didn't want to pressure you, he just wanted you to have fun, let loose a bit and maybe see where things could go with a hot stranger.

You weren't all for it, but you knew Hyunjin meant well, so you tried to play along. But it wasn't until after the third drunk guy tried to flirt with you that you decided then and there some hook up wasn't worth it. At least not one that came from a club. You had looked over to see Hyunjin making out with some girl and while you were sure at the time that what you were feeling wasn't jealousy, you didn't know exactly what to call it either.

You had decided to call it a night, let Hyunjin have his fun while you went home or maybe even go bug Jisung. But upon noticing you obviously weren't having a good time, Hyunjin ditched the girl and took you back to his place instead. It was there where you had told Hyunjin you wouldn't mind if he slept with others but that you just couldn’t do it. You felt a little silly saying that only the possibility of a boyfriend would make you end your sexual relationship with Hyunjin, but he had assured you it wasn't silly. That it wasn't silly to want more, to want love.

You had then decided to ask him the big question, then and there.

“Would you ever consider dating anybody, Hyunjinnie?” You didn’t expect his answer to crush you so much.

“Never.”

In all the ways you loved Hyunjin, he would only ever love you as a friend. You had known this practically since the start of your “with benefits” part of your “friends with benefits” relationship started, but it wasn't until you realized you had developed feelings for someone else that you realized that a part of you was still hoping. Hoping that one day Hyunjin would wake up and suddenly see you as more, so much more, than just a friend. But he never would, he told you himself, and you were tired of waiting, of pretending to be something you're not, of wasting your time when there was someone else right there who you could possibly move forward with. Depending, of course, if that was what Changbin wanted. You could only hope he did.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket caught your attention. When you pulled it out your heart tightened at the sight of Hyunjins contact. It was odd, normally you'd be so happy to hear from him.

“Is everything ok?” Changbin tried to keep his voice level, but it was hard to tamp down his irritation when he could clearly see who was calling you.

“I can call him back later, I'm comfortable here,” you replied honestly, silencing the call and letting Hyunjin go to voicemail. Changbin tried to keep the smug feeling of triumph from showing on his face as you settled back against his chest.

The two of you were just starting to get back into the movie when your phone started going off again. It was Hyunjin. That's when it hit you.

“Oh, shit. I know why he's calling,” you sat up, “I told him I would let him know I got here safe. He's probably worried.” You looked over to Changbin, your mouth open, ready to apologize when it died on your lips.

“Hold on, let me just text him real quick,” you said instead, surprising Changbin who had been expecting you to excuse yourself so you could call Hyunjin back. “I'm sorry about that,” you said gently, tossing your phone onto the nearby coffee table and crawling into Changbins welcoming arms again, he couldn't help but notice how you immediately got a reply text from Hyunjin, one you ignored.

“It's okay, Princess,” Changbin reassured, a feeling of warmth and importance surging throughout him as he held you tightly. “Let's just finish our movies.”

○●☆♡☆●○

It was late by the time you and Changbin decided to call it a night. Changbin heavily debated over asking you to stay over - still riding his emotional high from you prioritizing your date earlier - but ultimately decided against it, opting instead to walk you down to your car.

It was cold outside, Changbin gave you one of his jackets to wear, and his hand was doing wonders in keeping yours warm. Your brain felt fuzzy. Your revelation of your feelings for Changbin and your surrender of your repressed feelings for Hyunjin was making you dizzy, and you didn't know how to go about handling things.

You knew you had to stop sleeping with Hyunjin, that was a given regardless of how much it would hurt to break things off. If you were honest though, what you were truly mulling over was if you should risk confessing your feelings to Changbin when you don't exactly know what his intentions were with you. Were you taking the coward's way out by waiting? What if Changbin rejected you, only wanting sex or something noncommittal, then what? Would you drown your sorrows in Hyunjin and make yourself further attached to someone who also doesn't want to commit to you?

Another phone call from Hyunjins pulled you from your thoughts, stopping you just short of your car. You were going to answer, your finger poised over the answer button. You had just wanted to let him know he was being a little suffocating tonight, but Changbins exasperated sigh and release of your hand made any thoughts of Hyunjin vanish.

“Binnie? Is everything okay?”

“Always in the way…” Was all he said, his voice an agitated murmur.

“Bin?”

Before you could say anything else Changbin turned towards you so abruptly that you stumbled against your car. Grabbing you by the shoulder, Changbin leaned over you, now purposefully pinning you to your car as opposed to how he playfully did so earlier that afternoon.

“Y/N, I'm sorry, I was going to give us more time, but I'm done waiting.”

“Wha-what are you talking about Changbin?” You asked softly. “What are you doi-?

“I like you.” Your throat went dry, silencing you and allowing Changbin to continue.

“This isn't how I planned on ever telling this to you, but when I said I was willing to wait, I meant I was willing to wait for you to notice me. To see that I’m right here, willing to be everything for you. But I can't wait anymore, I'm tired of it.” Changbins hands clenched around your arms as he spoke, his voice sounding raw and desperate.

It wasn't until you made a small noise of discomfort that he dropped his hands, pulling away from you completely and taking several steps back, looking at you with pained eyes. The two of you stood there in cold and silence, both unable to speak. You don't know how long it's been when Changbin decides to take a tentative step towards you, then another. Closing the gap, he reaches out for you again, this time taking your face in his hands. His touch shot sparks through your body, and you close your eyes, relishing in the sensation. You wanted him to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you, and he almost did. You could feel his hot puffs of breath fanning your face, his lips ghosting over yours, but he doesn't kiss you. He instead buries his face into your shoulder, hugging your body so tightly against him you fear you might suffocate.

“I want to kiss you, I can't tell you how badly I want to kiss you, to make you mine. But I can't, not with that damn Hwang Hyunjin in the way.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” You ask vaguely, but he doesn't hear you. Not that it matters, he wouldn't have understood what you were asking for anyway.

After pressing you against him for a moment Changbin once again holds you at arms length, his grip much gentler on your shoulders.

“Y/N, When he's not in the way, then I'll kiss you and make you mine. I promise when that happens that I'll be a good boyfriend and take you on a real date after,” he tried to say with a smile, but the heartbreak was palpable on his face.

You tried to stop him, to tell him to wait a moment, you tried to get a word in edgewise, but he wouldn't budge. Before you knew it Changbin was kissing your forehead and pushing you gently into your car before making his way back into his apartment.

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

A/N: Oof, leaving you with some slight angst there at the end. What will poor Y/N do????

Taglist: @groovygroovyhyunjin @hhwangsmoon @luvyblossom @doggezz

[spacedoutpng]

SHAKE?

[gutsfics]

Julian is aspec ive decided. he and Percy r queerplatonic

for them it looks like two dudes who are roommates forever and have eachother's backs on everything. total bro besties for life

[wooahaes]

writing a fic (warning: its gonna be sad at the end tho)

[binging-asian-dramas]

Pending Train: 8:23, Ashita Kimi to 7

Story: 7

Acting: 10

Chemistry: 10

Comparable to: the Stranded (thailand); Missing 9 (kdrama)

This drama is for those who love those ‘Lost’ apocalyptic type shows. Storyline wise it’s not bad just executed meh like. Not much romance, great building of characters though. It’s a fun drama since it’s a short one.

[kleptokure]

Sensitive Soul Jams ‪‪❤︎‬

Burning Spice Cookie, Mystic Flour Cookie, and Shadow Milk Cookie x GN!Reader (separate)

(a bit suggestive !) (inspo from this post, by my lovely mootie ᡣ𐭩 )

-` ᰔ ´-

Burning Spice Cookie ⟢

The day was progressing as it always does. The heat blazes down from above, and the scent of spice wafts through the strong breeze. The Tribe of Wild Spices seem to have everything under control since the capturing of Kulfi is showing positive signs.

There was not much that their lord needed to step in for. Golden Cheese Cookie was captured, and the remainder of his Soul Jam was returned to its proper owner. It would appear the afternoon could not get much more grand.

Although he craves havoc, Burning Spice Cookie settled for an activity less disastrous: a playful brawl between him and his lover.

It never fails to be a joy when roughhousing with you. The outcome of the battle can only be anticipated. Either he wins due to his pure strength, or you do by catching him off guard with your quick wits. Regardless, he will revel in the result. A fight that is not so dull is rare for him, so he appreciates your liveliness.

Nearing the canyon close to his temple, the two of you commenced a battle. Burning Spice Cookie charges at you with his weapon in hand and a large grin plastered on his face. You dodge him by a smidge, your arm brushing against him in the process.

Burning Spice Cookie's smile falters, and his movements come to a slow, giving you an opportunity to strike. Yet you do not, due to noticing the change in his behavior. It is not the most common to see him with a poker face, causing you to rethink the prior moments.

You did not attack him; rather, you had some momentary contact. With his Soul Jam, to be specific. It was quite brief, but you find there to be no other reason for his slight stillness. It is obvious his desire for battle remains, so it would be silly to think otherwise. Testing the matter once more would be the sole way to find out.

Your chances are cut short when his normal behavior returns, a chuckle emitting from his way as he dashes at you another time. Burning Spice Cookie has you pushed against one of the pillars supporting his temple, his parashu near your neck to trap you.

While it seems the position plays out in his favor, his actions also give you a chance to strike up your new objective. Burning Spice Cookie inches closer, his face nearing yours. He can sense the taste of sweet victory already. All of a sudden, his attention is rerouted, and his grin falls flat out of surprise.

The Beast of Destruction detects a soft touch landing on his Soul Jam, a certain hand gliding across the edges of the crimson triangle. The feeling is new to him, and he does not know how to welcome it. The sensation causes a sheet of warmth to fall over him, as if he were an animal going through mounds of petting.

Quickly, he jumps back, putting a distance between you two. Burning Spice Cookie narrows his eyes, looking your way. He can spot the smugness across your face. It is clear you know what you did, and he will get you back for it. Though his mind still lingers on the topic. Why did he feel so weak in that moment?

"What's wrong? You almost had me there," you taunted, snapping him out of his thoughts. For once, Burning Spice Cookie does not have a response. He himself finds the situation to be odd, but he is aware it has to deal with some part of his Soul Jam. Surely he did not grow a flaw, he believes. That would be absurd.

"I will not allow you to crumble so soon," he excused, covering up the truth that you both know. This time, your lover is hesitant to come forth, as he has acknowledged the slight inferiority he gained. Instead, he watches as you dash towards him. Even so, you do not aim for an attack, and Burning Spice Cookie notices. It should be pretty clear on what you plan to hit.

The beast dodges, sliding to the right. You follow right after, causing him to elude you once more. Although he swerves your strikes, your lover finds the circumstances to be hilarious. It is surprising you managed to cause a challenge for him, making him all the more excited. Unfortunately, his excitement led him to a predicament.

While Burning Spice Cookie is fast, you were able to catch up by the slightest inch. He experiences the smallest touch of your palm near his Soul Jam and has to resist himself from going still. He does not know when or why he's gotten so sensitive.

By now, he had decided to stop his evasion. He is the Great Destroyer, a name you whisper with fear. Why is he running from another? It does not matter if that other may be his lover; he should stand his ground.

Burning Spice Cookie stops, and to his surprise, you do as well. Did you grow tired of teasing him? He hopes so, but at the same time, he wishes for more of this little game.

His eyes are trained on you, growing nearer to him with each slow step you take. You stand a breath away from your beloved's face, and your hand rises closer to the Light of Destruction. This time, he will allow you to do such. It would be better for him to find out more about the pestering feeling rather than resorting to negligence.

The moment your palm touches his Soul Jam, Burning Spice Cookie releases a breath. Without words, you press your hand firmly against the shiny red shape. The receiver of your touch feels as if his mind will go to mush. He may have been sweating earlier due to your spar, but now he sweats for a different reason.

Your hand feels so warm, tracing the edges of the triangle engraved to your lover. Burning Spice Cookie wonders if his Soul Jam had always been so delicate. It's rare for a cookie to grow so close to him, so he would have never guessed.

Looking upwards, you lock eyes with him. You have yet to lay your eyes on such an expression. His brows are furrowed, and his constant smile lowered into a shaky frown, like he gained no enjoyment from this. You can hear the uneven breaths that emit from the beast. How funny it is to see him experiencing new emotions.

Burning Spice Cookie raises his hand, which now wraps around your wrist. You assumed he could take no more stimulation; however, he keeps your hand in its placement. The beast grits his teeth at his own actions, refraining from letting any noises escape him. He could already feel a rumble in the back of his throat, and he did not wish for further sounds to come up.

Just to make matters worse for the unsteady cookie, you position yourself lower, now face-to-face with the object of his power. Burning Spice Cookie foresees your next move, and he cannot come to deny it.

Your lips press against the smooth gem, a soft kiss taking place as your final blow. It is nothing short of effective. The cookie with spice carved into his dough, the cookie who spends perpetual time under the blaring heat, feels like he has managed to melt into jam, all because of a small kiss. He had to gulp down the drool he built up, or else he'd create a mess.

You do not plan to end your attacks here. Burning Spice Cookie is fierce until the end when he indulges in your shared spars; it would only be fair to reciprocate.

Pressing your hand to his Soul Jam, you make sure to be firm with your movement. A consistent, pestering rub for him to endure. His grip on his weapon grows weaker, but he refuses to drop it. He feels as if doing such would be a sign of weakness and has not lost this battle yet.

His eyes appear to stare back at yours, yet you get the sense he stares through you. Something must be stuck in that pretty head of his. Too bad you do not know what.

Your hand rubs the borders of his Soul Jam, which seems to be to his liking. You are close enough to hear the whirr springing from your lover, despite the tough front he has on. Just a bit more, and your victory is guaranteed.

Burning Spice Cookie decided to stop fighting against the feeling you give. Leaning into your touch, he strengthens the charge that shoots through him. He has endure many hot subjects, but he does not recall a heat such as this.

You believe your lover's headspace is nothing more than a white space. Burning Spice is entirely zoned out, and you even led him to purr. Although he might not declare it, you have won without a doubt.

With the beast weakened, you lift your hands, cupping your lover's face. As adorable as he is right now, you would like to point out another detail.

"I win," you stated, and Burning Spice Cookie cannot muster up words to say anything against your declaration. If he were not at a loss for speech, he would surely say you cheated. You cannot just abuse the power you hold over him! But, oh well, you did. Besides, he does not appear so displeased over that fact.

Of course, now you are obligated to take care of Burning Spice Cookie until he regains his right state of mind. This is all because of you, anyway. You won't leave your lover hanging, will you?

Mystic Flour Cookie 𖢻

The wind blows a harsh gust after another, a certain flour gusting through the wind. A cookie would think to flee, giving themselves an attempt to escape the pale ailment. It would be useless in the end, but it is amusing to watch them try. For you, the weather is one to take a breath in. There's nothing like the flour fog to stand amidst each day.

Of course, spending the morning with your beloved improves the dawn by a long shot. Mystic Flour Cookie is a lady of grace, and you will always be grateful to have been blessed with the sight of her every day. The cookies that dared to take your lover for granted in her past are nothing more than doughbrains.

You tend to go the extra mile with your care, slowly erasing the misery in her memories during the process. For once, the apathetic cookie could admit she feels appreciated. You must be a gift from the Witches; an apology for her suffering. If so, she has accepted the present with open arms.

Despite how emotionless Mystic Flour Cookie may appear, she makes sure to return your endearment in her actions so you'll never feel mistreated. Many call you a terrible duo due to the anguish you both cause, but all cookies return to flour at some point. Those who think otherwise are doughbrains too.

Nonetheless, even those who are opposed cannot come in the way of your wonderful relationship. The moment as of right now proves how pleasing your connection with Mystic Flour Cookie can grow.

Underneath a dumpling tree, the beast rests in a sitting position. The shade the tree provides offers a nice area to relax. You have your head laid in her lap, a common place to spot yourself in.

Mystic Flour Cookie tends to meditate elsewhere, a location at the top of many stairs, but this time, she decided to take a more scenic route. After the two of you decided to take a simple stroll at sunrise, you arrived where you both are now.

The beast has her hands caressing your face. One brushes against the side of your face, and the other lifts your hair away from your expression, which gives herself a lovelier sight of your features. Her touch is soothing, and her hands are soft when in contact with your dough. Sleep could come easy under situations like this. Yet, a sudden thought appears, keeping you awake. You feel the need to share your ideas with your lover.

"Mystic Flour Cookie," you called out in a low tone. Her motions stop, a signal that you have her full attention.

"Would you mind if we switched places?" With your question out, you wait for her response. As always, she keeps her silence, but you can notice the mental debate ongoing within her head. It does not take long before you receive your answer.

"Very well," your dearest replies. Mystic Flour Cookie does not mind being on the receiving end of gentle touches. After all, she is the main one to give them to both you and her pet haetae. She is sure the change of positions would not be distressing, especially since they shall come from her beloved.

With confirmation presented, you sit up to remove yourself from the comfort of the Beast's lap. The two of you shift until perfection, and now Mystic Flour Cookie has her head placed on your lap. Her veil nearly falls off, but she would not care much if it did anyway.

She appears so divine that any cookie would be jealous that they are not the ones this close. You cannot help but reach forward, your hand taking place on her cheek. Your palm brings warmth to her usually cool dough, and Mystic Flour Cookie leans the slightest bit closer.

Soon after, you fiddle with her hair, combing your hands through the pasty icing, which felt like silk due to how well it was cared for. You can simply hope your dearest experiences the same feelings she gives you.

The beast of apathy would admit that she does feel at ease, so much so that she believes a nap would be in order, even though sleep is not a requirement. It would not be the first time she rested near you, so it would fail to be a problem.

She perceives one touch, belonging to you, idly rubbing the side of her face. The other hand runs through her hair while also being careful not to cause any strands to stick out. A soft sigh makes its way from her lips. She deems the gentle combing more enjoyable. This should happen much more, she believes. Was this the bliss she has been gifting to the guardian of her temple this entire time?

Alas, she felt your hand remove from petting her any longer. Then, your touch begins to trail further up. Mystic Flour Cookie assumed you would undo her bun, to which she would not be opposed, but her expectations fall flat. In reality, your next act is far more alarming.

Your next placement lies onto the light of Mystic Flour Cookie's power, her Soul Jam. Her face twitches for a slight second, which skips past your notice. Even though the weight of your hand was so delicate, her head endures a flicker of going faint. Conditions worsen for the pale beast when you begin to stroke the rhombus-like shape.

She feels strange. Overly so, as if you were embracing her into one of your sweet hugs, but this time around, the tenderness comes stronger. She was unaware that her Soul Jam could bring these sorts of emotions. It is not common for a cookie to get this close to her for such to be known.

At first, Mystic Flour Cookie believes the sense is one to come and go. She would not say she minds it. In fact, the beast nudges into the sensation you have unknowingly offered. Extra affection that stems from you will never fail to be savored on her end.

Though the truth soon brings itself forward. The buzz refuses to dim down; rather, it grows more prominent. It seems it was accompanied by a stronger warmth as well. All the while, your interest in her Soul Jam remains, along with your constant rubs.

Now, Mystic Flour Cookie notices how the heat of her jam feels as if it is increasing. Perhaps comparing this to a mere hug was the wrong choice, as your touch lures out different reactions. Though it is not exactly shown on your lover's face. She still looks graceful, per usual, and you are too concerned with the pale shape to notice her speed in breathing escalating.

While this may appear as a problem for the beast, she makes no attempt to point it out. Pain is not imposed upon her, so there really is no reason to bring this to your attention, she thinks. After all, she has said every inch of your love is to be relished. Mystic Flour is not one prone to changing opinions.

Your hand brushes over the point of her gem, and she releases a shaky breath. No matter your delicate manners, she shudders at each movement, a small tremble in her hands.

"Is something the matter, Mystic Flour Cookie?" Your inquiry catches her off guard, and her eyes open partially. You were bound to notice her unusual behavior eventually, which was unfortunate for her.

"...No," she lied. After realizing her own peculiar gestures, Mystic Flour feels foolish. It is strange for her to act so inappropriately, in her own words. But can she truly hold herself liable? Love did not exist much in her reality, as she believed it would be futile in the end. She becomes greedy when it is given. You know this, don’t you? You surely would not mind. As her lover, of course.

Although she noticed the suspicion laced in your expression, you continued with your curiosity, and your hand placed onto her Soul Jam once more. She hums when you do so. A stronger sound rests on the tip of her tongue, but she refuses to let it be heard.

With the light hue of her dough, she is sure her cheeks are noticeably flushed. She is unable to prevent much of that, as the heat from your contact is much stronger. She rests in a cooler region, so encountering a warmth as this nearly brings her to overheat. You can only point fingers at yourself if she were to diminish to crumbs.

She would not mind, though. Mystic Flour Cookie accepts the truth of her turning into flour, too. If it were to be from your hand, then her bliss would only grow stronger. In her perspective, that appears like a preferable way of crumbling.

Just carry on with what you do. Get used to it along the way. She foresees herself asking for another headpat quite soon. As her partner, you would be delighted to, wouldn't you?

Shadow Milk Cookie 🂱

Swaying side to side, you rest upon a grand chair placed in front of an extravagant show, which was orchestrated by none other than Shadow Milk Cookie, your cherished one.

It is nothing short of a routine, observing the beast commence yet another of his countless performances. All the same, you view each one with fondness. For you, it comes as hard to feel disinterested when he organizes each presentation so meticulously, and it is all intended just for you.

You look ahead, watching the small cut-out of a certain Soul Jam thief grow puny under the sights of his superior enemy. It is always amusing to watch some simple foreshadowing. Clapping your hands, you prompt your host to continue with your sign of approval.

There are a few acts that include this specific scenario. In this particular plot, the ending contains the lovely crumbling of the thief. What more could a cookie ask for? That was a grandiose display.

"Bravo!" You applauded once more, watching as your entertainer bowed down in a show of his gratitude. Roses get thrown to Shadow Milk's stage, not from any definite cookie.

"Thank you, thank you!" He sends his kisses to the false audience. Somehow, they are all sent your way. What a silly accident. Nonetheless, you catch each one.

Shadow Milk Cookie hops off of the platform, floating his way towards you at an eager pace. You hold out your hands, awaiting his own to receive them. Throwing his staff to the side, the deceiver believes your grasp is more significant than a measly stick.

His hands cup yours, pulling himself closer to shorten the distance much too large for his taste. The ill-famed eyes he possesses stare lovingly into yours.

"I refuse to leave such a dazzling host empty-handed. Surely, you require something in return?" You jest, a proper tone held in your speech. Your lover refrains from giggling. He decides to play along with your proper front.

"Oooh, but I could never! Your presence is more than enough," he protested, but that answer fails to satisfy you. Shadow Milk does plenty for your sole benefit. Would it bring him to crumbs just to ask for repayment?

Perhaps you may be lesser in reality, but that means little. You are certain your affection brings him more joy than meets the eye. All you can do is be left to wonder how starved the jester is if affection is all it takes to reimburse him. Nonetheless, that need of his is being met now.

"I believe a dance is in order." Your hands hold a firmer grip as they grasp onto his. Starting up a slow waltz, you coax the deceiver into a dance laced with the genuine adoration you retain for him.

"Well..." He drags on, which would leave you in a brewing suspense, yet that falls short when a soft tune falls upon your hearing. You can assume his answer when a floating gramophone appears out of the blue.

"Since ya asked so nicely, I suppose I can spare a minute or two." You managed to woo your notorious lover once more, an expected outcome. Placing your hands onto his waist, you feel Shadow Milk's arms slide around your neck, ensuring a formal stance. The moonlight peeks through a window, spreading a blue light across the space. The moment feels straight out of one of the many fairy tales Shadow Milk has told.

You move in sync with your partner, eyes heavily trained on one another. He does not blink, you notice. That would probably unsettle any other cookie, but you tend to welcome his odd habits, so nothing much is different.

The dance goes along smoothly, with movements careful and following the pattern of the music. However, the usual bores Shadow Milk Cookie, so he finds it hard to stay within those borders. All of a sudden, a foot steps on yours, causing you to stumble over your planned choreography.

Not to worry, as your trickster here catches you before you could get the chance to fall over. Don't point your fingers at him; it was merely a misplaced maneuver on his end. Though it is hard to believe such when you are aware of how skilled the cookie is when it comes to waltzing around.

"Woopsie!" Not an exact apology, yet you do not plan to scold him or say much else for that matter. With the gramophone's classical music coming to a halt, you believe there should be a closing for your dance that is just as suitable.

You stand upright, having rebounded from your unintended tumble. The soft melody arrives at its stop, and you both stand in your places. Your touch lingers on his satin clothing. The pleasant silence floats by, as Shadow Milk's broad smile gives you the hint that he is beyond delighted to participate in your waltz.

Approaching your beloved's face, you intend to get rid of the gap between you. While the beast would find rejecting your kiss humorous, he cannot deny himself wanting to lean in as well. He does so, closing his eyes in like manner and awaiting the intimacy he craves.

In an instant, his multicolored eyes open at the same moment. His attention is brought to an abrupt case: your lips are pressed to his Soul Jam. That differs much from the mark he had foreseen you gracing your touch with. Your impromptu deed brought out conflicting passions, too.

Your kiss was no simple peck. You ensured a lengthier smooch was made against the Light of Deceit. The extended action allowed more feelings to be processed on his end. It was amusing, you thought, until you raised your sights on your lover's incredulous face. His expression lacked any theatrical essence. Had your joke landed the wrong way?

"Shadow Milk Cookie?" Whispering his name, you are patient for his reaction. While his stare does return to gazing into your own, the deceiver's response is absent. Though, you caught view of the deeper shade of blue swirling on his cheeks. It appears you had flustered the beast in a way untold.

"I didn't know you were ticklish," you teased, your smile curving upwards, while Shadow Milk's lips did the opposite. Being blindsided to the truth goes heavily disliked by him. He was unaware his Soul Jam was so... delicate. You cannot trick the trickster! At least, not in any books he has read. Shadow Milk Cookie may be the slightest bit annoyed, but he could not deny the warm thrill that shot through his body.

Shadow Milk Cookie's feelings resemble a volatile batch of blueberries. One is a bit too sour, making his hair flow around with a mind of its own, and one is just right, sending a pleasant tingle on his tongue. Please, give him another kiss for him to grasp whatever it is he truly feels. It would bring him to crumbs if you denied. The Light of Knowledge still resides within him somewhere.

You seemed eager to deliver, placing a peck onto the slit that is carved into his Soul Jam. Even though your affection was quick to leave, Shadow Milk Cookie giggles on this go-around. He believes he understands now. Some excitement never hurt any cookie. If that is what his new discovery brings, so be it.

Shadow Milk Cookie will allow you to hold this one power over him. If it makes you feel superior, then go right ahead. He is sure your peck is simply tickling him, or something along those lines.

Since your lover does not seem opposed to your actions, you follow your impulse: peppering the pretty shape in more kisses. Once again, you lead a row of chuckles from the cookie that others somehow fear. A hand on your shoulder, Shadow Milk Cookie keeps you in place, tempting you to continue.

Then, Shadow Milk Cookie's laughing grows breathier, almost forming into a soft pant. An overdose of delight hits him in the face. His grasp on you tightens, as opposed to pushing you away. Now digging into your shoulder, his grip serves as a quiet reminder to keep himself composed. He did not expect his outlook to be wrong.

Perhaps the rush he's receiving is a bit much, coming out of nowhere, but he gives no care for that. The jester has never felt such an exhilaration before, and he can't help but want more—to explore the strange pulse you present him with. His eyes dilate due to both excitement and realization. Looks like the power you hold over him is stronger than he assumed.

He can not believe you still persist with your torrents of love. Though his gratitude lies underneath. The amusement you bestow is far too grand to be discarded without delay. So grand that you pressured his mind to blankness, his thoughts blurry as he puts all of his focus on your sole touch.

For once, Shadow Milk Cookie truly believes he will faint. Even though all of his rational urges tell him to stop feeding into this passion of his, he continues. He would rather chase the depths of overstimulation, and he would do so without remorse. Embarrassment was merely sprinkled into his dough.

Unfortunately, the pleasure he seeks was snatched from him. The distance grows when you reposition yourself, backing away from the fervid man. If it weren't for your arms glued around Shadow Milk Cookie, he would have slumped on the cold floor amidst the large, quiet room.

With his head leaned back, he huffs, descending from the high you had brought him to. Though it was shaky, a smile remained etched across his face. The aftermath leaves a buzz residing across himself. Your lover jolts at random intervals, as if lightning struck him with mere gratification.

Shadow Milk Cookie looks your way, attempting to gauge your reaction through his blurred vision. Surely, all of his panting was audible. It would be silly to consider you did not know the measures of your actions.

He spots a smile of innocence iced on your face, but a flicker of mockery darkens your eyes, revealing your real ambitions. Shadow Milk Cookie can not come to say he dislikes your expression. In reality, he was never aware of how intoxicating it is to be inferior for once. He would not be against this as a pastime. Or an all the time.

His stare focuses once you begin to move. Unexpectedly, you approach his brooch anew. Shadow Milk Cookie was always one for surprises, so he would not mind another round of his brain turning to dough.

In the mere second of your breath hitting his Soul Jam, his trembling harshens. Even so, he tilts your way to quicken the process. Shadow Milk Cookie believed he would grow accustomed to your onslaughts of kisses, but he could not prepare for your next deed.

Your tongue glides inside of the slit that marks his Soul Jam, coating the crevice with your saliva. That marks the moment you break Shadow Milk Cookie, who releases a high-pitched mewl in response. His quivering will never come to an end at this point. He was left with a shred of sanity before, but now? You have taken his stability and his dignity.

There is only so much the jester can handle. Shadow Milk Cookie goes limp in your arms. He fainted from the pure elation, one he had not even experienced in his earlier days. Maybe now he will stop inferring things about you. It rarely ends well.

At the moment, you have an extremely vulnerable beast in your arms. The power you hold is immeasurable, literally. Yet you would rather his minions not take sights on him. It is not the worst option to keep him to yourself for the time being.

You will be right by his side when he wakes—only to tease him for the way he behaved. And probably go about it again.

-` ᰔ ´-

[dksfml]

EIGHTEEN - YANG JUNGWON (PART II)

pairing: fboy!jungwon x reader summary: where on your 18th birthday, you receive a blessing that lets you see the future, only to find yourself married to jungwon, the college heartthrob you’ve barely spoken to, with a child calling you mom. genre: university / college au, soulmate au, fantasy, fluff, slight angst, love triangle, pining, slow burn word count: 4.8k playlist: 18 - one direction, stuck with u - ariana grande & justin bieber, you belong with me - ts, lavender haze - ts, wish that i could - umi, meddle about - chase atlantic A/N: forgive me if this part's a bit short. i promise to make it up to you in the next ones, hehe

masterlist.

This is a work of fiction. It does not represent real people, events, or systems. Any similarities are purely coincidental, and all elements are created for fantasy purposes only.

The drama club’s room smelled faintly of old velvet curtains and cheap perfume.

Jungwon was half-distracted, mind somewhere else entirely, when the girl he barely remembered the name of tugged at his collar, lips finding the side of his neck. Her fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, nails scraping lightly across his skin.

He let her.

Only because he wanted to get this over with.

The only reason he even agreed to meet her again today was to retrieve his wallet. The one he stupidly left at her dorm last night. He didn’t even plan on staying longer than necessary. Hell, he didn’t even plan on seeing her again. Jungwon didn’t do repeats.

But when she leaned in too close, smirking against his ear and said, "At least let me give you an advanced birthday treat, babe," he froze.

He should have walked away right then.

Instead, when she kept pushing, fingers pulling at his belt loops, mouth chasing his, he kissed her. Hard. Too hard.

Just to shut her up.

A mistake.

A fucking mistake.

Because that’s when the door creaked open.

And everything inside him seized up.

Through the tangled mess of limbs and desperation, his eyes locked onto a figure standing stiff at the door.

You.

Wide-eyed. Frozen. Like you’d just witnessed a car crash you couldn’t look away from.

Fuck.

He pulled back like he’d been electrocuted, his breath catching sharp in his throat.

“Y/N?” he blurted, voice rough and broken.

You didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Just turned too fast and disappeared down the hallway, footsteps fading like a nightmare.

The girl beside him clicked her tongue, smoothing down her skirt, unfazed. She leaned against the desk casually, fixing her lipstick in the reflection of a trophy case.

“She’s pretty," she said, voice light, teasing. "Is that her?"

Jungwon stared at her, still breathing hard. “What?”

She tilted her head, smiling like she knew something he didn’t. “The girl who rejected you during freshmen year. Jake told me.”

His fists clenched at his sides. He stared at her, a million unsaid things clawing up his throat.

“I wasn’t rejected,” Jungwon snapped, sharper than he meant to. “And Jake doesn’t have the right to say shit. He’s in the same fucking position.”

The girl only chuckled, slipping her phone back into her bag like she hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb and walked away.

Jungwon stood there for a long moment, the stale, suffocating air pressing down on him.

He had come here for a wallet.

He had stayed because he was stupid.

He kissed a girl he didn’t even like because he thought it didn’t matter.

But it mattered.

Because for the first time in a long time, something actually fucking mattered.

And he might have just ruined it before it even had the chance to start.

It started small.

The kind of thing you wouldn’t even notice unless you were paying attention.

There was a vending machine tucked beside the science hall. Old, humming, half-forgotten. Students barely used it unless they were desperate between classes. But Jungwon did. And he always bought the same thing: the yellow-pack gummy bears.

Soft, sweet, just the right chew.

Something about them tasted like how he imagined being a kid felt simple and untouched.

Except, lately, they were always gone.

He’d walk up between lectures, coins ready, tap the scratched glass — and nothing.

Every other snack untouched.

Every other candy still neatly stacked.

Just the yellow gummies, empty.

It pissed him off a little.

He even once smacked the side of the machine in frustration, earning a few weird glances from passing students. He ignored them, he had bigger problems.

One day, he was earlier than usual. The hallways were half-empty, the vending machine still blinking lazily in the corner. And there you were.

Crouched low, head tilted, tapping the glass thoughtfully like you were deep in negotiation with the machine. In your hand? Two packs of the yellow gummies.

And in your bag? He caught the flash of even more, at least three, four crammed into the front pocket like a guilty secret.

You turned, mid-stuffing the last pack into your bag. Eyes meeting. Both of you frozen.

He recognized you vaguely. Freshman orientation, Jake's friend, the girl who laughed at his jokes but never stuck around for long.

And now? Now you were the damn vending machine thief.

You blinked, the barest flicker of surprise crossing your face before you straightened up calmly, like you weren’t doing anything remotely suspicious. You were.

Jungwon crossed his arms, smirking before he could stop himself.

"Leave some for the rest of us, maybe?"

You shrugged, not even guilty. "Survival of the fittest."

He huffed out a laugh. "You're hoarding them."

"They're the best ones," you said simply, like it was obvious. "Supply and demand."

He shook his head, smiling despite himself. You were something else.

"I’ve been trying to buy those for a week," he said, mock offended.

"You should be faster," you replied, voice light, teasing, as you zipped your bag shut and slung it over your shoulder.

Before he could think of anything clever to say, you tossed one of the packs toward him. He caught it, stunned.

"Here," you said.

A peace offering.

Or maybe just a dare to keep up.

Then you walked away, steps light, disappearing down the hallway before he could ask your name.

He stood there for a second, the vending machine humming behind him, the yellow pack crinkling in his hand.

Slowly, he smiled.

He didn’t know much about you yet. Only that you liked the same gummy bears. And that you didn’t apologize for it.

But that tiny, stupid moment? It stuck. Burrowed somewhere he couldn't dig out later, no matter how many months passed.

And later, when people joked about how he must’ve had dozens of girls chasing after him, he just thought about you, walking away without a second glance, leaving him standing there like some idiot holding candy.

After that day at the vending machine, Jungwon started noticing you everywhere. At first, he told himself it was coincidence. The campus wasn’t that big. Maybe your paths just happened to cross. Maybe you just happened to sit two rows ahead of him in economics. Maybe you just happened to linger outside the drama clubroom, laughing too brightly with Sunoo.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

He was looking for you now.

Tuning out the rest of the world, unconsciously drawn to the sound of your laugh, the flash of your bag stuffed with books and candy, the easy way you moved through life like you weren’t trying to impress anyone.

And you never noticed him.

Not really.

You barely even glanced his way.

He almost gave up then, almost let himself believe it was just a vending machine moment, a glitch in the universe that wasn’t meant to last.

Until rumors started.

Jake was courting you.

Jake, the golden boy with the easy smiles and a trail of admirers.

Jake, who was somehow close to you already.

Jake, who could make anyone fall for him if he really wanted to.

Jungwon told himself it didn’t matter. He lied.

It hurt.

More than it should have.

A stupid, sour sting every time he saw Jake walking next to you, tossing you candies or making you laugh in that easy, infuriating way of his.

So Jungwon, idiot that he was, joined the drama club. “I need the extracurricular points," he told everyone. Nobody believed him.

Mostly, he stuck to backstage work, fixing broken chairs, painting sets, running errands Sunoo barked at him with terrifying efficiency.

You were always around, helping, organizing, laughing. Sometimes you sat cross-legged on the stage sorting costume jewelry into plastic bins. Sometimes you passed him a bottle of water without looking. He said thank you quietly every time and you never noticed.

But he stayed anyway.

Because being near you, even if you didn’t see him, felt better than nothing at all.

Then one afternoon, everything shifted again.

He was fixing a crooked light rig when Sunoo’s voice rang out through the dusty club office.

"Y/N turned Jake down yesterday." Loud. Blunt. No room for misunderstanding.

The room went quiet. Someone gasped. Someone else whistled low.

Jungwon tightened his grip on the wrench. Heart slamming. Mind racing.

You turned Jake down?

"Yeah," another club member chimed in, dramatic as ever. "She said she's not ready for dating. Wants to focus on her studies first, plus she was thinking of running for the student council next year."

Sunoo laughed. "Classic Y/N. Always has her priorities straight."

Jungwon barely heard the rest.

All he could think was—

Maybe.

Maybe there was a chance.

Maybe he wasn’t as invisible as he thought.

He spent the whole night drafting letters he’d never send. Debating if he should say anything at all.

In the end, he didn’t write a love confession. He didn’t pour his heart out. He just kept it simple.

A bag of yellow gummy bears. And a note taped on it.

"I know this might not be the right time to give you something like this.

But I just wanted you to know,  you're interesting in every possible way.

You're the kind of person someone could admire quietly for a long time, even if the tides never turn in their favor.

I hope you keep smiling the way you do when you win arguments.

I hope you keep picking the yellow gummy bears, even if you have to fight for the last one.

No pressure.

No expectations.

Just... you deserve to know."

He left it in your locker early the next morning. Heart hammering. Hands shaking.

He thought maybe you’d know. Maybe the gummy bears would tip you off. Maybe you’d remember the stupid vending machine moment that never really left his mind.

Instead—

At lunch, he saw you. Marching across the courtyard. The bag of gummy bears clutched in your hand. Heading straight for Jake.

From where Jungwon sat on the stone steps by the library, he saw it unfold like a bad dream:

You smiling politely.

Talking softly.

Handing Jake the gummy bears back like they were some kind of apology.

And Jake—Jake just blinked, clearly confused, before awkwardly nodding and taking the bag.

You looked relieved.

Jake looked baffled.

Jungwon felt like something inside him cracked quietly open.

You thought Jake sent the gift.

You thought Jake wrote the letter.

And you turned it down.

Kindly. Gently.

And you never even knew it was him.

Later, Jake found him by the vending machines, tossing the crumpled bag onto Jungwon's lap.

"You’re a dumbass," Jake said, not unkindly.

"You should've put your name on it."

Then he left, leaving Jungwon alone with a silent, half-empty machine and a gummy bear pack that tasted a lot more bitter than sweet now.

Jungwon never said anything about it.

He just swallowed the rejection he was never even given the chance to earn.

And maybe that’s why now, standing years later in a messy drama room, when that girl tilted her head and said with a teasing smile—

"The girl who rejected you during freshmen year. Jake told me."

Because truth was… you never even knew it was him.

You never even saw him.

Not then.

Not yet.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Jungwon didn’t stop walking.

Down the hallway, past the bulletin boards, past the same scratched lockers he could’ve walked through blindfolded.

His fists curled tighter with every step.

Breath shallow. Mind buzzing.

He pushed outside, the night air slapping cold against his face. But the sick feeling in his gut didn’t go away.

He barely made it two steps across the courtyard when—

"Jungwon!"

He turned, shoulders stiff.

It was Sunoo, jogging up, frowning. "Dude, what happened? Why is Y/N storming out like she’s about to sue the entire drama club?"

Jungwon opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Rubbed a hand down his face.

"I messed up," he muttered finally, voice hoarse. "I didn’t mean for her to see... that."

Sunoo stared at him, mouth twitching like he wanted to ask a dozen questions but knew better.

Jungwon dug into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out the bright yellow pack, the gummy bears he'd bought earlier, before everything went to shit. Before he'd ruined it.

And then it hit him.

Today was your birthday.

You were supposed to have a good day.

You were supposed to laugh and smile and maybe — maybe — open your locker to find a stupid, cheesy pack of candy from someone who actually thought about you.

Instead, you found him like that.

Instead, he made you leave like your heart was breaking in real time.

A fresh wave of guilt slammed into him, sharp enough to make his stomach turn.

He shoved the pack into Sunoo’s hands, almost too rough.

"Give this to her," Jungwon said, jaw tight. "Tomorrow. Please."

Sunoo blinked down at it. "Uh. Okay? What is this, a bribe?"

Jungwon gave a humorless huff of air.

"Just... tell her I’m sorry. Tell her it’s from me."

Sunoo tucked the candy into his tote bag, still looking like he wanted to say more.

"I have to check our biochem lab results tomorrow," Jungwon added, half an excuse, half the truth. "I won’t see her before lunch."

Sunoo nodded slowly.

"You sure you don’t wanna just give it to her yourself?"

Jungwon shrugged helplessly.

"I don’t think she wants to see me right now."

A beat of silence.

The wind picked up, rattling the bare branches overhead.

Sunoo sighed, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Alright. I’ll make sure she gets it."

He started to turn away, then paused, glancing back with a small, lopsided smile.

"Oh—and, uh, advance happy birthday, Jungwon."

Jungwon managed the barest curve of a smile.

"Thanks."

And then he turned, hoodie pulled up against the cold, and disappeared into the night.

The morning Jungwon turned eighteen, the world stayed silent—for a moment.

The sun rose like it always did, pale and slow against the cracked skyline.

His apartment was still the same too: neat, spare, clean to the point of looking unlived-in. A couch, a low coffee table, a desk piled with textbooks he didn’t really touch anymore.

Nothing screamed special day.

Nothing at all.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the muted light seeping through his curtains.

In families like his, birthdays — eighteenth birthdays — were monumental.

Because here, you only got your blessing once.

It came exactly on your eighteenth birthday, and it never changed after that.

It was supposed to be a celebration. A doorway into the life you were meant to live. But in Jungwon’s family, it wasn’t magic. It wasn’t wonder.

It was a contract.

A cousin who awakened the ability to manipulate probability was immediately signed into risk management for the family's overseas holdings flown out within two weeks. An older sister who could predict crucial decisions before they happened became the sharpest negotiator in corporate mergers. An aunt who could sway opinions through subtle energy became a political lobbyist, shuffled from one continent to another, her life signed away to strategies and campaign wars.

The blessings were always bent, reshaped, weaponized.

Once your blessing appeared, you were sealed into it. Expected to serve it. Or get discarded quietly, like those who didn't "align" well enough.

Jungwon learned early not to hope. Hope made you vulnerable. Hope got you chained.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table.

🎉 Happy 18th Birthday, Jungwon 🎉

It's time to check your Blessing 💫

He stared at the screen but didn’t move.

Because once you checked it, there was no going back. Once the world saw what you were it would decide who you were.

The phone buzzed again.

A text from his mother.

[Mom]

Happy Birthday, my love. Remember, make today count. Everyone’s watching and waiting. We love you.

And then bleeding in like a crack through the wall  he heard it.

He can’t afford to screw this up. We’ve invested too much already. If it’s not useful, we’ll need to reassess him for overseas placements.

Jungwon stiffened.

It wasn’t a message.

It wasn’t in the text.

It was her thoughts.

He wasn’t reading her words, he was hearing the parts she didn’t say.

He sat there, frozen, as realization sank in.

With a slow, almost reluctant movement, Jungwon finally tapped the blinking notification on his phone.

The screen flashed once, then displayed in clean, gold lettering:

Blessing Activated: The ability to hear the thoughts of those you are conversing with.

And if he could hear it through this simple text conversation...

What would happen when he spoke to people in real life?

A sour, heavy feeling settled into his chest.

This blessing wasn't something he could turn on and off.

It wasn’t something he asked for.

And it sure as hell wasn’t going to make his life easier.

He pushed himself to stand, grabbing his jacket in a stiff, mechanical motion. Then powered off his phone.

When he left the apartment, the air outside was cold against his skin.

As he made his way down the street, he avoided conversation like it was poison. He ignored the greetings of the security guard in his building. He nodded mutely to the woman who sold coffee on the corner without saying a word.

Because he knew what it meant now. Because he knew the moment he exchanged words, he would hear the real thing hiding underneath. Not their smiles. Not their words. The truth they kept locked away.

And Jungwon had spent his whole life surrounded by that kind of duplicity. Family members who said "I'm proud of you" but thought "You better not ruin our name." Cousins who laughed over family dinners but secretly wished for each other's failures. An uncle who clapped him on the back and said "You’re lucky" while thinking "It should have been my son instead."

He grew up seeing it already. The way blessings, were twisted into weapons, into currency, into burdens too heavy to carry.

And now?

Now he would never be able to unhear any of it, would he?

By the time he reached the university, his head was already aching.

He remembered, vaguely, how Sunoo had clapped him on the shoulder yesterday, laughing, "Advance happy birthday, Jungwon!" before running off to one of his club meetings.

How easy it had been to smile back then.

He wished he could freeze himself in that moment before the world tilted sideways.

Now, everything felt heavier.

He was grateful for the excuse to be alone today. Hidden away in the lab under the pretense of gathering data for his project. The thick walls, the stale scent of old paper and chemicals, the silent machines, it was a kind of peace he didn’t realize he needed so badly.

Here, there were no conversations.

No words exchanged.

No truths bleeding through.

Just silence.

Finally.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, staring up at the cracked ceiling tiles.

Was this what blessings were supposed to feel like? Or was this just another leash, dressed up like a gift?

He closed his eyes and exhaled quietly.

Happy birthday.

What a joke.

Jungwon stayed frozen by the wall, watching you cross the quad like you were some mirage that might dissolve if he blinked too hard. The lab data crinkled faintly in his fingers, forgotten. His brain, usually so sharp, so careful, now felt like someone had jammed it into slow motion.

Because you were here.

Because you had actually replied.

And he had heard it—your thoughts, clear as day, slicing through the usual static of the world.

Sorry I just saw this. Where are you now?

He’d read the text with a stone face. And underneath it, he heard it—the rush of your guilt, the tiny pang of something warmer, something unbearably human.

Not calculation. Not politics. Not some angle to manipulate him, like everyone else he grew up around.

You.

Just you.

The moment your gaze locked with his across the quad, something in his chest tightened painfully. He stuffed his phone into his pocket, stood straighter, forced himself to smirk internally even though his throat felt dry.

"Hey. President," he called, casual, careful.

Because he remembered the look in your eyes that day outside the drama room—how you flinched when he tried to apologize, how you wouldn’t even look at him.

The last time he said your name out loud, you flinched like he was something rotten.

So now it was just "President." A shield between you and him.

You approached, steady, distant. Your voice clipped when you asked about the lab data. Jungwon handed it over, his fingers brushing yours—and he felt it, again, like a ripple of static under his skin.

Your thoughts cracked into him like sunlight through a stained glass window.

"His hand’s warm."

"Focus, Y/N. You’re being ridiculous."

"Just get through this. Don’t let him see you melt like some idiot."

Jungwon almost dropped the papers.

He bit the inside of his cheek instead, forcing himself to stay calm, to stay cool. Because if he lost it now—if he said anything wrong—you might shut him out completely.

You thanked him in that same clipped voice, turned to leave.

And then he heard it.

"God, why does he have to look at me like that? I hate feeling like this"

"Ugh, why he out of all people? Everything was fine until what I saw last night.”

“Just forget it, Y/N. Forget that stupid future your blessing showed you. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“He’s not going to be your husband. No way. Watch me prove fate wrong.”

Jungwon's world tilted.

Husband? Your husband?

His instincts scrambled for something, anything, to tether him back to earth, to slow the pounding in his chest. The words just slipped out, raw and unsteady, the first thing his brain could grab onto.

“…You saw the file?”

You paused. Nodded. Muttered, “It’s good.”

Then you walked away.

Jungwon stood there, rooted to the spot, heart hammering against his ribs so loud he thought someone might hear it.

Because for the first time since he woke up this morning, with the whole damn world feeling like it was pried open, every thought bleeding through the noise, didn’t feel suffocating.

That night, Jungwon’s dorm was too quiet, but his mind is completely the opposite.

Jungwon sat hunched on the edge of his bed, hoodie sleeves half-pulled over his knuckles, phone glowing dim in his hand. He’d read your message probably a hundred times.

"Sorry I just saw this. Where are you now?"

So casual. So harmless. But the memory of your voice, your clipped tone from earlier, the way your eyes didn’t quite meet his. All of it kept repeating in his head like a glitch in a dream he couldn’t wake up from.

And worse than the silence was the part he couldn’t shake.

Husband.

The word had lodged somewhere in his chest and refused to leave.

He didn’t even realize he was grinning like an idiot until his reflection caught in the dark window. Quickly, he sobered, scolding himself but it was useless. That voice—your voice—echoed in his head with too much heat.

She saw a future where I was her husband.

She thought about me. Dreamed about me.

She didn’t just push me away for no reason.

His thumb hovered over your contact.

He wasn’t supposed to use his blessing like this. He knew it. It was too intimate. Too invasive. But tonight, he needed to understand. Because your voice inside his head didn’t sound like hate. It sounded like fear. And want.

He opened the chat.

[9:47 PM]

hey.

it’s jungwon.

He hit send, then hesitated.

Don’t text her this late, idiot. You’ll just look desperate.

But what if she thinks you don’t care?

He sent another.

thanks for checking the file.

Still nothing.

He tapped his leg nervously, eyes locked on the screen. His thoughts were a mess with half apologies and half what-ifs.

are you still mad about yesterday.

it’s fine if you are. just wanted to say i wasn’t trying to... make you uncomfortable or anything.

didn’t know you’d walk in.

The reply came fast. Faster than he expected.

[Y/N]

Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t make me uncomfortable.

I’ve seen worse.

But your thoughts betrayed you, spilling into him like sparks on skin.

Liar. I felt like my lungs collapsed when I saw him.

Because seeing him with someone else felt like a punch in the gut. Because it confirmed he’d never be mine. Even if the blessing said otherwise.

Jungwon’s heart thudded, warm and dizzy. You wanted him. Maybe not openly, maybe not consciously, but it was there. Real and raw.

His ears burned. He grinned against his knuckles.

He typed again.

you sure? you looked like you saw a ghost.

Because I did, okay? You were the ghost of that stupid dream. That version of you who held my hand and whispered all those sweet things.

And then I saw you tangled up with someone else like a slap of reality. God, maybe it wasn’t a vision at all. Maybe it was just a stupid delusion and I was the idiot who let it mean something.

His smile faded, just a bit. He wanted to explain. He wanted to reach into your thoughts and pull that version of him out, hand him to you like a promise.

Instead, you answered.

[Y/N]

I was just surprised. That’s all.

Another lie. Another flicker of your truth curled under it:

You make me nervous.

You make me mad.

But worse, you make me want to hope.

And I don’t know what to do with that.

A soft laugh bubbled from Jungwon’s throat. It felt... new. Not like the practiced chuckles he gave to classmates or the stiff polite ones he reserved for teachers. This one felt like sunshine cracking open in his chest.

sunoo said you looked pissed.

[Y/N]

Well, maybe tell Sunoo to mind his business.

That little traitor.

But... he’s not wrong.

I was pissed. Still am. But also, ugh. Why do I want him to keep texting me? NO, every text from him makes my head boil.

His chest ached in the sweetest, most unbearable way.

He barely realized what he was typing next.

you don’t like me much, do you.

The silence stretched just long enough to make him nervous. But your thoughts answered before your fingers did.

I don’t know how to not like you. I don’t know how I feel about you. That’s the problem.

You make me mad. But you also make my hands shake.

He sucked in a breath.

You were trying so hard to protect yourself. And yet, your walls had tiny cracks and through them, he could feel your heartbeat echoing like his.

[Y/N]

I don’t really know you.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Jungwon stared at those six words for a long time. And when he finally replied, it came from somewhere deeper.

This time, he didn’t hesitate.

then maybe let me fix that.

The words were barely on the screen before your thoughts fluttered again.

What does that even mean?

Is this how he talks to the other girls? That easy, casual charm?

God, I hate this. I hate how I want it to be different with me.

Is it stupid… that a part of me wants to say yes?

Jungwon pressed the phone to his chest, eyes closing for a second.

For once, the world was quiet.

Except for the soft, dangerous hope blooming between your mind and his.

And god… he hoped you could feel it too.

That night, Jungwon thought maybe his blessing wasn’t so bad after all. Not loud. Not suffocating. Just... quiet enough to feel like something sacred.

He fell asleep on his birthday without telling anyone what he’d received. No big announcement, no family expectation, no performance. Just him, alone with the memory of your thoughts that are honest and vulnerable echoing softly in his chest.

It might’ve been his favorite birthday yet.

Because for the first time in a long time, he dreamed not of pressure, pleasure, or perfection, but of you.

And when morning came, groggy and golden through his window, the first thing that surfaced in his mind wasn’t the dread of responsibility.

It was you.

Now, hours later, that same girl—the one who’d occupied his mind all night, maybe even all these years—was clinging to the back of his shirt, arms wrapped around his waist as his motorbike hummed down the empty road.

And Jungwon smiled, wind in his hair, heart louder than the engine.

masterlist.

sorry for another cliffhanger hehe, notes and comments are very much appreciated :D

permanent taglist:

@1starqi @imfuckingwhipped @moon0fthenight @jiawji @shawnyle @simja3 @babyboomysweetie @50-husbands @charlizefaye @anudocuments @ooriwoo @sa-brinaaa @luumiinaa @personallyminelol @yjwonsgf @lvvstruck @leah-rose03 @kanonjji @kyunlov @somuchdard @seongiewon @theothernads @luumiinaa @enhaverse713586 @lynanist @moriwori

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[jupitermarss]

"you're evil, baby"

wolf hybrid!chan x human!reader  warnings: pillow humping, oral (f!rec), slight humiliation if you squint, chan is in rut and needs to mate real bad, reader is a little mean but she loves him, it's not their first rodeo. also like one usage of y/n

sometimes you’re just not in the mood for penetration, and that’s okay. 

the timing this week wasn’t in your and chan’s favor though, and his primal wolf heritage has kicked in at the most inconvenient moment. but you can’t just deny your good boy his relief, can you?

“fuck, p-please, ynnie, it hurts..-” chan whines as he’s grinding against the mattress through his grey sweatpants, an exposing wet spot already obscenely visible on the fabric. you gently pet his curly, grown out hair and slightly tug at the roots, scratching the skin of his head with your fingernails and massaging it for some sort of comfort. 

“i know, baby, c’mere, let’s get you situated,” you coo with compassion, making a very loosely resembling hole out of a few pillows for chan to hump. he glances at you in almost disbelief, clearly wanting, craving more, but you encourage him with a nod, and he complies, though not without a very obvious sigh. 

“i’ll be right here, channie, i’m right here,” you reassure him as you scoot closer and tug at his pants to lower them down to his knees.

oh, he looks desperate, with his crazy wagging tail that now knows no rest, sweeping left and right out of overflowing excitement while the triangle fluffy ears are pressed down to the crown of his head, all tensed up and indicating obedience. 

it’s not your first time together when chan goes into rut, but it’s still a bit of a mindfuck to see this change happen. you can tell the exact moment his half wolf dna completely takes over and turns his brain off like a switch. poof, and your scary confident alpha wolf of a boyfriend is gone, replaced with a brainless little doggo who just wants to play and mate. and despite chan’s fit and buff body, his entire frame now looks almost tiny in front of you as he nuzzles his face into your palm and drools onto your skin a little. 

“aigoo, do you really want it that badly, wolfie?” you ponder out loud while scratching between chan’s ears and watching his tongue loll out of his mouth, little drops of saliva leaving stains on the bed sheets. you notice chan’s breathing become more erratic, heavy, he’s basically panting at this point, his gaze all hazy and unfocused as if he’s looking through you, not at you. 

“c’mon, baby, be a good boy and hump. you want your release, don’t you? it’s the best you can get, so be good and use it,” you take the long wavy strands of hair away from his forehead and make sure to look chan right in the eyes, checking if he’s grasping the meaning of words at all at this point. as you’re looking over his features, so fucked out already, you may add — you can’t resist putting your thumb into his mouth, pressing on his tongue and softly caressing the surface. his sticking out canine fangs are sharper than normal, and you almost yelp when he locks his jaw and gives your hand a hungry bite. 

“ouch! channie...-” you wince and pull away with a hiss. chan looks at you with his watery boba eyes, guilty. he didn’t mean it, he just can’t control his strength well right now. 

it’s okay. you know everything feels heightened for him, and his own body is foreign, disorienting him with too many new intense feelings and needs to focus on. 

chan howls weakly, but you pet his head for reassurance, calming him down and kissing his hair. and while rubbing your nose against it, you can’t help but notice chan’s smell has also changed, more musky and sweet. heavier and deeper too, sweat and arousal mixed with skin pheromones to attract a mate. it’s definitely working. 

“you can have a little taste, if you want,” you murmur softly, watching him hump his little pillow nest restlessly like a good, good boy. he deserves a treat for being so good, you decide. 

positioning yourself in front of chan, so that he doesn’t have to move much and ruin the pillow mountain, you spread your legs and pull your underwear to the side, not bothering to even take it off fully. 

he whimpers at the view as if he’s in pain, and you tut and point your finger in front of his nose, making him cross his eyes to stare right at it. 

“no fucking, just lick,” you warn, foreseeing wolf’s intentions to put his entire, longer than human tongue all the way up your cunt. he nods frantically and, you think, mindlessly, too, but you let him get closer anyways. 

chan’s drooling, a lot. and his thick saliva drips onto your stomach and thighs, marking you up with chan’s scent and making you just as filthy in a matter of seconds. 

as soon as his soft slippery tongue laps at your folds, you sigh in contentment, relaxing into the warmth of his mouth and allowing him to properly eat you. he’s not as intricate with it as usual, though, resembling a dog a lot more and sticking to primitive wide licks and simple patterns. it still makes your clit tingle nonetheless. you don’t really want to cum, either. just indulging yourself in the process and to channie’s greed feels just as nice.

time stops to exist for a while, and you genuinely lose track of how long you’ve been lying like this, legs wide open and watching your boyfriend feverishly fuck his leaking cock into the pillows. judging by the pool of saliva and wetness underneath you, it’s been a minute. though, chan shows no signs of fatigue — his stamina got boosted by the hormone surge, as well. 

it’s not really enough for him to properly satisfy his urges, you both know it. he needs to knot. he needs to mate, probably for hours, too, which you barely handle even when you do indulge him in penetration. chan’s okay with it too, he knows he can’t just demand to be his fucktoy any time his body wakes up to his animal genes, and those compromises tend to satiate both of you enough to get through the day. “let me help, baby, come closer.”

chan’s eyes shoot up to you sharply, and his ears perk up all ready and attentive, a clear sign of him getting closer to his release. 

the pillows are a wet and, truthfully, crumpled ruined mess at this point. probably unusable and to be discarded, shape completely lost and fabric soaked and sticky from chan’s leaky precum.

“let me jerk you off,” you wrap your palm around his heavy, dark red canine cock, and start to pump with the same pace he was humping, already feeling his knot tighten up at the base of his length. what a shame it’s in vain this time. you don’t close your legs nor really change the way you were sitting, still exposed with your licked up pussy on full display for chan to enjoy while you’re working his dick to relief. you like it when he stares. 

“hands behind your back, wolfie, and don’t move your hips. if you buck into my fist, i stop,” another warning leaves your lips, and you know you’re being mean, but judging by how chan’s cock pulsates and jumps up in your hand, hard as a fucking rock, you assume he kinda likes being bossed around like that, too.

he does as he's told.

chan’s pretty eyebrows are furrowed into the neediest expression you’ve seen on him so far, so you don’t dare to tease any longer. you squeeze his burning hot flesh and begin to move your fist, sloppy and fast, so fast your arm cramps at some point, but you know that’s how chan likes it, and more importantly, how he needs it right now.

thick ropes of cum shoot right into your hand as chan finishes with a loud howl, arching his back while his entire body shakes and trembles, finally letting go of the pent up need. the sweat on chan’s silky skin has formed into cute glassy beads, and his curls have got even more of a swirl because of that wetness at the nape of his neck and near his temples. 

“you’re evil, baby,” he mutters finally, after all this time of staying non-verbal.

"and you're horny," you giggle quietly as you kiss at chan’s mouth, feeling his fangs with your lips and humming a calming tune to slowly ground him back into reality. 

[daryltwdixon]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 6.5 | Part 7

Summary: Tensions rise as the three of you try to find clarity in the aftermath of lines crossed and feelings laid bare. In the weeks that follow, you begin to wonder if something this messy could still become something that lasts.

|| smut MDNI 18+, some mentions of pregnancy, angst and feelings, some fluff, dirty talk, pinv, blowjobs, love triangle (?), no outbreak, jealousy, possessiveness, power play, joel talks you thru it of course, fair warning this isn’t exactly healthy, bad communication, don’t do this ok EDIT TO ADD: threesome, some dubious consent at first then reader fully consents. Tommy is an asshole || notes: eeeehhehe okay I love this one. its a long boy! I listened to you and didn’t delete any of it lmao I love this dynamic so much and it makes me so happy to know everyone is as filthy as I am // pic of Joel & Tommy is mine //

“So, when you saw them, what went through your head, Tommy?” Dr. Servopoulos asked. The office was neat, almost unnervingly so. The walls were bare except for a few framed photos—serene lakes, white sailboats drifting across still water. A false sense of calm in a space built for unraveling things that weren’t calm at all. The air smelled faintly of old books and lavender, a weak attempt to soften the weight of conversations like this.

It had taken a lot to convince either of the men beside you to come today.

Bringing anyone into this mess was hard enough, but laying it bare for someone outside the three of you, having someone watch, analyze, pick apart what happened behind closed doors felt like something private was being dissected under a microscope.

Joel hated this. You knew he hated this. He was a man who carried his feelings in silence, whose apologies lived in things left unsaid. He didn't do this—didn’t sit in stiff chairs like this, in stuffy offices like this, didn't put words to things that made his throat tight. Yet, he still agreed to be here.

And Tommy—you knew this was hard for him too. Not just because of what had happened, but because sitting here, having someone else pick at the wounds, meant acknowledging that things weren’t okay. That they couldn’t just fix it themselves. That you had invited someone in to see the cracks that had formed over the past few months.

It made the walls feel closer, the chairs feel stiffer, the quiet feel too loud.

You watched Tommy as he sighed beside you, his fingers rubbing at his brow. His eyes flickered to the doctor before dropping to the floor. “I don’t even remember,” he muttered. “S’like I’ve blocked it all out.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I do remember the right hook I gave ‘im when Joel was tryna say somethin’ to me.” His voice darkened. “Ya know. When they were finally dressed.”

The last word dripped with bitterness.

You flinched. Your fingers curled together in your lap, knuckles pressing tight.

Joel shifted beside you, the slight movement drawing your attention. He sat stiff in his chair, his thumb rubbing absently at the bruised, purple swell on his cheek—the evidence of Tommy’s fury. He hadn’t said a single word since the session started.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to meet the doctor’s gaze. “Dr. Servopoulos—”

“Tess,” she offered smoothly.

“Tess,” you amended. “We never meant… this was never supposed to get this far. I just want him to know I never—” You turned to look Tommy in the eyes. “I never intended for this to happen.”

Tommy let out a rough scoff, shaking his head. His arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, well, neither did I.”

A quiet beat.

Tess glanced at Joel then, waiting.

Joel felt the weight of her stare and finally looked up. His dark eyes met hers, unreadable.

Tess raised a brow. “Anything to add?”

His jaw ticked. “What d’you want me to say?”

“You tell me, Mr. Miller.” Tess mused, tapping her pen against her notepad. “What about how you ended up sleeping with your brother’s wife?”

Joel exhaled slowly through his nose. His knuckles flexed. “Didn’t start out that way.”

Tess hummed. “Right.” She flipped to a page of her notes. “So let’s lay this out. You—” she nodded at you, “wanted a baby. You—” she pointed at Tommy, “were willing to ask your own brother to be a sperm donor, which then turned into you—” she turned to Joel, “what, just doing your brother a favor? By sleeping with his wife?”

Joel’s fingers drummed against his knee. “I did say no at first. But yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Tommy mumbled under his breath, “Yeah. A real big favor.”

You swallowed.

Tess scribbled something down. “Okay,” she said, flipping her pen between her fingers. “So when you three agreed to try for a baby in this… hands-on way, you never foresaw the possibility of… complications?”

You shook your head, stomach twisting.

“Not once?”

“I didn’t think about it,” you admitted, voice small. “I thought we were just—we were focused on the baby.”

Tommy snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah? Well, neither of you seemed focused on it when you were sneakin’ around.”

You flinched again.

Joel finally looked up at him, his expression dark. “We weren’t sneakin’.”

“Sure as hell felt like it,” Tommy shot back.

Tess sighed, leaning forward, her gaze flicking between the three of you. “Alright, let’s just call it what it is: things got complicated. Lines that were there for a reason got crossed. And the problem wasn’t you trying for a baby—it was everything that happened outside of that agreement.”

She gestured between you and Joel. “You broke the boundaries you set. Maybe you ignored it, maybe you thought you could handle it, but now you’re here. And not because the plan failed, but because you broke your own rules. You had sex outside of what you all agreed to.”

A brief pause. Her eyes scanned each of you, as if silently asking any of you to deny it, before she tilted her head.

“So let’s cut to it. Why are you here? What do each of you actually want?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know, okay?” His voice cracked slightly. “I just—I ain’t ready to throw away my marriage, but I also ain’t stupid enough to pretend like nothin’ happened.”

Tess nodded, absorbing his words before turning to you. “And you?”

Your throat felt tight. “I—” Your hands fisted in your lap. “I don’t want to lose either of them.”

Tommy’s head snapped toward you.

Joel’s fingers twitched.

You swallowed, your voice steadier now. “My marriage with Tommy is important to me. He is important to me.” You turned toward your husband, eyes pleading. “But things are complicated. Because Joel is important too.” You hesitated, shifting your gaze to Joel’s hands, his knuckles tight and white where they pressed together. “I don’t want to just cut him out of this just because of one mistake.”

Tommy’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t interrupt. His fingers drummed against his knee, his gaze flickering between you and Joel like he was waiting for something.

Tess sat forward slightly, pen poised. “And Joel?”

Joel dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t wanna make things worse than they already are,” he muttered, voice low, unreadable.

Tess hummed, unimpressed. “That’s not really an answer.”

His fingers tapped against his knee. “Ain’t got another one.”

You turned toward him, heart pounding. “Joel.”

His jaw flexed, his eyes staying downcast away from you.

You didn’t push right away, letting the silence stretch between you before trying again, voice softer this time. “What do you want?”

His throat worked, but he didn’t speak.

Tess glanced between you both. “It doesn’t have to be a speech, Joel. Just say what’s in your head.”

Joel breathed in a slow, heavy breath, rubbing the heel of his hand over his mouth. His fingers dragged across the stubble on his jaw. When he finally looked up, his eyes locked onto his brother. “I know what we agreed to,” he said, voice steady but low. “I know this was supposed to be your kid, that I was just…” He trailed off for a second, shaking his head, like the word didn’t sit right with him. “That I was just helpin’.”

The room felt very still. 

Joel shifted, his knuckles flexing against his knee. “But shit changed, Tommy.” His voice roughened. “I can’t just—" He exhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. “I won’t just step back like this don’t mean nothin’ to me.”

The weight of it settled between all of you. Tommy’s knee bounced, his hands gripping his own upper arms where they were crossed. His mouth pressed into a hard line, but he didn’t speak, didn’t argue.

Joel swallowed, gaze flicking downward for a second before lifting again. “I ain’t askin’ for—” He hesitated, his jaw flexing like the words were hard to force out. “I don’t even know what I’m askin’ for.” His eyes flickered to Tommy’s. “But I do know I ain’t gonna be left out to dry.”

“No one said you would be,” you tried to soothe, your hand reaching to rest on his forearm, shaking your head. His skin was rough, warm, solid beneath your touch.

Your eyes traced the worn lines of his face, the quiet tension in his jaw as he looked at his brother. He was handsome in a way that felt etched into him, shaped by time and hardship, by everything he’d carried.

And you knew—better than anyone—how much Tommy meant to him. That neither of them trusted anyone as much as they trusted each other. That this needed to be amended before anything else could carry on between the two of you. You took your hand away from his arm.

Tess let out a slow breath. “Okay,” she murmured, nodding slightly. “Thank you, Joel. I think everyone needed to hear that.”

Joel’s fingers flexed again, and this time, his gaze flicked toward you, studying you for the first time since you arrived. There was something there—a charge, a quiet pull that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had, and you were only noticing it now, now that everything had changed.

You let the silence stretch as you kept your eyes on his, trying to read between everything he wasn’t saying. That he wanted to be part of this, that he wasn’t going to give this up easily.

Then Tommy sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Then we gotta figure out what the hell we’re actually doin’ here.”

Tess tapped her pen against her notepad. “Right. So let’s talk about our options.”

“Options?” Tommy echoed, his voice edged with skepticism.

Tess nodded, uncrossing her legs only to recross them the other way. She leaned forward slightly. “The way I see it, there are ways to make this work—even if none of them are simple.” She flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “But make no mistake: it’s going to take work.”

Her pen tapped lightly against the paper as she continued. “Let’s start with the obvious: you can walk away from this entirely, go your separate ways—but none of you seem too eager to do that. Or, you and Tommy could stay together, work on the marriage, and Joel can remain in the background. Be some kind of father figure to this child and nothing more.”

She lifted a brow and looked directly at him. “But I’m not sure, with how far this has gotten, that that’s actually what you want.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. His jaw worked, tension shifting through his shoulders as his eyes dropped to the floor.

Then, quiet but certain, Joel said, “It’s not.”

Your chest tightened. The urge to reach for him surged again, stronger this time, but you didn’t move. You let him sit in the silence he’d chosen, even as it said more than anything else could.

Tess gave a small nod, like she’d expected that answer.

Joel didn’t elaborate. Didn’t look up. But the shift in the room was immediate. Whatever this had started as—it wasn’t just about the baby anymore.

Tess paused, giving the moment space before she spoke again.

“So the third option…How do we feel about the possibility of an open relationship?”

The silence that followed was thick, charged.

Tommy looked at you. You looked at him. Then at Joel. Joel stared at the floor, his jaw tight, expression unreadable.

Tess leaned her elbows on her knees, voice calm but direct. “I’ll be honest—I rarely see that work in situations like this. But it’s an option. If you’re willing to set clear, honest boundaries—and actually respect them.”

Tommy let out a breathy, humorless laugh, running a hand down his face again. “Boundaries. We’d need real ones this time. Ones that actually get followed.” His voice was edged, not cruel, but firm. “Not just shit we say and then ignore the second someone gets all… worked up.”

You tried not to let the flush creep onto your face as you kept your eyes on Tess as she went on.

“Now, let’s talk about Sarah.”

Joel immediately stiffened, his eyes shooting up to look at the doctor. Tommy did too.

“She doesn’t need to know about any of this,” Joel said, voice sharp.

“Not right now,” Tommy agreed. He turned to his brother, “But eventually, she’s gonna ask questions. And if we’re talkin’ about raising a baby together too, we can’t just not think about how this looks to her.”

Tess nodded, writing something down. “And if you don’t figure out what you actually are to each other, she’s gonna pick up on that long before you’re ready to have the conversation.” She flicked her gaze between all of you. “Kids are perceptive. The more unsure you are, the more confusing it’s gonna be for her.”

“When the time comes,” Joel said, measured, “I’ll tell her.” He glanced at Tommy, then at you. “Not before. Not unless she starts askin’.”

Tess watched him closely. “And if she does?”

Joel exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Then I’ll explain it to her. In a way that makes sense.” His eyes flickered between you and Tommy again. “She don’t need to know more than what’s right for her age.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding. “Alright.”

Tess closed her notebook. “Alright. It’s a start. But you’ve got work to do. This isn’t just about a baby anymore.” She looked directly at Tommy. “It’s about your marriage. About your relationships with each other.” Then her gaze flicked between you and Joel. “And whether or not you two can actually handle boundaries, or if this is just a slow crawl toward something blowing up in your faces.”

You swallowed. Joel’s hands clenched.

Tommy just sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The walk into the parking lot was a quiet one, with the buzzing of unsettled energy between the three of you. Once outside the door, you all seemed to turn to each other, waiting for someone to speak.

“Thank you,” you said finally, your voice soft. “Both of you. For coming to this. I know it was…” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Weird,” Joel offered, with a dry edge.

“Necessary,” Tommy muttered, crossing his arms.

You nodded, arms folding across your chest. “So…” you trailed off, unsure what came next. None of you were.

Tommy gave a short sigh and looked off toward the lot. “I’ll go grab the truck.” He didn’t wait for a response—just turned and walked, shoulders tight, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

You and Joel stood in the stillness he left behind.

He glanced at you, then away, rocking slightly on his heels. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say right now.”

You huffed a quiet breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, like something was caught just behind his teeth—but he didn’t speak.

And you didn’t reach for him, even though you wanted to. Even though your hand twitched like it might. To squeeze his, to graze his wrist, to pull him close and maybe even kiss him goodbye. But it was still too weird. Too soon.

So instead, when Tommy pulled up and the tires crunched on the pavement, you stepped forward and let your fingers brush lightly over Joel’s shoulder. Just for a second. Just enough to say something without having to speak.

The window on Tommy’s side rolled down, elbow braced on the edge. He was watching his brother with a resigned look in his eyes.

Joel met his eyes. They exchanged a short, silent nod. Nothing more.

You climbed into the passenger seat, heart thrumming. Joel stayed standing where you left him, hands in his pockets, watching as the truck pulled away.

And even though nothing had been said… it felt like something had shifted. Just enough to make it through the rest of the day.

For mid-October, the sun sure was baking you in the bleachers. But it was the good kind of heat—cozy, not oppressive. The air smelled like dust and hay and horses. Behind you, the fair buzzed with life—kids screaming on the roller coasters, bells ringing as prizes were won, music from the concert stage floating over the field like static.

The Austin Fall Festival was in full swing.

Tommy sat beside you on the sun-warmed metal bench, one hand deep in a bag of kettle corn, the other resting easy on your knee. Down in the arena below your seats, another bull rider went airborne, thrown like a ragdoll into the dirt. The crowd let out a collective wince.

“Damn,” Tommy said, watching the guy scramble to his feet. “That’s gonna bruise.”

You snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Bruise? That man’s spine just folded in half.”

Tommy grinned, leaning in. “Bet I could do better.”

You raised a brow. “You can’t even get outta bed without your back crackin’ like fireworks.”

He laughed, mouth full of popcorn, then pressed a quick kiss to your lips—warm and familiar. “True. But I’d still look good tryin’.”

You smiled as you sipped your soda. The air smelled like caramel and something fried—probably the funnel cake stand you passed earlier. You sat close enough to the arena that you could hear the thud of hooves, the pop of the announcer’s mic, the wave of cheers and groans rolling through the stands behind you. It felt electric.

Sarah was up soon. Her first barrel race. She’d been buzzing about it for weeks.

You leaned into Tommy’s side, and he brought his arm up to wrap around your shoulders, giving you an affectionate squeeze.

This was good. A sense of normalcy again.

Then, a familiar face caught your eye making his way up the bleachers. Joel had a bag of cotton candy in one hand and was weaving through the crowd with ease up the stairs. He reached your row and slid in beside you, a small smile already on his face.

“Just left Sarah with her trainer,” he said, a little out of breath. “She’s up in the next few.”

Then he leaned in to greet you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek meant to be just a casual familial ‘hello’. But still, his stubble scraped your skin just enough to leave a spark, and he smelled like horses and leather and that subtle cologne he always wore. It hit somewhere low in your stomach, but you didn’t let it show. 

He greeted Tommy with a nod, and popped a puff of cotton candy into his mouth.

You made a face. “Ugh. How can you eat that stuff?”

Joel grinned around the sugar, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s what makes me so sweet.”

You laughed, shaking your head and taking another sip of your soda. Tommy reached down for more popcorn, his arm brushing against your back as he dropped his hand from your shoulder, and Joel leaned forward to watch the next event being announced.

You sat between them, shoulders brushing, the sun warming your back, the crowd rising around you.

For a moment, it almost felt like things could settle. Like the three of you could fit into this new normal—comfortable, easy, like it was supposed to be this way all along. At least you hoped. 

The announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, calling out Sarah’s name, and your heart gave a little skip.

“There she is,” Joel said, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees.

You leaned, too, eyes scanning the gate. Sure enough, Sarah was there behind the posts on her horse, nerves painted all over her posture even though she tried to play it cool. Even from here, you could just make out the furrow in her brow—the same quiet, determined look she got from her dad.

“She’s gonna kill it,” Tommy said beside you, resting his hand high on your thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze, leaning into you as he said, “Ain’t no way she don’t win.”

You smiled, but it felt slightly delayed. Joel’s knee pressed against yours as he leaned close on your other side, eyes still locked on the arena.

“Hope she don’t cut that second barrel too close,” he muttered, mostly to himself, his voice low and rough. “She keeps doin’ that in practice. Gets excited and leans too early.”

“She’ll be fine,” you said, but you could hear the tension in your own voice. Joel’s hand had come to rest behind you on the bench, close to your lower back. Tommy’s fingers were still on your leg.

Sarah burst out of the gate, and the crowd roared. The three of you shot to your feet as her horse charged forward, hooves kicking up dust. She moved fast—tight, clean—rounding the first barrel like she’d done it a hundred times.

Joel was grinning ear to ear. “That’s my girl!”

His arm slid around your back, his other hand curled into a loose fist, pressed just beneath his mouth as if to contain the rush of emotion building in him. The hand at your back caught in the fabric of your blouse, fingers curling there, like he was tethering himself. Like he was bracing.

You tried to focus on Sarah, but all you could feel was the heat of his fingers, the way he clung to you, like your body was hyper aware of him.

You smiled, cheering, barely breathing, eyes fixed on her horse thundering toward the second turn. She hugged the barrel tight—too tight. A little wobble, a gasp from the crowd, but she corrected at the last second.

“She’s got it,” Tommy said beside you. His hand came to rest against the small of your back—right below where Joel’s hand was already bunched in your shirt. The two touches nearly met.

Neither of them moved.

Sarah charged toward the third barrel. Clean. Her final sprint down the home stretch brought the stands to their feet.

The three of you clapped, cheered, whooped, your heart racing, the electricity between the two men fizzing silently beside you. Tommy’s hand splayed wide across your backside. Joel barely moved, watching the timer screen flash across the display.

“That’s a good run,” he said, low and proud. His fingers loosened from your shirt, but he didn’t move his hand away.

“She’s gonna place,” Tommy agreed.

“She might win it,” you added, turning your head to look at them.

Both of them were already looking at you.

You smiled, flushed from the excitement—but something in the way they each looked at you made your skin feel hot for an entirely different reason.

Neither of them said anything, and for a second, the moment just… hung there. Their hands on you. The roar of the crowd fading into something muted.

Then the announcer called the next name, and the energy around you snapped back into motion.

Joel pulled his arm back to grab the cotton candy. Tommy slid his hand away like nothing had happened.

But your body remembered. And so did theirs.

After catching up with Sarah after her event, she was still buzzing with adrenaline. Practically bouncing.

“Did you see how fast he took that last curve?!” she gasped, practically skipping between you and Joel. “I was freaking out when the second barrel started to tip—did you see that?! Were you guys watching?!”

Joel was all pride and smiles as he walked beside her, teasing and nodding along, soaking in every word. She rambled on about her trainer’s horses, how they’d competed at Rodeo Austin for real, how she couldn’t wait to do it again. Eventually, she managed to talk the three of you into a round at the BB gun booth.

All four of you took a stance—Sarah coached dramatically, and you, predictably, failed miserably your first try. Joel and Tommy moved to the next round, and you watched from the side with Sarah, both of you hollering in support.

“Hit it! Hit it!” Sarah screeched at her dad. You let out a whoop as Tommy nailed the bullseye again and again.

When the game runner handed him a giant teddy bear, Tommy swung it into your arms with a triumphant grin before kissing you full on the mouth, unbothered by the crowd.

You laughed against his lips, hugging the bear tight, bouncing a little despite yourself.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah groaned, tugging at his arm until he pulled back from the kiss, grinning at her wide-eyed look. “Win me one too! Please?”

Tommy’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Joel, clearly amused that he was the one winning today. Joel rolled his eyes, but you caught the tightness in his jaw, the way his gaze lingered just a second too long as he glanced at your oversized teddy hitched on your hip.

“Go on, then,” Joel said, nodding toward the booth. “I’m gonna grab another beer.”

“I’ll join you,” you added quickly, glancing toward Tommy. But Sarah was already dragging him away, his hands back on the BB gun, ready for round two.

You and Joel peeled off quietly, heading toward the food and drink stands.

“Sarah was beggin’ for a funnel cake earlier,” Joel said, hands in his pockets. “Okay if we stop by one of the stands?”

“Yeah, ’course,” you murmured, falling into step beside him.

The walk was quiet—not awkward, exactly, but the air between you had thickened. Every step felt like it carried the weight of something unsaid.

You hadn’t talked much since the therapy session. Not really. Not about anything that mattered. The three of you had agreed to give it space—to breathe, to not immediately push into definitions or rules or boundaries.

But space didn’t feel like clarity. It felt like walking on eggshells. Like waiting for someone else to speak first, only no one ever did.

You weren’t sure what this was supposed to look like now. The idea of exploring an open relationship had been thrown out into the room like a life raft, but no one had said if they were actually ready to grab onto it. Not Joel. Not Tommy. Not even you.

You made it all the way to the counter before either of you spoke again.

“Make that two funnel cakes, please,” you said, just as Joel ordered Sarah’s.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” you laughed, lifting a shoulder. “Can’t help the cravings.” You reached for your wallet. “I’ll get Sarah’s too.”

Joel stopped you, his hand catching your wrist as you moved to your back pocket.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, already pulling out cash.

Then, quieter—low enough that the vendor wouldn’t hear, but just loud enough for you—he added, “Guess that sweet tooth runs in the genes.”

Your heart stumbled a beat. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t smirk, didn’t wink, but you could swear there was a twinkle in his eye when he turned back to you as you both stepped aside to wait for your order.

And just like that, the silence settled back in—only now it wasn’t neutral. It was charged.

When the funnel cakes came, you didn’t hesitate—tearing off a bite, still warm and soft, powdered sugar sticking to your lips.

You sighed in delight. “Oh my God.”

Joel was watching you when you looked up. That slight smirk on his face.

“What?” you asked, mouth full.

“You got a little somethin’,” he said, gesturing vaguely near his own mouth.

You licked your lips automatically, tongue sweeping the corner.

“Nope,” he murmured, chuckling. “Still there.”

Before you could try again, his hand reached out. Fingers warm and rough as they curled under your chin. His thumb dragged gently across your upper lip, brushing away the sugar with a slow swipe.

You froze—your breath caught somewhere in your throat as your eyes searched his face. The lights from the festival sparkled in his eyes, and behind him the sky had deepened into a wash of orange and violet.

Then his gaze dropped to your mouth, and he moved.

His lips brushed yours—soft, hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if this counted as crossing a line, or if the line had disappeared altogether. But he didn’t pull back right away. Instead, he paused there, the warmth of his breath ghosting against your mouth, and for a second neither of you moved. 

You stood still in that sliver of space where touch becomes choice, where you could pretend it hadn’t happened yet. But then his mouth pressed into yours fully, slowly, like he was tasting something he already knew. It wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate, drawn out and gentle. 

His hand stayed at your chin, his thumb pinching just barely as if to steady you, and your lips parted instinctively beneath his. You felt the sigh in his chest more than you heard it, like something deep inside him had let go the second your mouths met. 

Your hands stayed at your sides, fist clenched around the paper tray still holding your funnel cake, the other hugging the teddy bear to your side, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. It wasn’t a kiss born from adrenaline or jealousy—it wasn’t the kind of kiss that begged for permission. It simply was. 

When he pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt. It was slow, like he didn’t really want to stop, but knew he had to. His lips hovered a moment longer—just close enough that you could still feel the heat of him—and then he stepped back half a breath. You didn’t dare move. Couldn’t. You stood there staring at him, your lungs burning like you’d been holding your breath the entire time. Joel’s eyes dropped to your mouth again, and then, with a subtle flick of his tongue, he licked the last trace of powdered sugar from his bottom lip. The gesture was unthinking, automatic, but the sheer sight of it landed somewhere low and electric in your stomach, like a match being struck.

And then the world came rushing back in.

The noise of the fairgrounds—the buzz of voices, the bark of game operators, the soft whir of rides—returned all at once, like someone had turned the volume back up. You swallowed hard and looked away, trying to force air into your lungs, trying to stop the trembling in your fingers. Joel didn’t say anything. He just nodded once, almost to himself, and turned to start walking back toward the game booth. You followed beside him, the heat still high in your cheeks, your steps too careful, like if you moved too fast you might lose your balance.

You glanced up at him once, just to see if he was as composed as he acted, but the faint pink flush at the tips of his ears gave him away.

“Dad!”

Sarah’s voice snapped your head up. She was running toward you, a giant stuffed horse clutched in her arms, nearly half her size. She was beaming. “Can I go find Claire and Maddie again? They’re headed to the ferris wheel!”

Joel handed her the funnel cake without hesitation, “Yeah, go on, just stay where we can see you.”

“Thanks!” she chirped, already spinning away with her prize in tow, the funnel cake tipping dangerously as she ran off.

But your eyes weren’t on her.

They were on Tommy, just catching up to you—beer in one hand, the other stuffed in his front pocket, a smile on his face as he watched her go. When his eyes found yours, they flicked to Joel beside you, and something in his expression changed. Not angry, not suspicious… but aware. Like he was conscious of some shift between the two of you.

You tried to will the pink from your cheeks, steady the pulse in your throat as you stepped toward him and offered your funnel cake like nothing had happened.

“That kid had me goin’ three more rounds to get her that prize,” Tommy chuckled, clearly trying to break whatever tension had settled back between the three of you as he tore off a piece and popped it in his mouth.

Joel let out a quiet laugh, eyes following in the direction Sarah had run off. “Better go catch up with her before I lose ’er.”

Tommy nodded, then glanced at you. “Think we’ll call it a night after this. She’ll be wired for another hour and then crash hard.”

You smiled, grateful for the exit.

As Joel nodded and began to step away, Tommy called after him casually, “Hey—when you drop her off, mind swingin’ by the house? Think I left that box of tools in your truck bed last week.”

Joel glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure.” his eyes landed on you for the briefest moment, “See ya in a bit then,”

Tommy gave him a two-finger wave, then turned his attention back to you, the last bite of funnel cake pinched between his fingers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walked out of the fair.

The drive home wasn’t long, but it felt like it stretched forever.

Tommy’s hand had been on your thigh from the moment he slid into the driver’s seat—steady at first, but now, it was creeping higher with every turn he made. His fingers flexed just at the top of your leg, the pad of his thumb brushing over your jeans in slow, distracting strokes.

“Tommy,” you said, a quiet breath more than a word.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, too casual for the way his fingers were moving now.

“You’re bein’ handsy.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking. “Yeah, well. You’re lettin’ me.”

This wasn’t like him.

Yes, Tommy was affectionate—always had been. Touching your lower back as you passed through a crowd, brushing his lips over your shoulder while you stood at the sink, nudging your knee under the table just to remind you he was there.

But his gestures had never been… naughty.

Never anything that lit a fuse under your skin like the way his hand was gripping your thigh now. Never anything that made your breath stutter in your chest just from the press of his fingers curling possessively around your skin.

He was usually more careful with you. Gentle.

Tommy was the kind of man who waited until you were both tucked under the covers, warm and safe, soft and sleepy, before climbing over you with a smile and a kiss to your neck. The kind of man who made you smile first, made sure the world had quieted before he pulled you under.

You turned your head, looking at him from the passenger seat. He was focused on the road, jaw tight, eyes hard on the curve of the pavement as he turned into the neighborhood. But there was a spark there, flashing hot and alive beneath his usual easy exterior.

Your gaze slid down as he shifted in his seat, and your eyes caught on the undeniable shape in his jeans.

Heat bloomed in your face. Your chest. Lower.

The tight bulge in his lap pulsed like a secret between you, and it made your thighs press together involuntarily. But it wasn’t just the fact that he was aroused—it was that he wasn’t hiding it. That he was feeling you up in the front seat of the truck, on your quiet neighborhood street, away from the safety of the four walls of your bedroom.

Tommy, who usually waited until the house was dark and the doors were locked. Who kissed you slowly, slid his hands under your shirt and whispered “you okay?” even after years of being together.

He just slid his hand between your legs and gripped your inner thigh like he’d been thinking about it all night.

It sent heat rolling through you, sharp and dizzying. Not just from the touch, but from the awareness of how out of place it was. How unlike him it was to let go like this, to need like this, especially outside the safety of home.

And God help you—you liked it.

You pressed your legs together, your breath catching in your throat, trying to remember how to sit still while every nerve in your body screamed at you to climb into his lap and ride him right there in the middle of the road.

He felt your squirming as he pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching softly over gravel. The second the truck shifted into park and the headlights clicked off, the cab was swallowed in quiet shadow, only the streetlamp catching the edge of his jaw.

He turned toward you, that smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth—the kind that made your stomach flip. His hand slid from your thigh to the top of your seat, arm stretched across the backrest, his gaze drinking you in from the other side of the bench.

“C’mere,” he said, low and smooth, nodding for you to slide over.

You bit your lip, heart thudding, and obeyed without a word—scooting across the cracked leather until your thigh brushed his.

His hand dropped from the headrest to cradle the back of your neck, warm and firm. The other left the steering wheel, finding your cheek, fingers spreading across your jaw like he needed to anchor you in place.

And then he kissed you.

Not the sweet, half-thought kisses he’d given you throughout the day. Not careful, not playful. This was deep. Needy. Starving. Like he’d been holding it back for too long and didn’t care anymore if it showed.

His mouth slanted over yours again and again, open and hot, tongue sweeping past your lips like it belonged there. The soft sounds he made—those low, growling hums that rumbled in his throat—sent heat surging through your core.

Your breath stuttered as his grip on your neck tightened, his other hand trailing slowly down from your face to trace along your body until it was back at your denim clad thighs. He gripped hard, his palm sliding up along the seam of your jeans, squeezing just enough to make you shift in your seat.

When he tugged gently at the base of your hair, just at the nape, a moan slipped from your throat before you could catch it.

You broke the kiss just long enough to gasp, “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

He huffed a breath against your skin, already moving to your neck, kissing a line down the column of your throat. His mouth was open, his tongue slow, dragging heat behind every press of his lips, and then—teeth. A soft bite that made your body jolt.

“Wanted to get my hands on you all day,” he muttered between kisses, voice muffled against your skin. “Lookin’ so pretty,”

You whimpered, nails curling into the fabric of his shirt as he worked lower, pushing your neckline aside with one hand just to mouth at the new skin he found there.

You were panting now, flushed all over, your thighs pressing together as he kissed, bit, sucked like he was trying to brand you.

“Tommy,” you breathed, completely undone, and when he looked back up at you—lips swollen, eyes dark—you barely recognized the hunger in his face.

“Get your ass inside,” he rasped. “Now.”

You climbed out the passenger door, giddy like a teenager all over again, your skin still tingling from his hands and mouth and voice. As you made your way up the walk, Tommy’s hand came down in a playful smack against your rear, making you squeal and laugh over your shoulder at him.

He didn’t smile—not fully. His eyes were too dark, too focused. But the edge of his mouth twitched like he was barely holding himself together.

By the time you reached the door, his chest was already at your back, his arms snaking around you, mouth grazing your ear. “You drive me crazy, baby… you know that?” he murmured, voice low and breath hot.

You fumbled the keys, giggling as he pressed closer. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands to himself.”

“And you didn’t stop me,” he whispered, nuzzling your jaw. “Didn’t want to, did you?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

The door clicked open and the second you were inside, his hands were on you again—spinning you around, backing you up against the wall just inside the entry. His mouth crashed into yours, deeper this time, slower but no less desperate. His hands slid up your sides, over your waist, thumbs hooking into your belt loops to keep you flush against him.

He kissed you like he hadn’t touched you in weeks. Like he’d been starving for you.

By the time you pulled apart for air, you were both breathless and a little dizzy.

“Upstairs,” he murmured, voice ragged, his hands slipping down to grab yours, guiding you behind him.

At the top, he didn’t even pause—just pulled you straight into the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind you with one solid thud. And then his hands were back on your hips, his mouth on your throat, and whatever this was—it wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

Your back hit the bedroom wall with a soft thump, and Tommy barely gave you time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you again, pressing into the curve of your neck, open and hot, his hands splayed across your hips like he couldn’t keep his hands still.

You gasped as he nipped at the base of your throat, your hands tangling in his shirt, gripping the fabric tight. He groaned softly against your skin, one hand sliding up under your top, rough fingers skimming over your ribs like he needed to feel all of you.

“Tommy—” you breathed, but it came out more like a sigh.

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling hard, eyes dark and locked onto yours. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head before the words even formed. “Don’t.”

That was all he needed.

He tugged your shirt up, slow but sure, breaking contact just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His eyes dropped, sweeping over your bare skin like it physically pained him to look away. One of his hands slid behind you and unclasped your bra in a smooth motion, and let it slide from your shoulders. His hands were reverent, warm and wide as they came up to cup you, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and the groan that left him was raw, almost pained.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, like a thought spoken out loud.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, dragging it up over his stomach and chest. He helped you the rest of the way, yanking it over his head and tossing it behind him. His mouth was back on you before you could get a good look, lips trailing heat down your collarbone, your sternum, the swell of your breast. He kissed your flesh until you were arching into him, fingers tangling in his hair.

His hands moved to the button of your jeans next, and you gasped when he popped it open and dragged the zipper down, his knuckles grazing the skin just below your belly. You toed off your shoes, the soft thud of them hitting the carpet barely registering over the pounding in your ears. His hands slid to your waist, and he dropped to his knees, pulling your jeans down inch by inch, kissing the skin he uncovered like it was a map he already knew by heart.

By the time he got your jeans off, his mouth never left your skin, kissing along your hip bone, his breath hot and shaky. His hands slid up your thighs, slow and worshipful—until they weren’t. Until they were gripping.

His fingers dug into your flesh, pulling you closer as he moved up to kiss your stomach, chest, throat—claiming every inch like it was his and his alone. You were breathless by the time he kissed you again, and when he pushed you back onto the bed, you went willingly, your back sinking into the sheets, arms stretching above your head.

He hovered over you, eyes tracing every inch of your face. And then something flickered there. Something sharp.

“You let him touch you like this?” he asked, voice low but tight, as his hand moved between your legs, cupping you over your panties. The lace was already damp beneath his fingers, your arousal bleeding through the fabric. He dragged a finger along the center, slow and deliberate, and you felt the heat bloom deeper as the pressure built.

Your breath caught. “Tommy—”

“Just tell me,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, then your throat. “Did he touch you like this?” He pressed the heel of his palm in, slow but firm, dragging a moan from your lips even as your brows pulled together.

“Stop,” you breathed, trying to push up on your elbows. “It doesn’t matter.”

But he shook his head, his hand sliding your underwear down your thighs, slow and rough all at once. “It does to me.”

He kissed you again—deeper this time, almost bruising until his hands guided you to roll over, his touch less gentle now, more insistent. He pulled your hips up until you were on your knees, chest pressed into the bed, your face turned toward the pillows. You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt him—hot and hard, the blunt weight of his cock pressing against you.

You arched back into it instinctively, needing him to forget everything else, to just feel this—feel you.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, pushing into you with one steady thrust that made you gasp, your fingers curling into the comforter. “Always been mine.”

You moaned, eyes shutting tightly as he moved inside you—rougher now, his rhythm firm, controlled, but not cruel. Just desperate. Like he had something to prove.

Every sound that left him was strained, thick with emotion—his hands spreading across your hips, his thumb trailing up your spine like he needed to feel every piece of you to believe this was real.

The sound of your moans and Tommy’s grunts filled the air, the sheets rubbing against your skin beneath you, it was almost loud enough to drown out the front door opening.

But then you heard his voice.

“Tommy?”

Your eyes flew open, breath catching in your throat. That was Joel’s voice coming from downstairs. Your mind scrambled to remember why the hell he was here. And then you remembered Tommy’s request. Some stupid tool box he needed.

Tommy stilled for half a second—just long enough for your heart to lurch—before he started moving again, slower this time, deeper. Like he was doubling down.

You grunted, biting your lip to swallow the moan that threatened to give you away. Your hand scrambled for the edge of the sheets, something to grip, something to hold you to earth.

Your blood ran hot and cold all at once.

Joel’s voice came again—closer. “You home?”

“We’re up here,” Tommy called back, voice completely steady.

No.

Your entire body tensed under him, your head whipping to the side, eyes locked on the closed bedroom door.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, panicked, but he only dropped more of his weight onto you, one hand pressing flat between your shoulder blades, the other tightening around your hip. You were locked in place beneath him, your breath coming fast.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Tommy cooed, his voice sweet but mocking as his hips kept moving, slow and steady and deep. “Ain’t gonna stop now.”

There was a creak on the stairs.

Your heart slammed into your throat.

“Tommy,” you hissed again, but it came out half-broken, your voice catching in your chest.

And then—

The door swung open.

“Jesus—” Joel flinched hard, turning away with a grunt and lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “What the hell, man!?”

Tommy didn’t stop.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts slowing just a hair—but only to lean down, breath hot against your ear as he rasped, “That what you wanted, huh? Him seein’ you like this?”

You whimpered, caught between mortification and a heat that made your knees weak.

“Tommy—please—” you gasped, struggling half-heartedly beneath him.

But he was gone.

“Think you can just fuck my wife whenever you want?” Tommy growled, looking over at Joel now, chest heaving, voice thick with rage and something else—something darker. “Think you do it better?”

Joel turned slightly, eyes caught somewhere between fury and disbelief. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind—”

“Have I?” Tommy snapped, his voice low and dangerous as he fucked into you harder now, like he was trying to prove something with every movement. “’Cause she’s drippin’ all over my cock right now. You seein’ this?”

You let out a broken sound, face buried in the mattress. You wanted to crawl out of your skin—and yet the way Tommy was holding you, the filthy things coming out of his mouth, the heat between the three of you…

It was too much.

Joel’s mouth opened like he was about to say something else—but he didn’t.

He stared.

He stayed.

And your heart nearly exploded as Tommy chuckled low in his throat, thrusting deep and slow again like he wanted Joel to see it.

“That’s right,” Tommy said, never looking away. “Go on. Watch. See what it looks like when a man takes care of what’s his.”

“Call this takin’ care?” Joel said, voice low, sharp with something mean and taunting beneath the surface.

Your eyes flicked up, wide, and found his—and the heat there made your breath catch.

“Tell me, little brother,” Joel drawled, “you ever felt her come all over that dick of yours?”

Tommy’s movements faltered. Just for a second.

You felt it—his grip loosening slightly on your hips, his breath catching.

Your heart was in your throat, beating so hard it hurt.

Joel stepped forward, slow, measured. His eyes dragged over your body—not like it was new to him, but like he knew every inch of it already. Like he could trace it blind, by memory alone.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured.

Then his gaze locked with yours.

“Should we show him, sweetheart?” he asked, and your stomach dropped clean through the mattress. “Show him what he’s been missin’?”

Your mouth parted, no sound coming out.

Joel tilted his head, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Think my pissy little brother needs some pointers?”

Tommy let out a rough breath behind you, a mix between a growl and a scoff, his hand sliding up your spine possessively.

“She’s my goddamn wife,” he snapped, but his voice wasn’t steady anymore.

Joel’s gaze flickered up, darkening, “Then fuckin’ act like it.”

The silence was deafening—so thick you could hear your own pulse in your ears.

Tommy’s hands flexed on your hips again. And then he thrust—hard. Deep. A sound ripped out of you that wasn’t quiet at all.

And Joel’s expression changed. Softer. Almost smug. Almost… proud.

“She sure makes the prettiest sounds, don’t she?” he said, and he approached the bed. Your skin felt like it was on fire as Tommy stilled completely, but he was still hard inside you to your surprise.

“Turn her over,” Joel said steadily.

Tommy’s head snapped toward him. “Get the hell out.”

“You invited me in here, little brother.” Joel’s tone was exasperatingly calm. 

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Both men. In the room with you while you were naked and taking your husband’s cock.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, wild and uneven, like it was trying to warn you. Or maybe it was just overwhelmed.

You didn’t know where to look. Joel, standing there with that infuriating calm like this was just another Tuesday. Tommy, still inside you, bristling with fury, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he tried to process what was happening.

And you—trapped in the middle, hips pinned beneath the man you married, body still burning for the one you hadn’t stopped thinking about since that first night.

You should’ve felt humiliated. You did. But your skin still tingled everywhere Joel’s eyes touched.

Tommy was quick to snap at his brother, “And now I want you out.”

Joel didn’t flinch. “And what do you want, sweetheart?” he asked, gaze cutting to you, his head tilted slightly as his eyes took in the flushed features of your face.

You exhaled slowly, your lungs feeling like they’d deflated. Your mouth was dry, but you licked your lips anyway, then turned your face to look back at Tommy, biting down gently on the inside of your cheek.

Tommy’s face twisted in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“Just…” you breathed, heart pounding in your throat, “let’s just see. It could be fun.” You swallowed. “We haven’t made any rules yet.”

Tommy looked between the two of you—his jaw tight, his eyes wide, stunned. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before he finally pulled out of you, breath ragged. “Alright. Turn over.”

You moved quickly, your skin flushed and glowing, body still trembling as you flipped onto your back. The sheets were warm under you, your thighs still slick, still open.

Behind you, you heard the unmistakable rustle of clothes—the metal clink of a belt, the soft drag of a zipper—and then Joel was there.

The heat of him hit you first. He was so warm, and as he stepped to the side of the bed, the mattress dipped slightly with his weight.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head as he moved to kneel between your legs again.

You sat up a little, cupping his face, dragging your hand down the center of his chest, his stomach. “I love you,” you whispered, searching his eyes. “If you don’t want this, we stop. Say the word.”

Tommy stared down at you for a long second. His lips pressed together, pulled inward like he was thinking too hard. His eyes flicked to Joel, then back to you.

He sighed, jaw clenching. “Just this once. And if it doesn’t work—”

“Never again,” you finished softly, nodding.

Only then did you glance up at Joel.

He nodded once, slow and assured, his hand already moving to the bulge in his briefs. Your eyes followed—broad chest, tan skin, strong forearms—and you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned back, just slightly, hand drifting up to cup him through the fabric. Joel exhaled, low and rough, eyes fluttering shut as your palm rubbed against him.

“Show him,” you said softly.

His eyes opened again, sharper now, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Not sure he deserves it after all that attitude,” Joel muttered, voice teasing but laced with heat.

“Joel—” you warned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes—but his voice was dark now, thicker. “But then it’s my turn.”

You watched him hook his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down with one slow motion that revealed all of him—hard, heavy, already flushed. Your breath caught at the sight, heat flooding through you like a second pulse.

He fisted himself gently, watching you, waiting.

Above you, Tommy shifted. You turned to look at him and his mouth was drawn tight, eyes hard with conflict. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved closer, settling between your legs again, hands sliding up your thighs.

You stared up at him, unsure if he’d really go through with it. But then he lined himself up, his cock dragging through your folds, and you gasped at the contact.

He sighed low, almost like relief, as he sank into you with one long, slow push. The weight of him settling into your hips, the feeling of him filling you again—it made your head fall back, your mouth falling open.

The tension in the room turned molten.

Tommy’s hands slid to your thighs, gripping tight like he needed something to hold on to. His eyes flicked up to Joel, who was still settled at your side, close enough now that you could feel his presence, warm and electric.

You barely registered Joel moving until you felt his hand close around your wrist. Firm. Certain. He guided your hand to his cock—thick and hot and heavy—and curled your fingers around him like he was placing something sacred into your palm.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t hesitate.

You wrapped your lips around the head, soft and swollen and already leaking, and sucked—slow, reverent, like you’d been dreaming of this since the last time. And you had been.

Joel hissed through his teeth, his hand threading through your hair as you hollowed your cheeks and pulled him deeper. “Good girl,” he muttered. Your entire body clenched at the praise.

Tommy groaned above you, building up his thrusts, erratic and messy as you pulsed around him.

“Slow down,” Joel said, calm, instructive. “Long, even strokes. Deep.”

Tommy cursed under his breath but obeyed, grinding into you with a slower, heavier rhythm that made your whole body arch forward, your mouth taking Joel deeper.

“Good,” Joel murmured. “Now thumb her clit.”

You whimpered around his cock, the sound thick and broken. Tommy’s thumb slid over your swollen clit in soft, careful circles, and your whole body clenched around him.

“She’s grippin’ the hell outta me,” Tommy breathed. “Fuck.”

Joel’s voice was right above you now, rough but steady. “Spit on it.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Spit on her clit. She likes it messier.”

You moaned, mouth full of Joel, your thighs twitching.

Tommy grunted again, but when you felt the warm wet hit of spit on your skin, you moaned loudly, hips bucking. His thumb slid through the slickness building there, the glide smoother, filthier, perfect.

“That’s it,” Joel growled. “Keep her right there. Thumb her just like that. Don’t stop. Her throat is squeezin’ me so good when you do that.”

You couldn’t breathe. Your body was clenching up, something coiling in your spine and hips as he kept up the pace. Joel’s cock dragged across your tongue, thick and pulsing, while Tommy thrust into you—slower now, more precise, but still not quite enough.

You loved Tommy’s rhythm—the care in it, the way he was doing everything to get you there, the way he wanted to get you there. But your orgasm wasn’t building the same way. It was harder to catch, harder to ride. Joel’s cock had a weight, a stretch that reached something deeper in you—something that made your body respond instantly. With Tommy, it took more. He was only slightly smaller, narrower, not lacking, just… different.

Still good. Still yours. But different.

“She’s close,” Joel said, voice ragged now, eyes locked on your face. “I can feel it.”

Tommy groaned, cock twitching inside you as you clenched down hard. “Jesus, she’s—fuck, she’s so tight.”

“You wanna come for Tommy, sweet girl?” Joel asked, still beside you on bed, one hand fisted in your hair where it spilled across the bedspread, thumb brushing softly over your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his—and in the same breath, Joel guided his cock back between your lips, sliding into your mouth with a slow, deliberate push that made your throat stretch and burn in the best way.

You gagged softly, the movement rippling through your body. Tommy moaned at the sudden convulsion of your walls around him, his one hand gripping your hip so hard it would leave bruises. The other kept circling your clit with his thumb, your eyes warring between rolling back and trying to focus on Joel. 

“Fuck—she just—goddamn,” Tommy breathed, his hips faltering for half a second before finding that rhythm again. Deep, slow strokes that had your whole body arching beneath him.

Joel pulled back with a wet pop, a string of spit and precum connecting your lips to the flushed tip of his cock. You were gasping for breath, whimpering and moaning as he leaned down close, hovering just over your face, thumb wiping at your mouth like it was his.

You were hovering now, your spine tingling with the build up. So close. But not there yet. Your body wanted more.

And Joel knew.

Of course he knew.

“Tommy’s got you so full, huh?” Joel murmured, voice like gravel soaked in honey in your ear, low enough that only you could hear. “Still not enough to make you come, greedy girl?”

His breath brushed the shell of your ear, and your whole body twitched.

You couldn’t answer—not with words. But your eyes found his, wide and pleading, glassy with need. You looked up at him from where your head rested on the sheets, Joel crouched beside you now, shadowing over your face like he could read everything you couldn’t say aloud.

And he could. He always could.

Your chest rose with a broken breath as your mouth parted—no sound, just air. One of his hands stayed tangled in your hair, grounding you. The other drifted down, palm dragging with reverence over your chest, and when it reached your breast, his touch went still.

He watched you as if testing the waters. The second your back arched into his palm, just a little, the faintest tremble of pleading… he smirked.

“There she is,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your nipple slowly and deliberately before twisting and palming, kneading your flesh. Your thighs jerked and your eyes fluttered closed, breath stalling in your throat.

Joel leaned in, voice like silk soaked in heat.

“Gonna have to beg him for it,” he murmured, this time loud enough for his brother to hear, dragging his thumb over you again as your back arched once more. “Go on. Show him how sweet you sound when you’re right at the edge.”

He kissed your temple, lips warm and just barely there before sitting up again.

“Show him what you gave me.”

Your breath was a broken thing, chest heaving, your legs locked around Tommy’s waist as his cock filled you over and over again, his thumb grinding against your clit with every thrust. You could barely speak—but you tried.

“Please,” you whispered, blinking up at Tommy. “Please don’t stop.”

His eyes were wide, blown out, sweat dripping from his brow, “Fuck,” he muttered. “Say it again.”

“Please, Tommy,” you gasped, fingers gripping his arms. “Please let me come—need it—need it so bad.”

Joel’s hand moved from your hair to stroke slowly over his cock at the edge of the bed, gaze flicking between your face and Tommy’s. “There it is,” he murmured. “You hear that? That’s yours, little brother. Make her fuckin’ come on your cock.”

Tommy’s rhythm picked up, driving into you with slow, hard strokes that hit deep, his thumb never stopping the delicious circles over your clit just like Joel had told him.

Your head fell back. Your thighs shook. Your whole body started to come apart.

As your jaw fell open, Joel took your mouth again—his cock thick and slick as it pressed past your lips, filling your mouth with one steady thrust. You welcomed it greedily, your moan muffled and broken, your tongue flattening beneath the weight of him.

Your back arched off the bed, body seizing with pleasure as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave—white-hot, all-consuming. Joel’s hand was back in your hair, holding you down, guiding your mouth as your throat fluttered around him, his cock pressing deeper with every pulse. The other squeezed and twisted your breast as you rode your high.

Tommy groaned loudly above you, his voice rough, desperate, like he’d just been torn open.

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, and his hips jerked once, twice—then stilled.

You felt it. The heat of him spilling into you, thick and heavy, your cunt already so wet and wrecked it only made you twitch harder around him. His breath stuttered out in harsh bursts, body shuddering as he emptied himself deep inside you.

“That’s it,” Joel growled. “That’s a good girl, baby.”

He fucked your mouth with slow, controlled strokes—gentle now, reverent—before finally pulling out, letting you fall back against the bed with a gasp, your chest heaving as your climax still rippled through your body.

Your vision blurred at the edges, nerves lit up like static. You barely felt Tommy at first—his hands adjusting on your hips, his breathing shaky.

Then, after a long, weighted pause, Tommy slowly eased back, slipping out of you with a wet drag that made your entire body jolt. You gasped softly at the loss, walls still fluttering from your orgasm, sensitive and aching.

The room went quiet again, thick and buzzing under the surface. You could hear Tommy’s breathing above you, could feel the shift in his body as he sat back on his heels, one hand sliding down your thigh as if to steady himself. He moved slowly to sit against the headboard, breathing heavily.

Your pulse thrummed at your neck, loud in your ears. You turned your head toward him, your skin flushed, lips swollen, heart racing. Tommy’s eyes found yours—dark, uncertain, something different behind them. Not anger or sadness, but something new and raw.

“Tommy,” you whispered, voice low, hoarse. You swallowed. “Can he…?”

You hesitated, heat prickling across your cheeks. You weren’t even sure what words you were looking for. You just knew what you needed.

“Can Joel… please?”

Tommy’s eyes scanned your face, then dropped to where your thighs were still parted, to the slick between them, to the tremble in your breath. He took a slow inhale, like he was weighing the cost of the question. Then he nodded. “Go on then. Show me what’s worth all this trouble.” You could swear there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a faint crinkle at the edge of his eyes. Not quite a smile. Maybe a dare.

Joel was already moving.

His hands found your body—confident, warm, rough as ever—as he pulled you up onto your knees and flushed your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around you easily, like they belonged there. Like he knew this body like the back of his hand.

You inhaled sharply at the feel of him behind you—solid muscle, the heavy press of his cock nudging against your lower back. He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear. His voice was low, rich, and dripping with something that made your skin tighten.

“Hope you’re payin’ attention, little brother,” Joel murmured, his grip tightening on your waist. “Gonna show you just how sweet she sounds when she gets what she needs.”

You watched Tommy’s jaw clench, and you muttered a short warning to Joel, “Stop,” 

Joel ignored you and his hand slipped down between your legs, fingers gliding through the mess Tommy left behind, gathering it in his fingers and spreading it through your puffy center, making your thighs shake.

“Jesus,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Still so wet.”

He let his fingers trail back up to your hip, palm splaying across your stomach as he held you there—against him, for him, like he was staking his claim right in front of Tommy.

Then he shifted. You felt the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, thick and already slick from your mouth. Your breath caught.

“Hold on to me,” Joel murmured. His other hand slid up, cupping one of your breasts, his mouth brushing just behind your ear as your arms held tightly to his splayed over your torso.

And then he pushed in—slow, deep, deliberate.

Your body seized the moment he started to push in. The stretch was immediate—thicker, deeper, unforgiving. Your legs trembled, a broken moan slipping from your throat before you could stop it. It felt like your body forgot how to breathe, how to think—every nerve lit up as he filled you, inch by inch, until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

Pressure bloomed deep in your core, sharp and aching, and still he kept going, his cock dragging against every hypersensitive spot until your thighs were shaking, your nails biting into his arm.

You gasped—"Joel!" sharp and high—and your head fell back against his shoulder like you couldn’t hold it up anymore. Your mouth parted, but no words came out. Just sound. Just a helpless, wrecked whimper that made Joel groan behind you.

Joel gritted his teeth, voice strained through a groan. “Fuck. Always so tight for me, baby. Takin’ me so good. Feels like he barely even touched you."

“Fuck off,” Tommy snapped from somewhere below you, voice rough, and you didn’t need to look to know he was watching—his breath hitched, uneven.

Joel noticed, too.

“My little brother’s gettin’ all worked up again,” he rasped, his cock sliding deeper, arms tightening around you. “Look at him, baby. Watchin’ you take my cock like this.”

You lifted your head just enough to find Tommy’s face—jaw locked, hand slowly fisting his already hardening cock as he sat back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.

Joel’s hand slid back between your legs, fingers circling your clit with unrelenting precision as he fucked you slow and deep.

“Talk to her, Tommy,” Joel said roughly.

Tommy shook his head, jaw clenched. “I—I don’t—”

“C’mon,” Joel grunted, thrusting into you harder, making you cry out. “You don’t want me talkin’ all this shit? Huh? Even if it makes her this wet—” his fingers slid lower, gathering slick, “—thinkin’ of us fightin’ over this sweet, perfect pussy?”

He fucked up into you hard as he growled, and it made you gasp in pleasure.

“Then talk, dammit.”

Tommy’s breath stuttered. You looked at him—desperate and open, mouth parted. You watched his throat bob as he tried to swallow whatever pride or hesitation was left.

Then, finally, his voice came low, rough, uncertain.

“You like this, baby?” he rasped, the words strange in his mouth but soaked in truth as he leaned forward, looking up at you. “Like me watchin’ while he fucks you?”

You moaned, the sound unholy and obscene as your body twitched. You tried to nod while Joel’s cock dragged deep again, slow and relentless, the stretch still too much, still perfect. 

“Oh, she fuckin’ loves it,” Joel growled in your ear. His palm slid up your chest, fingers curling over the other breast as he kept your back flush to him. “That look on her face? All fucked-out and needy.”

Tommy let out a shuddering breath. His eyes never left yours.

“Look at you,” he said, a little bolder now. “You’re so pretty like this. Letting us ruin you.”

Your breath hitched. Your thighs were shaking again, a whimper escaping as Joel’s fingers found your clit once more, slick and swollen. He rubbed you just right—tight, insistent circles that made your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Joel grunted. “You close again, baby? I can feel it. You’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

Tommy leaned forward, looking up at you as he reached for your trembling legs, rubbing your skin and kneading it in his hands as his cock twitched in his hand, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for us. Show us how much you love bein’ ours.”

That did it.

Your body clenched hard, a cry ripping from your throat as the orgasm slammed into you—fierce, fast, and overwhelming. You trembled violently, hips jerking, mouth open but wordless as you came again, harder this time, unraveling between them.

You were still shaking when your body started to shift—Joel's cock still buried deep, grinding against your overstimulated walls with every slow, hungry thrust. You reached forward, chest dropping toward the bed, bracing yourself on your hands as you whimpered through the aftershocks.

But you weren’t done. Not even close.

“Tommy,” you gasped, voice hoarse and half-broken. “Let me—please, let me touch you. Wanna make you come again.”

You reached for him blindly, your hand finding his thigh as he knelt close, cock hard again in his grip.

He looked stunned, blinking at you like he couldn’t believe it. “Jesus, baby,” he muttered, and he looked up at Joel, “How the hell are you still goin’ after that? The way she gripped me when--”

Joel gave a low, breathless laugh behind you, his thrusts never faltering. “Not my first time, remember?”

He leaned forward over your back, his voice rough and possessive in your ear.

“She gets like this,” Joel said, fucking into you harder now, making your arms tremble. “Once you open her up, she just needs. Can’t help herself, can you, baby?”

You moaned, loud and desperate, your hand finally wrapping around Tommy’s cock again, bringing it into your mouth.

Your husband groaned, hips twitching toward your touch. “Fuckin’ insatiable,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

Joel grinned, lips brushing your shoulder before pulling back to straighten, gripping your hips. “She’s gonna milk us dry.”

You moaned at the filthy words, too far gone to be embarrassed, too full to care. You rocked between them, wrecked and desperate—Joel’s cock dragging deep inside you with each powerful thrust, your mouth stretched wide around Tommy’s length, tongue flattened along the underside.

Every time Joel thrusted forward, it shoved you farther onto Tommy’s cock. Your throat clenched, gagging slightly, and both men groaned—low and guttural at the dual sensation of your body constricting around them.

Your eyes watered, spit pooling at the corners of your lips as you tried to breathe around it, the slick sounds obscene in the best way.

Tommy’s hand came to your cheek, his thumb stroking gently along your jaw as he looked down at you. His face was tight with restraint, flushed and glassy-eyed, jaw twitching, “Look so pretty with a cock in her mouth, doesn’t she?”

Joel grunted behind you, slamming deep, making your body jolt forward. “Sure does,” he growled. “Takin’ us both so good, baby. Just like that.”

You whimpered, the only sound you could manage, body fluttering with overstimulation, throat spasming around Tommy’s cock as he hissed through his teeth.

Joel’s grip tightened, his thrusts getting faster, more desperate, and you could feel the wave starting to build again—relentless, all-consuming. You didn’t know how much more your body could take.

“Come on, baby,” Tommy groaned. “Fuck—your mouth feels so good, sweetheart. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

Joel leaned in, his voice thick with heat. “You gonna come again with your mouth full, baby? Think you can come for both of us this time?”

Your whole body responded—tightening instinctively, like those words alone triggered something deep inside. Joel’s hand slid beneath you, and you flinched with a soft gasp as his fingers found your clit again—soaked, swollen, aching from how close you already were.

It was too much. Too good. You couldn’t take it, and yet your body begged for more.

The touch was too light at first—then perfect. Circling. Pressing. Your spine arched, your thighs trembled, and your moan vibrated around Tommy’s cock, still heavy and hot on your tongue.

You could barely register where one of them ended and the other began—just pressure and stretch and friction and heat. Joel’s thrusts stayed deep and punishing, perfectly timed with the slow drag of his fingers.

Suddenly your whole body locked, muscles spasming as another orgasm tore through you—sharp and blinding, your vision whiting out as you clenched hard around Joel’s cock, milking him through every brutal thrust.

You moaned around Tommy’s length, the sound desperate and guttural, and that was all it took for either of them.

Joel cursed behind you—low, rough, wrecked. He thrust once, twice more, then buried himself as deep as he could go, spilling inside you with a broken growl. His hands were shaking where they gripped your hips, holding you there like he couldn’t let go.

The hot pulse of him filled you completely, thick and heavy, and the sensation only dragged your orgasm out longer, your legs trembling violently beneath you.

Tommy let out a choked moan above you, his hips stuttering as your throat fluttered around him. His hand cupped your cheek, and with one more shaky breath, he came—spilling into your mouth with a soft, desperate, “Fuck, baby.”

You took it all, swallowing around him as gently as you could, the muscles of your throat still spasming from Joel’s final, deep thrusts.

Then—finally—everything slowed.

Tommy pulled back with a groan, slumping onto the bed beside you with a heavy exhale, one arm flung over his face as he tried to catch his breath. Joel eased out of you from behind, and you whimpered at the emptiness, already missing the stretch of him, the weight. Your body felt boneless, dazed and trembling, as you rolled to your side and melted into the mattress beside Tommy.

Joel didn’t stay far. Within seconds, he collapsed on your other side with a low, satisfied grunt, still half-wrapped in heat and sweat. His arm slid beneath your head, pulling you gently against his chest until you were tucked in close, skin to skin, your cheek resting just below his collarbone.

You were fully tangled between them now—Joel’s leg brushing yours, Tommy’s chest warm against your back, his hand finding your thigh and resting there like a grounding weight.

The heat of three bodies lingered in the air—sticky and quiet and strangely comforting.

Tommy’s hand found your stomach and gave it a slow rub, and when you looked over at him—he was watching you, not angry, not brooding. Just… tired. And stunned.

You let out a laugh. A small, breathless one, but real.

Then another.

Your face tucked against Joel’s arm, shoulders shaking with laughter, and Joel chuckled too—low and lazy, like he couldn’t even muster the energy to be smug, “Troublemaker.”

Tommy let out a breathless huff, still holding you tight, and nuzzled into the curve of your neck. “I’m not sure I survived that,” he murmured, and then he started laughing too—open, surprised, stunned, “Feel like I blacked out halfway through,”

You turned your head toward him, smiling wide, and kissed the side of his mouth. “You were perfect.”

The three of you fell into an easy silence, wrapped up in sweat and warmth and the quiet hum of something unspoken—something new.

“Shit,” Joel muttered, his chest shaking from a chuckle, “Think we’re gonna need a bigger bed.”

And for the first time in a long time, the three of you were laughing together.

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