#NO SHADE TOWARDS VOICE ACTORS it’s just not it for me

[totaleclipse573]

Hear me out on this voice headcanon

[capslocked]

SERENDIPITY

male reader x kwon eunbi

18k words

Before the attraction ferments, Eunbi says, kiss me properly and pull me apart. or, Where all your little tragedies begin.

-

If you want to start getting technical, you’re Minju's plus one to the gala, and that’s already a lot, a lot, a lot to unpack.

She’d gotten whipped into a bad mood that evening before you even had your shoes on, all on account of your apparent inability to distinguish cobalt from azure, and now should anyone have the wherewithal to examine the fabric of her dress, your tie, maybe with a forensic kit, they’d discover the two are not actually matching. If there was any part of you at all inclined toward keeping up appearances, you probably wouldn’t be content with a career in radio broadcast. But here you are, surrounded by actors, actresses, idols, and everyone who thinks the cut of their jaw is just a little better than everyone else’s - the kind of people who feel entitled to time in front of a camera.

Networking, is how Minju ends up pitching it to you, and now it makes the whole thing seem a lot like work and it’s actually kind of exhausting.

It’s not even an open bar either, as she had originally advertised.

You pay - get this - you pay twenty-three dollars for a vodka tonic and it comes with so much ice you’re not totally unconvinced you could build an igloo. So when everything starts to go to shit, nearing the end of drink number one, you’re not even slurring your words. Tipsy, perhaps; just slightly. To the point you can feel it in your fingers. But nothing like a good excuse.

It’s about then that Eunbi navigates her way around the bar - unnerving, enough to make the sweat grow cold.

On account of her being fucking gorgeous, you end up watching her closely: notice first that she’s carrying a pair of heels in her hand, completely barefoot, and you have no idea what that’s about, but you end up more fixated on the fact that she slides herself into the barstool on your left - which comes across as something of an omen, given that the rest are completely unoccupied. It’s only thirty, forty minutes into the event and people are still plenty busy with that thing where they fake smiles at each other until they feel like they fit in, showing, with bare minimal effort, that they too can mingle with entertainment’s elite.

Now, you don’t actually recognize her, not right away that is. The last you’d seen her, she had her hair cut right above her shoulders and its shade was a serious degree blonder than the current iteration - now curtaining her face as she studies the drink menu and flips it over several times in her dainty hands.

After a long minute, she looks up, interrupts the bartender from polishing a piece of glassware, and orders an old fashioned, substitute brandy, leave out the orange peel, with sugar on the rim. If it’s not the usual amendments that give her away, it’s the saccharine-sweet flavor of her voice, lilting in a manner that’s instantly unmistakable.

Eunbi, you’re guessing aloud, a little apprehensive, and immediately you retreat behind the liquor in your glass. She turns to you, slowly, knuckles masking the subtle quirk in her lips at first, before letting her chin rest on the heel of her palm to reveal a flash of her signature hundred-kilowatt smile.

“Oh,” she says, and she’s blinking with clear amusement that you remember her name - as if you could ever forget it, as if these run-ins were somehow infrequent; you’d only both been plotting orbits around the same star that was Minju for the past couple years. Her head tilts, lips parting to ask, “your date ditch you already?”

She’s half-right.

“You break a heel?” you ask her, nodding toward the pair of black t-strap heels she’d tossed onto the bar counter with a defeated sigh.

“Maybe.” Eunbi drags a dark lock of hair back behind her ear. It falls almost immediately back in front of her face and it ends up staying there until the bartender places her drink in front of her. “But my question first.”

For the record, there’s nothing here particularly novel worth dwelling on. It’s always some provocation or another with Eunbi, you remember now, as she holds you with a stare, eyes wide and brilliant; she sails through life all with the confidence of someone very aware of how pretty she is - knows precisely what she can get away with, right down to the letter of the law. The dress hugging tight to her isthmus of a waist is evidence of exactly that - tighter each time you look - so if you’re waiting for her to get it wrong, don’t hold your breath.

“Minju’s having a moment,” you tell her, “it’s not like she doesn’t know where to find me.”

“Hm.” She pauses to take a careful sip of her drink, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she places the glass onto a square napkin. Folds her hands in her lap and asks, “can you explain something to me?”

“If I say no, are you going to ask anyway?”

Eunbi nods to herself, dry laugh telling you it was as rhetorical as you thought. “Seriously, how is it you two are always fighting?”

We’re not always fighting, you want to say, before Eunbi makes a face. She has this uncanny effect on you - raising an eyebrow and tilting her chin as though she were disappointed; the sharp edge to her smile, half challenge, half something far less kind. It could rip truth from the most reluctantly tight-lipped of privacies. “We’re working on it,” you tell her.

“Oh?” she asks, leaning in. 

“God, you don’t have to say it like that.” The ice clinks in your glass as you toss it back, finding it lamentably empty. “You make me feel like I have to repeat myself a thousand times - we are,” you add, “we’re working on it.”

“There’s something that keeps you together, clearly,” Eunbi says, pressing her finger to her lips before fixing you with dark eyes and an easy, charming grin. 

She has you figured out, to some extent: knows how you’ll slip up for a girl with a pretty smile, prettier eyes, all the sorts of errors you’ll start to allow when you start cataloging the curves of her body, inventorying how they taper impossibly at her waist, flaring again at her hips, her fucking chest, the way they all look under the tight fit of that damn dress-

“The make-up sex really that good, huh?”

You almost, almost choke on the ice cube you’d been sucking to keep yourself entertained.

“Optimistic to think there is any,” you admit, regretting it right away - like think about it: there’s absolutely nothing good that could possibly come of that. “That’s just how it goes.”

Eunbi looks downright triumphant. More than usual. “Oh, sweetie.”

She waves over the bartender and asks him for another whatever it was you were drinking, because she’d hate to see you go dry, and as he’s turning around she shouts over his shoulder, go ahead and make it two, actually. You don’t realize it, but you’re beginning to study her, paying really close attention to all these little details - the sparkle of the bracelet on her slender arm, how it falls a few inches off the corner of her wrist as she gets her hand back in front of her face, raking her nails through all that thick, glossy hair, black as night - you don’t know what the feeling is that rears its head as you watch her, but it’s not completely unwelcome.

“What?” she asks as her eyes flick up to yours to catch you looking at her, closely, not that you’re gawking, but she lets you off the hook like you are - just gestures to the pitiful looking heel on the counter and shrugs. “It’s not like I have anywhere to be.”

To be honest, it’s not that you lack basic foresight. In fact it’s shockingly easy to predict where this is going. Because here’s a quick behind the scenes tour on how these interactions usually play out: you’ve got your excuses, your trepidations, justifiably - the reality that you’re kind of already in a pretty high profile relationship key among them. And like clockwork, Eunbi readily finds you game for some flustering. Eunbi, who lays it on thick, comments seeped in innuendo and suggestion, whose glances linger perhaps a little long to be a fascinating coincidence. Eunbi, innocence and arrogance entwined, in the filthiest of minds. Eunbi, always with her fingers twirling her hair and wearing something just modest enough that makes it feel like it’s your fault for noticing that her figure is impeccable. You’ve not actually gathered much from your brief conversations other than that she likes to flirt with you, likes it even more when you’ve got your foot in your mouth, and instead of putting you out of your misery, keeps you suspended there, egging you on - this all beyond the fact that you’ve only really managed to learn the many different ways you want to undress Kwon Eunbi.

You want her pressed up against the wall of your apartment, among other places, one of those pleated skirts crumpling to a pile around her knees as she keens for you, and your hand busy sliding up between her thighs.

You want to listen to her sighs as you unfasten each of the white buttons on one of those collared shirts that stretches and aches to keep her chest concealed, how she’d hum in delight as you trail kisses down each new inch of soft pale skin that all would unveil. 

You want her in your lap when you fiddle with the latch of her bra until her tits spill out of its lacy fabric (it’s always lacy in your head), and she’s got you gasping for air, smothered, asphyxiated, dying, ascending, it’s all so, so great in theory.

It’s just that - some way or another - Eunbi looks at you like she knows all of that. You’ve been skirting around the issue for months.

“Tell me,” she starts, and suddenly, without warning, she has you under the microscope, reeling you further into the conversation, pulling at loose threads - where is Minju right now, are you still living together, does she help with chores, can you trust her, does she trust you - she grabs a handful of pretzels and watches you intently as you try and remain unruffled, diplomatic - are you generally happy with how things are going, when was the last time you had sex - you’re blindsided by that last one, or something, but that’s out there now, in the open.

“Uh.” Eunbi purses her lips. “You’re kidding.”

You just shrug.

“How long has it been now between you two? Like officially."

“I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

“Alright.” Eunbi clicks her tongue. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“My fourth year of university, her first,” you explain. Though never before have you felt as crooked about admitting that as you do at this moment. Others had often appreciated something about the impudence of it, but you’re doubting Eunbi’s going to be one of those people.

“Young,” Eunbi states, matter-of-factly. The look on her face says she’s thinking.

“Not that young.”

“You’re twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-five.”

“You’re-” Eunbi’s eyebrow’s knit together like she’s trying to remember something. “Wait, really?”

“Does that bother you?”

“Why would that bother me?”

You’re realizing that she’d gotten closer to you, only now pulling her stool along the floor to catch up with her, and she’d started whispering into the waning space between you as though there was anyone else in the bar you’d need to shield the contents of this conversation from. “It just seems like not a lot of time to get to know yourself. If I were you, I’d be relieved.”

You can’t fucking stop looking at her mouth, glossed pink lips, cupid’s bow and all that between her dimples; your voice comes out oddly thick. “You’re not me.”

“No,” Eunbi says, shaking her head, “I'm not. Here you are, in some miserable relationship to score good karma - I’m having way more fun.”

“Easy,” you warn her, and it comes across just antagonistic enough to let Eunbi know she’s pushing the right buttons, digging in the right place; god only knows what she’ll find.

“Really.” Her fingers start skimming the bottom of your tie, like it’s nothing at all. Like she doesn’t know what might happen if she starts touching you. “Let me guess,” she continues, “A real break-up is too  inconvenient or something right now, Minju doesn’t want the bad press, not when her career is still this fragile, because let’s face it-”

“It’s complicated.”

Eunbi smirks, not bothering to hold it back this time. The way she sees it, your usual excuses are losing their efficacy, quickly: you might not be single, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking about how good she looks in that tiny fucking excuse of a dress, how you’re hoping she might need to run off to the restroom later so you can see how her ass fills out the back of it, how it might look even better on the floor next to your bed - that you’re only a breath away, looking for pretext, perhaps just a little encouragement -

She rests her elbow on the counter, leans a cheek onto her fist, and angles herself against the bar so that the intoxicatingly low dip of her neckline is staring you right in the face, soft cleavage out on full fucking display. It’s not subtle. You never thought too hard about why Minju never invited Eunbi over. You’ll never need to.

“But - but I mean, I guess that’s the gist of it,” you feel inclined to add, stumbling a bit, figuring that if you steal away into the safety of your one true talent - talking - you might just resist the very present urge to reach forward and press your lips to hers. 

“You’re an accessory,” says Eunbi, unbothered, and her eyes take a lazy sweep from your face down to your waist. It’s a leer. “Though,” she murmurs, “can’t really say I can blame the girl.”

“First off, rude.” You’ve got a finger pointed to the ceiling when you say it. “Secondly-”

“Too nice for your own good, you know that?” Eunbi takes a sip from her glass, and after fixing a dark, stubborn strand of hair back behind her ear, she finds herself again in that anxious distance inches away from your nose. “Why don’t you have some fun with it?”

“Fun with what?”

“Just because you figure you’re going to go crawling back to her doesn’t mean you can’t take advantage of your-” she stops, eyes fixing to your lips before continuing, “situation.”

“Can I mention something to you?” You swallow once, twice. Now you’re both looking at each other’s mouths, breathing the same air. “You have a pretty fucked up perspective on interpersonal relationships.”

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” she asks, completely ignoring the assessment. Her fingernails skate along the counter until she’s pinching at the cuff of your sleeve, and her hair falls back in front of her face again, though this time she looks into your eyes like she’s waiting for you to move it out of the way.

“What are we doing right now?” you ask, agitation just beginning to rear its head. “What are you asking me?”

“I’m bored, and you’re the only other person here.”

“There’s, like, a million people here.”

“I mean right here,” she says, nodding to the broken heel on the counter and gesturing between your chests. “Besides, I like you.”

You really could surge up and kiss her, you realize. Her lips are so close, right there in front of you, and there’s not any sort of question of whether she’d let you. The part that scares you is you haven’t a fucking clue what you’d say when the moment comes to finally pull your mouth off hers, and that’s not something you’re usually trying to sort out. Nor are you really in a blathering mood, and now you’re imagining it: Eunbi’s expression all smug and haughty, something that could inspire a good blather - uh, did you just kiss me?

“Forgive me, but I feel like I need to point out,” Eunbi adds, mildly entertained, “most guys wouldn’t be asking this many questions.”

“I’m not most guys.”

“Uh, I am fully aware,” Eunbi says, running a fingertip along the length of her collarbone, slowly, and her voice dips out if its usual airy register into something less musical, more serious: “Do you even have a clue what I’d do for a guy like you?”

“Eunbi,” you say, harshly, not that it matters; she’s going to tell you.

“For starters,” she says, and her hand is around your tie, tugging like you won’t tell her to stop, like she knows she’s gorgeous in all the most disarming ways. “I’d take good care of him, like I don’t think I could keep my hands off him. I’d be blowing him all the time - until my jaw hurt, then i’d just tell him to pick a hole and fuck a big, hot load of cum into it - hell, I’d probably let him do anything to me.”

“Tactful.”

“I’m not the one having a hard time reading between the lines.”

“That’s not - I’m not-”

“Into me?” Eunbi laughs, leaning forward, your last vestiges of personal space vanishing like a passing thought, and now she’s touching you - a hand on your thigh, higher, higher. “You want to fuck me so bad.”

The fucked up thing, beyond Eunbi being absolutely right, is that you’d rather die than try and lie through your teeth, than succumb in such austere fashion. This thing, this desire, this want, you understand it so intimately you could probably name it like you were christening it in a church. You grab a hold of her wrist, before her precocious fingers can discover how obviously right she is under the seam of your pants, and the suddenness of the challenge wipes the mirth from her face - pulls a small little sound out of her chest, leaves her eyes wide and uncharacteristically docile.

“Are you sure?” you ask, collected and calm, after you’ve both realized how small her wrist fits in your hand. “Is this really the game you want to play?” 

Eunbi’s head tips onto this angle, expression perfectly cavalier. “Oh,” she says, uncorking an impious grin, “why don’t you and I go figure that out.”

-

It’s hard to focus. You’ve got it all wrong, or whatever, practically right from the jump. Your first mistake was veering toward the restrooms tucked behind the bar, where Eunbi pulled at the corner of your sleeve to shoot you a skeptical look - are you fucking nuts, there’s single occupant washrooms upstairs - her explanation was sound, probably, she lost you quickly at: “would prefer no one hear me cum all over your cock.”

The second transgression is the kiss itself, a fucking honest mess. 

Eunbi’s perched on the sink, precariously, and as much as you’d rather be smoothing your hands up her curves, you’ve got one preoccupied at her hips, steadying her, the other pulling at your own clothes, slinging your jacket to the floor. It’s this sort of callow tangle of limbs, exchange of spit, imprecise groping - fuck, it actually hurts when your teeth bump together, or when Eunbi pulls a little too hard at your bottom lip - over and over, and your mouths keep missing each other, straying off to cheeks and chins. 

You expected there to be a touch more polish to her, for her to be the kind of girl above hooking up barefoot in a public restroom, maybe even preserve any of that infamous intrigue. But those open-mouthed kisses she has leaving marks on your jaw, making welts on your neck do little to help you shrug off the impropriety here, hanging like a sorry cloud. Because you’re barreling toward something desperate and clumsy and hot and needy - so utterly raunchy in all the right ways.

“C’mere,” Eunbi says, smile stretching soft and devastatingly sweet, hardly fussing when you slip your hand beneath her jaw - it takes a moment, a touch of experimentation, until you’re together working toward a common goal. She twists the end of your tie over her wrist once, twice, anchors herself against you, and her legs open wider, a heel hooking around your thigh. The embers in her half-lidded eyes tell a story, tell you you to firm up your grip, clutch her, get rough with her, toss her around - she can take it, she can take more. 

Her chin gets set on the angle opposite yours as she starts to pull you in close, the heat in her breath coming closer, and she furrows a perfectly sculpted brow the moment she realizes it’s not reciprocal - that you’re not leaning into her, not pressing your tongue past her lips and grabbing her hair by the fistful - she squints, glowering. It’s actually not a bad look on her.

“Tell me something,” you say, skating your fingertips up her leg until they’re so close to the apex of her thigh you can feel her heat, radiating. “What were you expecting?”

“I try to never expect anything,” Eunbi tells you, and starts once more for your lips, only vexed again when you stiffen up, maintain the distance between you - stop her short at the limit of tantalizingly close.

“Eunbi,” you say, wry with dry laughter and peeking over her shoulder to the reflection in the mirror - backless; you can see the ridge of her spine from her ass all the way up to her neck when you slide her hair to the side. “This is not a dress you wear out with colleagues and friends. This is a take me home and have your wicked way with me kind of dress.”

Eunbi swallows; that’s how you know you caught her. “If the insinuation here is that I’m a slut, I’m not having any of it.”

“Why? Is that supposed to be some sort of secret?”

Her expression falls onto something rather unamused, a glib reply waiting for release at the tip of her tongue, until finally she says, “do you get off on being withholding or some other bull-”

The word vanishes in a sharp inhale the moment you press your hand up between her legs. 

“Oh god.” Eunbi’s entire body shudders, nerves bundled and tight and ready to fire at the slightest excitation. Honestly, you’re not even doing anything; you’re pushing fabric into her cunt, and fuck, Eunbi’s already this trigger-happy. The demanding, quick-tempered vixen with something to prove, and she’s already melting over the slightest touch. 

Hell, just listen in on those little stuttering breaths falling off her lips when you begin to circle your fingers, slowly, when you reach down further to where she’s so hot, so wet-

You press down and she hiccups.

“Ah, I think I get it now,” you start, watching Eunbi’s lip wobble as the heel of your palm spreads flatter and flatter over her clit, pressure indiscriminate and nowhere close to absolving. “You want me to believe that somehow, you’re a total romantic.”

Eunbi’s mouth slacks slightly as she sighs. “Aren’t we all entitled to a little fantasy?”

“Has the part where I fuck you senseless in a public restroom always worked into that?” you ask, digging deeper, drenching her underwear in her own slick. “Or is that a new development?”

“You’re really testing the limits of your charm here.”

“I dunno. I think the fact that you’re dripping down your thighs means I’m doing all right,” you say, holding onto a smirk that you’re half-sure she’s contemplating slapping off your face.

“What do you want?” she asks, shimmying her hips against you, voice softening into delicate capitulation. “Want me to tell you that I’ve been dreaming about it? Want to know that I think about you when I’m alone - when I’ve got my fingers inside me and I’m sobbing into a pillow - that I’m picturing you fucking railing Minju - picturing how your hands would feel at my waist, on my tits, around my neck - imagining just how good you’d fuck me?”

You nearly snort in amusement. “Oh, want a lot more than that.” 

“Then hurry up,” she says - before the attraction ferments. And she sighs musingly when you press your fingers past elastic, find a touch where she needs you, the unmistakable shiver of real contact. “Kiss me properly and pull me apart.”

You tilt Eunbi’s chin up and place your mouth on hers. Kissing her once, twice, until she realizes it’s not even close to enough, drawing in to kiss you back that much harder, all unknowing and candid - like she never once cared for subtlety in her methods of seduction.

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers had already danced over her entrance, rubbed and touched and felt and begun to push. And god, she’s so incredibly wet - not that the push isn’t slow, so unhurried you can feel Eunbi wanting to cry out in frustration as you get deeper, feel her squeeze onto you, just a knuckle inside her, then a second. She barely manages to hush out a complaint into your lips when you drag them back, returning the perfect roughness in your fingers to her clit and applying all this agonizingly-too-gentle pressure. Do anything, she said - said she’d let you; could’ve said, fuck me, ruin me; should’ve told you, no idea what I really want other than for you fuck my brains out, so please take off your clothes and help me figure it out -

It’s actually kind of adorable, that she has to break her lips away from yours to ask for more.

But only a loud, smacking kiss and the length of a heavy exhale later, Eunbi’s tongue slides into your mouth, slipping gently against yours, and flicks up at your teeth as you press the curl of your index finger back inside her. She cries gently, this pitchy little feminine sound, just when you fuck her open with another. You could take all the time you want, you reckon, just pretend Eunbi’s not already all wound up and needy - pussy soaked and hot and begging beneath loose fabric - pretend she isn’t wrapping her slender fingers around your wrist to hold you firm, keep your fingertips present and reliable: something she can buck her hips into, something she can fuck until she’s gasping for you to stop.

“Fuck.” Her moan hums right into your mouth, thin, stretching out on a broken breath as the pad of your thumb skates over her clit, again, again, lighter, barely a touch this time, gentle and tender, and, well, conflicting - because look, everything about this is such a fucking awful idea - you’re going to walk out into a sea of judgement with kiss-swollen lips, hair disheveled and bothered like you’d trekked through a windstorm, with Eunbi hanging on your waist, knees wobbling and perfectly complicit to the crime. 

You’ve given the thought barely a moment’s attention when Eunbi’s grip on your wrist goes white-knuckle tight, like she can taste the apprehension on your lips. She tugs on your tie, hard - don’t stop, come, closer - like she’d literally die if you stop fucking her with your fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” you say in the spaces between these stinging, deep kisses into her cheek, her jaw, letting her body slump forward when you let go of her waist and start sliding your hand up her flat stomach, scrunching and furling the material of her dress up around her hips. She totters a moment, feet barely reaching the floor how you have her balanced on the lip of the sink, but you can’t help it: you need to get a hand up, higher, over her ribs, onto her chest -

Eunbi gasps the moment your fingers sink in, loudly, and you’re not even going to try and give her an explanation - fucking christ, her tits are incredible.

“How messy,” you tell her, enjoying how it makes her cheeks start to burn red, and with just that, you’re sure, with fingers becoming fast and frenzied. It’s audible, the slick on your hand, working through the thick of her heat, the tension in her clench. “So fucking messy, I bet you’re close baby, so close - close to cumming on my fingers.”

She purses her lips, chin tucked into where her collarbones meet, and closes her eyes. You think she’s readying some riposte, some quip to needle, something she’d lid her eyes and smirk first to tell you with poison laced in her voice, seethed in sarcasm, in spite. 

“I mean, Eunbi, look at you,” you drawl huskily, an effort to lure the words out of her, “and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you yet.”

Her whole body sighs, a concerted effort; she’s panting, sinking her teeth into her lip, and it happens so suddenly, near all at once - those elegant lines in her face starting to twist, betraying that usual sculpted visage of perfection - at the end of a squalling stretch for air, she starts to beg. 

“Please,” she mewls, escaping her lips pliant and meek.

And fuck if that’s anything like the bite you’ve come to expect, the serrated edge of the girl who was amusing herself just moments ago with how you rattled and ruffled from behind a glass of liquor - Eunbi, all cunning and guile - jesus, it’s not even close:

“Oh, god, do it, do it, use my pussy however you want, fuck, want it so bad-” Her hair is falling into her face. Skin getting hot and dewy with sweat. She told you earlier that she’d kill you if you ripped her dress, said you had the look of a dress ripper about you - and now she’s looking at you like she might kill you if you don’t. “-anything, I’ll do anything, gods, please just let me cum.”

“Baby,” you murmur against her neck, a pet name you’re slipping into a little too easily. The possession, the way you say mine, you promise it’s all instinct. “Who could’ve ever guessed you’d be this needy?”

The pale column of skin beneath her jaw reveals more of itself to you the faster you drag your fingers through her cunt. She’s recovering from a curl of your digits against that spot that might just be able to get her screaming, and then it’s your thumb: each circle around her swollen clit reducing her to little more than ragged breathing and that causeway of a word, pleading, please, please, please.

You’d spent more time fantasizing about this than you care to admit, though when you tug the neckline of her dress down, free her breast from beneath the tight fabric, roll your thumb over her nipple, and pinch, it’s clear this is nothing like you imagined. It’s so much fucking more: her face winding into a look of equal parts pain, pleasure, eyes scrunching, lips hanging open - she can’t even say anything when you pull harder on the dress, pull her other tit up to your mouth and start to suck, hard - a heavy moan, whining; she doesn’t tell you to stop.

“Do it,” she demands, gulping for her next breath. “I’m so close.”

You haven’t written it off yet, but you also haven’t the slightest idea how she’ll come back from this one, flirting with the boundary at desperate and pathetic, responding to your touch, your fingers, your mouth like you’d spent a lifetime studying what makes her tick. This might be the only time between you that you’ve ever stumbled this close to anything like an upperhand, you recognize, and you’re not going to pass up an opportunity like it, milking it for all it’s worth:

“You ever have someone do this to you, Eunbi?” you ask her when your lips break all that cruel suction around her nipple - it’s red, swollen, aching, and it’s a great start. The throb between her legs isn’t growing any less urgent either, pulsing vigorously onto your fingertips and leaking all over your hand, her thighs, it’s so fucking sloppy and hot and that perfectly submissive expression on her face just looks so, so good on her. (You’re really leaning into it.) “Fuck you with one of your dresses bunched up over your hips? Take you into a bathroom and get you moaning and panting until you admit you’re a total slut? Fuck, I could do this until you can’t remember your own name, pull your underwear back up your legs all soaking and messy-”

“No,” Eunbi says, exasperated, and she chokes on her voice when your thumb digs harder into the puffy lips of her cunt, pushes this exact pressure on her tender clit. You don’t think her eyes could get any clearer, needier, until she starts shaking her head, saying, “you - you’d be the first.”

She practically blue-screens after that, words getting lost somewhere in the pangs of her own agitated pleasure. And like putty, sinking backward into the counter, you spread her legs open wider. Press a kiss into her forehead, skin all hot and sweaty. She almost loses it right then and there when you start reminding her she’s gorgeous, how good her name sounds on your lips, so pretty when she cums like this and then- 

Oh.

There she goes. 

“Fuck, you’re - god, fuck, I’m - fuck.” Eunbi hisses out your name, panting for air, and her brittle words fall straight to the floor, smash against the tile, and shatter into a million pieces. Cumming, she adds, two or three times for good measure, and you hold her firm, hold her still. Keep her from sliding off the sink so you might even kiss her hard. Feel her come undone.

Maybe it’s the praise; more likely the tempo of your thumb tapping against her swollen bud, again, again. The only thing you know is that the sound of it alone - over the squelch of your fingers fucking her through it, slow and tender like you have all the time in the world - see, that’s a masterpiece in and of itself. 

Eunbi’s chest rolls and twitches as you draw your fingers out of her pussy, soaked, clenching at nothing, and drag them up along her waist so she can feel just how much damage you’ve caused, that for all her sloppiness, it’s because of you.

“Here,” you say to her, with two sticky fingers at her jaw, “I know you want to taste yourself.”

Beyond the visual in front of you, you’re kind of stuck on how impetuous, impulsive, how utterly lewd it all is - opening her mouth and fitting your fingertips between her teeth. You scissor your fingers, let her lick her own slick off your you, and when you press her tongue down behind her teeth she starts to suck. It’s delightful, you think, she’s so gorgeous and somehow, flushed and fucked and sweaty, she looks perfect. Never been so stunning.

“Such a good girl,” you tell her, almost maliciously.

And it’s instant - Eunbi sinking further into the counter, her shoulders slumped to the cold mirror, knuckles knocking the bowl of the sink. There’s a hum coming up from her throat when you say it again, getting stuck on your fingers until she spits them out and looks at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, all glassy and brilliant, like you know the answers to all the riddles of the universe. Okay, so maybe it really is the praise, you realize, a weakness, a loose thread, you might never be able to stop yourself from pulling at it. You’d never want to.

“Been so patient, haven’t you? Your pussy is fucking creaming for me Eunbi, so fucking messy, you poor thing.” You’re lifting her panties to the side, assuring her in half sentences and leaving the rest to the sound of your zipper coming undone. “Gonna fuck you now, get my cock in this pretty little pussy of yours, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you baby, just be still and hold on for me-”

“God.” Eunbi startles at the touch of your cock running over her slick, and she starts blinking back into reality, legs bracketing around your hips. Do it - she’s gathering an angry fistful of shirt, pulling at your tie, clamoring for you, all desperation, no composure, as if your mistakes were made for her - do it, do it, and she breathes your name against your mouth, lips trembling, “please.”

Days, weeks, months maybe, the conclusion’s long foregone, inevitable: your cock sinks straight into her cunt.

Jesus. Fuck. Where to start? Eunbi’s eyebrows twist, lips part - with just a wicked, sharp breath of air, she immediately comes undone. So, that might be as good a place as any.

You know by the way she melts, the way her body is coiling tighter around you, clinging to you like you might be able to hold it all together - like you’re not fucking her open, pressing deeper inside her, hotter around you with every passing inch.  

“I cannot believe,” Eunbi starts, voice shredded, and the rest of it is so incoherent, so blathering and baleful, that you’re altogether unsure if it’s in protest of you ruining her cunt, or if you’re not ruining it enough. Even though she’s so unbelievably wet, she’s every bit as tight, and you end up prompting this unattractive groan from her throat when you motion your hips forward, just a fraction, before pulling back again. “Oh my-”

You’re trying not to laugh but it’s slipping out quietly, and Eunbi just glares at you, the vibrations from your diaphragm going straight between her legs, where she’s still throbbing and unduly sensitive. A few disheveled strands of her hair end up in your mouth as she fidgets about in your grip. A few more as you ease in further - until your balls are flush against her ass and Eunbi has both ankles hooked around your thighs. Beyond the sweltering heat of Eunbi’s cunt, you’ve got thoughts, photographically vivid, racing through your head: you lifting her small body up, getting your hands under her thighs and pounding her without remorse - turning her over and bending her over her sink, watching her tits bounce in the mirror, face wracked as she cums like that, and you’ll get there - just that right now, seating yourself in her pussy and nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck is more than plenty to hone in on.

“Fuck, your cock, it’s-” Eunbi sputters, and it takes a beat to even realize you’re completely inside her, right to the hilt.

And you aren’t making any more sense of how she trembles than of the fusillade of curses tossed in your general direction. Her legs remain locked behind you, holding you motionless - making it difficult to not laugh at her inanity on display, squirming graceless beneath you.

Incredible, is the conclusion you both come to as her cheeks flood again with color, and you start circling your hips into her, moving as much as the confines of her legs - the inelegant entrapment - might allow.

It’s almost cruel: Eunbi gasps when you end up brushing against her tender clit, and you pause, thinking- 

(Like this, half naked, dress bundled around her waist, you can take whatever you want. Every now and again you look up and see your reflection, see yourself towering over Eunbi’s lithe frame - oh, the options - they’re nearly endless.)

-she simply growls at you when you inch her hips forward from where they’re perched and do it again.

“I can’t fuck you unless you let go,” you tell her, ducking down and finding her breast with your mouth. 

“If I let go,” Eunbi starts, and her voice is jagged with strain, breath steadying, “are you actually going to fuck me, or are you just going to keep teasing?”

“Oh, Eunbi, believe me.” You’re kissing up her chest, her collarbones, pressing your lips sweetly to the hollow of her throat. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming, promise.”

Eunbi holds her gaze to yours, tips up her chin, and says, half daring, “I’m holding you to that,” and as her bind loosens, she tugs your face towards hers by the bottom of your tie. Hard - it’s hardly even a murmur as she leans in, pressing your brow to hers - harder. A rhythm emerges in your hips against hers, though it only complicates the demands: more, please, need it, don’t stop.

But the drag of it is amazing, your cock gliding through the wet heat of her cunt - squeezed tight onto you and fitting you like a glove. So tight, as if she’d been made for you, incomparably coiled around you, and it’s even more perfect as you start to truly fuck into her. Fast and deep and assuring you’d stay true to your word, that you’d get her fucking screaming with it. Each time you pull back and slam into her again, hard enough that she shifts half an inch toward the mirror, you’re listening to that wounded noise, keening out of her chest, punctuated by the way she shudders, bracing against you.

“God,” you rasp through gritted teeth, stealing a delighted moan as she spreads her legs wider for you, stealing several more. “This pussy, fuck, is incredible, Eunbi” - she’s so wet and turned on that you just fucking rail her, that she lets you, that she loves it, to the point where you’re reminding yourself to breathe - “what a good little cocksleeve you are, you’re so fucking wet.”

“Better?” Eunbi is struggling to stay upright, jaw slacked and slumping against the mirror like a puppet cut from its strings. “Better than her, right?”

“Hm,” you say, and the hesitation alone is enough for the corner of her mouth to pull up into a tiny smile. Something she knows she can hook into, something she can work with. “We’ll just have to see.”

There are tears visible at the end , and her words are quickly becoming slurred and mixed up as your fingers turn threats into reality, bruises at her waist, her thighs, her tits, her neck - you’re marking her like she’s yours, like it isn’t dangerous, like it doesn’t spell trouble for both of you. So when she musters the strength to perk up, look you straight on while you pound her cunt recklessly, and meekly say, “be honest,” it’s far too impossible to deny her anything.

“The best, Eunbi,” you start. She doesn’t know where the lip service starts, where it ends, but just hearing you mutter out her name is enough to get her swooning.

It’s not that you don’t understand the irony, that Minju is downstairs somewhere telling a hundred people she doesn’t know where you are, looking pretty and put together, and you’re saving your honesty for this girl, breaking her further to pieces with each thrust her into tight, sweaty body, each stroke into her sloppy, aching hole. You do understand it, and when Eunbi starts whining, sobbing, moaning, you just can’t be bothered to care. “So perfect on my cock, baby, now be good for me - show me how perfect this pretty little cunt is, want you to cum again for me, want to see what a mess you can be, Eunbi.”

You end up with a hand underneath her, the other in the lose waves of hair behind her head, fingers splaying out against the base of her skull, and - fuck, the new angle you settle into when you pull her tiny body up onto your cock, not to mention the depth - it’s wanton, lustful, it’s thoughtless: you’re fucking her so hard and fast that all she can do is throw is her arms around your shoulders and weave curses into her ragged breathing, thinning, threadbare, “oh fuck, oh, jesus, fuck yes, there, your fucking cock, just like that, fucking christ.”

She barely even has one foot on the ground, toes dangling onto the tile, you realize after you finish chastising her dirty mouth. Completely at your beck and call.

Not that it was ever going to make a difference. You fuck her harder, until she’s shaking with it, until she’s crying out, embarrassment long forgotten. She’s so fucked, breathy moans turning to screams, to whimpers, seams cracking into fissures - you’re not hurting her, but fuck if that isn’t the boundary you’re daring to cross. You bottom out in her pussy, over and over; you’re destroying it, ruining it, and she’s clinging to you like wet clothes, like it might soothe her, like her life depends on it.

Eunbi moans when you draw your hips back and nearly leave the perfect heat of her cunt. And when you bury yourself back into her, she writhes.

You look up from the shadowy spot where your cock is disappearing between her legs, and her eyes are flaring again, teeth sinking into her lip as you seek out her chest and start playing with her tits. There, she wants to say, eyelids hooded and voice purring, that’s more like it. But your thumb flicks at her nipple, pert and pointy, coaxing out a quieter reaction - quiet beneath the haggard recoil her body makes in order to sheathe your cock, the gentle tremor at the end of each thrust, stomach muscles contracting under your hand. It’s too much. She only closes her mouth. Lets it fall open again. Sighs.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” you ask, breath landing hot against her face, agitating the flush in her cheekbones. “You’re going to cum all over this cock.” It’s in those eyes; she’s so incredibly close, but Eunbi holds fast to what shred of dignity hasn’t since vanished out of sight, throat working hard to swallow, and she shakes her head, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

In fact, she’s murmuring nonsensically at you, and for a moment you see a hand on her neck, thumbprint searing into her throat, but the image fades as she moans again, hips jumping, palm slapping the sink. It’s the want, the need, for everything you have to give her, want for you inside her, maybe forever more - and want and want for anything that might release her pleasured agony. It’s fucking filthy.

So bend, you tell her, don’t break.

(You’ve never fucked anyone like this either, you think, not Minju, not anyone - fingers skating up the ridge of her back, face buried in the hair falling over her shoulder, taking careful note of how you’re taking Eunbi apart. 

How you might ever put her back together.)

“Shit,” she cries out sharply, spine arched and straining against you as - fucking finally - her orgasm rips through her. You’re watching carefully as you fuck into her quivering pussy, listening mostly, once the pressure starts to build behind your eyes. There’s your name torn from her lips (oh god), and how she starts to tremble (oh god), trying to draw you (oh god) deeper inside her while she (oh my fucking god) lets it flood through her.  

It’s a lot to take in. Near impossible to focus on any one thing. For fuck’s sake, even the smell of it is divine, of perfume and sex and vanilla and sin.

You’re grabbing Eunbi’s waist again, so hard she yelps, lips parting, struggling for breath every time you fuck her tight little pussy onto you, but she can’t quite say anything. Not yet. Your cock is still too hard, throbbing madly inside her, and she’s near the point of simply collapsing. 

You touch her mouth, tip it gently closed. And the docile way she looks up at you is a reminder that you had readied a quip, something about the mess between her legs, that she’s flustering and incoherent and sobbing and how it’s so unlike her. But it’s gone now. Lost to the lust and need crackling in your own brain, you figure. You’d been daydreaming a mile a minute about fucking Eunbi on a good day, and now you’re seeing her here, like this.

It takes the velvety drag through her cunt, once, twice, you’re pounding her so fast, not even trying to hold on, shortening your breath, biting your cheek, counting out the strokes - three, four, five -“Come on,” Eunbi manages in the spaces between her soft, bitten back moans, “do it, wanna feel that big cock fuck a creampie deep inside me, wanna feel your hot cum leak out of me.”

You really could. Because she feels fucking unbelievable, and now you’re imagining it: getting reckless and stupid and filling her perfect little pussy with all your cum; risk it, get her pregnant, you tell yourself, fuck it deep enough inside her to make it a certainty - the mental image alone is enough to send you over the edge. You’re sure of that. It has before.

“Eunbi,” you stammer, “this pussy feels… I’m gonna-”

“I know,” she murmurs, “I know.” Her eyes are glassy, mouth cocked back, half-smiling. “Do whatever you want.” Five foot nothing of immaculate pulchritude and irresistible peril, she looks pristine on the end of your cock, tits in your hands, brow sweating, mouth opening, telling you to cum, to do it, want you to cum, just fucking use her.

“Fuck,” you spit, slipping your cock out of her at the last moment - fucking into your fist - cumming. Messily. Explosively. Eunbi still choking for air in fits and starts, your other hand still wringing her waist.

Though it can’t be more than a few seconds, the difference between you releasing that load inside her and the way it instead winds up everywhere else: in her panties, against the swollen lips of her pussy, the crease of her thigh - how some leaks and spills down her leg, onto the floor beneath the sink. There’s a dress ruiner in you after all. “God,” you add, fighting exhaustion, and Eunbi simply crumples against you, kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before - a long, smooth slide of her lips that leaves you both gasping in its wake.

“So.” Eunbi’s hand is between her legs, assessing the damages, accounting the cum all over her and soaking through the fabric of her underwear. She just raises an eyebrow at you, charming, challenging. “You came all over me.”

“What, you really think I’d cum in you?”

Her eyes squint, and her nose scrunches. It’s winsome, in a way. 

Sure, she’s kind of a disaster - the once-carefully-styled waves of her hair are in tatters, makeup running in every direction, tits hanging out of her bra and spilling over the top of her dress, still barefoot and completely unfazed by it. Dismantled is a good look for her, even if she doesn’t appreciate it: reaching into her purse, this emergency kit of wipes, a mascara brush, lipstick. Raring to do a little triage.

“Yeah,” you insist, “you’re out of your mind.”

The droll laugh she gives you when you finally let her go is not antagonistic either, but as with a lot of those things Eunbi does, the click of her tongue, the haughty expressions, the mannerisms, they were all becoming less threatening and more fetching - possibly more now that you’ve seen the face she makes when she cums.

“I think it’s just force of habit.” Having slid from the sink and onto the floor, Eunbi pitches up on her feet to kiss you again, and you don’t try to fight it any more than if she had beaten you in some sporting game and extended her hand to shake yours. When she pulls her lips off you, she adds, “which, you know, serendipitous and all that.”

“Thanks for the ten-dollar-word.”

“Lucky,” she reiterates.

“I know what it means.”

“If I had to guess… Minju doesn’t let you, does she?” And it becomes immediately apparent to you what Eunbi’s playing at. She’s got her teeth sinking into the long game, anticipating that you'll cross your arms, tell her never again: that thing at the gala, the kissing - we can't.

“Can you stop.”

“Does she?”

“Um,” you say, considering carefully for a moment which half-truths you want to tell, which ones you already have. “No, she does.”

Eunbi shifts her body a little, toward you, but not quite close enough to touch you - she’s bending slightly at the waist to scoop her tits back into her bra, her dress. The corner of her lip quirks further, and she asks, completely unrepentant, “does she let you cum in her ass?”

Your throat clicks, swallowing - you can’t even imagine it well enough to begin to know how to lie about it; bashful, everything obvious and on display - so, yeah, you are kind of fucked.

-

“Your shirt isn’t buttoned right by the way.”

“Here,” you say, still stuffing fabric back into your pants, “stand in front of me in case someone we know happens to come around.”

Eunbi crowds you to the wall, almost too aggressively, and she watches a staff member of the venue walk by carrying a platter full of shrimp tails and used napkins. “You’ve got cum on your pants too.”

“One crisis at a time, okay.”

“What are you going to tell Minju?”

“Nothing.”

“I mean… what is your approach, like when we get over there and-” Eunbi takes a step forward, fitting so perfectly beneath your chin, looking up like she’d discovered something worth marveling at. “Oh my god.” She laughs out loud. “How did I get a hickey under there?”

With just one finger returning to her waist, far gentler than the last time it’d been there, you push her back ever so slightly. “I’m just going to be myself.”

“Hm, bad idea.”

“Oh, alright then.”

Eunbi clutches a hand over her chest like she’d been wounded. “I just mean you’re kind of a nervous wreck.”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her, now properly buttoned, and sliding out from her small-yet-surprisingly-overbearing presence. “And I told you, I bruise easy.”    

“Yeah, no kidding.”

-

History, is the word you’re looking for. Minju and Eunbi have history.

It always starts the same way:

A kiss to one cheek, the other, and the two are immediately falling back on placid smiles and the kind of laughter that seems at a glance to be genuine and real. Almost theatrical, the performance. 

Though Eunbi’s always had that chip on her shoulder - says she knows what it’s like to be young and pretty and famous - and when they’re together Minju always manages to draw from this near-infinite supply of bashful and modest. Actually, that’s more or less her whole thing. 

The mistake you figure, if anyone were to ask you, which no one has one yet - the mistake is in thinking you’re the only one that knows Minju can’t stand Eunbi. Even though she does a great job of hiding it, you might be singular in regards to who gets to hear Minju go off in the privacy of your apartment - arrogant, vain, conceited bitch - but you’re not alone here. No, no.

Because Eunbi - who is perfectly aware just how much disdain Minju has for her - catches your stare. And instead of being content with how you’ve found the ideal spot to stand off to the side to avoid this whole minefield of a situation, she waves you over. Way too enthusiastically.

That has always set her apart. She would invite mischief, if she thought that it would set the scene.

-

It’s not more than a week before your paths cross again. Perhaps you’re tangling with fate. Perhaps it’s out of your control. Perhaps, you consider carefully, that’s more convenient. You see her first: waiting for a cab at the taxi stand outside the broadcast studio, cardigan sliding down around her shoulders, verily bedraggled in the wind.

The ends of her hair are in the corners of her mouth, and those long shadows cast from the evening sun dance across her face to paint those features baroque, build an image serene and stately - statuesque.

(She’s stunning as ever.)

That Eunbi is even here of all places is a coincidence, but her dimples deepen when her eyes meet yours, like she’s finally found something she was long looking for. “How serendipitous,” she says to you again, smiling.

“Right.” You grimace back, self-effacing. “Lucky.”

“You know,” she says after a moment, “our apartments really aren’t that-”

“Far,” you say, seeing the conclusion that she’s leaping at, and the next to make things become extremely complicated is Eunbi, which is so her that it makes your fists clench in your jacket pockets without realizing it.

“It’d be cheaper, I’m just saying, if we split a cab.”

“What if I told you,” you say, after a long while, “I get reimbursed for the commute either way.”

“Do you?”

“No,” you end up saying, bluntly.

“So, purely a hypothetical,” she suggests, leaning into your personal space, and your eyes drop immediately, past her bare shoulders, past the neckline of a matching top, pointedly to her knees beneath a pair of denim shorts. Her whole outfit is simple, but with a figure like hers, clearly intended to provoke a reaction, one that you’re not going to give her. You’re above that. 

“Yeah.” You tilt your head. “Sure.”

Her finger’s tapping at her chin, and it’s sort of cute the way she does it, making the gesture seem about half as patronizing as it should be. “Then just for good company’s sake?

“You-” It comes out uneven enough to get you chuckling to yourself, kind of nervously. Her eyes light up as you swallow back on your drying mouth - a beacon, lighthouse in a storm, safe harbor, siren’s call and all. Your gut is trying to tell you, danger, and then suggests you dive in headfirst. “You might be giving yourself too much credit.”

“Just entertain the thought for me.”

“Like a hypothetical, you mean.”

She laughs, and it has her eyes crinkling at the corners. Likable, you think immediately. Beautiful, right after that, and coincidence, as it were, ends there - just as abruptly.

You’ve made many selfish decisions in your life, but climbing into the back of that cab might be the most out of all of them - Eunbi just smiles when you arrive next to her. You never stood a chance against that, probably. It’s the Orpheus thing. The monkey’s paw thing. It’s not possible to lean out of a moving vehicle enroute toward collision, stop the wheels from spinning when they’re already spun, and unmake the wish. 

The blur of passing street lights streak across Eunbi’s face and present it to you in broken images, cycling like phases of the moon, until finally, an overpass sees everything go dark, and you feel her small body slide across the backseat, the heat in her chest as she presses into you.  

Her lips are featherlight upon yours, gentle and trepid. For the first time, she seems unsure, as if she didn’t think this would happen. Then once more, with a taste of desperation and sinking into the dark corner of the leather seat, she kisses you like she knows you, pulling tight onto the collar of your shirt like she knows you’ll kiss her back - like she knows that all you’ve been doing, at the end of the day, is delaying the inevitable.

-

Eunbi’s apartment, actually, is rather modest. More different, and less however you expected.

The walls are painted alabaster, not white, which is only a color you recognize because Minju had waffled between that and eggshell for weeks before tasking you to paint three of the four walls of your living room - only later to realize she wanted something darker as you were priming the fourth. There’s a small powder room by the door, a tiny closet overflowing with jackets and coats and all sorts of outfits you’ve probably stripped off Eunbi in your head a thousand times over - and what the space lacks in size, more than makes up for in the massive set of south facing windows, benefit of an open layout, daylight warm and diffuse.

Well, at least that’s how you imagine it. The sun set while you weren’t paying attention, your thoughts, hands, lips, all preoccupied in the back of the cab, so you’re left with only the recessed lighting, dimmed down to dreamlike allure.

Not that you've ever been one with an eye for detail. No, Minju will happily corroborate the fact. Your talents start at your wit, end at your charm. But it’s just where you’re at - head tipped over the back of the sofa - you’ve got your eyes anywhere besides where Eunbi’s kneeling in front of you, head bobbing up and down between your thighs. 

In spite of your plans to fold her over any surface sturdy and horizontal, you ended up like this, jeans not even half way down around your thighs. On instinct, you’re threading your fingers through her silky hair, though you can feel the glare she shoots up as you tighten your grip and start to pull. It’s not that Eunbi takes issue with you fucking her face inherently. It’s nothing like that at all.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” you murmur softly, voice wrecked. “You take my cock so well. Your smart little mouth was made for this, wasn’t it?”

Between messy kisses in the cab, the lobby, the elevator, while fumbling for her keys, she’d detailed to you all the things she wanted you to do to her, how she wanted you to fuck her, how she was going to make you cum. See, her mouth is gorgeous, even more vulgar, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip: you’d understand exactly what that mouth could do. 

Because there’s the angle you’re now both familiar with, that you can fuck her apart, get her flushed, faltering and fucked into perfect submission until you steal your own release - that you’ve been running the memory back all damn week - but she figures you ought to know that she can make you cum without you ever needing to lift a finger. And given how sure she is running her tongue all over you, sucking your cock, mouth hot, unashamedly sloppy, fingers curled around your shaft in strokes of genius-

Fuck, she probably will.

Not that you’re one for understatement, mouth falling open as you sigh backward into the upholstery - feels amazing, you’re explaining to her when you’re not chewing your lip, so good at that, a little more, your mouth baby, fuck, it’s incredible. Like she doesn’t already know. 

Eunbi just slides her lips down your shaft so perfectly in response. All that wet suction near fatal. But it’s not what gets you to swear audibly, a low rumble from your chest that says she’s on the right track. It’s the look on her face: pouty pink lips cushioning your cockhead, parted around your shaft, sinking further now, back at the top again, spit drooling from the corners of her mouth. Her eyebrows are upturned, and when she hollows her cheeks some - lifts her eyelids and fixes that gaze on you - her irises are gleaming in juxtaposition, this doe-eyed girl blinking up at you, innocently, like she’s not taking your cock further into her mouth, fucking you until she chokes. 

Those eyes half-lidded, unknowing, and staring straight into you- 

She’ll make you cum, they read, blinking, deep in her throat. Her lashes flutter. She coughs. You’ll cum more.

Though for your part, it’s not like you’re aren’t handing yourself over to the sensation either, indulging in everything Eunbi’s mouth has to offer, what more you’re sure still to take. It’s hot and wet and her tongue is even better licking around the tip of your cock than it was pressed flat underneath it - you’re settling into it, just starting to rock your hips up to meet the softness at the back of her throat, and she nods her head down twice more, bathing more of you in her spit each time, sputtering. You’re not the easiest to take, but she’s almost casually contented, or something more smug, the uppish look of a girl who's never backed away from a challenge - who will happily go for more - and without fuss, she takes your entire length between her lips. 

“Oh, fuck me-” you mutter, going speechless the moment she starts to suck.

And with her nose to your belly, Eunbi is straining, fighting for breath. It’s not an accident that she’s making a total fucking mess, drool and precum dripping down your shaft. She’d take more of you, wet on her chin, on her fingers, she’d pull you further into her little mouth, like she’d have it no other way. Still, her tongue licks nonchalantly past the seal of her lips, laps at your balls, and you think you’re going to lose it when she realizes it’ll get you to shiver, how you won’t ask for more, but she can just keep doing it again, again.

You bury your face in your hands as you suck in your next breath. You’re leaking cum actually, only a little, and Eunbi just keeps blowing you like you aren’t.

Fantasies will never work again, not after this, because for all the times you’ve imagined Eunbi’s lips around you, you’ve never come up with anything remotely close. It’s not even clear if this talent of hers is natural, god-given, or if behind each of her coy expressions and holier-than-thou moments of proud eminence she’s secretly an insatiable cockslut, but man, the girl is really good at sucking cock.  

Maybe the tricky part about this, if you even want to begin to get into it (you do not) - allowing yourself a small taste of intimacy has sparked this want for so much more. Even when things were good, Minju wasn’t getting her mouth on you like this. You can’t put your finger on it, the last time you’ve had anything as satisfying as the press of Eunbi’s lips around you, this mess of dark slippery hair bobbing up and down in your lap lazily and unbothered, mouth making all these wet noises like she’s yours and nothing more - like she never will be - and fuck, it’s irresistable. Her tongue curls around you again, and she makes her jaw go slack until more spit drools down the length of your cock, lathering in her fingers and twisting around your shaft - it scratches at itches you didn’t even know you had; nascent itches, silent ones, itches cloaked as something else.

Your breath stutters, stumbling into an embarrassing little moan after Eunbi pops her mouth off your cock, and a fleeting trick of a grin rushes across her face. She picks up on where you’re at instantly: “Aren’t you, like, kinda quiet?”

“There’s a lot going through my head right now,” you tell her, and that’s something she knows she can play along with, reveling in how you swallow at nothing when she hooks her hand behind her back and frees her bra from her shoulders. Her tits settling perfectly into place. “Just to be clear,” you sigh, “I’m going to cum in your mouth if you keep doing it like that.”

She tugs your jeans all the way down to your ankles. Arches an eyebrow. “And?”

“It’s called being decent, just something I'm working on.”

“Oh,” Eunbi says, returning her grip around your cock. Her hands are tiny, stacked one on top of the other, and she pumps them slowly, knowing that the abundance of spit and precum in her fingers makes it feel amazing. Every little flick of her wrists every bit as unbearable. “Now you care about decency; the guy who’s cheating on his-”

“Watch it,” you say, rough, “I could go without the reminder.”

Eunbi’s grin flickers a little wider. “Still the guilty conscious, huh?”

You think on it, a moment too long probably, because on one hand, she’s right. On the other - “I’m not going to say it’s guiltless.”

“Okay simple,” Eunbi shrugs, and pulls herself away from you, suggesting, “just touch yourself.” 

That’s one way to go about it. You wonder if this is the logic her brain operates on daily. It’d explain a lot.

“That’s like getting away with it on a technicality.”

“It’s an orgasm,” Eunbi tuts, “you’re not robbing a bank.” There’s a brief silence while she brings her palm up over her eyes, peeking through her fingers. “Here, see, I’m not even looking.” 

“I’m going to go ahead and just point out that you’re suggesting I jerk off in your living room.”

Eunbi’s hands drop to her sides, before tracking up her ribs and holding her breasts together into a cleavage that is way too inviting for anyone’s sake. You’re enchanted. Beguiled, maybe.

“Or.” Her gaze tapers in on something. God only knows what exactly your tell is; the quirk in your brow, the slightly-more-than-usual-avoidant gaze, something about your lips, the way you’re biting them - that’s where she seems to have honed in. And she’s smoking you out, completely. “I could probably just fuck you with my tits.”

That’s true. She could. And when that developed thought eventually coheres, you sigh profoundly.

She tips her head, interpreting the silence, and the small, wanting groan you make as she starts smashing her breasts closer together between her hands is definitely audible. Here, she’s telling you, with your cock, I know you want to. Even her lips are slanted into a subtle, knowing shape, steeped in all her femme-fatality, before finding the other smile she wears that pretends like it doesn’t know what she’s doing to you. “Is that what you want? You want your cock between my tits?”

“How exactly are those two things interchangeable?” you start, which isn’t anything even in the neighborhood of a no, so Eunbi simply leans forward, raising her chest between your thighs and teasing the sensitive part of your cock with just a brush of her nipple. Grazing down you, it’s hardly any contact at all, but the way you twitch suggests to her you’ll probably never recover from this. 

“Well.” Eunbi’s expression is lit aflame with revelation. “I’m just working in the space, thinking about things someone else could never do for you - things I could do for you.” 

For one thing - of which there are many - it’s a hell of a departure from the Eunbi who was sobbing against the bathroom mirror begging you to cum inside her. You can hear it. Her voice has the quality of a type of: victory. 

(Like she’s just come up with the most brilliant idea in the world. Which - maybe.)

“It’s perfectly normal you know,” she adds, almost as an aside, while trapping your cock between her breasts. “Literally everyone asks me to do this.”

You’re disarmed more than you realized, only able to nod along. Eunbi laces her fingers together, straightens herself, and right after passing her tongue under her top teeth to shoot you a smile, starts moving up and down against you. The way it feels, filthy hot and suffocatingly amazing, fuck, you’re letting out a sound that’s the bastardchild of a laugh and a whimper. You’re stunned. And the way it looks - your cockhead escaping her tits, disappearing again - is almost, almost the best part. 

“You’re, like, so hard right now,” she says, deservedly confident, and sliding her tits up around your cock again, she tilts her chin, trying to goad it out of you. “Should I let you cum all over these tits? Like, you’re already throbbing, honey.”

Let you cum, she says. If you weren’t struggling to cope with everything - every pass of soft skin smothered around your shaft sending you further to wit’s end and threatening to abandon you there - you’d recognize the writing on the wall: you’re in the palms of her hands, figuratively, literally. You’re in trouble.

“Oh, is that it?” she asks again. “Should I?”

“Fuck.” Without even thinking, you’re spreading your knees wider, inching toward the edge of the sofa, aching to get deeper between her cleavage. “Fine, yes, fuck-”

“Unh-uh,” says Eunbi flippantly. 

See, she’s enjoying this - eyes hot and radiant with authority - she’s enjoying this more than you. Her fingers relax, letting her tits fall around down onto your thighs. The pressure she was letting you enjoy, wrapping around your cock and making you speechless, starts to dwindle to something less brain-numbing. It’s unexpected: the lipstick around her mouth is smeared slightly, mascara under her smoky eyes still in disarray from how you’d had your cock in her throat, and now she’s the one taunting you.

“No, I’m serious,” she adds, “I want to hear you say it.”

Her brow furls immediately when you open your mouth, like she’s already very aware of what you’re going to say, and equally unimpressed.

“Say you want me to make you cum with my tits.”

“Eunbi.” Your voice comes out dry, damaged. “Please.”

“Hm?”

This wasn’t quite how you had pictured it when you’d seen Eunbi leaving the studio, looking like an angel, smiling like the devil; when she batted her lashes at you outside the taxi stand; when she clung to you and kissed you in the backseat of the cab; when that escalated the moment you walked through her foyer; when she dropped to her knees and started at your belt, your zipper, all without missing a beat. This is different. This is you, being desperate. 

“Please, with your tits Eunbi, fuck me with your tits.” 

Jesus. Now you know how that sounds. And the words are clear enough given the circumstances, but she’s staring at you expectantly, waiting for more. Waiting for you to concede. Waiting like you have no choice - “please, Eunbi, please make me cum, fuck, I need it so bad.”

“Oh.” Eunbi gathers herself again around your cock. Tighter. Triumphant. She laughs dryly and says, aloof, “good boy.”

-

(Here’s how it goes:

Eunbi has your cock vanished into her cleavage, again, and every soft slide of her breasts coaxes a reaction out of you - some quiet, others louder - coaxes more precum from where your cock is aching, leaking. She adjusts her fingers, moves her palms in further, makes her movements more precise, faster, tighter- 

It’s probably not a good sign of mental hygiene that you’re wilting so fast, that you’ve given her so much power so quickly, but the way she has her tits around you is fucking staggering.

“Aw, don’t worry, I’ll make you cum so fucking hard.” Eunbi moves her tits up your shaft. Lets them fall again. “Just relax for me.”

Her dark hair is falling slightly out of place over her ears as she looks down and presses her out tongue out, licking gently at where you’re appearing over and over from her soft breasts. Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing, you think, even though there’s not an ounce of culpability in her face. You’re so unused to seeing Eunbi appear so guileless that you nearly don’t recognize her. 

But once you feel the smooth skin of her chest become so wet and slippery with her spit, your precum  - once she’s settled into a reliable motion to fuck you with - her eyes lift their focus from what’s just beneath her chin. Get themselves fixed right on you. 

“It feels so good doesn’t it?” The smirk that finds her mouth is lethal. “C’mon. I know you want to cum.”

You can only nod, breath panting.

“Cum on these perfect tits, baby. Cum for me.” Her brow is cocked, voice lilting straight into seduction. “Cum-”

Eunbi’s name sticks to the roof of your mouth as you shoot a rope of cum past her collarbone. You send more all over her chest, hot and sticky and shimmering in pale white, and as soon as she slowly slides her chest up again, you drain your balls into the warm wrap of her tits. A truly satisfying mess. 

You stare for a moment, wondering, if she’ll open her mouth and swallow you again - all given the way she’s looking at your cock, hungry. But she simply tilts her chin and lets your cum splash onto her neck.

She has her hands pumping you lazily against her clavicle, cooing while she gently fuck out the final, tired vestiges of your orgasm with little flicks of her wrist: “oh, there, look at all that, and it’s all for me.”

Once your knees stop shaking and your breath starts to level - once Eunbi releases you from her warm, wet cleavage - she draws a shiver out of you with her tongue, run up the length of your sensitive cock, and she’s left kneeling there, covered in your cum, with her palms upturned like she’s waiting for someone to give her a towel. It’s you, and it’s her, and there’s something about the image of your cum splattered all over her chest, shining and slippery between her perfect tits. You get your hands on her waist immediately, pulling her up into your lap, her slick, sticky chest sliding against yours, and you devour her mouth greedily, licking hungrily past her lips.

“You are something else,” you say finally, now sunk back into the couch to fully take Eunbi in. “All sorts of party tricks.”

Eunbi preens, utterly satisfied with herself, and she reaches down behind her to your cock, aching in pained pleasure, aching for more. You flirt with the heat that radiates from behind her underwear, grinding against where she’s become hot and wet and needy. She laughs, and the sound turns to a pretty little sigh after she pulls aside her panties and seats herself onto your cock. 

“Oh, you have no idea,” she says, and she starts to move.)

-

It’s never supposed to become a habit. It’s never supposed to be anything at all.

At first? Once a month, and it’s unprompted; then it’s biweekly, then it’s once a week, then it ends up biweekly again in the opposite direction; there are these little text messages back and forth that you’re learning to decipher - hey, they usually start, you up? or you wanna help me move some furniture? or this is crazy, but i cooked way too much ramen? or been horny all day, so like, come over and fuck me? 

Some of them, you puzzle out, are easier to decipher than others. And falling comfortably into that category are the nudes she sends you in the middle of a fucking workday: 

Eunbi’s standing with the backside of her unfathomable figure facing the bathroom mirror, denim cut offs slipping down past her thighs-

(Fuck. Shit. You drop your phone and it lands face down in a way that makes you scared to check for damages. Luckily, it is unscathed. Mostly.)

-denim cut offs slipped down past the cheeks of her ass. Her torso is twisted in profile, a white linen shirt draped up over her shoulders for ceremonial purposes, gaping open at the front in an effort to cover nothing at all. Underneath that is a plaid swimsuit top for god knows what reason - a pair of large silver hoop earrings, perfectly done eyelashes, and hair far too styled to be gearing up for a swim - then it’s her thumb, hooked under the string that looks to barely be holding the tiny thing together. The picture is taken at nearly the precise moment: she’s pulling up on the bikini top, to the point that her tits look ready to fall out and let gravity return them whence they came. 

How she managed it, you’ll never know, but it’s got fantasies come to life immediately. Eunbi whimpering and coming apart, Eunbi stretched out in that bikini top, Eunbi stretched out without it - you nearly drop the phone again.

The text that follows is shameless, complete with a winking emoji and extra letters in all the right places: maybe tell minju you’ll be home late for dinner.

All of this, and suddenly you’re feeling less oblivious about it. You and Minju are at that point. These are your death throes, a swan song, performative; you’re that kind of couple.

-

You realize there’s this thing that Minju always says. 

You’ll often catch her in passing, between your hectic schedules or in her spot between the cushions of the sofa curled up in a blanket and reading another romance novel. She’ll ask you how your day was, or what it’s going to be, and you’ll tell her what you always tell her.

“Nothing,” she responds as you press a dutiful kiss to her forehead, “I’m just thinking.”

-

But what else is there to say?

There’s Eunbi’s apartment, the usual scene of the crime. There’s the backseat of your car, sometimes the front seat of hers. There’s no lack for nooks and crannies in the production studio. You fuck Eunbi. Eunbi fucks you. All of it rabid and increasingly frequent and most of the time it gets seriously freudian.

“Inside me,” Eunbi gasps, twice. Her chest is flushed, stained again with your cum, sticky strands of it bridging between her tits as they wobble and shake beneath you. It’s all routine, and none of it anything you could ever tire of. The way you’re fucking her, every deliberate thrust something you can hang on to forever - buried inside her hot, tight velvety cunt - it should be aspirational. And you’ve got her here so frequently, so selfishly, so perfectly. With her knees folded up to her shoulders as you ride the motions of the bed springs. 

Maybe it’s curiosity at play, to see how far either of you will go. You’re crushing her in more ways than one. It’s hot and filthy and she’s loving every moment of it. You’re pounding her sopping cunt into a swollen, cummed-in mess - more and more as you fuck her further into the matress. “Do it, baby,” she cries, unashamed, “want you to fill this pretty little cunt again, need you to fuck me, use me, need you to breed me - use this pussy however you want, it’s yours, so cum in me over and over until i’m just your little cumdump and nothing more-”

God, you want to give her everything she wants, all of the time. Your hips ride into her again, deep and making her features skip past all the usual coy expressions. And god, she is so fucking tight - maybe you will.

“Just like that, don’t stop.” Eunbi is panting, nails digging into your shoulder blades, and she holds your face to the crook of her shoulder. Her voice comes out in airy gasps, shaking and quivering as you rock her entire body beneath you. You pound away at her pussy, and you fuck her, and you rail her so reckless she starts to cry out, until she’s begging, pleading for you to fill her pretty little cunt.

Even though you should at least hesitate, you don’t. You can’t. You shouldn’t.

Hips grinding against hers, cunt clenched and dripping onto your cock, you do.

You need her.

-

But what else is there to say? It’s not that you don’t do your fair share of thinking either. Though none of it productive, admittedly. You’ve got all these images, photographically vivid, of Eunbi running through your head. The things you’ve done to her, the things you want to do to her, the things you will do to her. 

It starts to get in the way of your work.

“I’m sorry,” you say, caught daydreaming one day. “Could you repeat that for me?”

Sitting across the table from you is Jo Yuri, a mutual friend. She knows everyone, and she’s on your radio show, talking about relationships. “What I’m saying is this: I’m not sure what it is about men that make them think women are so unsolvable, like we’re constantly changing the rules.”

“They’re not simple,” you offer in contention.

Yuri turns her head onto her hand, adjusting her headphones, and leans into the mic. “They’re not complex either.”

But, they are complex, you think to yourself as Yuri continues on her with her point. They’re complex in the way they want you to touch them, the way they want you to hold them, to kiss them; some of them complex in the way they want you to choke them, slap them, get your mouth on them and make them cum over and over-

“If it’s less subtle than a brick to the face,” Yuri says, gauging your lack of a reaction, “it’s probably for your own good. That’s what I think.”

-

Neither of you cry when Minju breaks up with you on a Friday. You know, like officially. Neither of you shout or throw things or do anything that you could put in a tell-all book in your later years.

So that’s that, is the last thing she says to you.

Whatever the opposite of cathartic is - that’s the vibe.

Her publicist finally sends a letter to Dispatch. Apparently the time is right. Or she’s stopped caring. You don’t know. The article that ultimately arrives doesn’t drag you through the mud, but you don’t come out looking all that great either. And as it turns out, surprisingly, the most tragic part about being dumped on a Friday, aside from the fact that every fool that is doom scrolling twitter knows about it, is it’s impossible to get new furniture delivered until the following Monday.

“Jesus,” Eunbi says, sliding past you and into your near empty apartment. “This place is super depressing.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, tepid. “There’s been photographers watching the door to the lobby for hours.”

“I was just passing by. Saw the lights were on.”

“Yeah, well, I mean I’m here.”

“I see that.” Eunbi smiles simply. “Was all the furniture hers?”

“We replaced a lot of stuff as time went on. Didn’t match her decor.” You lean against the door frame. “Or so I’m told.”

Eunbi does a spin in your living room, finger to her chin. “Looks like she left you a coffee table.” 

“The movers said it didn’t fit in the truck.”

“Ah.” Eunbi crosses her arms, and the quiet smile on her face grows just an inch. “Serendipitous, ain’t it?”

-

“Hey,” Eunbi says, from the passenger seat of your car. “Would you say… are you feeling anger?”

“No.”

She taps away at her phone in a few more moments of silence. The turn signal’s click click click punctuating each one, semi-dramatically.

“Hey,” she says again, turning toward you.

“What?”

“How about this, are you feeling depression.”

You pause before you answer. “No.”

Her mouth finds a subtle twist, almost like she’s pouting. “Are you feeling, I dunno, bargaining?”

“I’m not in grief, Eunbi, if that’s what you’re working toward.”

She sinks into her seat, disappointed somehow.

“Oh, that’s the first step by the way: denial.” Eunbi unclicks her seatbelt, and leans over the console as you pull up in front of a hotel. “This article says that soon the emotions you’ve been hiding will begin to rise. You’ll be confronted with a lot of-”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” she asks, blinking deceptively in an almost comically innocent way.

“Psychoanalyzing.” You shut the car door a little too dramatically to be of any help hammering home your point. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Eunbi murmurs, just low enough for you to catch, “you’re living out of a hotel. And denial is not just a river in Egypt.”

“Why don’t we analyze how you’ve got a real talent for getting under my skin.”

“Oh.” She laughs, eyes bright, cheery. “So we are angry.”

“You might want to be more careful.” You’re wandering into familiar territory here. This thing, the needling, the goading, is it on purpose? Your intuition suggests yes, perhaps. A wealth of experience tells you absolutely.

“Is that so?” she asks, interested and daring and dangerously pretty in the shadows of the parking lot.

“Who knows, maybe I end up getting a little rough with you.”

“Oh darling,” she says, and part of you isn’t too keen on her getting so intimate with you. There’s another part of you that is. “I’m hoping you get a lot rough with me.”

-

The way Eunbi perches inelegantly at the edge of the bed says a lot. Her legs are wide open and she’s grasping backward at a set of pristine hotel sheets, cumming over and over on your fingers, maybe a little too easily. She’s even giving you those eyes, watery and irresistable. Of course you’re past all that, well familiar with the act, how deceitful it is of her to act so innocent.

So you bring your mouth onto her pussy and make her do it again. Telling yourself it’s what she deserves.

In fact, when the barrage of oh god’s and moaning and panting finally subsides, she ends up laughing, bubbly cute, in exactly the way you’ve grown fond of. It’s almost strange, you think, to be so used to the sound. But when Eunbi finally uncovers her face from her hands, her expression is pointedly not amused, all need and lust and want - she’s not playing around - simply the way your name comes off her tongue could make you melt. “How do you want me?” she asks, “you can’t just leave me like this.”

Fuck, how don’t you want her? It might have been careless, giving someone like you creative liberty - you’re imaging everything. You want her on her knees, you want her ass in your hands, you want her riding you, beneath you; there’s a million and one things you’re thinking about her tits alone. Then there’s the other liberty. That you’re not checking over your shoulder, worrying, anxious, that kernel of shame hidden away somewhere inside you no longer growing as you get your cock inside her. You’ll make her scream your name, beg you to cum. She’s yours, and you’ll remind her who she belongs to. You’ll take all the time you need. 

“Stand up,” you end up telling her, and after one of those liquid thoughts finally coalesces into something more rigid, “over by the window.”

“Yes sir,” Eunbi says, huffing a smug laugh. Though whatever faux confidence she thought she discovered vanishes without a trace considering her knees are already wobbling, barely able to support her. Some part of her must be able to sense it: you’re worked up, feeling something. She likes you that way. Likes what it makes you do to her. The fact is, to be truly content - being held down and pounded into, filled so full and fucked apart - it’ll take just a press of her thumb on the scale. 

See, Eunbi knows you’ve been holding back. Knows you’ve been flirting with the boundaries she’s dared you to cross. With a little encouragement, she knows you will. 

You saw this coming. And to be frank, you’re going to ruin her.  

“Take your shirt off,” you say, slipping seamlessly into instruction, “socks, underwear, strip.”

It is breathtaking, the way Eunbi ultimately turns her figure around against the pane, hands running up the glass and stretching above her head, ass poked out and shimmying her hips. She’s right there, waiting for you to grab hold of her, to press kisses into her shoulders, her spine, to pump your cock into her, to cum in her deeper and deeper-

And with much less to say, she finds that shimmy again, the round of her ass proffering. Her patience waning.

“You fucking better,” she says, and her elbow’s bent, finger’s pulling at her ass cheek. Look, this pussy, it’s yours, no one else’s and you made it so, so wet. You almost can’t believe that she’s even real - all curves and sharp angles in the right places, a face like that - you should be at her feet, worshiping her, and you will, in a way: you’ll grip her wrists tightly into your fist and sink your fingers into her waist until you’ve got her bruising and breaking. And that’s just a scratch at the surface.

Eunbi’s pupils are blown, mouthing into her shoulder, “I need you to fuck me.”

The tension in the room hardly stretches more than a few moments, you’ve got your cock out, you’re slipping into Eunbi’s soaked cunt, pushing deep, thrusting deeper, bottoming out - “you perfect fucking slut, Eunbi, so needy aren’t you? Begging me to breed you over and over-” You’ve spent the last god knows how many many months hiding away and stealing at something you weren’t supposed to have. Spent even longer pining for something you’ve never had at all. Your hips snap again, harsh contact against her ass, skin milky white and soft, unblemished and delicate - and when you settle into this harsh tempo, railing Eunbi up against the window, you figure you’ll address all that. 

See, you’ve got no ticking clock in front of you. Consider how time starts to slip when you’re inside her, seconds to minutes, minutes to hours, you’ll take as much you can: time to bring her her home, keep your cock in her for a day, two days, three days, keep cumming in all her holes-

“Fuck,” Eunbi sputters, arching her back further, tension building in her spine, in her cunt. The reflection in the window shows her bottom lip start to tremble, and she opens her mouth, repeating it, like it’s all she can remember how to say. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You slap her ass, hard. Handprint vibrantly pink and staring back at you. You kiss her shoulders, you pound her little cunt into consummate submission. I want other people to know, Eunbi’s entirely incapable of telling you right now, drool cornering in her lips. Want everyone to know how good you fuck me, how you own me, how I’m your personal cumdump and forever will be.

You mark her up, like she is yours, hand at her neck, in her hair - you start to pull.

“Yes?” How you’re holding her, how you’re fucking her - it’s physically imposing. You’re towering over the woman, face bent upward and reaching further as the grip you’ve stolen of her silky hair only ever tightens. You can kiss her forehead, but you don’t. You tease her instead. “Aw, you’ve got a look on your face like you have something you want to tell me, Eunbi.”

All too simple, your thumb lands on the pucker of her asshole. And she cums, just like that.

It’s unholy. The overstimulation has tears welling in her eyes, gorgeous, wide, glassy and brilliant. She’s not meant to take this kind of treatment. Reverence, adoration, that’s her usual faire. And she can hardly believe when you bring your hand down her ass again - can hardly believe that you’re fucking her within and inch of her life and wrecking her like you are.

Each thrust sends her voice higher and the lines of her body rippling faster, bending further. Its beauty in resonance, profundity in motion: the soft skin of her ass shaking against your hips, tits swinging against the window. Your hand snakes across her flat stomach, feels her panting for breath, traces her ribs and up towards her chest. Those little whines make it out to be something selfish. Mewling gasps for air make it seem like you aren’t giving her exactly what she asked for. As if you’d ever give her anything less. 

Fuck. She’s a hot, moaning mess of a woman. She doesn’t even roll her hips back onto you or fuck herself on your cock; she doesn’t need to. You’re destroying that little pussy, and once you start palming the heavy shape of her breast, you’re letting your fingers sink into all that profundity. 

“Please,” finally slips out of her, though she’s unable to add anything in that thin, wilting voice. There’s plea in it, the sound steeped in protest, in penury, in poverty; you’re fucking her and you’re fucking her apart - cock buried deep in her cunt - you never expected to have to piece her together this early.

“Tell me,” you demand, callous, right at her ear, “please what? Please pound this perfect little pussy of yours until I cum? Please fill you with a hot load of cum because what, you deserve it? Is that you want, Eunbi?”

“Please, cum-” Her words vanish like a hot breath against the glass. She’s blathering, eyes falling half-lidded in this amazingly sexy way that almost feels intentional. “Want to feel you cum. Fill me up with cum, please, please, please-”

“Oh, Eunbi,” you drawl, right into the crook of her neck. It makes her shiver. She’s not a princess, curses woven into her breath, but she’s selfish like one. “I’m not going to cum in this perfect little pussy-”

It all happens so fast: you drag your cock out of her cunt, and if you weren’t pressing your fingers into her waist, holding her tighter, you think she might collapse. Maybe you were closer than you realized, moments from draining your balls in her pussy, because when you lay cushioned between the cheeks of her ass, your cock just starts to spill - hot cum weeping from the tip and making a mess of her soft, creamy skin, over the puffy lips of her pussy, across the tight little rim of her asshole.

“Good girls get bred, Eunbi,” you say, voice drying, sensitive, and so far from where you started. “You told me to be rough with you baby. I’m thinking I might cum in this perfect fucking ass. Should I?”

Eunbi’s face is flush against the glass, hands reaching back in response, spreading herself for you. Some part of her knows what you want, and she knows how bad she wants it too. “Please,” she begs, swallowing down on these hoarse uneven breaths, hiccupping between them - “need it.”

You can feel your tip tease her rim, where she’s still impossibly closed and waiting. The cum leaking from your cock is wet and slick and slippery, and with a fist curled around your shaft, realigned, angled down, you slip in.

There aren’t even words for it, how it all comes together. How she comes apart.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, recognizing Eunbi’s weight shift around you. “I’m going to fucking own this little asshole, Eunbi.”

Eunbi’s responsive mmm runs ragged. Face in profile against the window, tits smashed against the glass, you watch her eyes screw shut and her eyebrows draw together - you think for a moment, as you so often do, that you’re hurting her, blazing past safewords and pressing your cock too deep, too fast into her tight ass. “Go,” she tells you, and without even flinching, gets her fingers underneath where you’re splitting her in two, gets them wet with the slick of her cunt and in between your balls, gently. “Want you, please, this big cock.”

Your eyes water, and you start to thrust.

“Baby,” you whisper into the lobe of her ear. For once it’s all slow, sloppy and soft. It’s sin at your waist, fucking her open slowly, pumping into her ass again and again until it’s all so slick she can take you further. But you’ve got your fingers in her hair, preening loose strands back behind her hair. She’s so pretty all the time, and with her face twisted in unbearable pleasure, she’s outright gorgeous. “So good for me, Eunbi, such a good little cumslut aren’t you?”

Eunbi’s voice crackles into broken whimpers, like her lungs are waterlogged and flooded. She steals a hand away between her thighs, and starts ghosting her fingers over her clit. Anything more than that and she’d probably go up in smoke. (If it’s anything like you, cock pulsing with blood and hot as flame, you are about to lose it.)

“Fuck,” she says, grinding out the consonants in your name like she’s crushing them under a boot, “I can’t believe how good you feel, I can’t, I can’t-”

You knew, had always known, that you had - however subconsciously - enticed fate by letting yourself get to this point. Maybe it’s a perfect slowburn, this history, dotting commas and periods in your memoirs, and here you are, pounding at Eunbi’s asshole so fast that she’s stuttering.

“I can’t, fuck - thank you - fuck - feel you throbbing in my fucking ass - love being your cocksleeve,” she hisses, and her body has practically all but given up, knees buckled out, arm dangling at her side, tears streaming down her cheeks. It’s just that she never expected it either, that you’d be pleasing her by fucking her like a toy, so unrepentant she’s sobbing messy, all sloppy and pleading, more, please, harder, faster.

“You like this cock tearing your ass open, Eunbi?” you ask, pushing the hand she has hidden at her cunt out of the way, “you like being such a perfect slut for my cock, don’t you? You weren’t kidding, you’d let me do anything to you.”

“Please, don’t, you’re gonna make me - again,” she squeals, lip wobbling, mouth hung open. You push her hard against the glass, until she straightens out, and your finger is gliding through the slick of her cunt, knuckles knocking the window and honing in on her swollen clit - you’ll make her scream. “Oh god, fuck, oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Serendipity is about chance meetings, convenient covers. Life has a way of dropping the world in your lap without you having to do anything. It’s Eunbi’s picture-perfect face, wrecked and twisting as she cums all over your thighs, rolling her hips and fucking her ass onto you - it’s that when she cums with her puckered entrance stuffed full of cock, she squirts everywhere. Lucky, is the watchword you’re sitting on, and of all places, of all people, you’ve been dealt the perfect hand, deck stacked in your favor.

There’s wet splattered all over the window. Stains streaking in the carpet. Dark spots that’ll never fade.  

“Keep fucking me,” Eunbi says, head of jet black hair titled back onto your shoulders, hips twisting slow as she grinds down against your waist, moving enough to make your cock throb and pulse. “Keep fucking me, please, until you fill my ass up all the way. I’m yours.”

Yours, yours, yours, she stammers on, failed and wrecked on your cock. Malleable and pliant. Ruined. 

“This tight little ass of yours, Eunbi,” you mutter, drawing sharp breath after sharp breath, “is fucking unbelievable.”

It’s yours.

Her body twists, torso turns into you, and you get your mouth on hers, moaning and mewling on the same hot, damp air.

“Good girl,” you whisper against her lips, and with a final kiss to her temple, you fuck into her hard - hands snuck up to hold her breasts and keep her still, hips snapping fast, faster, faster-

When you finally explode up into Eunbi’s ass, she makes a noise fucked and faltering even further than you. It’s desperate and debauched and only staunched by the fingers you slip past her lips. She bites down, but you’re too far pitched into the reality of pumping cum past Eunbi’s tight entrance that you can’t be bothered to care.

“Fuck, Eunbi.” Your voice is sneaking through gritted teeth. She’s tiny against you, body slender and hot and milking your cock. A flash of muscle, a quiver, a pucker, and she’s got you reeling. You think about getting your hand around her throat - fucking her again - but the look her face is so pristine and contented. You have her like putty in your hands, like you could bend her, mold her, break her, and when you instead bring her face to yours in this lazy, clumsy kiss, lips sliding and her tongue licking into your mouth, you know you’d never need to.

See, she’s so dismantled, completely stuffed with cock, and still, with it leaking everywhere you can feel it run hot and sticky, it’s perfect. 

The hotel room isn’t big, and until this exact moment, had been so filled with sex that the the sounds of it echoing back and forth make this sudden quiet into a silence puzzlingly calm. Her features relax, into something a little more befitting her reputation. She’s sweaty and wet and you did your part, you fucked her and fucked her up, you realize, she’ll return you the favor later. 

You hold your breath, watching the beauty mark on her cheek raise and lower with every panted-out breath, mesmerized-

And with just the slightest shift, Eunbi’s mouth closes into this tiny, satisfied smile.

“You came inside my ass,” she says out loud. She tries not to laugh, and then she does anyway when you slide your cock out of her. “You just came - in my ass. Look.”

It’s almost unfathomable, that you just fucked her until she was sobbing, pushed your cock into her ass and had her uncoil like she did, the window, the carpet. Like a fucking disaster. It’s almost unfathomable that she’s got her hands spreading her cheeks open toward you and presenting the mess you’d made like it was something to be proud of, and after all that the mood of the moment shifts a little more intimate, a little more sentimental.

“You’re trouble,” you tell her, tilting her chin up under your fingers.

“Right back at you,” she says, and she pitches onto her feet until you kiss her again.

-

(It happens.

Time passes. You work on a new show. You move into a smaller apartment. It reeks of passed time. Maybe it’s the humidity of early sobriety, hanging and palpable. You can hear ticking in clockless rooms here.

It’s been years since Minju dropped the bombshell on the media. You recovered, mostly. Years too since you’ve seen Eunbi.

Sometimes the people you wanted as part of your story are only meant to be a chapter. You could probably stitch that into a frame and sell it to the kind of crowd who’d buy words in a frame.

You don’t.

Instead, you end up a little older, not in any meaningful way. You’re not wiser or any shit like that. Just older.)

-

You interrupt the producer of your current gig, a pretty middling radio show in a pretty mundane time slot. “What do you mean by new cohost? Like I’ll be working with another human being?”

He nods.

“Like every week?”

Nods again.

“Does he have a name?”

“She,” he corrects, writing judiciously at the clipboard permanently in his hands. Scowl on his face, pencil in his ear, clipboard in his hands, that’s how you know he’s in charge. It’s a whole look. He untucks a blank envelope from the disarray of papers in his hands, saying, “she dropped this off for you too.”

You turn it in your hands twice, until you see the cursive penned into the top right corner. Memories, stinging trifling things rush back to you, all at once: you see her face, her eyes are closed, she’s smiling, she’s a thought you’d tucked away for good, and now you’re wading through it like you hadn’t. 

Serendipitous.

[iamcalmdammit]

The truth is out || [Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader]

Summary: Rumor has it you're a psychopath but Ghost begins to doubt it. When you end up on the run together, the truth eventually comes out about your mutual feelings.

Ghost used the emerging opportunity created by Soap's escape to get out of the Shadows' sight and hide not far from the road. He was still within earshot and watched as some men took Alejandro inside while you and Graves remained out on the road. You had one hand on your gun just in case, but other than that, you didn't look particularly taken aback by the situation.

Could it be that you had known all along? Psychopaths were known for being excellent actors, making everyone believe they are perfectly normal citizens. But you had also told him once when you were alone that you found the Shadows weird, especially Graves. You didn't trust them according to your statement. Well, you didn't trust anyone, this is why you usually worked alone.

"Wait, wait, wait," your voice finally broke the silence. "But if mommy and daddy are getting divorced, who will I stay with?"

The corners of Graves's lips curled into a half smile as he looked at you. It was as clear as day that this guy wanted something from you, but you never returned the sentiment. "I suggest you pick a side, sweetheart," was all he said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

You let out a humming sound as your eyes moved to the spot where Soap had disappeared not long ago, then to the back of the car that hid Ghost himself before he could escape too. Then your gaze returned to Graves and you said, "I think I’ll pick daddy."

His eyes twitched for a moment as he realized you were talking about ditching him and the Shadow Company for Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros. Ghost couldn't help but quietly laugh at the sight. Their betrayal hurt, but seeing his smug smile disappear like this surely brightened his shitty day.

"Suit yourself. Shoot her!" Graves gave out the order.

And just like that, you found yourself having multiple guns suddenly pointing at you, while Graves casually got into the car and drove to the base. "Fuck, I didn’t think this through," you said with a groan as you quickly sized up your chances for survival.

Ghost closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath he didn't even notice he had held in until now. He couldn't leave you getting shot like that after choosing them over Graves or yourself. Reaching down for a smoke grenade, he quickly thought about the plan. He gets you out of here first then you find Soap together. Easy peasy.

He threw the grenade near you, and just as the smoke began to come out, he shouted, "Run, Y/N!" It didn't take you more than a second to put the pieces together and start running towards the woods by the road. He immediately got up and followed you, hoping you wouldn't hear his footsteps and think the Shadows were the ones after you here.

They didn't go after Soap, they didn't start looking for him after he disappeared, so he was quite sure they wouldn't follow you either. When you stopped for a moment to catch your breath and take a good look around, he finally reached you and stopped a few steps away with his hands up. "It's just me," he said quietly when you pointed your gun at him.

Seconds passed unusually slowly as you assessed the situation, your eyes scanning his body from top to bottom several times. Then you finally lowered your weapon and asked, "The smoke grenade was yours, right?" Ghost nodded right away. "Thank you. You saved my life with that. I didn't have much of a chance back there."

"You're welcome," he said. "So you chose us over them?"

You shrugged with a smile. "You guys grew on me, I couldn't help myself."

As he watched you, Ghost couldn't help but see you in a different light. You weren't acting like you were friendly. You were actually, truly friendly towards him, seemingly meaning every word you said. And when he took a closer look at your face he discovered certain things, like the shape of your nose or the shade of pink your lips were, that gave him insight into what Graves probably saw in you.

Maybe you weren't capable of having real emotions, or at least the range was heavily limited, but you were still breathtaking in a lot of ways. He was drawn to you with every cell in his body, wishing he could reach out and run a finger down your cheek before kissing you, finally getting a taste of those rosy lips.

He had been watching you since Laswell had introduced you to the team, hoping to get a chance to find out more about the gorgeous lone wolf that was thrown into their pack. It was Soap who told him about your reputation, the story of the psychopath no one could work with for long.

But his own experiences started to make him doubt these rumors. You were only as cold and heartless as the rest of them, not more, not less. The thing that stood out was your personality around the team when you loosened up a little. You could be quite annoying sometimes, joking at the worst possible times, but at the end of the day he found it strangely charming.

"Are you coming?"

Ghost looked up, suddenly realizing he had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice you were talking to him until now. "Sure," he said after clearing his throat and picking up your pace.

While the two of you began walking, he tried to reach Soap over the radio but there was no answer. Where the hell was he? Ghost truly hoped he survived and was hiding out somewhere nearby. They had to regroup and come up with a plan. Right now there were only a handful of people he could trust and one of them was by his side already. One down, another one to go in the immediate future.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked, playfully poking his side with your elbow to get his attention.

Letting out a sigh, he looked down at you and thought about what to say. He was thinking about many different things at the same time. His friends who were either captured or missing, the rage he felt from someone they all trusted betraying them like that, and a woman who was a complete mystery but still managed to awaken inappropriate thoughts and feelings in him.

So, what should he begin with? "A lot of things," he said in the end. "Can I ask you something?" You nodded and waited for him to continue with your head sweetly tilted to the side. Why were you making his life so difficult? "When you were talking to Graves, you said you picked daddy. How did he know you were talking about us?"

"Well, we have a short history together. We went on a date once after a mission and things just didn't work out. I may or may not have said something about him not being a man enough to handle me," you explained, flashing a wicked smile at him. "I think he understood the reference. He deserves it, after all he started a rumor that I'm a psychopath."

"So you're not like that?" Ghost asked cautiously.

"I'm not. Honestly, I'm done explaining myself to people, I just let them think what they think now." You kept a short pause while you came to a halt and turned to look up at him. "And I think he knew because he picked up on something."

He raised an eyebrow under the mask as he watched you. "What?"

Suddenly a wide smile appeared on your lips and he could have sworn you blushed. "Maybe there is a specific person I called Daddy in this case," you told him.

"Who?" he asked, completely dumbfounded.

Instead of answering, you simply moved your hand in front of your mouth, telling him that your lips were zipped. What kind of game were you playing? Did you enjoy driving him crazy? This was neither the right time nor place for that.

But before he knew it, you took his hand and pulled him forward, causing his body to crash into yours. His mind was racing as he tried to process what was happening. "You're no fun, I thought you'd keep asking," you told him quietly. "Why don't you guess?"

He didn't want to play. What you had said about Graves a few minutes ago, how he wasn't man enough to handle you, gave him an idea. He had to take control of this situation. Yes, that's what he had to do. So he took a deep breath, laced his gloved fingers with yours and spoke up. "I don't play games. But I need you to know that I can't get you out of my mind. Let's be honest, this isn't exactly an advantage in our current situation."

There was a glint in your eyes that gave away your emotions right away. "I'm sorry," you said as you bit on your lower lip.

"Don't be, it's not entirely your fault," he assured you. It was true, he was just as guilty in that.

A part of him was dying to take off his mask and kiss you in the safety of the woods, but another part was trying to snap him out of this stupid haze to make him focus on the mission. He would have time to deal with his emotions when it was over, now he had to find Soap and come up with a plan.

You clearly knew what he was thinking about because you flashed an understanding smile at him and went, "Let's find your friend. I'm sure he's looking for you."

[heartfullofleeches]

By the teeth

Creep Yan + G.N Friendly Creep Reader Blurb

Warning: light gore

You're so nice.....

A fraction of your kindness was more than they had ever received. It was real too - not like teachers or peers who were always told to look out for the weakest link. The sincerity and care in your words reached your eyes; yet another thing they'd never witnessed before. As if you couldn't get anymore perfect, you even shared some of the same interests. When they gushed about their favorite films you came to them the next day carrying a signed poster. The envy they felt when you informed them the actor who's signature you possessed died not even a day later. You gave it to them as confirmation of your new friendship and that's when they knew they were in love. You don't even free out when they show you the dead things their cats bring. It must be meant to be.

You're so kind - to everyone you met. It's the bridge that separates you. Whereas they walk home alone, you have a group to guide your way. You invite them everytime, but they know they aren't welcomed by all. So charismatic and cute and sweet. It's no wonder you have so many admirers. It's only in your nature as innocent soul to attract demons so they don't blame you when you're asked out on dates. They don't blame you when someone walks up to you with bashful eyes and a blushing smile - asking to meet somewhere you can truly be alone. They don't blame you...not at all.

Which is why they'll hate themselves even more for what they were going to do.

Gloved fingers grip at their clothed mouth. They'd make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Just one stab. Just one - and it'd all be over. If anyone was to blame, it was them. Any bastard who would drag their angel into a dingy, dirty alleyway deserved to die. They prayed their rage wouldn't get the best of them. If they got carried away and your eyes met, they'd die right on the spot.

Their thoughts are interrupted by something...strange. A wet, slurping noise floods the alley - pained gurgles and groans creeping between each intake. They couldn't see well with their shades. The two of you were just- standing there; locked in each other's arm. Your hands claw red streaks into your partner's back and that's when they realize how truly off this felt. They - they were hurting you. The creep's actions would be justified in this scenario. Maybe God was finally giving them a chance.

Clutching the handle of their knife, they proceed forward - scene unraveling with each step.

One - your arms tighten around their waist.

Two - your head rolls back.

Three - the tender flesh of their neck pulls with it. You'd already torn a hole through their jugular and the gush of carmine overflowed your gorgeous lips as you went in for another. Gulping the thick substance down your stuffed throat, you pull the limp figure to your chest as your lips crawl to their ear. You shake them gently, pouting as they fall slack in your arms.

"Heyyyyy, you were all over me a second ago... What happened?"

The childlike glee in your voice gave them chills. That bubbly ting that made - still makes their heart leap. You go in for one more bite, dropping them like a sack of potatoes as you chew. The body collapses into the earth as their knees give out. They fall a second later than it, catching your guard. You wave

"Mhm-mhm!"

You step over the body and towards them. They pedal backwards, but you're far faster being on both of your feet and bounce before they can even try to get up. Their eyes search your face for anything. Are you going to attack them too? Why was their heart racing so fast from the thought? Why were they jealous they weren't the first? They shut their eyes, bracing for the worse.

"mmmmmm"

Light assaults their senses as they force themselves to face what you have done. Rather the sting of a bite, they feel something softer - centered on their lips. It was another pair. You were kissing them. The shock loosened their tight jaws, allowing you to siphon the fatty blood clung to the roof of your mouth into theirs. They weakly beat your chest, forced into swallowing by the lack of oxygen and your hands around their throat. Their thighs clinch as you squeeze. Thick clots bind you as you pull away. You smile that beautiful - teeth dyed red. They lick your canines.

"-wahh! Whew! That was more than - and way grosser than I expected. Must've been a smoker. Anywho, as I was saying - hello! I've been wondering where you've been. You haven't followed me home this past you nights. I missed you, ya."

You pinch and smack at their cheeks as they stare off - stunned.

"Hmph, you can make up for it by getting rid of that for me. Call me when you're done and we can watch something together, kay. I'm sure you have my number, but lemme make sure it's the right one."

They had you their phone. You punch in your contact information, happily humming away and bouncing to a song that came to mind. You kiss their cheek as you jump off them.

"Pick up something to eat when you come too or I'll eat you next. I'm starving. See you soon!"

As you walk off they look down at their phone. There's a heart and a hallo at the end of the title you gave yourself. Your angel. They clutch the device to their chest.

Love really did exist....even for someone like them.

[crystalandparrot]

RC9GN x Reader

New Season

Not my art!!

NEW SEASON OF RC9GN!!! This takes place AFTER the Sorcerer's defeat

If you would like to know what voice actors I had in mind for the new characters, I'll make a skippable chapter about it.

This is very different from my other stories! This (Y/n) is MAINLY based on Donnie from ROTTMNT. She can be seen as autistic, but for the sake of not writing too many details, I'll stick to the basics. If you want some chapters that have more details about autistic characters, I can write a few one shots. I don't want ANY exclusion. Without spoiling too much, her weapon is also VERY much like Donnie's. Lots of attachments, tools, and things that could further a plot line. A lot of the technology will be the same but it will all have different purposes. This is gonna be really out of my comfort zone, as most (Y/n) I write are somewhat based on me. If it ever gets too confusing or to OOC, let me know. I want to clarify, (Y/n) is NOT Donnie, I just don't see a lot of reader inserts or x readers with a truly intelligent reader and I thought it'd be cool. The Donnie inspiration was mainly because Ben Schwartz voices Leo from ROTTMNT and Randy.

I want to preface as well, if this does not become a Reader insert, this will be a slow burn. Again, getting out of my comfort zone.

"Congratulations! You have punched all the graves!"

With their signature move, Howard Weinerman a Randy Cunningham congratulated each other, but before they could completed said, 'slappage', Howard moved away.

"Now that we've finished the final final Grave Punchers game, we should talk about the Ninja situation." Howard stepped away, leaving Randy with his fist in the air.

"Okay, I know I'm gonna sound like a broken record on this but...there is no Ninja situation?" Randy asked, dropping his hand.

"Exactly! There is no Ninja situation!" Howard pointed to Randy's desk, where the mask and Nomicon lay, the book still disguised by a Math book cover. "Your Ninja stuff has been sitting at that desk all Spring Break! The stuff's probably collected dust by now." Howard complained.

"Pfft!" Randy waved his hand and crossed his arms defiantly. "N-no, no it hasn't."

Howard raised an eyebrow and blew a large gust of air at the Nomicon. A cloud of dust flew off and towards the boys, causing them to cough.

"Okay, okay. You might have a point." Randy walked to his desk and grabbed his mask. The red lines pulsed softly. "But, the Sorcerer's gone. And with him gone, McFist has no reason to fight me." Randy waved his hand for emphasis.

"Doesn't he hate the Ninja?" Howard asked.

Randy guffawed, "No one hates the Ninja!"

"I hate the Ninja!" A scratchy voice boomed throughout the circular room. "I just wanna punch him in his stupid Ninja face." He grumbled, slouching in his chair. The short burly man mashed his fists together angrily for emphasis. The man's face turned bright red, starkly contrast from his dark Judge's robe, hence the name they all knew him by.

"Whoo, take 'er easy there, Judge. You'll get wrinkles." The melodic voice came from the dark skinned woman sitting to the right of the Judge. She was staring into a compact mirror, although her counter parts were unaware as to how seeing as her fluffy hair was covering her eyes completely. With one hand holding the mirror, she used her other hand to apply bright red lipstick, the shade on the bottom read, 'Snake's Blood'.

"Yeah, you're starting to look like McFist." The sassy voice came from a tall tan man with brunette hair, elegantly styled.

"I am not-!!" The Judge angrily stood, his face red. He took a deep breath and sat back down, gently setting down his gavel after he angrily held it over his head. "I am not like Hannibal McFist."

"What's with this obsession over the Ninja lately?" The woman asked, setting her compact mirror back in her purse. "We're perfectly fine with how we're operating things now."

"And it's not like the Ninja notices small crimes, he's more focused on Monsters and Robots, right?" The brunette asked.

"Not anymore." The Judge shook his head. "The Sorcerer's gone, and with him out of the way, those Robots are soon to follow. It won't be long before he gets desperate." The Judge reached across the table and grabbed the small remote that sat in the middle. Pressing the red button, a projection appeared on the wall being the skinny brunette. "Last night. The Ninja overturned our truck of stolen money, the cops found it right after." Pictures of a dark figure, with, what looked like, a large mallet standing on top of the overturned truck, red and lights flashing behind them, making the lines on the suit look purple. The Judge turned off the projection.

"So we gotta go bigger." The woman smirked.

"How do you figure?" The brunette asked.

The woman, about to answer, stopped as her phone rang. She pulled it out of her blazer and answered sweetly, "Deputy Mayor Kranski. Oh, hi, hon!" Kranski giggled quietly, holding her other hand up to the phone to try to conceal her words, "I'm in a meeting, honey!" She stood straight once more, hand back at her side. "Yep, meatloaf is on the top shelf."

"Kranski." The Judge rolled his eyes.

"Okay, love you too. Buh-bye." Kranski smiled sweetly, hanging up.

The brunette looked at his nails out of boredom, then looked back up at Kranski. "You were saying?"

"The Ninja is used to dealing with larger threats. So why don't we give him one?" Kranski smirked, folding her hands together.

The Judge's eyes widened, "And how do you suppose we do that?"

"We don't exactly have the funds to do that. And before you start, I'm a rich designer. You want a guy to build robots, you should have gotten my old roommate." The brunette checked his nails again.

"Once again, you offer no help, Damien." The Judge rolled his eyes.

"But, I did hear that your old high school is having an invention convention in a few days. Maybe we could...sponsor one of the brilliant students to help us?" Damien smirked.

"My old high school..." The Judge looked off in the distance, remembering his old days in school. He rubbed his Norrisville alumni ring as he recalled the happy, the sad, the humiliation...oh the humiliation... "That might just be the best idea you've had yet." The Judge smirked.

The three began laughing, first small, then growing to loud chaotic laughter.

"Just you wait, Ninja. We're coming." The Judge smirked.

"I don't know about this (Y/n)."

"Bucky, you're gonna be fine. I'm a scientist—"

"You're fourteen!" Bucky interrupted.

"Still technically a scientist." (Y/n) poked her head up from behind her desk, goggles plastered on her head. The left lens was wide and red, much closer to the metal band connecting the goggles than the right lens. The right lens was slightly extended past the left and was blue. "Move to the right a bit." She commanded, motioning with her hand for her companion to move to his right.

Buck looked down at the ground and shuffled to the right, now more centered on the red 'X' on the ground.

(Y/n) grinned and gave a thumbs up, a noise of confirmation exiting her lips before she resumed her fast typing.

"So what does this do again?" Bucky asked, looking around at the dangerous equipment aimed at his head.

"Oh this? It's just a simple home alarm." (Y/n) waved her hand above her screens so Bucky could see.

"Simple, right." Buck nodded, but did not agree at all. "Has anyone ever told you that you tend to go a little overboard?" Bucky asked.

(Y/n) peeked around her screens again, goggles now over her eyes, "No, why?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued typing.

Bucky anxiously tapped his arms to his side but stopped once one of the large metal arms adjusted near his head.

"Okay!" (Y/n) clapped her hands and stood, slightly scaring Bucky. "If I did this right, you shouldn't get hurt! At least not too bad." (Y/n) mumbled. Flipping her goggles back onto the top of her head, she added some last minute adjustments.

"What was that?" Bucky asked quickly, sweating in all uncomfortable places.

"And 3, 2,-" Before she could press the 'enter' button on her large complicated keyboard, all of her screens changed to a cute emoticon of her face. The emoticon had half lidded eyes, goggles, and a lazy smirk, much like the counterpart that made it.

'School. School. It's time for the most important time of the day. School. School. As Galileo said,"All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them."'

(Y/n) turned off the alarm with a sigh. "As much as I'd love to listen to quotes from famous scholars all day, Galileo is right. It's time to discover new truths!" (Y/n) stood, finger raised in the air boldly. She grabbed her (f/c) satchel (A/N: sorry, just a question. Would you guys want you to have more inclusive things like (f/c) or (f/drink) or should I keep it Donnie-esque? Keep the favorite color purple and the favorite drink flavorless juice.) and Bucky's bag. She pulled her phone out of her (f/c) hoodie and began typing quickly with just her thumb, her previous excitement suddenly disappearing. (Y/n) began walking out of the dimly lit room, eyes trained on the screen. "You might want to follow quickly, because I accidentally pressed the button." (Y/n) said as she rushed out of the room.

The beeping of the mechanical appendages and weapons powering up around Bucky, made him gulp.

[moralesmilesanhour]

mad props! 04

summary: in the week leading up to the show, your grades begin to slip. whatever will you do... word count: 1820 a/n: hiii i rlly enjoyed writing this chapter bc some of the stuff in here has definitely happened to me lmao. if you feel up to it, reblog and tell me what your favorite song from any musical is in the tags! songs mentioned: 'Chip On My Shoulder' - Legally Blonde the Musical (Original Broadway Cast Recording) prev next

“Max, you’re a little flat, hun.”

The choir director pulled her shawl tightly around her as Max–the chosen casting for Emmett Forrest–ran through some of his sung lines for ‘Chip On My Shoulder’. 

The brown-skinned, dark-haired boy was an excellent actor; he breathed life into the words on the script and delivered them with all the earnestness and humor required to play Emmett. Hell, he even improvised his own jokes.

But he couldn’t hold a note to save his life. 

For some lines, Max could get away with half-singing, half-talking, but he was practically tone-deaf once the song got more involved. The choir director–Ms. Johnson–had to be called in to help get him somewhere that was at least within the ballpark of the correct pitch. His high notes remained painful to all present in the room, no matter what she did.

You huffed from your spot on the fake park bench, resisting the urge to scratch your scalp beneath the itchy wig. Everyone had heard the exact melody on the piano by now. Hear it, sing it. Like Spanish vocabulary, you couldn’t comprehend how people got that sort of thing wrong.

Harmonizing with Max went about as expected; you lost your place several times because of the distracting dissonance between your voice and his, like hearing a parrot and an eagle squawk at the same time.

Regardless, it was too late to recast Max now. He had a leading role with too many songs and lines to memorize. 

“Alright, take five!” the director yelled with a clap of her hands. 

A collective sigh could be heard as students dispersed for their well-earned water and bathroom breaks, the tension in the air dissipating. You stepped carefully off of the stage, when you heard a snicker in your direction.

Miles was in the middle of painting a cardboard sorority building in an obnoxious shade of hot pink, shaded with strokes of fuchsia and cyan that managed to work together somehow. You frowned at the fact that you couldn’t say anything bad about it.

The boy struggled to hold back a laugh, looking up as you stood over him with crossed arms.

“Something funny?”

Miles stood to meet your eyes, carelessly wiping bits of paint onto his pants.

“That frumpy-ass 613 wig you got on, for one,” he replied with a teasing grin. “Are you gonna wear that for the actual show?”

You rolled your eyes.

“No, for your information, I’m not. This is a placeholder wig,” you ripped it off of your head for emphasis. “Why are you even here, anyway? Don’t you got posters to make?”

In actuality, you knew about the art club lending some of its members to paint sets for the show. But you wanted to make sure Miles knew he was unwelcome.

“Just doin’ what I do best,” he shrugged. “You should be grateful for my sacrifice.”

You snorted, “What ‘sacrifice’?”

Miles jabbed his thumb behind him towards the left side of the stage, where Max was going over his lines. “I gotta listen to that nigga sing for over an hour. I’m sacrificing my time and my ears.”

Despite yourself, you laughed brightly at the comment, causing a more genuine smile to spread across Miles’ face. You looked pretty when you laughed.

“Oh my god, he sucks, right? Spent the whole damn song looking for the note.”

“Too late to replace him now, though. Show’s in two weeks.”

You nodded.

There was a brief pause before Miles asked, “So what made you sign up for theater? I was kinda surprised to see you on a stage.”

You gave him a wary look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he raised both hands in defense, “You just seemed like more of the quiet type, that’s all.”

I signed up to avoid you, you thought, but didn’t say aloud; That would’ve given him the satisfaction of knowing that you thought about him that much.

Instead, you answered, “I used to do theater at my old school. Got the lead part most of the time, if you can believe it.”

There was an arrogance in your voice as you said that last bit that soured Miles’ expression. 

“I believe you, no need to convince me,” he said flatly. “Legally Blonde’s an interesting choice, though.”

You shrugged, “The part really lets me show my voice off, so...”

“Showin’ off,” Miles muttered beneath his breath, “Sounds like you.”

“Excuse me?”

Before you could start to argue, his eyes went wide, like he’d just heard a noise that no one else could hear.

“It was really nice talking to you, Y/N, but I gotta go,” he said, spinning on his heel and bolting towards the auditorium door. “Watch my stuff for me!”

Your jaw dropped in offense. Was he allowed to just bail on a club activity like that? And with the gall to ask you to watch his things for him. You totally did, though.

Once you got home, your feet throbbed and your muscles ached from all of the choreography. You were just barely out of your school uniform when you decided to lie down for a quick nap. Or what you thought was a ‘quick nap’.

The blaring of your alarm made your heart jump as your eyes flew open, half of your face damp with drool. The early morning washed over your room in a pale blue shade, and the sight would’ve relaxed you if not for the sudden realization that you weren’t in your pajamas.

You shot up, wiping the side of your face with your sleeve. Your Spanish and AP Physics notebooks were still strewn across your bed, along with several worksheets that had remained blank. Unfinished.

…Oh no.

Your heart was practically in your throat when you explained to Mr. Sanchez why you didn’t have any homework for him to collect. 

The man noticed your glassy eyes, and held up a reassuring hand in the middle of your frantic explanation.

“That’s fine, it happens,” he said gently, “Just bring in the missing work tomorrow, and it’ll only be ten points off. Don’t make it a habit.”

He adjusted his glasses, and returned to grading the pile of worksheets on his desk as you trudged back to your desk, a pit forming in your stomach over those precious ten points.

“You good?” Miles asked as you sat down, concern coloring his features. He ran a finger over a small band-aid on his right temple. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

You buried your face in your arms on the desk.

“Nunya.”

He sighed, “I dunno why I even asked.”

Unfortunately for both you and Mr. Sanchez, missing assignments did, in fact, become a habit. 

You began to spend more time lingering in the auditorium after everyone had left, practicing your line delivery. Adding little details, like extra hair flips or twirls. The spirit of Elle Woods had practically taken over your body.

You got home later and later into the evening, sometimes flopping down onto your bed and falling asleep before your head could even hit the pillow. This new ‘habit’ had you scribbling down vocab words and formulas in a frenzy, balancing your notebook on your lap on the bumpy bus ride to school. The flashcards that you had made for Mr. Sanchez’s class were now sitting untouched at the bottom of your bag.

By Friday, it landed you in front of his desk for office hours after you received your very first ‘F’. 

“As you’ve probably noticed, Y/N, your grades have fallen a significant amount in a very short period of time, and I’m a little concerned,” Sanchez slid your weekly grade report towards you and placed his finger on your Spanish grade. “What’s going on? This is very unusual for a student like you.”

Your sweaty fingers clutched the sides of your seat as you stared down at the report. How did you let it get this bad? Elle Woods would never.

“I-I just…”

You shook your head. “I’ve just been busy with extracurriculars and stuff, so assignments slip my mind sometimes.”

“You’re having trouble balancing them with your schoolwork?”

“Yeah, basically,” you leaned forward, looking desperate. “Can I still re-take that quiz? I didn’t really get to study, and–”

“Oh! That’s actually what I called you in for, one second.”

Sanchez rose from his seat, and made his way over to the door.

“You know about our Study Buddy system, yes?”

You nodded slowly, skeptically. “Am I getting a ‘Study Buddy’?”

“Pre-cisely. Come in!”

He opened the door, and you almost groaned audibly at the lanky figure that appeared at the entrance.

Miles entered with a friendly smile on his face that dropped the second his eyes landed on you.

“Oh. You.”

The Spanish teacher sat back down and gestured towards him.

“Miles here is both a native speaker and beyond proficient in this class. He was so kind as to sign up for the program, so I thought it might be nice to pair him up with someone in the same period.”

Shocked into silence, you were unable to say anything other than a quiet “Okay” as you stared blankly in front of you.

Study buddies. With the guy who didn’t even study. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

“He’ll be giving up a bit of his lunch time to tutor you in my classroom. I’d also highly recommend you two study with each other after school as well, if you can make the time. Sound good?”

“Yes,” you both said in miserable unison. 

“Well, that’s all,” Sanchez waved his hand. “You’re both dismissed. Have a lovely weekend!”

“You too!” you smiled tightly as you got up and made a beeline for the door, nearly bumping into Miles as you did so. 

Your weekend would be anything but ‘lovely’.

You fixed Miles with a glare as soon as you got out into the hallway.

“I’m not giving up my lunch period for you,” you yell-whispered. “I hope you know that.”

He took a step towards you and fired back, “Neither of us have a choice, your highness. If we’re not both up here during lunch, I get in trouble, and you gotta take the L and fail this class.”

“I’d rather fail, then. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Oh?” he laughed mirthlessly. “You were in tears over a damn ‘89’. Makes no difference to me, but I think you do give a fuck.”

You opened your mouth to shoot back a rebuttal, then closed it. Miles raised an eyebrow.

“I’m lying?”

“...No.”

Miles leaned forward until he was only inches away from your face. “Then cooperate. Or we both lose.”

You sighed in defeat, “Fine.”

He nodded curtly, then left to go grab his things from his locker.

In a forced attempt at courtesy, you called out towards his back, “See you next week–”

“Whatever!”

taglist (comment to be added!): @vhstown @alaoraangelix @shuna-boin

[hozierandco]

The Match-maker - Part 3 of Callum Turner x Reader // FLUFF

AN: First of all, I apologise part 3 has taken longer than expected. I think I'll stop promising to publish at a certain date when I can't meet expectations. Anyway, this is part 3 which is still kinda fluffy but we're going towards SMUT (which will be part 4 so you will have to wait a bit more for this, sorryyyy). Hope you like it xx

“Would you like to see the pictures I took back to my place?”, Y/N questioned, feeling like the end of the night could well go somewhere unplanned but nice.

“I’d love that”

The night was well advanced and the Park was oddly quiet, perturbed only by the sound of rare sirens afar and some perched daring crows. The conversation went on about upcoming projects, recently watched Netflix shows and family dramas.

Though they had met just a few hours prior, the conversation flowed so smoothly. It was as though Callum, an English 30-ish actor had been through all the throes an American photographer had known. It felt good not only to be heard but to be understood as well, Y/N thought.

Callum could not help but think back on what in his life had led to this. What if he had never flown to New York and had decided to stay in Chelsea instead? What if he had never met Austin, and therefore had never met Y/N? Just to imagine never grazing Central Park in such pleasant company caused him to overthink all the many terrible ways this could end.

He had been heartbroken so many times, getting attached too soon and too quickly or to the wrong person. Over and over again. But he could sense that Y/N was different. Was it because she too had open wounds? Or was it that she was as detail-oriented as he was recounting all the love stories gone bad?

He did not wish to repeat the same mistakes that had led to him being hurt but he knew it was inevitable. He was going to fall for her. It was something about her bonhomie and vision of life that was so goddamn irresistible. 

“There, that’s where I’m living for a couple more days”, Y/N announced as they got to a stop in front of a door made of brick. Queens is not the first neighbourhood of the Big Apple you’re thinking of when you think of all the glam and romantic appeal the city has to offer but here it was. 

Though she had taken the subway already earlier in the evening to set her gear before attending the party, Y/N was still amazed at the non-stop functioning engine. She liked to imagine everyone’s life, now she had the occasion to imagine hers either choice she was about to make: to trust or not to trust that smiling actor who seemed unable to hurt a fly.

“Let me show you the camera obscura I set up in here”, Y/N declared with pride tinting her voice as she hinted that Callum could enter. At that moment, it felt the most natural thing to do, as though Callum was a familiar, as though Y/N had invited him over multiple times. 

In the small room she had tidied neat to exhibit her photographs of the city and those she was about to develop from the Gala, the two stood next to one another, feeling comfortable with each other’s presence. Because it was required by the device she had carried with her from one coast to the other, Y/N had placed some towel she had found in the bathroom and had arranged it over the lightbulb. The whole installation made the light flip crimson anytime she was turning on the switch. 

With this new shade of red covering his face, Callum could be admired the way he was created to be. He was a handsome man with this charm of a man who has no idea how ridiculously daunting and comely he was. It seemed as though his smile was wider than it had been through the evening. Y/N could not let go of the chance she had to kiss him just a little more, crossing her fingers that he would not disappear and that all of this was not just a fever dream. 

Though it was close to 2 am, though the two of them had not closed their eyes to rest for the past 19 hours or something like that, there was no way their lack of sleep was getting in the way of the chemistry they shared at that moment. 

Y/N was still in her black dress that Callum had made swirl just a couple hours prior with his dance moves. She was even more beautiful now that no one was around and that she had no performative socialisation to make. It was as though she was hers only, her precious treasure chest after a long journey to a remote island.

“So, can I help you with tonight’s pictures?” Callum offered with a heavenly grin on his face, just seconds after parting from her embrace and kisses.

And like that, Y/N was talking about the invention of the camera obscura and teaching him about the techniques to develop pictures from a film camera. Callum, being an actor, was a pro in front of the cameras but had no clue as to how they worked and was more than happy his teacher was both nerdy when it came to the subject and drop dead beautiful.

After having taught the basis, Y/N trusted Callum to develop pictures on his own. Seeing him being enthusiastic and caring with the films made him even more irresistible.

“I think this one has to be my favourite photograph so far”, Callum stated after letting a bunch of pictures taking a bath and allowing them to dry out. The photograph in question was a selfie of Y/N had taken right before the Gala started as a souvenir of this ethereal occasion. The only photograph from the selection that had her face on it. 

“Now, since you’ve been an excellent photographer, will you allow me to take some pictures of you?” Y/N asked, brushing off the compliment. 

Callum sat on the leather couch that seemed straight out from an Ikea catalogue and posed for Y/N. He could feel her eyes going from the camera to him and back to the camera, making sure she had the right angle to capture his beauty as a whole. It was a losing battle as Callum could not be as handsome as the version she had in front of her. She thought that if he was to vanish when the day would come, she would at least have the pictures to rely on.

As Callum was somehow obliged to look at the camera - and the person holding it -, the tension got to him. She was way too gorgeous not to be the one posing. As she fixed her zoom lens, he approached her and gave her another round of kisses. This time around, Y/N and Callum could feel there were more than kisses to get from this and touches on the thighs and torso succeeded.

“Is that okay if I’m touching you like that?” Callum asked Y/N as she grew desperate for the touch. 

“Yes, it’s more than okay. It’s just perfect”

The two of them carried on, competing as to who would be the most passionate. Callum brought Y/N’s mouth closer to his and after a few more kisses placed on her lips, got to her neck. Still on the sofa, Callum lay his weight on Y/N as he found new spots to soak with his affection.

[cheerleaderman]

“Come follow my dear mouse I’ll shall show you the way ” Is probably something she would have said”

[SSR] Yuya Florence- Fantasmic Adventure

Event by @theolivetree123

Voice lines and notes under the cut mention of Elias

Groovy: [Locked]

Home: I was pretty much assigned this role others said that this would be perfect for me.

Home idle 1 : My character? The mouse calls me “the fairy” as my character gives no name or any lines. How do I put this she’s more of an important side character.

Home idle 2 : My role is like a guide for the mouse popping in and out throughout the story, showing up when the mouse feels lost or lonely , light of hope that stuff ,though the mouse is the only one who can see the fairy so many argue if she’s the mouse’s consciousness or a real being.

Home idle 3 : Elias is very excited for this I hope I don’t mess it up for him…in between practicing he has been telling me about his favorite fairy tales.

Home idle- login : Make sure to get your cues right Yuya.

Home idle-groovy : [Locked]

Home tap 1 : Even though I have no line I still have to get my movements right, as I’m also kinda a prop for  representing light , what do I mean by that? Like with the pirates finding light to lead their way the actors would point or look towards me when I appear…Mainly it’s for extra visuals given the audience sometimes to look at.

Home tap 2 : Astrid has been helping with the set dressing, I heard him tell Kalim not to just go crazy they still need to make the set look nice

Home tap 3 : My glasses have a shade thing on it so I don’t need to worry that much about the light, besides the harsher light is casted behind me

Home tap 4 : I put Riddle in charge of Grim , he promised to give a lovely collars if anymore fits happen.

Home tap 5 : Iris and Ortho have been having fun with lighting and the technical stuff, they’re both part of the film appreciation club so they have experience.

Home tap-groovy: [Locked]

For Yuya’s role I thought about northern star leading the way and stuff like as Yuya is a star also like get people talking “who is the fairy?” “what does she represent?”like in theory videos, 

Jan that was quick, listen I had the idea a ran with it and I was really excited

Doodle of Yuya’s outfit wanted to make them fairy tale like

[sagesolsticewrites]

Hiya could you do Harry Crosby + “ if you asked me to marry you tomorrow, i'd say yes. “ “ what about today?” from one of your drabble prompt lists please and thanks 💛

Thank you so much for requesting, Nonnie! I’ve adored these Masters of the Air requests, especially getting to write for Harry my love!! Our favorite navigator 🥰

Quick warning that there is a nonzero chance of historical inaccuracies here, and the timeline may be a little off, but I did actual research for this one y’all! New additions to the ever-growing Useless Knowledge section of my brain: knowing where Lt. Harry Crosby studied for college (he was working on his graduate degree at the University of Iowa when the Pearl Harbor attack occurred; he went back to finish his degree there in 1947 and earned his PhD from Stanford University in 1953!), when and why he joined the Army Air Forces (paused his studies at U of I to enlist after Pearl Harbor), and where he was sent for his training (Mathers Field, California) before being stationed in Idaho, and eventually at East Anglia. Look at me go lol 🤪 Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

a/n: well, that’ll teach me not to try to format my fics on mobile 😂 I guess the Harry fic’s coming out today! Hope you like it Nonnie <3

Masterlist

Just Say Yes

You waited anxiously under the maple tree at the edge of the campus courtyard, fiddling with the worn, creased paper in your hands — Harry’s last letter, telling you that this next visit home would likely be his last before he was transferred to Idaho, and then to who knows where.

I’ll meet you under our tree, pretty girl, the letter had read, Saturday, our usual time?

The tree— the very maple tree you stood in the shade of now— was where you had met often when you were both students at the University of Iowa, studying English. The tradition had started when you were paired up for a project, and Harry asked if you would mind working outside.

“I think better in the fresh air,” he had said, almost apologetically, and you had agreed almost instantly, captivated by the quiet but clearly very smart boy who sat next to you in class.

Even after the project was over and graded, you continued to meet under that tree nearly every day at 2 o’clock after class to compare class notes or exchange feedback on essays.

And after nearly four months of meeting and working together, it was under that tree where Harry Crosby finally asked you out on a date.

Leaning back against the tree, you were jolted out of your trip down memory lane by a familiar voice calling your name.

Grinning, you turned to see Harry strolling towards you, dapper in his dress uniform, one arm raised in greeting, the other cradling a bouquet of tulips— your favorite.

You pushed off from the tree, unable to wait a single second longer, and sprinted to meet him, uncaring of the students staring at the crazy lady running across their campus.

He opened his arms as the distance between you lessened until you crashed into him, burying your head in his chest. He stumbled back a bit, absorbing your momentum, but he was quick to embrace you, quicker still to turn your momentum into a dizzying, joyous twirl, lifting your feet off the ground.

You let out a gleeful laugh as the world spun around you, and pulled him in for a long-overdue kiss once your feet were firmly back on the ground.

After the two of you reluctantly pulled apart, you cupped his face in your hands, drinking him in: lips stained red from your lipstick, hat knocked askew, uniform now more than a little wrinkled, and best of all, those warm brown eyes you had missed so much overflowing with love.

He looked as dapper as ever.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured with a smile, a greeting for your ears only.

It had been so long since you’d heard those words from his lips, and all you could do was blink back the tears that sprang to your eyes as you replied with a simple, tender “Hi.”

Understanding filled his eyes, and he pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead and allowing you a moment to compose yourself before the two of you headed back towards your tree.

“Oh!” He said, holding the bouquet out to you as if he just now remembered he had it, “For you, m’lady.”

You took the bouquet, fingering the delicate pink and yellow petals. “They’re beautiful, Harry,” you smiled up at him, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my girl,” he said, gesturing for you to sit and make yourself comfortable first before he settled next to you in the shade.

“So,” he said, wrapping an arm around you, “Tell me everything. What have I missed? How’d that paper go that you were telling me about?”

You couldn’t help but light up at the mention of your latest paper— your pride and joy, your best work yet if you didn’t say so yourself— and at Harry’s encouraging smile, you rambled on about themes and motifs and parallels, Harry occasionally chiming in with a suggestion that made the connections you had made even clearer.

Despite the plethora of letters you had sent each other, each doing your best to keep the other updated, you and Harry never seemed to run out of things to talk about: the conversation flowed from your latest paper to how Harry had been giving the guys some book recommendations based on your suggestions, to the small bookshop you had taken to visiting, compiling a list of titles for him that you thought he’d enjoy. Harry mentioned that some of his comrades had set up a small library of sorts in the barracks, running on the honor system, but they’d likely need to shut it down soon, with people moving to their more permanent placements.

“Oh that reminds me,” Harry said, digging in his pocket for a moment before triumphantly revealing a scrap of paper with his distinctive scrawl.

“Plenty of the guys are getting letters from their wives and sweethearts,” he said, slipping you the small piece of paper with the address of his next assignment in Boise, “I wanna make sure I’m one of ‘em.”

“Getting letters from your wife, or your sweetheart?” You asked playfully, tucking the slip of paper safely in your pocket.

“Uh.. Well, I mean…” Harry stammered, trying very hard not to think about the small box in his pocket.

“Hey,” you pause to assure him, “I was just kidding.” Under the shade of your tree, you rested your head on his shoulder, looking out at the courtyard. “I know we’re a little young, but…” You took a deep breath, entwining your fingers with his, “If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.”

You caught the barest hint of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you glanced over to see a small box held out to you.

A box in Harry’s hand that was open to reveal a delicate gold ring.

“What about today?” Harry asked softly, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek.

“I— Harry—” You were speechless, your world zeroing in on that small gold band before realizing that you had been silent for far too long.

You nodded furiously, turning to kiss him before you could even get the words out.

“Is that a—”

Harry’s tentative question was cut short by your lips crashing onto his. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, kissing you back with equal fervor, the ring box left in your lap.

You both eventually pulled away, gasping for air. Harry’s forehead remained pressed to yours, chocolate brown eyes locked on you.

“Was that a yes?” He asked, lips still just barely brushing yours, and you could feel him trying not to smile.

You were an English major. There were a thousand words you could have said, a thousand speeches of acceptance and love and devotion you could have made.

Only one word mattered to you just then.

“Yes.”

[scribe-of-hael]

No shade to Cyberverse fans but …

Is that show REALLY anyone’s number one Transformers show?

I actually really came to like Cyberverse. It's goofy and has its flaws much like every TF show does. Some goofy voice acting here and there and dead ass not correcting the voice actors in how to pronounce things - and the story jumped around a bit.

Feels like towards the end it was extremely rushed and I feel that was due to well...What every TF show seems to struggle with Hasbro and the looming fate of being canceled.

There were moments in this show that genuinely had me hooked, exicted, also so many WTF moments that had me laughing. I know some ppl don't like the models but really like the animation and style. (I like way more than RID , yeah ,im a hater lol /hj).

Also Starscream is such a unhinged delight in it lol plus he also has a scream attack like in TFA so mega win for me.

Even bringing in IDW characters like Whirl, Drift, and Rodimus. (Also Whirl is adorable in this show I treasure him). I also like the fact there are no humans for the show exspect for a brief moment and mostly on the news.

Even with Femme Bots like Shadowstriker, Arcee, Windblade,Slipstream. They are all very bad ass ! I feel like they acutally had friendships and times to show the bots being goofy. At the end of the day

Cybertronians are people, who have lives, friendships and are lil quirky/wierd.

I really didn't hear the best things about Cyberverse , but I am genuinely happy I gave it a watch and I was sad that it ended. I really did want more and there was alot of set up. But I'm almost certain because ethe plug was being pulled they had to scramble to get to a decent ending.

I'm sure to someone out there, Cyberverse is their everything! Their first show , their introduction. It's definitely made it to be one of my favorites ♡

-----

That being said.

My only thing is digging it back up after about its been done and faced so many problems. That they are willing to dig it back up instead of maybe putting better effort into a new show they just made. And frustrated that is probably just an opportunity to keep making toys with the Cyberverse molds. Which we can NEVER escape from. Even with Earthspark toys.

Shockwave, wheeljack and Starscream are all just CV molds.

I do know that because of Covid this show got probably fucked over as well. So, its just hard.

[mosaickiwi]

Illusion of Choice

After one too many bad ends, [REDACTED] guides you to his perfect ending. 900ish words, GN reader.

cw// mild absurd dream and surreal horror elements

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

"Angel."

A honeyed voice rouses you awake. You open your eyes to see a stage above you. You jump to your feet in surprise—but you don't remember ever sitting down. Just moments ago, you'd gone to bed, you were sure of it. So where were you now?

As your eyes scan the dimly lit room, you take in the vast emptiness, broken only by two chairs, sitting side by side. Strangely, you don't feel alone. 

"Hello?" you call out. The sound of your voice doesn't even echo. Glowing lights flicker to life behind you and you turn around to face the stage, rooted in place.

Cold as ice, you suddenly feel rough fingers wrap over your shoulders, leading you to sit back down in your seat and face forward. Whoever—or whatever—sits next to you, whispers in the hauntingly sweet voice that woke you, "Watch closely." One cold hand falls from your shoulder, lacing through your fingers as the show begins.

The curtain slowly opens into an oddly joyful scene. A summer evening in Corland Bay, full of life and laughter as people mill about painted cardboard shops and restaurants along a makeshift pier. It's all cast in a warm glow that mimics a setting sun. You can even hear ocean waves, though they're tinged with the buzz of an audio device. An actor walks toward the center stage with a smile. Brown hair and golden eyes speak of someone familiar to you, but try as you might, you can't put a name to them.

"Hey, [ANGEL]," they say with a cheerful laugh, seeming to address someone just out of view. That didn't sound quite right; the movement of their lips didn't match the static laced words you heard. "Me and [TRASH] haven't seen you in a few days. You must be real busy with that new boyfriend. We actually planned karaoke at a bar for tomorrow night, wanna come?"

All of a sudden, you're on stage with them, a spotlight flickering to life and bathing you in a pale, blinding light. The actor stares at you, and the people behind them seem to stop and stare as well. The entire stage grinds to a halt, even the crackling audio of waves dying down. Everyone's waiting for you to say something. You aren't sure what's happening. It’s not as if you were given a script. Maybe you only need to agree? "Yes, that sounds—"

"Booooo," you hear from that honey sweet voice, a chorus of jeers joining in. You look out into the empty audience, surprised to see yourself. At least it felt like yourself, except nothing about the vaguely human shape seemed real. The person to the left of what's supposed to be you is a shadowy blur that only hurts the more you look at it, except for their scarred hands still draped around you, and their eyes. Piercing, blood red eyes. 

But that was wrong. They were supposed to be blue, you knew it. A pretty ocean blue that always caught your attention. But instead they're a horrid, deep shade of red that seems to drop in and out of focus. They're watching expectantly, and you realize you made a mistake. The right words come to you before you even know what you're saying.

"I have plans, sorry," you correct yourself. You feel something bubble in the back of your throat, urging you to continue in a garbled, almost scratching, voice. "[I don't want to see you]"

The curtain snaps shut and you jolt. You're back in your seat, as if you never moved. The hand gently grasping yours feels just as freezing as before. Something tells you not to look to your left. You feel movement, then someone’s resting their chin on your shoulder, almost as if they’re content.

"That's good, Angel," the voice whispers at your ear. You fight back a shiver. "Remember your lines for next time. Hah… I can’t wait to hear them. You’ll do great, I know it." The hand holding yours grips a little tighter as they nuzzle against your neck. You hear a shaky, excited breath, then there's a stinging pain as teeth—

An ear piercing sound comes from somewhere around you. You blindly reach out for your alarm, knocking it to the floor. With a huff, you sat up angrily. Your heart was pounding in your chest as if you ran a marathon—maybe a bad dream? Though you couldn't remember a thing about it.

The alarm only seems to get louder as you grumble, rolling to the side of your bed and picking it up. You turn it off before realizing you didn't have work today, so you set it last night for nothing. 

There's an all too familiar pinging noise as you crawl out of the covers; somehow it startles you worse than the alarm did. The screen of your laptop flickers to life with a notification. You tiredly walk over to peer at it. A red dot hovers over a program, but your eyes are drawn to a different icon.

"I guess I'll play a little before breakfast," you muse to yourself and pick up the laptop. You quickly settle back on your bed and tap the bright pink heart as you yawn. Just a few more tries wouldn’t hurt, right?

[system-architect]

ok here's my collected JW thoughts in general. obviously this is spoilers

OK.................................... so i think anet is Back. its not quite "we are SO back" levels but it COULD be "we are SO back" levels depending on what they do in the next installment

they did good, though, and i think the most obvious jump in quality is actually in the maps themselves. they feel so much better than soto maps just to run around in and explore. theres a LOT more detail and they actually feel pretty intriguing and immersive with a lot of fun easter eggs and surprises!

the story didnt always hit for me but it was still overall Better than soto. the first instance alone grabbed me more than all of soto had tbh. the bears don't personally interest me but the mursaat do, and we're getting somewhere with all the bloodstone and titan stuff

i DO enjoy the angle of the commander starting to go kind of lie-lie man acting in personal interests. isgarren is a bitch but we can also be rude to waiting sorrow for no reason oops sorry nice again haha oh man how'd this bear teleport here that's craaazy.. there were points at which i actively lost track of who we had lied to about what and when, and while the confusion grated me a bit it was also funny in a way? like yeah if i was the commander i'd lose track of this shit too right

the commander doesn't have much of a personality technically, beyond "person who does good(TM) things", and what we make of our canon commander's personality is mostly just our own notions and conceptions and interpretations being placed on them, BUT that said it felt like the story did take the commander in some interesting directions for me.

i felt like i got the sense that the commander really is sort of a "free agent" now, which is fun. when you've already killed all the dragons and your life's purpose is TECHNICALLLLYYY over but you're still around and you're still many things to many people, what do you do with your life? this, apparently.

i like us being kind of a mirror of isgarren in the sense that the comm is an ultra powerful guy, with a lot of worldly+scholarly experience at this point, who a lot of other very powerful figures respect and Need, but that not everyone necessarily Likes. yeah this is our free-range deployable killing machine politician who's kind of strange interpersonally.

my favorite instance in the whole story was the one with the bloodstone ghosts btw. i thought they did a really good job imbuing each with a fair amount of personality and showcasing a wide array of perspectives on what happened in gavril-- a thing which i was prepared to not be particularly interested in tbh, and yet...

ALSO, the voice actor for the gavril citizen ghost was SUPER good! i'm pretty sure they were a new VA but i'd really love to hear more voicework from them. in general i felt a lot of the VA work in this xpac banged-- it feels like they got a decent amount of new/fresh talent?? it's been nice, i hadn't realized how stale the world was starting to feel only hearing the same 3-5 voices constantly (no shade towards the longer-standing VAs who DO do a good job, i just wished for more variety)

REALLY liking the amount of unique voice lines and racial dialogue also

features wise its also been pretty good! i like the repeat renown heart thing plus the return of the hearts. as a revenant with a condi set i cant say ive got any issues with the spears LOL. and warclaw is super fun once you get the hang of it-- i like that it has a learning curve and some nuance like most older mounts do, as opposed to skyscale's fairly 'flat' mobility. have NOT really tried out decorating my homestead yet and ive heard mixed opinions on it, so we'll see how i feel there!

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

Pt 3: Searching for Spector

word count: 4k

warnings: violence, language, afab!reader

summary: Sage has some struggles in London and Steven is adorable

a/n: thanks for reading! thanks for waiting for me to post!! Sorry it’s taking forever! Please don’t forget me!!

part one here

part two here

The bright light stings your eyes as they fly open, your heart beating out of your chest. You don’t even realize you’re gripping the pillow too tight until your knuckles hurt. You can hear the bustle of cars and the smell of coffee coming from down the street. It helps calm you down.

Standing up, the cold floor of the hotel meets your sock-clad feet, sending a shock wave through your body. You shuffle your way to the bathroom, eyes still burning from sleep. You’re met with the dingiest bathroom and slowly pull back the shower curtain like the final girl in a horror movie. Luckily, no killer is waiting behind the curtain, just a tiny yellowed tile shower stall.

You watch as the water washes the soap down the drain. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you let your eyes lose focus and imagine the water washing the nightmare down the drain. Out of the shower, you look at yourself in the mirror and trail your eyes over the scars before putting on your clothes for the day.

Leaving the hotel, you step into the bustling street and follow the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting from a nearby cafe. You enter the cafe and grab a small warm cup of coffee, the warmth seeping into your hands.

Reaching the museum you venture in and join a group of people waiting in front of a woman wearing a tag that says Tour Guide. While looking around a figure catches your eye. It's Marc; his brown curls instantly make him recognizable. You pause, watching him from the periphery of the tour group.

Marc’s face is alight with enthusiasm as he interacts with the children. You slowly move away from the group and as you approach the counter, you hear his passion for ancient Egypt in every word he speaks. Keeping your gaze down, you feign interest in the pamphlets that adorn the area. After a moment, he acknowledges your presence, his passion still evident in his eyes. It nearly forces you to lose focus.

"Need help today, ma'am?" A British voice hits your ears, and you're sure you must have misheard. You had been expecting a gruff Chicagoan accent, not a gentle British accent, to come out of his mouth.

"Oh, uh, I don't believe so." Your smile causes his cheeks to tinge a lovely shade of pink. "I'm just taking everything in."

"I see. Well, do let me know if you have any questions. I'm Steven." He points to his name tag and tilts his head with a smile. There's no hitch in his accent—not one part where he messes up the tone or inflection or does anything that gives away the part he's playing. He's a great actor.

'Steven' picks up a box of plush hippos from the floor and steps out from behind the counter. He throws one more smile your way, but you've got your eyes on a brochure, appearing not to notice him leaving. From the corner of your eye, you watch him walk down the hall to a door. You decide it's best if you're gone before he returns, so after standing there for a few more heartbeats, you turn and walk out.

Before interacting with Marc/Steven again, you spend a few days observing from rooftops and lurking in shadows. By the third day of watching, you have his routine memorized down to the smallest detail. He leaves his apartment every morning between 7:30 and 7:45. He’s at work until 6:00 and makes his way back to the flat around 7:30 to 8:00. The lights go out in his flat around 10:00 and come back on throughout the night.

After a week, you decide to insert yourself into Marc's life. You race out of the hotel, lukewarm latte in hand, waiting for ‘Steven’ to come racing down for the bus. As you stand there, you finally spot the messy brown curls speeding towards your location. You step into his path and brace for impact. Seconds later, you're dousing him with coffee, and he’s reaching out to steady you.

“Oh god, are you ok?” His brown eyes are wide in shock, and his hands hold onto your arms. He recognizes you. You were at the museum the other day.

“I’m fine. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t watching, and I’m-” He cuts you off.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I was running. I’m always bloody runnin’.” He lets his eyes look you over as you do the same. His black pants and patterned shirt are now drenched in coffee.

“Oh no, I’ve ruined your entire outfit! I feel horrible.” Steven hadn’t even noticed the coffee that was on him. He had been too focused on you.

“It’s alright, not like it was anything special.” He shrugs his shoulders dramatically.

“But still, I spilled my drink all over you. Is there something I can do to repay you? Like, get you a latte or anything like that?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that. But I’m fine, truly.”

You two stand, and you look him up and down again, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“I promise. Accidents happen, but I bet you I won't run down the street like a madman anymore.” The latter part of the sentence is giggled out, and you can’t stop the real giggle that comes out of you.

He’s ending the conversation and about to step away, but you stop him with a hand on his arm.

“I-uh, could I maybe ask you to get a drink sometime? I just feel awful for spilling my coffee on the cute museum clerk, and I would love to make it up to you. If you let me.” You look up at him through your lashes, and it’s hook, line, and sinker for him.

His eyes, a deep shade of hazel, light up with a mix of surprise and delight as he realizes you remembered him. A faint blush tinges his cheeks, and his voice stutters as he tries to speak. “It’s hard to turn that down when you call me cute, innit?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t turn me down. How about tomorrow? We can go wherever you like, to repay you but also because I have no clue of any good places around. ”

“I get off at 6. Do you want to meet at the museum?” His crooked smile makes him look innocent. He somehow looks nothing like, but also just like the man you’ve seen kill people back to back.

“I’ll see you then. Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too.” He can’t control the excitement in his voice as he watches you walk away. As you are almost out of sight, you turn back to look at him, and he’s in the same spot you left him.

You spend the rest of your day wandering around London. You keep a distance from the mission; if he were to see you again, it would be too much of a coincidence. As you wander the streets of London, you find a park. Entering the park, you sit on one of the benches and watch everyone going about their day.

You watch all the couples holding hands, the families having lunch, and the old people playing games. You let your eyes drift, not focusing on anything—until a face on the other side of the park catches your eye.

A blonde-haired man stares back at you on the other side of the park. You squint and can’t believe your eyes. Steve Rogers is staring back at you. You aggressively rub your eyes, hoping that when you look back, he’ll be gone. But he remains there, refusing to vanish as you had hoped.

You know, logically, it can't be real. There's no way you're looking at Steve Rogers, and there’s no way he's staring directly back at you. But despite everything, you still have a glimmer of hope in your chest as you walk towards him. Moving swiftly past the crowd, your heart races with each step, and your eyes widen with anticipation as you finally lay eyes on him sitting there. You blink right as you reach him, and he disappears into thin air. You’re just staring wildly at an average-looking white guy.

You nod at him before turning and hightailing it out of the park.

Out of the park, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. The bile comes up to your throat as the panic wells in your chest. Tears form in your eyes, and your hearing starts to fade away as the panic takes over. Quickly, you veer off into a side street, out of the public eye. Your breath starts coming out choppy, and as hard as you try, you can't steady your mind.

Memories of the battle with Thanos come rushing back, flickering through your mind like fragmented snapshots. The sound of his fingers snapping resonates amid the battle, creating an overlapping symphony of noise that dissolves into a chilling stillness. Emotions overwhelm you - the simmering anger of losing and the searing pain of witnessing the dusting. As these memories resurface, the emotional turmoil engulfs your mind completely.

Despite your efforts, you can only come up with three things you can see, growing increasingly annoyed by the repetitive counting. There's a buzzing in your pants pocket. When you pull out your phone, Sam's contact picture lights up the screen, his cheerful smile staring back at you. You bet he has a secret sixth sense to know when to pick up the phone and call. You press the answer button but can't bring yourself to speak just yet.

"Hey, you there?" He calls out your name a few times. You choke out a small "hi" as a giant shudder shakes you.

"Are you okay?" There's a bit of panic in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm just, uh-"

He can hear the shakiness in your voice, and he's familiar with the unsteadiness of it.

"Just breathe with me, in through the nose and out through your mouth. In, out, in, out, in, and out."

"I can't find five things I see. I can't get past three fucking things, Sam!"

"Hey, hey, it's all okay. Just focus on breathing right now. Once we get that regulated, we can count together."

You continue to do a few more breathing exercises with Sam's help. Your breathing returns to an almost normal speed, and finally, you count five things you see.

"Thanks, Sam,"

"Of course. Do you want to talk about what triggered it?"

You don't mean to hesitate before answering, but you do. "I thought I saw him."

"Him? Who-"

"Steve. I thought I was seeing Steve. I probably scared the shit of the poor guy I rushed at. Deep down, I knew it couldn't be him, but a small flicker of hope remained. It just brought back all the memories of-" You shake your head, your hands covering your face in disbelief. "I feel so foolish."

"I get it. I still see Riley, especially when it gets closer to the anniversary of his death. You spend so much time with someone, fighting alongside one another, being each other's backup, being family, and then suddenly, it's ripped away without you getting any say. It's hard, and you can't beat yourself up."

"I know, I just-"

"You've been through a lot. Cut yourself some slack, kid." He reassures you; in that moment, you couldn’t be more thankful for Sam.

“I appreciate the help, Sam.”

“It's a good thing I called when I did, huh?” His voice is light and humorous, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I guess.” After deciding you’ve spent too much time being the topic, you change it. “What did you call for?”

"I didn't realize I needed a reason to call my friend."

You roll your eyes at his teasing, "I didn't mean it like that.".

“I heard you roll your eyes. I was just calling to check in on you. I thought about you this morning and realized we hadn’t spoken in a while. So consider yourself checked up on.”

“Thanks for officially checking on me." You laugh out a response.

“Hey, call me if you need to talk. I’m always here.” His voice was serious and reassuring.

“I know, Sam.”

“I mean it, we’re family, kid. Don’t forget that.”

After ending the call, you linger in the alley, savoring the peacefulness before immersing yourself back into the noisy hustle of the sidewalk. When you finally emerge, you find solace in being just another face in the crowd, unnoticed and unbothered by anyone around you.

The next day comes quickly, and before you know it, it’s time to meet with ‘Steven.’

As you approach the museum, you make your way up the steps and patiently wait for him to arrive. After ten minutes, he finally comes into view. You can see the excitement in his eyes as he quickly makes his way towards you, waving in a friendly manner to greet you. Inhaling deeply, you respond to his wave with a wave back, a warm smile gradually appearing on your face.

"Hello." He shuffles his hands together," You look lovely."

"Thanks, so do you. You look very professional. I feel a bit underdressed myself."

"I think you look fantastic, better than fantastic, actually." You feel yourself blushing at his awkward compliments.

"Oh, got you these." He pulls out a box of chocolates and a few flowers. "I hope you enjoy them."

The flowers are slightly crumpled and missing a few petals, which is charming. He notices you eyeing the misshapen flowers, and you're quick to reassure him when you see him scratch his neck in embarrassment.

"Uh, shall we go?" It's like he suddenly realizes you're still standing on the steps.

"Yeah. Lead the way." You gesture with your arms.

The two of you begin walking down the road. There's a comfortable distance between you and an awkward silence before he breaks it.

"What brings you to London?"

"Big Ben," you deadpan, only laughing when you see the stunned look on his face. He chuckles as well once he realizes you're kidding. "I needed a change, an adventure. I just felt restless in my old life. You know?"

"Yeah, I get it." His eyes hold wonder as he looks at you.

You make a bit more small talk before reaching the small restaurant. You follow him through the doors and to a small, intimate table.

You notice that he seems jittery, his hands constantly fidgeting with the edge of his shirt. It makes you wonder if it’s just his personality or if he’s nervous about the date. In the brief five minutes you had been here, he had already finished his water, leaving his cup empty.

"Don't go on dates often, do you?"

"Can't say I do. Is it that obvious?" His eyebrows furrow as he confesses, and you feel bad for asking.

"Don't worry, I don't either. I can't think of the last time a guy even gave me flowers."

He looks at you with eyes wide in shock and mouth slightly gaped.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No love, it's just. I find that bloody ridiculous. I'm surprised you don't have a line of guys following you, just hoping to get your attention." His words feel genuine, not like he's trying to boost you up in hopes of getting in your pants.

As the conversation continues, you feel his performance is too good. It's like he could be Marc's twin brother. The man sitting across from you appears incapable of hurting a fly, let alone another human. But you can't help but feel like there's something more to him than meets the eye.

Observing his gestures, you detect his uneasiness, as if he is trying to find his place in his own body. The presence of purple bags emphasized the tiredness in his sunken brown eyes, while his slightly frizzy hair added a touch of dishevelment to his look. You think about how his lights constantly turn on and off in his apartment and consider prying.

“Ever since I’ve moved here, I find it harder to sleep at night.”

"Yeah? I wish I had that problem. I, uh, have these crazy dreams where I'm fighting people, and I'm always in different places. It's like my mind wants something different, something more. I tend to stay up, trying to avoid them altogether." He blushes as he realizes he's overshared. "Sorry, that's a bit strange, innit?"

"Not in the slightest. After the blimp happened, I went through a period where I couldn't close my eyes without feeling like I or everything would disappear. I would keep myself up for days until I'd crash. Then rinse, repeat." A crooked smile tugs at your lips. He smiles back. The smile is small, and it seems he's trying to be comforting.

Excusing yourself to head to the restroom, Steven promises he'll be there when you return, making you slightly giggle. As you round the corner to return to your table, you don't spot Steven. Getting to the table, you see that cash has been left to cover the dinner, but no note was left for you. Moving quickly, you dash outside, trying to catch him.

Standing on the street, you survey the surroundings, and there’s no sight of him. It's only been four minutes; surely, Steven couldn't have vanished so quickly? Yet, you know that four minutes is ample time for a person to disappear. You shut your eyes, your senses sharpening, and you discern his heartbeat. He's two blocks east, his heart pounding like a racing engine.

You maintain a calm facade as you turn the corner, out of sight of the people lingering around the restaurant. Then, with a burst of speed, you head in his direction. Closing the gap, you veer into an alley, preparing to climb to the rooftops. You barely have time to react when you reach the alley before he's leaping from one building to another.

After reaching the top of the building, you begin your pursuit. You keep enough distance to not alert him but close enough to keep up when his direction changes.

He stops dead in his tracks and launches himself toward the ground. You hear the clanging of bullets bouncing off of metal, accompanied by grunts and shouting. You scan over the people he’s fighting, trying to decipher who the good guy is and who is not.

Marc throws a guy against the wall and slings four crescent-shaped blades at his limbs to keep him stuck to the wall. He stalks toward the other two. One raises a gun and releases a full magazine at Marc’s chest, and they all bounce off. Marc drops low and, sweeps the guy down and, yanks the gun out of his hands, and knocks the guy out with it. The third guy starts swinging chaotically in hopes of doing damage, but it does nothing but make Marc move faster. Marc blocks all the attempts of damage and corners the guy against the brick wall.

“Tell me what you know,” he growls out. The guy shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me.” Marc punches the guy in the stomach, making him groan.

“Feel like talking now?”

The guy shakes his head again and tries throwing Marc off him. Marc doesn’t budge. His body is too heavy and strong to be pushed away. Marc picks up the man and tosses him to the ground. He places his boot-clad foot on the guy's chest and applies pressure.

The guy’s arms shoot up, and his hands grab Marc’s legs. Marc applied a bit more pressure before kneeling and twisting the guy's arms together and pushing them into his chest. He pulls out a crescent blade and presses it against the man’s face. He slightly traces the blade down the man’s cheek, his eyes widen, and he begins to tell Marc what you’re guessing is the correct information, seeing as Marc doesn’t do any more harm to him.

The guy ends his tangent, and Marc is quick to slam his head into the ground, knocking him unconscious. Marc stands and turns to talk to someone, except no one’s there. You strain your eyes and ears, but nothing changes. Marc is still talking to what looks like an empty space.

“I’m not going to kill him. He told me what I needed to know.”

Silence.

He shakes his head and throws his arm at whoever he’s arguing with.

“Doesn’t matter. I got what I needed. We’re moving on.” He turns toward the building, and you hunker down more to ensure you're hidden. His body whips around, and you know he’s scanning the rooftop for you. His eyes look just above you, and suddenly, he’s sprinting to the building.

You waste no time on your escape. Taking a few calculated steps in reverse, you can feel the solid surface of the roof beneath your feet. The anticipation builds as you pivot and sprint towards the edge. With a burst of energy, you hurl yourself off the rooftop, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. In an instant, you’re back on your feet, sprinting down the road at full speed. You keep running until you’re back at the crowded restaurant. Slowing your pace, you dip inside and watch out the window at the buildings across the street.

A few seconds tick by, and a shadowy figure comes into view, standing still and patient. He scans the area with sharp eyes, desperately searching for any sign of whoever was spying on him. After a few minutes of searching, his silhouette fades into the inky blackness of the night. Waiting a few minutes after he had disappeared, you emerge from the cafe, glancing around before fully committing to walking home.

taglist: @marsmallow433 @peachyrue777 @80pairsofcrocs @catsandra-chan @andromeda-kay @khonshu-help-me @lemongirl5910 @luna2034 @aryashouldbequeen456 @penniewises @asimplepersonsblog @gabby913 @artfulthoughtsblog @draggolblackthorn @elizaphantandroses @motleyfolk @aliahdapisces @peachypizzicato @shousha133 @venus-saturn-and-mars @xoxoshiftingloves @slimeybread @babypaperwitch @cinnitsuki @cosmicdes @taylormm1016 @peterparkers-bbymomma @suddenlysteven @flowercrownonapegion @norasgalaxyart

[tmntkiseki]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Turtles Forever Liveblog

Movie opens with the Purple Dragons doing a robbery of some sort. Hun, what are you up to?

I really, really love the little sequence that introduces the 2003 turtles. The animation is so slick and cool-looking.

Also, it's kind of interesting how the 2003 segments are animated in a (more detailed) version of the Back to the Sewer style, with Splinter, Casey, and April maintaining their BttS designs? But the turtles themselves look more like how they did during Fast Forward (it's because we're back to having white slits for the eyes, thank god.)

Seriously, if Back to the Sewer had looked more like this, it probably wouldn't be the only 2003 art style I do dislike to an extent.

We were only just properly introduced to the 1987 turtles and I'm already understanding why people abhor how they were characterized for this movie (I say this as someone who has literally only seen two episodes of the 1987 series. Specifically, the very first one and the Mona Lisa episode.)

Hun is gonna regret taking that mutagen BIG TIME.

03!Mikey likes the initialed belt buckles.

Underrated animation detail: the 1987 turtles are animated using a simple one-color shading approach while the 2003 turtles are animated with more detailed two color shading.

87!Raphael's reaction to meeting 03!Splinter is adorable.

I'm glad that 03!Mikey is enjoying the company of the 87 turtles, at least.

I know a major sore spot for this movie is the fact that the original 1987 actors couldn't reprise their roles due to circumstances out of anyone's control, but I am loving 87!Shredder's voice.

BEBOP AND ROCKSTEADY

03!Raphael getting mad at 87!Donatello for kill stealing is making me laugh more than it should

I hate to break it to you, Krang, but 03!Shredder and 03!Krang are one and the same.

87!Shredder being disappointed that 03!Shredder is an Utrom is hilarious knowing that the little red blob is actually an intergalactic terrorist who has literally killed billions of people over the last several centuries.

All it took to wake up Ch'rell was 87!Shredder referring to himself as, well, the Shredder. Nice to see being frozen in a block of ice didn't get rid of his ego.

Other things from Back to the Sewer I do like: The Hauler. It's a massive improvement design-wise over the moving van from Seasons 4/5 that served as the second Battle Shell.

Poor, poor, foolish 87!Shredder and Krang. If there's anything I've learned watching the 2003 series, it's that you can't keep Oroku Saki/The Shredder/Ch'rell down forever.

KARAI IS HERE, BABY

Honestly, I do like Karai's outfit from Back to the Sewer. If she had her original haircut and was depicted in a different art style (you know, one that doesn't make her look like stick), I'd actually say I'm quite fond of her overall design. (I have a similar attitude towards BttS!Casey, too.)

Karai is seriously not taking any shit from the 1987 antagonists

03!SPLINTER REFERRING TO BOTH DONATELLOS AS HIS SONS AAAAAAAAAAH

Hun, repeat after me: I do not want the 87 ooze. The 87 ooze is bad. Bad things will happen to me if I try to get more of the 87 ooze.

He didn't listen.

Other aspects of Back to the Sewer I appreciate that show up in Turtles Forever: The 03 Turtles directly addressing Splinter as "Father" rather than "Master."

Hun, I fucking told you that you did not want that mutagen!

Damn, Hun must feel humiliated bowing down to the Shredder and calling him "Master" again. (Not like he has a choice. Are the Purple Dragons even going to listen to him anymore?)

RAHZAR????

Damn, this is the third time that the 2003 Turtles have had their home destroyed ;A; They're so used to it at this point that they don't even react in anguish this time.

Oh boy, even Mikey is finally sick of the antics of the 87 turtles (though in his defense, they did kinda teleport out of their lair when Splinter was in trouble and all four 03 turtles are worried sick for their dad.)

They deliberately had 87!April getting kidnapped by the mutant banana after the turtles left to make her seem more helpless when compared to the 03 version, didn't they?

This scene with 87!Splinter giving 03!Leo and 03!Raph some bowls of rice, oh my GOD ;A;

Hun isn't wrong that as long as they have Splinter, the turtles will come running. These boys would do anything to protect/save their father.

How many people do you think died when 03!Shredder unleashed the Technodrome on New York City?

Turtles Forever is a lot more... destructive than I was expecting. (2003 dimension is straight up getting TRASHED.)

Okay, that bit where Leo pointed out that at least Raph isn't stuck riding on the blimp like Mikey is got me to laugh.

2003 turtles are slowly but surely warming up to the 87 turtles. This is development I like to see.

"If there is one constant in the multiverse, it is the predictability of you turtles! Threaten something you hold dear, and you will ignore your better instincts!" You didn't have to call them out like that, Ch'rell.

SAME AS IT NEVER WAS

God, the fact that The Next Mutation is the only major iteration not featured when Shredder does his entire rant on the multiverse and how the turtles pretty much always win XD

NOT THE TURTLES

Casey was straight up going to cry when he thought the turtles had all disappeared with the Technodrome.

2003 dimension literally being reduced to inks, blue pencils, and then flat out nothing is really cool from an animation standpoint but also highkey terrifying

Welp, this scene confirms that the Purple Dragons are, in fact, still listening to Hun despite the fact that he's been mutated. That's good for him, I guess.

The scene where April and Casey disappear, HELP

"Ain't exactly Mister Roger's Neighborhood, is it?" -- 03!Raphael, accurately describing Turtle Prime. (He loves it.)

Mirage!Leonardo's narration as he and his brothers fight the 03 and 87 turtles JDSKGJDFKJGKF (Doesn't help that it's ripped directly from issue 1)

Mirage!Raph calling the 03 and 87 turtles sellouts on account of the multicolored headbands... wheeze.

Karai really is having second thoughts about helping her father destroy the multiverse, huh?

Fucking Mirage!Shredder getting taken out by the 87 and 03 turtles hurling a bunch of garbage at him SJGKJDFGKFDKGJ

"If there's one constant in the multiverse, it's the Shredder's big fat ego!" Oof, 03!Leo.

Shredderzilla?

KRANGZILLA?

The only thing this final fight is missing is 87 and Mirage!Splinter.

Okay, seriously, what was with that bit where 87!Leo, Raph, and Mikey all broke down in tears and looked to 03!Raph for comfort?

WHEEZE, THE MIRAGE TURTLES ACTUALLY SCARED 03!SHREDDER

Ch'rell seriously does not care that he is literally going to destroy himself if he destroys the Mirage turtles, Jesus Christ.

And the Turtles Multiverse was saved... By Bebop and Rocksteady?

This bit where the 87 and 03 turtles use each other's catchphrases as they say goodbye is really sweet.

"Oh, I sure hope this thing sells." "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing." Sobs.

[ithinkabouttzu]

Boy Next Door || pt. 2

A Choi Beomgyu Fic

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: y/n has been neighbors and frenemies with an insufferable boy, Beomgyu for quite some time. When one day he wakes her up to an offer of a lifetime. A fake relationship with him, in return to get back at her ex and his fling.

Warnings: Fake relationships, beaten windows, an obnoxious Beomgyu, bad driving, a cheek kiss, ex bestfriends & boyfriends, a hint of betrayal, Jake Sim is your ex lol.

{pairing: Beomgyu x Female oc}

“y/n”

“y/n cmon wake up”

You jolt up from your sleep from the commotion, to see a tall man in front of you, and in fear, you jump back from your previous spot on the bed, still half asleep, you grab the closest thing to you, a pen from your night stand, and hold it out warningly towards the suspicious man until you hear a familiar voice.

“chill y/n it’s me,” He says in a loud whisper, holding his hands out in defense.

You move quickly putting the pen on your night stand, turning the lamp on.

“You scared the shit out of me gyu!! Don’t do that again, you hear?!” You see his mischievous eyes catching yours for a second, the sunrise shine was hitting Beomgyu’s face in the most perfect way. It was almost angelic the way he looks right now, if only he didn’t act like aggravating you was a sport.

Looking at him, you catch yourself being stared at also, then suddenly feel yourself getting nervous by his strong, hard gaze. You grab your phone, breaking the contact between you two, and taking your first look at it.

The first thing you see it was, 8:13 AM. It was 8 in the morning, 8 in the freakin morning and Beomgyu was already annoying you.

“How did you even get in my house you creep?!”

“First How dare you call me a creep? I thought you loved me Y/n!” He says with his best dramatic sigh, Raising his hands to his chest in a heartfelt gesture, then raising his hand to his forehead in a cinematic way.

You form the biggest side eye you could in that moment, before throwing one of your many pillows onto him, pushing him out of his acting scene, and dramatically falling onto your bed.

“Wasn’t that good? You know, with my amazing looks, I could be an actor if I really wanted to.” He says smirking to himself. Sometimes his boasting was so frequent, you didn’t know whether he was being joking or not.

“Actually answer my question. How’d you get into my house?” You look down at him, he was laying back down into your bed, right beside you, only difference between you two is that you were sitting up right .

“Answer mine first, do you think i’m handsome enough to be an actor, y/n? C’mon say what you think, doll. ”

You hated when he called you pet names, it never failed to bring a deep shade of red onto your cheeks, or bring a smile to your lips. That’s the one thing you also hated about Beomgyu, besides the violence he’s committed your window, he was actually quite charming, You knew he wasn’t interested in an acting career or your opinion, all he wanted was for you to call him handsome. All he wanted was for YOU to compliment him, and it’s almost like he attentively chooses these words, just so he can get a reaction out of you.

“Sure, you are very handsome.”

“Very handsome? I didn’t know you felt that way about me, y/n.”

“Just tell me how you got in here!” You glare at him strongly, you weren’t up for playing games, especially at this hour.

“Okay chill y/n, Your mom let me in before she left for work.” He props himself up with his elbows, looking up you for your reaction.

“Unbelievable. Why would she let YOU in?”

“Because she loves me y/n that’s why”

“Yeah sure thing Gyu” You reply in the most sarcastic manner possible.

You twist your body onto the side of your bed, preparing your body to get up from your comfortable position. Your plan was going to be to get ready before he actually got here, but of course, life never goes as plan.

“Okay. So what’s the deal, why are you here so early?”

“Well, I…” He trailed off, looking up at your ceiling blankly. You could tell from the look on his face, he was trying to find the right words for whatever he was about to avow.

“I- I wanted to maybe take you out for breakfast, or boba… If you want! And we could talk there ya’ know?” He looks down from the ceiling and looks towards you in confirmation.

Was he asking you on a date? Maybe not a date but asking out your female friend for breakfast was definitely a bold move, well, especially friends that have the same relationship as you and gyu.

“mmmm, lemme’ think about it. Are you paying?”

“Sure y/n” He chuckles out, his head that was tilted low to the ground was now raised up and bright.

“Let me get ready, then we’ll go, okay?” You get up, starting to look around for the clothes that you’ll need for breakfast.

“Okay” you look back at him to see he has not moved one inch, still holding the pillow you threw at him.

“Get out!” You motion to the door. Ready for him to make his exit.

“Okay. I’m driving though”

~~~

Oh god. You know the one thing that was scarier than going to spring formal with Beomgyu? His driving.

“Slow down gyu! You’re gonna kill us with driving like that.” You hold on to your seatbelt as he took a sharp turn left, if he turned just a second later, you guys would’ve been T - boned by a semi truck.

“My driving is just fine, it’s just everyone else’s driving that sucks.” he snickers back at you. Beomgyu was swerving around town just so you guys could get some breakfast, if you were lucky you’d be able to actually eat food after this. his bad driving could make anyone lose their appetite.

You guys finally get to the place, it’s a nice, bohemian styled coffee/breakfast shop downtown. You order pancakes with an iced coffee and he just gets a black coffee.

“Just black Coffee? What are you, 40?” You retort at him.

“Sophisticated coffee for a sophisticated person.” He replies back arrantly.

Beomgyu was anything but sophisticated.

You guys settled for a seat by the window, almost no one was there but you guys, and an old man with a cup of coffee at the back of the store.

“Okay so what do we need to talk about? I’m all ears.” You lean back in your chair, If you had to be dragged along to his spring formal, then he was going to be the one to make all of the plans.

“Okay so” As he starts the waitress brings out your food and drinks, you could smell the warm pancakes being placed on the table with a mixture of his Black coffee.

“What a nice couple, you guys let me know if you need anything.” The waitress smiled and left before you could correct her.

“See! If we look like a couple to strangers, we can definitely look like a couple at formal” Beomgyu exclaimed out, he definitely had a unique way of thinking.

“Alright so, here’s the list, it’s now spring break, Sunday to be exact, we have 6 DAYS to get everything in motion, The dance is Saturday. I already looked and most dress shops are closed downtown today, so we can go tomorrow, we’ll go looking for dresses first, then we can look for a tuxedo, for me. ”

You hear all of these plans he’s made go out of his mouth, What was the point of coming here if he already had planned everything out?

“Okay so why are we here then?”

“To decide what colors we’re gonna wear of course, We can’t NOT match” He says insolently as rolls his eyes at you.

“Really? We could’ve had this conversation in my bed.” You roll your eyes back at him, you could’ve still been asleep if it weren’t for him.

“Okay so let’s think, what’s your favorite color?” He asks you with a smile, you think to yourself, only for the most obvious answer to come out of your mouth.

“Purple”

“Purple it is then! Wait, what do you think Hazel and Jake are wearing? What if they wear Purple?” You see his chest fill up with sighs of stress. He was one big ball of energy in the morning. He was worried about colors and dresses and all you could think about was how good your pancakes taste.

“I doubt they’ll wear purple, probably something tacky, like yellow or something” You roll your eyes yet again, why does Gyu even care what they wear?

“Hey! I like yellow, it has a nice touch to my skin” He touches his face lightly before rambling on again.

“So, what shade of purple? lavender, baby purple, dark purple?”

“Baby Purple? That’s even a thing Beomgyu??” You yell out into the conversation. “Purple, just purple is my favorite color, period.”

“Well that was great help” He rolls his eyes yet again at you. “At least give me some type of detail, dark purple, or light purple?”

“Light Purple” Dark purple wouldn’t necessarily look bad, but it wouldn’t look as good as a lighter shade of purple on you and Beomgyu.

“Okay great, you know actually, lavender would look nice on you, y/n” He smiles up

at you.

Beomgyu was being nice? This was definitely a very rare occurrence, he was usually so occupied on annoying and harassing you that he left little room for some actually nice words.

“Thank you Gyu, You look nice in any color.” You give a compliment back to him, it was true though, he really did look good in every shade of color.

“So, are we ready to leave now? That’s all we had to talk about, right?” You eat the lasts of your pancake, and grab your purse, gathering all your things to leave, as the waitress brings in your check.

“And, well” He pauses while scratching the back of his head. “Ya’ know..”

“What?!” You raise your voice slightly. Beomgyu was officially pushing your patience, He turned a cute moment between you two, into an annoying interrogation. Having a conversation with him was the equivalent to a conversation with a toddler.

“You know, we should probably tell our parents when we get back, I mean, We can’t go shopping for outfits if they don’t know” He breaks eye contact, moving his head towards the window, looking outside to the pretty weather.

“Yeah. You’re right.” You say lowly, the thought of having to tell your parents suddenly gave you a wave of second thoughts. You didn’t think this through, this wasn’t a good idea, no, this wasn’t a good idea at all, you should’ve never agreed to this.

Bringing our families in this could hurt more than we think, how will we even tell them? You think to yourself, as all of these thoughts swarm around your head.

“I mean, your mom’s already kinda suspicious of us, when she let me in this morning she asked me like, a million questions.” He rambled on.

“Really? What’d she ask?” You were now intrigued to what he had to say.

“Why I knocked on the front door, because, ya’ know, I usually throw shit at your window”

“Why didn’t you wake me up from the window?” You were actually curious. There was never a situation serious enough where he didn’t resort to window beating.

“Well, I- uh” He takes his eyes off of yours again and back to the window.

“You know, I uh, thought I should wake you up in person is all, just because, you’re gonna be my date, and well we have a lot to get done.” He smiled awkwardly at you.

Gyu always had a way of words, his comebacks and charm never failed to make a smirk appear on other people’s faces, but with you, he wasn’t like that, he was funny, and witty and awkward. It was cute he showed that side of him to you.

You smiled at him before moving on with the conversation . “Let’s text our family group chat, okay?” You suggest to him.

With a quick text to your mom asking if you could invite the Choi’s over for a family dinner, it was officially. You and Beomgyu were going to tell your families tonight about the formal tonight, and whatever their reaction was could determine whether you guys even go together or not.

Despite Beomgyu’s usual loud, fast driving, this car ride home was quiet, and slow. You could see the nervousness all over Beomgyu’s face, even though he tried covering it up, you could notice it clear as day.

You finally could see the familiarity in the streets, knowing you were close to your and Beomgyu’s house.

“What do you think they’ll think?” You hear him say, not taking his eyes off of the road. “I don’t think they’ll mind” You reply back. What could he be so worried about?

“You know, i’ve never really had a girlfriend.” You hear him reply back. “I meant I’ve had flings here and there, but not ever a real girlfriend”

“Really?” You were surprised. One because you see girls sneak in and out of his window almost all the time. Secondly, Beomgyu is arguably one of the most attractive boys in your town, and he’s never had a girlfriend? Ever?

“Really. Just never really found the right one.” Before you guys could continue with the conversation, you had already arrived at Beomgyus home.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” He looks out of his car window towards you.

“Yeah of course! I’ll see you then.” You send him a sly wink before getting out of his car and walking the 10 feet distance to your house.

You feel the anxiousness creep up into your stomach. You needed to get ready for tonight. If his parents didn’t except your “relationship”, then the whole thing would probably be off.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You looked in the mirror one last time, examining every strain of your hair, Your outfit was simple, but in this case, simple is key. You don’t want to seem like a showboat to his parents.

Why are you nervous anyway? The Choi family has known you for years now. Why all of a sudden does it matter what you wear around them?

You check over your makeup one more time, before closing your bathroom door.

“Come down, y/n! The Choi’s are here!”

It was now or never.

The smell of Korean bbq captivated your nostrils with joy as you walked down the stairs of your house.

“Y/n! It’s so great to see you!” Mrs. Choi

greeted you with a big hug as you met her at the end of the steps.

“It’s great to see you too!” As you hug her, you feel holes burning into your head, the culprit, would be the one and only Choi Beomgyu, right behind Mrs. Choi, giving you the biggest smirk on his face. If only they knew what would be said tonight.

“Come outside on the patio! We’ll serve our bulgolgi there!” Your dad yells, closing the back porch door on his way outside.

~~

Everyone was in their own seats chewing on their bulgolgi, the dads talking to the each other about god knows that, as were both of your moms were going on about your siblings and Beomgyu’s older brothers. It seemed as if even though you two were the ones actually present, neither of you had enough good going on to peak any of their interests.

*BING*

You hear the sound coming from your phone, and of course you pick it up out of curiosity, to see a text message from the boy sitting right beside you.

“Wanna to tell them?” The text message says in front of your screen.

You look up from your phone to Beomgyu, nodding your head. He clearly got the message because right after, because he cleared his throat, catching everyone’s attention and making them go silent.

Beomgyu sits up, making eye contact everyone before looking at you. “Alright guys, me and y/n have been meaning to tell you something” You sit up too, joining Beomgyu.

“Oh my God, you got her pregnant!” Mr. Choi exclaims, leaning back in his chair in shock.

“I knew they were together! See that’s why he’s been coming over to see her so early!” You mom chimes in.

“Son, what did I tell you about protection?!” Mrs. Choi yells out. You look over to your dad, to see a plain disappointment look on his face.

A wave of embarrassment washes over your face as you hear these words come from your parents and his.

“WHAT?! NOOO!” Beomgyu sits back down, leaving you the only one standings

“I am definitely not pregnant!” You join the sitting group of people, pointing your finger out aggressively.

“Why would you think that? I was gonna say that we’re going to spring formal together!” When Beomgyu said that the whole patio when silent. You could almost hear a needle drop if you listened close enough.

“Really! Well that’s great honey!” Your mom clapped her hands together in excitement. You could see Mrs. Choi walk around the table, and engulf you in another big hug.

The hug was nice and warm. Mrs. Choi’s hugs always gave you love when you needed it. “So, when are you guys going shopping for dresses?”

“Tomorrow! We’re wearing light purple together!”

“Are we invited?” You mom looked at you with desperate eyes as she motioned her finger back and forth between the her and Mrs. Choi.

“Mm, sure?” Beomgyu said before looking back at me in reassurance and giving him a strong nod in return.

~~~

Dinner had now finished, and the Choi parents were off to say their farewells and goodbyes to your family and a thank you for having them over, while that happened, you and Beomgyu finished cleaning some extra dishes from the patio and putting them into the cabinet.

“So what do you think about them knowing?” He said, drying off one of the plates you had handed to him.

“I like it, it doesn’t seem so unnatural” You laugh at your own statement, it seemed as if both of your parents liked the thought of you two being together romantically then anything else.

“Son let’s go! We’ve got a big day tomorrow!” You hear Mrs. Choi yell from beside the front door. It was a small walk from your house to theirs but it was still preferred that they all walk home together.

“Bye y/n, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, sleep good, okay?” He dries off the last plate and puts it up into the cabinet where the other plates are.

“Bye guys!” You yell out as beomgyu’s parents have already gotten a head start on him out the door.

Before you turn back to the stairs, you see Beomgyu look back into the house, as if he forgotten something.

“Are you missing something?” You ask.

“Yeah, I am” And with a quick gesture, Beomgyu had made it back over to you by the steps and planted a sweet peck on your cheek.

“Goodnight y/n. Sleep good, okay?”

Before you could reply back he was already out of the door and running to catch up with his parents.

You hold the cheek he kissed with your hand. What was that? The biggest question that lingering into your head was, why did you enjoy that kiss?

You walk up the steps still in shock. Still blushing from the sudden moves from your next door neighbor.

~~~

As you got ready for bed, the excitement crept up on you as you imagined spending the whole day with beomgyu tomorrow, tomorrow was going to be something, and you were totally ready for it.

A/n : Sorry for the long wait guys! I really loved writing this and i hope you all enjoy! If you do enjoy make sure to let me know and like!! 💗

[wiltedkyinn]

blunts and parks

synopsis; you went to phoneix, arizona for your fifeteen brithday trip. being blown off by your so called bestfriend opens now doors and new friends.

pairing- madeline mcgraw, mason thames and miguel cazarez mora x gn reader.

____

here i am, currently waiting for my bestfriend, junior, to meet me at the park. it feels as if its 113 degrees but it was only 94 with no wind and straight sun. it probably wasnt the best idea to go phoneix in the middle of the summer. i look out to see if he is atleast at the park. instead of seeing him i see a group of 3 of familier faces walking around. its was 2 boys around the same height and a girl that looked no younger then 14. the buzzing from my phone snapped me out of my thought. i answered it already knowing a who would be on the other line.

"yo im staying with valerie for the rest of the day" i could hear a girls voice in the background talking about money to go somewhere. "what was the point of bringing you on my brithday trip"  i mumbled. "we can hang out later. i gotta go." his usally loud voice was smaller. then there was slinence. groaning i look around again, im on the swings covered with some shade i found. i find the small group by the tables near me, their backs facing me. i started to rummage in my jackets pocket, knowing what to do to make me feel better.

pulling out the small tube i always carry around along with my lighter and airpods. putting in my right airpod and turning on whatever playlist that i was listening to last started to play. thinking about the group again before popping open the top. i slowly started to get up from the swings, i headed my way towards the small tables. the closer i got the more i was able to hear the voices. it started to mush with the song i was listening to. "sorry but do yall care if i light this? its a blunt" my voice a little raspy due to not having any water on me.

the trio looked at me then back at eachother before the girls nods speaking, "yeah we dont have a problem with it." giving them a small smile "thanks," i walked back to the swings. thinking about the group again, i had forgetton my glasses while packing so it was hard to see even if i was up close. i couldnt quite make it out but they looked familiar. the girl, who i mostly looked at reminded me of the actress Madeline mcgraw, the girl who played gwen in the black phone movie.

pushing whatever i was thinking about to the side so i could focus on the cone shape pre-roll. igniting the red lighter, i rotated the joint in the fire. i brought it up to my lips and took a hit. inhaling and then exhaling. i focused on the song that just started playing, pink + white by frank ocean. i started to inhale again only to be stopped seeing a shadow figure walking up to me. i grabbed my phone and turned it down a little, loooking up i was met with the same girl from before. "hi im maddy and me and my friends were wondering if you would like to join us? the suns getting a lil stronger."  she pointed towards the table she was sitting at. "oh uh sure, and im (name)" as soon as i got up to stand i realized how hot it actually was, the heat was overwhelming. "should i put this out or do you guys wanna smoke it with me?" i asked as we both got closer to the park table. "if you teach us how, sure!" her smooth voice stayed upbeat.

i took the free seat next to the tan boy with long dark wavy hair. "mason, miguel this is (name), (name) this is mason and miguel." suddenly it snapped, they were the actors from the black phone. the 2 boys said lil hi's. i took another big hit, then tapping it so the ash falls off. i look at mason, since he was on my left infront of me. "well mason do you wanna hit this?" he thought about it for a moment then nodded his head.

"so how do i do this?" his brown eyes looked at me for help. "so you just suck on it till you get enough smoke  and then you take another breathe to actually inhale it." i tried repeating what my older brother taught me a while back. seeing succesfull as he exhaled a cloud while coughing. he handed it to maddy while still trying to catch his breath. holding back my luaghter i remembered the first time i smoked. i look over at maddy and she seemed pretty hesitant, "its okay if you dont wanna," i told her she looked at me then at her hands. she brought it up to her lips and took a breath. she exhaled same as mason except she was able to control her breathing a bit better. she passed to miguel, and when he exhaled he was fine. i figured maddy and miguel did better since they were in some type of sport or exercise.

when i was passed the blunt they stared at me. i took a hit normally and exhaled normally. i started to feel a wash of an euphoric state take over me. i could already tell mason was high. his eyes were red and glossy. i hinted at him to take it but he nodded his head side to side. i did the same with maddy and she took it. "so are you from here?" miguel asked. "nah im here cause its my brithday trip. but im from las vegas," maddy raised her brow "why are you alone on your brithday trip?"

i was handed the joint again, "me and my friend, junior were supposed to hang out today but he bailed on me to stay with his girlfriend." shrugging while i spoke. "thats a dick move." mason snipped quickly. i agrred with him, i did pay for juniors ticket and hotel room. we stayed like that for a while. luaghing and coughing. "(name)!" our peaceful moment interrupted by a forgien voice.

i looked behind me to see a girl with curly brown skin and deep brown skin. valerie, juniors girl. i never officially met her, as she and junior were long distance. "valerie? what are you doing here?" as i got up to hug her. while i didnt know her face to face we have talked one in a while. "junior said we were meeting here today to hang out with you." her voice held some confusion while my head wasnt even processing. "he told me that he was hanging out with you for the rest of the day. you were there when he called me?" i became genuinely confused.

"i havent even seen him today, so hes spending a dat with someone he lied about being his girlfriend?" her voice was hurt while her face was stotic. "oh-" "i cant beilieve he's putting me through this agian" her usal confident voice gone, becoming bitter more as she spoke. she pulled out her phone and calling who i would imagine was junior. she stromed off into her car for some privacy.

"what the hell" i looked back at the intoxicated teens next to me and they laughed, i shrugged it off. "how old are you turning (name)?" mason asked his eyes werent red anymore, but still glossy. "fifteen" miguel turned his head towards me with a semi-shooked face. "i thought your were like eighteen, you look so much older" the other two nodding their head in agreement. my phone started to buzz again. answering it automatically i was greeted with junior yelling. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING TELLING VALERIE THAT I WAS WITH ANOTHER GIRL?"

"its your own fault for using me as an excuse junior, plus its on you for cheating." he began to yell again but i didnt see the point of talking to him, so i hung up. "i should be leaving soon, it was nice meeting yall" giving them all a smile. "we should hang out again," maddy said. "here give me your number and ill send it to the boys" maddy extend her hand to me, her phone dail already open. swiftly putting my number in along with my name, i gave it back. "call me when yall wanna hang out" i gave a small wink and walked away.