#also I have like three months to finish this au before the next book comes out

[inkblot-inc]

Cruisin' For A Bruisin'

Summary: The crew is on a much needed (and definitely deserved) vacation from hero-ing about. It's important to remember that you can plan out a trip, but you can't anticipate everything that happens on said trip.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mutant!TigerShark!Reader

[AU Masterlist] Arc 2: This is Part 1

Warning(s): This one's pretty wholesome for the most part, but I will say there are some descriptions of violence. Also strong language, but if you've been here long enough you know that-

Note(s): WELCOME TO ARC 2 BAYBEE! Jaws is back and I could not be any more excited to get back into this shit! As far as I can tell arc 2 is definitely gonna be longer than arc 1, but I hope y'all enjoy :3

Word Count: Skidding pass 2.9k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

It'd been a little over a year since you'd joined the Avengers. There were certainly a few incidents here and there, the biggest being the dismantling of the Red Room which, incidentally, led to Natasha reuniting with her folks.

It was certainly one way to meet your girlfriend's family, that's for sure...

Things seemed to finally take time to settle, at least for a little while.

It was newly June and you along with Natasha, Wanda, and Vision were set to go on the cruise trip you'd booked around Christmas time last year.

---

"How were you able to swing two months off mission calls, babe?" You looked up from packing your suitcase at Natasha's voice, a small smirk growing on your face.

You made your way over to Natasha before wrapping your arms around her waist. "Well, I'm still not greenlit to go out in the field for a slew of reasons, Wanda's only put on for specific assignments, Vision's her plus one, and you have, what? Three years' worth of PTO? We're in the clear, Natty. The team will be fine for a month or two."

Natasha let out a hum of agreement before she brought you closer for a kiss. "That- and you harassed Tony to figure it out."

You raised a brow in mock confusion, "I thought that part was obvious." Your mouth pulled into a genuine gleaming smile as you got a laugh out of Natasha as she wrapped her own arms around your neck. "You're a menace."

"Is that meant to be a bad thing?" Your lips met in another kiss.

"Never a bad thing."

As the two of you finished packing, you met up with Wanda in the Common Room of the compound, where she was talking with Vision. The atmosphere was sullen with only one set of bags on the couch.

"What's goin' on? Did they not have SPF50 at the Walgreens?" You set yours and Natasha's bags down before going to get the keys to the Quinjet. "I'm sure we could find robo-sunscreen on the way, man."

Vision looked at the back of his hand for a good second. "I don't think I would need protection from the sun, seeing as my skin is-"

You came and wrapped your arm around the synthezoid's neck, jangling the jet keys by his ear. "Joking! Again. If anything, we'll just cook eggs on you when you overheat like a copper pan. We aren't gonna be on an air-conditioned boat the whole time you know." And just like that, the light atmosphere you'd created sunk back down as Wanda and Vision looked at each other. You looked between the two in clear confusion, "Alright, what's the deal?"

Vision eyed Wanda for a bit longer before turning to look at you and Natasha, who just came into the room. "I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany the three of you on this vacation. I will be remaining on call."

You tossed the Quinjet keys to Natasha as she came further into the room. "That's ridiculous, we all sent in time off notices weeks before now. How'd this even come about?"

Vision let out a sigh, "Captain Rogers came to me with concerns of being understaffed during the next few months with the search for HYDRA operatives still ongoing; With Dr. Banner still off-world, Mr. Barton indisposed with his with his family, and Mr. Stark only expected half of the time, it is rather easy for me to see Captain Rogers' point. Out of the four of us approved for time off, it was determined that I would be the one to stay behind in case of emergency."

---

You'd spent the cruise enjoying each stop between Hawaii and French Polynesia, and it's been anything but a normal experience with you around as the agent of chaos.

Wanda made sure to get plenty of pictures to cement the new memories. There's photos of you "hugging" a manta ray, Wanda and Natasha relaxing on the beach in Bora Bora, several pictures at dinner, and even one of all three of you having an absolute ball watching one of the night shows in Samoa.

Your most recent picture was a group one after you laid on a blowhole in Savai'i. You almost gave the nearby family of five a heart attack, but it was still fun to do.

The last two weeks have been a welcome break for the three of you. Despite some of your more "peculiar" ways of having fun, this has been a freeing and relaxing time. No missions, no threats; a true vacation.

Wanda was currently in her cabin across the hall from yours and Natasha's on her nightly call with Vision. Next time he had to come, Steve be damned. Wanda was a good sport about it when Vision was called in at the last minute, but you all wished he was here as well.

Natasha had taken to video calling with Yelena as well, though they weren't as frequent with her being on her own mission.

You had your own time to talk with Yelena that mainly consisted of her cosigning whatever fuckery you were up to on your vacation.

Part of it might be just to get a reaction out of Natasha.....Which she always did-

It was wonderful to see Natasha just unwound and be less serious, Yelena is one of those people that just pulls it out of her.

Their Relationship had noticeably improved since they were brought back together last year, after learning more about each other that they hadn't had the privilege to learn before, having been separated for their most formative years.

-----

You and Natasha sat on the secluded deck connected to your cabin. The open air was refreshing as you let Natasha lean back into your arms, watching the sunset on the water.

"I'll be honest and say that I can't choose between Tahiti or Savai'i,"

You placed your head on top of Natasha's. "It's always going to be Enoka for me. It was so long ago, but can remember the views on the island as clear as day." Your words were less clear, almost like you were talking through your teeth. "The white sand beaches occupied by damn near everyone in the mornings, green peaks covered in flowers, the quiet that surrounded the deep waters at night... Seeing the sun make everything above me glimmer while it was up high in the sky. Those small "nothing" memories are one of the few things I haven't lost to time... I just wish I had pictures to show it to you."

Natasha slowly rubbed your forearm that was across her stomach as she encouraged your rare moment of open vulnerability. "Well that's why we're doing this. Making new memories closer to home..."

You focused on the soothing gesture as you thought of those same flickering pictures taken through a toddling interpretation.

In the morning you, Natasha, and Wanda were going to part from the cruise ship and make your way to where Enoka would be via a smaller, personal yacht (paid for by you, modified by Tony, who was convinced to do so by Pepper).

There's nothing that could ruin this moment for you. With two of your favorite people by your side, you were going to visit what's no more than a watery lump of land that once was your home and put it to rest for good.

-----

After leaving the cruise ship, Wanda focused on directing the three of you through the smaller crowds of people walking in the opposite direction away from the docks. "What's this boat called again? Delilah?"

Natasha unfolded the small piece of paper in her hand to reread the messy script, "The Blue Delilah. It should be near the end of the pier."

You grasped one of their wrists in each hand, "It's just up ahead!" Both Wanda and Natasha cringed slightly as you just barely missed bulldozing a group of people on your way to the boat that turned out to be a custom Sunseeker 76 yacht.

before the three of you boarded the yacht, a brown-haired man wearing thin rectangular glasses came up to the three of you with a gleam in his eyes. Your eyes narrowed at the camera in his hand before he even started speaking. "I'm really sorry to bother the three of you, but you're Avengers, right?"

You just blankly stared at the man while Natasha, while also on guard, she was more cordial when she addressed the man. "We're not exactly on duty right now, but did you want something?"

Wanda noticed that there was a dark haired woman not too far behind him simply staring at the yacht before looking toward the three of you. The bespectacled man, who began perspiring the longer you stared him down, jumped to answer. "I just wanted to get a picture with you guys, my wife and I are really grateful that you all are around to protect us."

The three of you looked at each other. While all of you weren't keen on taking pictures, the couple seemed harmless enough, Wanda read as much from both of their thoughts. The man, Graydon, was both nervous and excited; worried that he'd come off as a creep that was bothering them. His wife, Tara, had a similar train of thought in not wanting to bother the three public. Tara's mind was notably much quieter than her husband's; presumably the result of a calming tactic.

Wanda mentally relayed this to both you and Natasha before the three of you finished wordlessly discussing the matter. With Natasha nodding, Wanda spoke to the couple. "One picture wouldn't hurt."

Graydon's face lit up as he gestured for his wife to come closer, essentially saying they were in the clear. Tara came to stand on the other side of Wanda while Graydon went to find a passerby to take the picture on his camera. After he showed a willing older man how to snap the photo, he stood on the right of Natasha with a rather dorky thumbs up.

You left your mask on, put you arms over Natasha's and Wanda's shoulders and squinted your eyes a bit to give the illusion of a more positive emotion on your face as the brief flash irritated your eyes.

After the picture was taken, Graydon rushed over to the volunteer cameraman to see how it came out. Tara turned to Wanda with a small smile as she exited her personal space after a small shaking of hands. " Thank you for indulging us, and it really is a pleasure to meet you, Misty Red."

Wanda watched the dark-haired woman walk away in confusion. "Misty Red? Who's that?" Natasha raised a single brow while all you did was laugh at Wanda's expense.

Natasha's confusion didn't last long with her own deduction skills. "Apparently that's what the people are calling you," a slow smirk made it's way to Natasha's lips as you were still laughing, "I mean, it does makes sense." The redhead was the first to turn and make her way toward the ramp of the yacht.

"I can't decide if they made you sound like a wrestler or a porn star! I just-" You broke another bout of laughter.

Wanda's eyes narrowed at your juvenile line of thought as she crossed her arms. "It isn't even that funny, Jaws. You're just milking it at this point,"

You took a second to recover from your laughter, "It's funny to me. You don't gotta get it cuz I think it's funny. There's no shame in what you do, Wandy."

Natasha rose her shoulders as she continued to make her way onto the boat. "That's just what happens when you let the public name you."

Wanda almost felt the need to defend her lack of an alias, "I didn't think it had to be very high on my list of priorities!"

You lightly pushed the brunette forward and up the ramp to The Blue Delilah. "Uh huh, get on the boat, Misty Red."

---

When You, Natasha, and Wanda all made it onto The Blue Delilah, a smaller inconspicuous boat pulled off behind it at the same time, noticing that the yacht had a discreet Stark Industries logo. Their plan isn't clear at the moment, but it is clear that they're tailing The Blue Delilah. They follow a long way behind, but have their own tracker placed on the ship so they don't lose the yacht.

The three of you were on the private yacht for about four days so far travelling to Enoka.

Note: All citizens of Enoka have the location of Enoka ingrained in their brains, so Jaws always knows where it is. This is a similar practice for the inhabitants of a certain other living island...

As you got closer to the island, it was clear that it's not completely submerged, but it definitely looks different to how you remember.

The goal now was to see if there were any inhabitants on the island that were still alive and who survived the flood over a decade ago.

You didn't voice it, but there was a new sense of anxiousness and hope that started brewing in you at the prospect of going home.

Maybe there actually was a "home" there left...

-----

About a day out from the Island, the engine to The Blue Delilah seemed to stutter, so you went to check it out and before you reach the engine room on the back pad, you noticed large ripples from something that dove back into the water.

Soon after you heard sounds of a struggle on the yacht and booked it back to where Wanda and Natasha were.

There were two attackers engaged in fighting with the two women, four were on the floor unconscious already. It's rather bold for a group of six, well seven.

Jaws grabbed the arm of the seventh attacker that tried to sneak up on them and threw them over their shoulder.

The attacker you were dealing with was a woman and she had armor that stood out a bit more than the others; she had less of it, toned brown skin shown through the large gaps between the armor pieces, and the shoulders were a bit more prickly and menacing in comparison.

'Definitely their leader.'

You raised an eyebrow at the sort of reptilian bone mask obscuring most of the woman's face. "What, were you too good for Bleach?"

You can see the woman visibly squint behind her mask before she grabs two daggers from their place on her hips, "I know fuckin' Kisame isn't talkin' about me, "

Your own eyes narrowed at her retort. 'Well fuck you, too.'

With both of you having been insulted by the other, the two of you rushed each other. The two of you were essentially going blow for blow for a while before you knocked the bone mask off of your attacker's face.

It revealed more dusky brown skin, a few scars on her face and a tattoo of some kind under her right eye. The woman turned to face you fully, wiping blood off the corner of her lip. "You might be one of the more skilled pirates I've come across. It's a shame I consider your life past tense already."

Suddenly, the woman then tackled you off the yacht, knocking your breathing apparatus off in the process, hoping to hold you down and drown you herself. Her daggers reaching to slice at your now exposed neck.

Putting her knife up to your neck, she then notices the gills on each side of it, which throws her off.

It's then, underwater, that she gets a good look at you before her eyes widen considerably, confusing you.

"Y/n, is that really you?"

There's that name, your name. Hardly anyone called you by your given name when you were little, and you hardly cared, but...

"Ys tath uyo, Y/n?"

Your own eyes widen at the familiar language coming from this woman's mouth. Only one person would really insist on using it back then...

"Sienna?"

And with that one word, the woman threw her daggers to the side leaving them to float in the water away from the two of you before tightly wrapping her arms around your neck. You hug her back just so.

After the two of you pulled away, she almost immediately slapped you with a new fire in her molten brown eyes.

"Agh shit! Did you grow talons?!" It wasn't hard enough to actually hurt, but you definitely felt the woman's nails drag across your face.

"Ehrwe ni eth FUCK veah uyo eneb?! Y thugoth uy' DDEA lla heste rayse!"

Sienna went to smack you again before you held both of her wrists in your hands to keep her at bay, your eyebrows furrowed. "Y itd'dn eyrall cieded ot velae, ni cesa uy' omowesh trogof!"

Sienna shook her head as she struggled to get free of your grip, her dark locs waving wildly in under the water. "Elt og of 'em! Y vat'ehn retnotfog shit!" Sienna then began to try and kick at you to let her go, so you brought her into another hug as she resisted.

Her attempts grew more and more feeble as the power behind her punches to your chest fizzled out. It was only then that you realized she was crying.

Sienna's voice was raw and heavy with emotion, "Ehrwe ddi uyo og?! Y odloke nad Y odloke nad Y odloke lla rove rof uyo..."

You let her sob into your chest as you held her, floating in the underwater quiet.

"Y'm ghrit ehre, sersit."

** footnote: I wanted to use a completely different script for the Enokan language being spoken, but I couldn't find a way to import it so that it was shown, so instead I made a simple code using typoglycemia (aka just unscramble the letters of each word). To make it so that it didn't look as clunky, I sometimes replaced (i) with (y). Some words that end with vowels may have an apostrophe that takes the place of the vowel. Apostrophes can also be found at the beginning of words with vowels for fluidity's sake. I didn't think swears should be scrambled cuz that just *looks* off to me. The point of these changes is to have this resemble a spoken language more than it is a blatant tactic to confuse you.

Here's a word unscrambler in case you need it

[shipmistress9]

Made to Order

Pairing: Riorgail

Rating: Teen

Summary: Xaden Riorson owns a bakery specialised on wedding cakes. He's good at his job, always has an eye for details and with a sixth sense for what it is his customers are looking for. But when a woman clearly not happy with the upcoming wedding breeezes into his shop (and his life), he has a hard time staying professional.

AN:This all started with the question what job Xaden might have in a modern AU, with how little we know about him. Only that he likes chocolate cake and Violet, really. My hazy brain then suggested that he's a baker for flowery wedding cakes. 😂😂 From there... well, you see what happened.

My rough plan is for this to have three chapters. It could get longer, though, we'll seen 😅

Shoutout to @taumoebaa for the delightful inspiration and support. 😘

(AO3)

. o O o .

It’s close to 4pm, my closing time for the shop, when the woman storms in. I get a brief flash of silvery hair and sparks of blue blazing in her hazel eyes before she all but slams her hands onto my counter. 

“I need a wedding cake.”

I blink. Usually, people aren’t this angry when they come into my shop. But at least anger is an emotion I have enough personal experience with to not get agitated about her. She’s most likely not angry at me, how could she when we never met, so I’ll just have to diffuse it to work with her. 

I take a moment to look at her with a raised eyebrow, give her time to reflect, then take a longer look around, at all the little tables with fake wedding cakes for demonstration, at the chill counter between us with a few taste samples that are left from other customers, at the pictures on the walls of more wedding cakes, and the folder right next to her hands with even more options. “Yeah, that’s usually why people come to me,” I say, not holding back on the sarcasm. If she is ignoring all rules of propriety here, I don’t need to stick to those, either. 

Now, it is she who blinks. She blinks again, then takes a deep breath, all anger visibly flowing out of her. “I’m sorry,” she sighs, her eyes closed. “It’s been… a rough day. I need a wedding cake. The wedding’s in about two months already, and I wanted to ask whether you still have time in your schedule to take my order.” 

I purse my lips, my eyes pulling together. That explains her bad mood, I guess. I bet all other bakeries in town rejected her request before she even finished it. And I don’t even need to check my book, I know I don’t really have time for that, either. But…

I take in her appearance, that spark of desperation in her eyes and the weight pressing down her shoulders. I’ve always been an incredible judge of character, and working as a baker specialised on wedding cakes also gave me some experience with certain kinds of customers. There are the loving couples coming in together to pick the cake for their special day. Then there are the brides coming in with one or more of their bridesmaids, all giggly and excited. And then there are women like her, tired, disappointed, or exhausted brides-to-be on their own, usually because their partners aren’t interested in all the planning that goes into a wedding and cancelled their appointment, in most cases on a short notice. In her case now, I’d also guess her partner was meant to order the wedding cake earlier but forgot about it, and now she has to somehow make up for their mistake. 

“I don’t really have the capacity for a big cake anymore.” I hold up my hand as her shoulders slump and she’s about to turn and leave. “But I could squeeze in something extra if it doesn’t have to be too elaborate?” I pity her. If her partner is already letting her down before the wedding, then I doubt their marriage will last all that long. So maybe I can at least help make her enjoy her wedding day. 

The woman lets out a long relieved sigh. “Thank you! You’re absolutely saving my life here. And no, it doesn’t have to be too elaborate.” She scoffs, wrinkling her nose. Maybe she should call it off altogether if she already knows they’re not the right partner for her. “Just let me know what would be possible and we can work from there?” She throws me a hopeful smile—and something inside me cracks.

I blink again, at the spark of… of something shining in her eyes, something that momentarily wipes my mind clear of all thoughts. 

“Uh, sure!” I clear my throat, fighting to clear my thoughts as well. What the..? “I, uh, I’ll see how much time I can free for this and then let you know? So we can pin down the details?”

“That would be amazing.” Now, she’s positively beaming at me. “Can I come in tomorrow again?” She throws a glance at her watch. “Around noon? Or is that too soon?”

My heart’s racing in my chest at the sight of her excitement, and I fail miserably at reining it in again. “Yeah,” I say, lamely. “Tomorrow would work.”

“Great!” She almost seems to radiate as she looks at me, all happy and joyous. “See you tomorrow then.” She pivots and sweeps out of my shop like a fresh spring breeze, leaving me baffled and in pieces.

. o O o .

Later that night, I lie in my bed and still can’t get her out of my mind. Which is ridiculous. I don’t know anything about her, don’t even know her name, for Dunne’s sake. 

And yet, I keep remembering how lovely her hair was, dark brown at the top and fading into almost metallic silver halfway down where it fell down her back. Shimmering in the afternoon light falling through the windows at my shop. I can’t forget how fierce her eyes were, so full of emotions, good and bad ones alike. I bet she never does things only half-heartedly. I can’t stop thinking about her body, so small next to mine. She’d probably barely reach my collarbone if she were to stand right in front of me. Without my help, my mind wonders about how soft she would feel if I were to run my hands along her curvy—

No!

I tear my eyes open, breathing heavily as I stare at the ceiling. 

No, I can’t—mustn’t—think about her like that. Because however brief our encounter was, there is one thing I do know about her. 

And that is that she’s getting married in about two months.

Next Chapter

[xandriagreat]

Modern Nimona

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Hurt

First Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: When a college graduate is framed for a crime that he didn’t do and the only people who are helping him is a science friend from college and a shapeshifting lab rat named Nimona.

Author’s note: This story/fic is a modern day au of Nimora (both book and movie). Also this fic/story is a two person writing, the co-writer is @vanessafangirl13

Notice/warnings: kissing, rudeness, death, decapitating

▪▪▪

June 15th, 2013,

It was graduation day at the University Institute Of Gloreth.

A young 21-year-old man with dark brown skin, a beginning of a short mustache and goatee, and short, dark hair, was in his usual plain white t-shirt, brown sweatpants, and black army boots, looking at the screens as he was packing the last of his stuff from his dorm.

He was a young man who showed promise ever since he was a kid. He worked his way up into the university but not meant it with the controversy of his college and schools knowing he was the only one who was born poor at the university that only accepted famous and rich people.

He was about to finish the last box when he heard a familiar voice ask, “You excited?”

"Yeah." He said with nervousness in his voice, looking a bit down before looking at the person.

The voice revealed to be his boyfriend, Ambrosius Goldenloin, an East Asian man with short, blonde hair curled over the left side of his head in a pompadours style, with the rest of his hair shaved close to his scalp, and dark and short, dark beard over his chin.

Ambrosius walked over to him, wanting to make sure his boyfriend was ok. “Want to talk about it, Bal?” he asked as he got to him.

"Yeah, it's just-" Bal tried to speak, "I can't believe it, 4 years have passed by so fast, and now we're graduating and going to the real world."

They begin sitting down on the bed, which is now just a mattress and bed frame.

Ambrosius nodded and held his hand, gently rubbing it. “There is more, isn't there?” he asked, looking at him. “Ballister, I see that you’re scared. ”

Ballister was quiet for a bit as he looked down. “What if… what if they hate me?”

His boyfriend is understanding why Ballister was scared. “You’ve worked so hard for this,” Ambrosius said, putting a gentle hand on his cheek. “They’ll love you.”

"You think so?" Ballister asked with hope in his voice as he looked at Ambrosius. “Yes,” Ambrosius answered, nodding softly.

Ballister begins to smile warmly and kisses him on the lips.

☆Later☆

Everyone was getting ready for the day of the graduation

Some were taking pictures, some were excited about the next chapter in their lives, and others talking with their families 

Bal was getting his graduation gown ready which is unique, while most of the university's graduation wear only had white gold and silver, his was different having a more black accent into his suit while his boyfriend had more gold in his as well.

"Well, we finally made it after 4 years," said Meredith Blitzmeyer, a tall Romani woman, with warm brown skin, long gray hair tied back in a ponytail, and rounded gold frame glasses over her gorgeous blue eyes. "The future has come."

“Oh, hey Meredith.” Ballister said, looking at her with a smile.

"Well, Ballister, future graduate of the era." Meredith jokes. She has been a bit of a jokester since high school. But at least her jokes were appropriate, unlike another classmate that was also graduating who happens to be a bully.

"More like a loser." A man named Thaddeus Sureblade jokes, he's the one with short brown hair, pale skin, and green eyes. He had always been a bully to the three, mostly to Ballister.

"Ugh! Not you again." Meredith ground, crossing her arms, knowing he was her ex-boyfriend. They broke up a month ago after finding out that he was a jerk, trying to make him his trophy wife, and almost a bad manly macho after dating for a year. She already moved on but Thaddeus was a bit still in the denial stage of a breakup.

“Hey, I was just coming over to talk with Ballister.” Thaddeus started, smiling his best prize smile.

"Well, then, go ahead." Meredith said, glaring at him.

Thaddeus put an arm around Ballister’s shoulders and said, “Look, when I first saw you at the Institute, I thought that you were just a nobody.”

Ballister looked at him like he was going to say more. “And?”

Meredith began putting her hands on her hips and raise her eyebrow, tapping her foot, waiting for an answer 

Thaddeus noticed that and didn’t want to get her too mad. “I’m not going to answer that.” he said, popping his lips. Thaddeus got his arm off of Ballister and shoved him a bit as he walked away.

Meredith and Ambrosius caught Ballister before he fell on the floor and helped him stand up.

“Thanks.” Ballister said to them. 

Ambrosius nodded to him and smiled. “No problem.”

“I still can’t believe that I dated him.” Meredith muttered under her breath.

Just then, The Director of the University opened the doors, smiling at the graduating class of 2013.

Everyone began to line up as the Director entered the room.

It was revealed to be a tall and thin woman with pale skin, a long neck. her blonde hair in a long braided ponytail, black eyes. She wore a yellow business coat over a white blouse, matching yellow ankle-length long skirt, brown stockings, and black 3-inch high heels. She's a serious and kind woman.

“Everyone,” the Director started as she looked at the soon to be graduating students, “today is an important day. Not only are you all graduating but we have our first rise to the top student graduating.”

She smiled at Ballister, who nodded to her. “Thank you, Director.” Ballister said, smiling.

Then the Director clapped her hands together and said, “Now, everyone needs to finish up and get to the stage.” 

Everyone did as they were told. 

Ambrosius got his scabbard on his belt before getting his family’s sword from his locker.

It was traditional of the Goldenloin family to carry the sword that Glorth carried throughout the war for special occasions, like today.

Ambrosius looked at Ballister and smiled softly. “You ready?” he asked.

“I will be. I just need to wait for my ring.” Ballister said. “You can go ahead.”

"Ok. We will be waiting for you." Meredith said, fixing her cap.

Ambrosius and Meredith went out as Diego, a man with light brown skin, brown eyes, and blonde hair styled in a short mohawk, came in.

Diego was the Jeweler of Ballister’s ring.

“Hi.” Ballister said, smiling at him.

"Hi. Sorry about that, I was just finding the ring which took a while." Diego said, giving him the ring

“It’s alright.” Ballister reassured as he got the ring from him.

The University ring was a silver ring. It had some gems all around it, with the top gem being a beautiful red. There was gold writing on the inside of the ring. The writing said, ‘Send the darkness back into the shadows to see the light’.

It’s the main motto of the university and of the city in case there is danger of any kind that comes in.

Ballister smiled softly as he put it on his right ring finger. It felt different than before when he wore it last time but he didn’t mind it.

Before Ballister went out, Diago stopped him for a moment. "Umm, sir." Diago started, about to get out of his phone. "I-"

“Ballister.” the Director said, walking back in. Both Ballister and Diago looked at her as the Director said, “It’s almost time. You need to get with the other students.”

Ballister nodded as he went out with everyone.

☆

They went outside just in time for the graduation ceremony. As the music began to play, the three friends already imagined their future like everyone else.

The mayor is the special guest for the graduation. 

The mayor was a woman with brown skin, black eyes, and long white hair tied in a tight bun, wearing a white blouse and blue pantsuit with gold and red accents and blue high heels heading to the stand.

She was the one to request Ballister to go to the Institute and his adoptive mother. 

After everyone got the diploma, everyone clapped for the graduated students. Then everyone sat down as the mayor got up and went to the microphone. “Everyone,” she started, smiling at everyone, “I am so proud of this graduating class. This class has someone special. This person works all the way up. This person is my son, Ballister Boldheart.”

The spotlight pointed at Ballister and he began to stand up with everyone looking at him. 

Then everyone cheered for him as he smiled and walked up to his mother. 

Meredith got her phone and begin recording him, smiling big.

Ballister hugged the mayor before he turned to the microphone. “Thank you, Mother.” Ballister said into the microphone.

Mayor Valerin began grabbing a small box from her pocket, and then opened up to reveal a beautiful ring server and even with an obsidian gem with red spots on it, It was a family heirloom that has been in her family for generations.

Ballister looked at it and smiled at his mother. He started to reach with his right hand.

Then all of the sudden, Ballister’s University ring started to shake his hand as the top gem turned from white to green appeared at the top and shot a beam blasted through the mayor's body.

Everyone gasped in shock.

“Mom!” Ballister exclaimed in shock.

His friends came just in time, his boyfriend tried to stop  but accidentally got the beam cut off by cutting Ballister's right arm off.

Ballister fell to the ground, holding his now cut arm, bleeding as Meredith came to check on him.

Bal and Meredith begin hearing people panicking and screaming seeing their mayor hurt.

"Are you ok?" Meredith asked worriedly.

“I…” Ballister started but was interrupted by someone yelling, “The mayor is dead!”

Meredith grabbed something from her bag that she was carrying, it was a smoke bomb, she began throwing it and a puff of green smoke blew.

"Let's go." Meredith said, taking Ballister by his other hand and they ran out and away from the graduation grounds.

Ambrosius watched them run out worriedly. “How did this even happen?” he asked himself as he looked at the crime scene.

☆

Ballister and Meredith ran into an alleyway. 

“Ok, I think that we’re safe now.” Meredith panted as she caught her breath and looked at Ballister.

Ballister still held his cut arm as he sat down. His arm was still bleeding a lot.

Meredith got a med kit out of her bag and tented the wound. “Here we go.” she said as she finished wrapping the bandages around it.

Ballister looked at the wrapped up wound before looking back at Meredith as she said, "We gotta get out of this place."

“I’m sorry… ‘We’?” Ballister repeated to see if he heard her right. 

“Yes. ‘We’, Ballister.” Meredith said, helping him up.  "We need to get out of this place."

“Meredith…” Ballister started as he sighed and looked down. “You can’t just drop everything for me. You’ll be hunted too and never get to be the scientist that you wanted to be.”

“Ballister, look at me.” Meredith said, lifting his head up. “I know that you’re innocent and that you didn’t kill your mother… and I am going to help to prove that.” 

They begin hearing the news all over the city of the death of the mayor and that Ballister was a killer.

“Come on.” Meredith said to Ballister, holding his hand. "I'll call someone I know to help us and where we can go."

[doggernaut]

20 Questions Game

Thanks for the tag, @wrathofthestag!

How many works do you have on AO3?

51

2. What's your total AO3 words count?

577,841

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Check, Please!, which is also the only fandom I have fics for on ao3, but I've also written for Parks and Recreation and The Baby-Sitters Club. And I have a Black Widow WIP that I started writing for a friend and haven't found a way back to.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All I Want is You Just Jack Here Comes the Sun  I Only Have Pies for You And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to respond to comments, but sometimes some slip through the cracks.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Regular readers of my fic know don't do unhappy endings, but I'll say With Extra Chocolate Chips because while it's a soft, fluffy fic, the problem that exists at the beginning hasn't been resolved by the end.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of my endings are happy, lol. But I'll say And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? because it has three happy endings. (Bitty deserves all the happy endings.)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

If people hate my fic, they have fortunately kept it to themselves.

9. Do you write smut. If so what kind?

I'm so bad at writing smut. Maybe I've written some things that are smut adjacent, but most of it is awkward and/or humorous with a lot of talking and laughter.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've never written a crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Years ago, between my kids being born (so...2004?), I cowrote a BSC "Super Special" fic with a bunch of people I met in the BSC thread on the old Fametracker forums. I wrote a couple of the Dawn chapters.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

It's definitely a tie between Jack and Bitty from Check, Please! and Leslie and Ben from Parks and Rec.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Longtime followers might remember my AU where Bitty and Jack meet later in life, when their daughters are college roommates. I started writing it months before I even posted anything for this fandom. And I just haven't been able to figure it out. Part of it is that it's so complex, with two original characters (the daughters) and four different POVs. I haven't quite figured out where I want one daughter's plot to go. I've since written a fic with a similar concept (Bitty and Jack never kiss, reunite years later when they both have teenage daughters), but it's still very different from this WIP. I'd like to say I'll eventually finish it but at this point who knows.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, probably.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Any type of description, particularly how things move or work, which is probably why I have such a hard time writing smut.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

If it works for the fic, sure, though I'm only fluent in English so it's unlikely I would ever do it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

When I was 7, I read all of Beverly Cleary's Ramona books and was distraught that I couldn't find out what happened next. My dad told me to write my own Ramona book so I did. I think I wrote one chapter before abandoning it because I'd discovered Judy Blume's books.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

This is such a tough call, but right now it might be And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here? because it has a good blend of fluff and angst, three happy endings, a wild premise that still managed to be (as of its writing) canon compliant, and one of my absolute favorite scenes that I've ever written. Writing it was such a good time, and I miss when my words flowed that easily.

Tagging @cricketnationrise, @sweatersinthesummer, @the-lincyclopedia, @anyawen, @montrealmadison, @ohyoufool, and whoever else wants to share!

[meatmechapilot]

AU August 2022 Day 2 - Artist's Muse

Portrait of an Omega

Summary: Lord Willy Tybur commissions artist Levi to paint a portrait of his wife, Eren.  The artist and the subject fall in love.

Chapter One

Levi Ackerman, a renowned portrait painter arrived at the home of his latest client.  He's been commissioned to paint Lord Tybur's new wife.  Levi's the go to portrait painter for the powerful and wealthy, as such, he's become quite wealthy himself.  Lord Tybur's manor is clear in the countryside and far from the city, where he resides.  Normally, he did not like taking commissions that would force him to travel too far, but Tybur's new wife was rumored to be a renowned beauty, the most desirable omega in the country.  Levi was intrigued about the famous omega, so he agreed to take on this job.

The Tybur estate was huge and there were many servants.  Levi's carriage stopped at the gate, and he was ushered into the main estate by half a dozen servants, helping him to take his art supplies inside.  The butler greeted him at the estate's door, and he was brought to the study to meet the lord of the manor.

"Ah, Master Ackerman, so good to see you."  Lord Tybur greeted him.  "I must introduce you to my wife, your subject for the next few weeks."

Levi's eyes went to the figure seated on a chair and his breath stopped.  The omega before him was the most exquisite creature he'd ever seen.  The first thing he noticed about the omega was his eyes, they are the loveliest shade of blue green, like a warm tropical sea that Levi could drown in.  His hair is a rich, chestnut brown that's done in an elaborate updo held together with bejeweled hairpins and a comb.  Lady Tybur's clothes is similarly rich as his hair ornaments, the dress he's wearing is made of the finest silks and perfectly tailored to his body, accentuating his lovely figure.  For a wild moment, Levi was thinking about challenging Tybur to a duel for his wife.

Tybur, blissfully unaware of Levi's increasing covetous thoughts, introduced his wife as Eren.  Levi committed the name to memory and noted to himself to get a few extra portraits of the omega for personal use.  During the introductions, Eren's eyes met Levi's from across the room.  Levi felt a shiver of excitement run down his spine.  The way the omega didn't immediately lower his eyes filled Levi with hope, maybe the interest isn't so one-sided.

---

The next week saw Levi move his studio into Lord Tybur's manor.  It was Eren's idea, he implored his husband that the artist shouldn't spend so much time traveling and that the lord should give the artist room and board until the painting's finished, so that the master can concentrate on his craft and not worry about mundane things.  Servants should also not disturb the painting sessions unless directly summoned.  Lord Tybur immediately agreed, used to giving only the best things to his wife.

Levi was grateful that he was able to have a substantial amount of alone time with Eren, in the interest of not disturbing the artist at work.  He can drool over the omega without any servants sticking their noses where they don't belong.  

Eren has some ideas about what his portrait should be like and made his opinions known the first time he sat down for the portrait.  Levi had never been so productive in his life.  In addition to making progress on Eren's portrait, the omega provided inspiration for many ideas, and he filled three sketch books in less than a month.

It's getting harder and harder to simply look at Eren every day and not touch the omega.  Each night, Levi's plagued with dreams, each more erotic than the next.  Each morning, Levi wakes up disappointed that Eren wasn't his.  Levi discovered that Eren was not the typical demure omega wife of a Lord.  The omega was very opinioned and outspoken and also very exacting with it comes to his portrait; the painter unable to proceed until everything was perfect to the last detail.  

Levi was glad for this because it would mean that work on the portrait is slow going, and he has a chance to be alone with Eren for longer.  Frequently, they would be lost in conversation, the portrait forgotten.  It took two weeks for Levi to realize that Eren's pickiness was a delaying tactic, and that the omega was also trying to keep the painter on site for as long as possible.  After this realization, the conversation between them became bolder and less appropriate, revealing forbidden desires.

"What would you do to me if I'm your omega?"  Eren asked one day.  Lord Tybur was away on a business trip to the capital and the time was ripe to act upon their feelings.  They've been dancing around each other for a month, since the painter moved into the manor so he could devote all his time to paint the portrait.

"I would certainly not go on business trips and leave my omega alone with a strange alpha."  Levi replied, attempting to concentrate on his work, but failing, for the anticipation was too great.  Eren was already scantily clad in loose robes instead the buttoned up, conservative fashion of the day.  They decided that the portrait should be that of a fantasy setting.  The omega now started to take his clothes off, until only a see-through shift was left, leaving very little to the imagination.

Levi, who's already hard, took off his own clothes in record time.  He stalked toward the omega and finally put his hands on him.  Levi carried Eren toward the bed at a corner of the room, it was moved into the room as a possible prop, now it will find use for something else.  Levi gently laid Eren down into the bed and pulled off his shift so that the omega's body is finally bared to him.  Levi lowered his head until their lips met, finally consummating their attraction.

The artist's canvas lies forgotten in the great room, as the erotic sounds of lovemaking filled the room.  The alpha head is buried between the omega's legs, his tongue lapping up the omega's slick.  The omega sobbed as he's driven to distraction by the alpha's tongue, and soon was overtaking by pleasure, coming on the alpha's tongue alone.

Levi quickly positioned himself on top of Eren, and lined his cock up with the omega's cunt.  Their eyes locked, and when Eren indicated he's ready, Levi pushed himself inside, bottoming out with a groan.  The omega felt heavenly and judging by Eren's moans, the sentiment is reciprocated.  When Eren gave the indication to move, Levi started pounding into the heavenly heat.  Levi's been fantasizing about this moment ever since he's laid eyes on Eren, and he's going to savor every moment of this.  Eren apparently had a different idea and he pushed Levi into a sitting position so he could climb on his lap and rode his cock.   This new position allowed Levi access to the omega's chest, to which he took shameless advantage.  He started teasing Eren's nipples, laving his tongue and lightly nipping with his teeth.  This drew a lustful moan from the omega, and he stopped his movements.  Levi then flipped Eren on his hands and knees in no time, he's thrusting into the omega's tight cunt again.  This time, Eren moved his hips back to meet Levi's thrusts.  Soon, Eren came with a wail, squirting slick all over Levi's cock.  Levi's movements were erratic, he too was close.  

Levi's knot formed as he came inside Eren, locking them together.  As he flooded the omega's insides with his seed, an immense sense of satisfaction filled the alpha.  He collapsed on Eren's back, his nose on the omega's scent gland.  With tremendous will power, Levi refrained from biting the omega's neck.  Instead, after his knot went down, he got dressed and helped Eren into his robes.

Chapter Two

[notasouleater]

!!! ah! thank you for the tag!

Three Ships: Lucky Jumbo - Luke Carder/Mumbo Jumbo (Inscryption + Hermitcraft + the person I am reblogging this from), Johnathan/Mina Harker (Dracula), Dumbass Dads (me. suffer)

First Ship: oh jeeze. I definitely remember first character obsessions better than ships. Esp. bc I didn't really, like, ship things when I first got interested in things? Like I enjoyed pairings that were there, but I don't think I like. Actively did until I saw it in fandom? so probably something sanders sides

Favorite Color: blue! :)

Last Song: ... Awkward Marina - Entropy (Sim Gretina Remix) (Bomb's playlist)

Last Movie in Theaters: uhhh. hm. come back to me

Last Show: probably The Owl House? still losing it over Many things, heyo

Currently Watching: I'm trying to catch up w/ hermitcraft. I'll remember to watch the next episode of leverage,,, someday

Currently reading: I just finished my most recent book, but I'd also recommend the one before that- this is how you lose the time war- bc it was so good! One of those books where every moment of spare time I would open it up, and in between couldn't stop thinking about it!! (I have a sherlock holmes collection on my nightstand but it's also... been there for months. I don't exactly have a bed lamp, I'll finish it eventually, I swear!)

Currently Working On: Where The Heart Is, The Cube (placeholder name), and I am very close to starting either a fae duel or active writing for the thing the orbs are for. Or picking back up the demon au.

oh crap I nearly forgot the pokemon comic. uh. that's a fine sign. It'll get updated... eventually

Current Obsessions: I'm currently on a My Ocs kick and I can't even be sheepish about it, I love them. Hard to say bc I always have a lot of background things that activate When I See it- but Widdershins and Aurora comics, Hermitcraft, drawfee(?), Half-a-dink Charleston, Epic the musical (new), Taz balance (currently reignited)

@self-deprecation-tank @fennecfox2121 @plantsnnstuff @floofylion @justheretolurk24 If you want !!! no pressure

Rules: Tag nine people you want to get to know better

Thanks for the tag @louwhose !

Three Ships: Zelink, Malink, and Sylki

First ship: umm idk Finn McMissile/Holly Shiftwell I guess? But I like barely shipped them. It was more of a ‘oh well this fic is pretty good so I’ll put up with the pairing’ kinda thing XD If we’re talking first serious ship then Sylki

Fave colour: blue

Last song: Heartbreak Feels So Good by Fall Out Boy

Last movie in theaters: Thor Love and Thunder I think? I don’t go to theaters much lol

Last show: Hero’s Purpose

Currently watching: …nothing (I’ve been too busy playing Majora’s Mask lol)

Currently reading: whatever fluffy or whumpy fic I can get my hands on

Currently working on: too many wips

Current obsession: Legend of Zelda and Linked Universe (it’s not obvious at all 🙃)

No pressure tags: @telemna-hyelle @skyward-floored @tired-twili @zeldaelmo @blossomingwaters @uncleskyrule @srah-the-violist aaand I can’t think of anyone else cause my brain has stopped cooperating

[bookwyrminspiration]

New wings au, wooo!!

I absolutely loved it so much, I love how Fitz is stressed and scattered in a composed kind of way, idk if that makes sense but it's a particular vibe that you nailed

I love how he absolutely despises The Being as well, it's very funny

Also, that ending tho!!!

Biana, baby, are you alright? Do you need a hug?

I feel like their mental states would get a lot better if they just accepted their new behaviours and incorporated them into their persons

Fitz could be frazzled in his burnt out gifted kid way as he skims across the ground, occasionally flapping his wings as he walks and humming along to a tune in his head, probably a song that he heard from Sophie that he enjoyed (He seems like a pop person, like "Runaway" by Bruno Mars, maybe "Teen Idol" by Marina and the diamonds) because birds, as he compares his notes on "What The Fuck Happened To Us" and going into a fight or flight when someone surprises him, like puffing out his feathers and getting very ruffled and almost preparing for a fight, just instinctively, or flapping his wings when he jumps and just shooting out of the area and climbing back to his house.

Like, I can imagine him getting very skittish around unfamiliar things but also very cocky and confident about things he knows very, very well. Maybe he even gets an ego boost and preens his wings to make them perfect at all times and getting a fascination with his his reflection and how his eyes work.

Also skitting up the side of his house and falling asleep on top of it instead of in it. I can't describe the skitting part but like, half crawling up the side while flapping his wings to give himself a boost and having to remind himself that he is an elf and that elves stand and walk and don't snap at his friend for touching his things or getting into his personal space, a friend that very well knows that it's his area and his stuff and his bed and some stupid little owl isn't going to disturb it like how they disturb his nights and prey-

And then banging his head against a wall while trying to get it back into elf mode and a very sleep deprived Dex just standing there being so confused because all he did was inspect Fitz's pen when Fitz made a low squawking sound and glared at him and puffed out his feathers

Also Dex going through similar changes, except now he's super conscious of every noise he makes and goes out of his way to be as silent as possible.

Also Fitz making a high pitched "Brr?" noise whenever he's surprised or someone's getting his attention and staring at them with wide eyes and being very unnerving, considering he's Fitz

-Heathen

!! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I wasn't 100% sure with this chapter because like...I do not know how Keefe would actually react to his mom dying and the trio just kept making jokes when I was writing everything and I was just sitting there like blease you guyys. this is serious. I actually took out some in editing because when I was writing it I was like this is too many humor. But that's besides the point! the point is I'm thrilled you enjoyed the new chapter <33

(got long so under cut!)

also hell yeah I was going for exactly that vibe with Fitz!! Throughout the whole chapter he was just going "don't freak out everything's fine don't freak out everything's fine dont--" over and over to himself. He is trying so hard to be there for Keefe and to be supportive but also he has no idea what is going on because he doesn't have a monster and has never been to the room and Sophie and Keefe are acting like it's normal so he's gonna act like it's normal too but the walls are fucking moving

I'm not sure he despises the being, but he is definitely very very stressed around it. The last time he saw the thing it was thrashing around and screaming its head off as the place collapsed around them and it nearly took them out on accident with all that flailing, so he doesn't exactly trust it. He doesn't hate it it's just like if you got bit by a dog and then you were nervous around dogs. But he's tolerating it for Keefe's sake and because it seems calmer now...

Biana is going through some things right now, though I can't say what or whether she's okay without spoiling the next chapter. But herougaern that ending gave me so many problems because I kinda have this method of slightly winging things where I've got an idea of what I want but then I like to let it figure itself out in the story. smaller examples include what Sophie stole from the store at the last moment (I didn't actually know what she stole when I wrote that she stole it) and what Fintan told Marella about the stars and the dreamers (I had kind of an idea, but no concrete plan for what it meant). and then in this chapter Biana's thing came up before it'd entirely figured itself out so then I was just there like...what is up with Biana actually. someone please tell me. but I did figure it out, now she just has to!

you know what? I think your assessment is fair. Sophie seems to be doing better now that she's not freaking out about the wings or the new world she find herself in; she's back in contact with her parents and working towards taking down Phoenix and the Neverseen! Now that she's had her moment, it's time to focus on everyone else...we'll just see how they end up coping or accepting things if they do!

also wait hang on I love the idea of birds and humming songs, that's so cute wait a minute. frazzled Fitz comforting himself with music is so so precious. Also I literally drew on the fight or flight idea you said when writing today's chapter that's wings au canon right there baby!! His feathers puffing up when he's annoyed/embarrassed/scared etc. That is canon! He's trying to take up more space so people leave him alone and he can calm down, though the being didn't really seem to be paying him any attention.

Cocky but skittish...you may be onto something there. He's just trying to be there for his friends and acting like everything is under control, but also all of this is very very weird thank you very much and he's in way over his head and has no idea what to do about it. He has eagle wings he just woke up and grew eagle wings his life is very much not normal. How can he not be on edge in a situation like this?!

The preening I've typically attributed to Keefe, but there's nothing stopping that from infecting Fitz as well!! he's gotta make sure all his feathers are in order and that everything's set so he can go out there and. idk do something. what do you do when you're living in a group of your friends on the surface during an apocalypse of monsters. scrabble?

Fitz honey you don't have to sleep on the roof you have. You have a bed. It's canon we've seen it. Sophie watched you sleep that one time remember. when she broke into your house in the middle of the night. Please sir please don't sleep on the roof there are monsters outside that's kinda. that's kinda the whole premise of the au there are monsters outside. especially around where you are there are many monsters.

elf-mode vs bird mode is hilarious! I don't really think it'd fit with what I have planned for Fitz, but the contrast between the two is incredible. also you're so right Dex is sleep deprived. he hasn't figured out how to sleep yet. one day he'll learn how to sleep but not today. today he is chronically tired--sophie infected him with insomnia or something. perhaps the reason Dex likes to be up so late is partially because he's owl based and partially because it's quieter at night! not that the kotlcrew is very loud but being alive tends to make some noise. I personally like to think that Tam and Dex have a kinda night time friendship where they're existing in the same space at the same time when everyone else is asleep. they don't necessarily talk but they enjoy someone else being awake

Fitz *handshake* Echo: going brrr apparently. also you've just made me realize how unnerving he could be. like he's speifically got the funky teal eyes so him staring at people is like...why. your eyes are so bright stop it. stop looking at me like that. and because he usually only stares at Sophie during telepathy things when it's mutual, so having that intense focus on you is like sir what are you trying to do

anyway the point of all this is that Fitz is very dear to my heart and I love him immensely and I'm ecstatic to learn that you enjoyed the chapter!! now I gotta write the next one because this one gave me so much trouble. the end of my semester is nearly upon me, so perhaps I can write extra before the next semester starts...

[ficsforeren]

Shhh, Baby, Daddy's on The Phone

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Rockstar AU, Domestic AU, Smut, Fluff

Summary: Your husband, Eren Jaeger, comes home from his band’s tour to the sight of you moaning his name on your bed with a vibrator buried deep inside you. Burned by the desire to ravish you right then, Eren decides to have his way with you, not caring if he’s in the middle of a phone interview with a music journalist.

Warnings: rough and unprotected penetrative sex, having sex while on the phone, reader masturbating while Eren watches, blindfold, daddy kink, cunnilingus, blow job, hand job, having sex while being recorded, squirting, spit kink, overstimulation, cum play, creampie, choking, degradation, spanking (with hands and belt), slapping, dirty talk, heavy swearing

Word Count: 9K

🎉 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 7000 FOLLOWERS! 🎉 Here's your gift, darlings ❤️❤️❤️

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart

A day. If you had waited for just one more day, you wouldn’t have gotten caught masturbating on the same bed you shared with the man you had loved—and loved you—for seventeen years. But you were lonely, weren’t you? You were impatient. You hadn’t seen your husband, Eren Jaeger—the frontman of the notorious rock band called Empire—for almost a month. You hadn’t touched him, made love to him, tasted the sweet taste of his lips and the exotic rosewood of his perfume on his sun-kissed skin and it became unbearable with each second passing by.

Phone calls weren’t enough. Watching his lips form the line, “I miss you,” and “I love you” through FaceTime wasn’t as satisfying as having them whispered directly into your ear with his smirk grazing against your shell. His words didn’t light your body on fire, not in the way they did on that night before his departure when you spent endless hours gasping his name and hearing him call yours between a string of expletives and filthy words. You missed him. You wanted him. Which was why the second your parents took your two children into their home to have a sleepover party with their cousins, leaving you all alone in the lovely suburban house you had shared with your husband and kids for three years, you decided to… look for some relief.

You didn’t plan on it, of course. Your plan was to finish all your chores to make sure the house was spotless by the time your husband arrived home the next day. But you managed to finish everything before sundown, leaving you wandering along the house, not knowing what else to do. Once you had cleaned yourself in the shower, you were dressed in your silky nightgown, climbing to the middle of the bed with your favorite novel in one hand. 

You only managed to read a chapter when your thoughts flew back to your husband. You checked on your phone. The last text you had gotten from him was this morning, telling you not to forget to eat your breakfast as you tend to skip it. Eren was always attentive like that, sometimes acting more like a wife than you were. The rest of your texts hadn’t been read. Maybe he’s busy? You wondered. He had been dealing with endless interviews, photoshoots, and live performances to promote Empire’s new album after all. It often took him a few hours before he could get back to your calls and messages. He was only in a different town, not overseas, but it felt like he was a thousand miles away from you.

Sighing, you closed your book, unable to concentrate on your reading any longer. You searched for your phone, your thumb sliding across the screen, going through your gallery. There was a video—a sex video—that you once took with Eren during your friends-with-benefits days. That one Sunday morning when the two of you engaged in debauchery while he was still drunk and half-asleep. With your cheeks warming up at the memory, you tapped your finger on the screen and the video played.

“Bounce back,” Eren said, his husky voice sounding a bit deeper, heavy with sleep but also laced with urgency. “Bounce back on my fucking dick, baby, come on.”

You lost count on how many times you had seen this video when he was away. You convinced yourself that it was just a way to cope with the longing, but you couldn’t deny the way your body squirmed, aching to redo everything you did in that video. 

“Harder,” Eren commanded, followed by the sound of his palm meeting your ass cheek. “Fucking take that cock like you own it.”

The video was so pornographic, so raw, and passionate. Eren was a feral beast in bed while you were reduced to nothing more but a whimpering mess. He wasn’t being himself that day, too intoxicated to register the things he did and said to you.

“Wanna make you my bitch,” he rasped. “Wanna make you my cumslut.”

That man in the video almost didn’t feel like him. Eren—the version of Eren that you fell in love with—had always showered you with praises at any time he could. He didn’t do it just to flatter you. He did it because each compliment he gave you was a form of his honesty. He respected you, cared about you, loved you more than the earth loved the sun. That morning was the only time he ever treated you like a whore he rented for the night, and he felt so guilty for treating you that way but you loved it. It was a nice change. He felt dangerous, uncontrolled and it was so exhilarating that a mere thought of it sent your blood boiling.

You squeezed your thighs, heat pooling in your center. You were so aroused at the little grunts and groans your husband was emitting in the video, so titillated at the sight of him taking you from behind and fucking you against the headboard. He had his head thrown back, his lips parted in a breathy moan, “Fuck, so good. You’re so fucking good, baby girl.”

Your eyes, just like many nights before, drifted back to the top drawer of your dresser where you kept your rabbit vibrator hidden safely in a box. It was the one that your best friend Pieck gave you on your birthday; the same one that your husband used plenty of times before, not because he was incapable of satisfying you. Eren was beyond fantastic when it came to handling things in bed but there was something hot, he said, about watching you clench yourself around the toy before he fucked you senselessly. He did it so you’d know just how good his cock was compared to it. And it fed his ego so well when he found you squirting on his cock just after a few thrusts. “Fucked you so good, didn’t I, baby?” He would ask with a smirk, not giving you a chance to breathe until he reached his own high. 

Fuck, okay. You couldn’t hold back the temptation, not when the images of your husband pushing your legs high up in the air as he rammed his hips against yours resurfaced in your head. Taking the sex toy out of the box, you returned to the bed.

You took a glance at the clock. It was only seven pm, still so early to be doing something as sinful as this but you couldn’t help it. Your bedroom door was still open but you didn’t care. You were the only person in the house anyway, and the front door was locked. The only one who carried the spare key was your husband and his flight back home wouldn’t be until tomorrow evening. 

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your nightgown until the fabric pooled around your stomach, your thin spaghetti strap falling off your shoulder as you slid your panties off your legs. You propped a pillow behind your back for comfort, keeping your thighs open wide. You rewound the video, playing it from the beginning. You didn’t have to watch it, as you already memorized the scene from replaying it so many times. You just needed to shut your eyes and your memory would display everything behind your closed lids like a movie projector. 

Holding your vibrator in one hand, already covered with lube, you tucked the end of your dress between your teeth so you could watch yourself sliding the toy inside your entrance. The internal stimulator was able to penetrate you deeply enough to reach your G-spot, and as you switched it on, waves of pleasure coursed through your veins almost right after. Even so, it could never satisfy you the way Eren’s cock did. Your husband was the only one who could stretch you perfectly in the way you liked it.

The smaller arm of the vibrator, flexible enough to bend and move as needed, stimulated your clitoris at the same time you thrust its long shaft inside you. You clicked on the buttons, increasing the intensity, exploring many kinds of vibration modes until you found the right one. You focused on Eren’s moans, the way he was calling your name, the way he snarled out, “No one can fuck you like this but me, you got that?”

You remembered him again, remembered the way your husband held you, the way he kissed and plundered your mouth with his tongue, the way his fingers would curl tightly around your throat to make you choke out his name. You chewed on your bottom lip, pinpointing the vibrations right where you wanted them. You started pumping them fast, remembering the way he slid his cock in and out of you, matching his pace. It might not be as gratifying, but you could feel your thighs quivering in pleasure. 

“Ah,” you moaned, your muscles tensing at your impending orgasm. You were so close. “Eren…”

“Yes, baby?”

Your eyes jolted open in shock, your body freezing at the sight of your husband leaning one shoulder so casually against the doorframe, watching you with a pair of naughty eyes. He was dressed impeccably handsome in formal attire, must be because he just returned from another press conference. His tailored black suit highlighted his broad shoulders perfectly, its color a stark contrast to how bright his viridian eyes were. Eren had both hands stuck inside the pocket of his trousers, a suggestive smirk written on his lips. The matching black tie he wore was hanging loosely around his neck, his crisp white button-down shirt still tucked neatly inside his pants but he had his top buttons unfastened. He was still wearing his Oxford shoes, his expensive coal-black Tag Heuer watch reflecting the dim, golden light of your bedroom.

His hair, as always, was tied up to the back of his skull, designed by a pair of expert hands to make it look stylishly messy. Eren was breathtaking. Even before he was a celebrity, he was already gorgeous. As a college boy, he was boyish and mischievous. Right now, he looked so mature, reeked of charm and sensuality. But as he watched you with his emerald eyes coated by desire, he only seemed devilish to you. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he crooned, his voice light and airy. “Didn’t think my wife would be so…” His gaze traversed down your body until it stopped right at your center, watching your hole clenching around your vibrator. His tongue peeked out to wet his lip before he returned your gaze to yours. “Occupied.”

You scrambled back, pulling the toy out of you in an instant before you closed your legs in shame. “Eren!” you squeaked out in horror, blood rushing to your face so fast that it left you feeling lightheaded. “Why are you—I thought you were flying back tomorrow!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” your husband chuckled, making his way to your spot while dragging his suitcase behind him. “When you said the kids were staying at your mother’s house for the night, I just couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone.” He stopped near the end of your bed. “I figured my wife would be lonely with me being gone.” He kept his hands inside his pockets as he loomed tall, his knees a few inches away from grazing against the footboard rail. He looked down on you. His gaze was intense. The previous mirth that graced his lips had vanished without a trace. “Seems like I was right.”

You found him glancing at the phone beside you. Your sex video was still playing, the sound of your moans filling the room. You panicked, utterly flustered. “I—this isn’t—”

“Open up.”

“W-what?”

“Your legs.” His voice was an octave lower. “Let me see that dripping cunt.”

You swallowed your breath. You didn’t think the first lines that fled out of your husband’s mouth after weeks of separation would be so obscene. Eren could be the gentlest man in bed if he wanted to, spooning you as he whispered sweet nothings in your ears, your body rocking together as you listened to the pit patter of the rain knocking against your windows. But he knew how much you loved it when he was being rough and dominating, craving for a little pain between waves of pleasure. This, right here, was him giving you a glimpse of what he was planning to do to you in a matter of minutes.

The mischief in his eyes was quickly replaced by impatience when you didn’t comply with his words right away. “I said, open.” He lifted his chin, his gaze condescending. The superiority in his gaze left you weak. “Or do you want to be punished?”

You shuddered. The coils inside your stomach tautened at his words. Eren remembered. He remembered when you told him you wanted to try something new in bed. Something filthier, something more thrilling, just like the way he behaved in the sex video you shared with him. You wanted him to do the opposite of what he usually did. You didn’t want him to be gentle. You didn’t want him to be respectful. There’s a time to make love and there’s a time to fuck like animals. Right now, with this amount of yearning burning inside you—a craving so intense that you couldn’t even wait for one more day to be stuffed with your husband’s cock and instead resorted to a silicone stick—Eren could tell it was the latter that you wanted.

You had spoken about this once on the night before he left the town—how you wanted him to be more merciless in bed—but it was weeks ago. You didn’t think he would remember it. But that’s where you were wrong. Eren didn’t just remember it. He wanted to do it. If this was a way to please you, he would do anything to fulfill even your filthiest dream. He had been thinking about it so much during your days of separation, that sometimes he lost track of conversation during his interview. And now that he was finally home, he was planning to give you just that.

You used to be diffident in bed, especially since you knew how experienced Eren was when it came to sex. But after spending years together, with him constantly praising every curve of your body, your confidence was built. But not tonight. After spending weeks not standing on the receiving end of that lustful stare, you were back to being the timid girl that you were like on the first day he laid his hands on you. 

Slowly, you parted your legs, giving a glimpse of your folds, soaked and glistening with your juice.

“Wider,” he demanded and you fisted the sheets beneath you. You were moving too slow for his liking. Eren reached out a hand, clasping his fingers around your ankle, and yanked you forward until you found your body sliding down the bed. You yelped in surprise, your legs were dangling over the edge when he placed both hands on your thighs, gripping them hard enough to leave bruises. He forced you to spread your legs as much as you can, exposing your twitching hole to his hungry eyes.

“Ren—”

“Look at you,” he simpered, one hand pinning your thigh to the bed while the other one slid up your leg, his fingertips ghosting over your pussy’s lips. “You’re drenched, Sweetheart.” Eren plunged two fingers inside his mouth, coated them with saliva, and brought them back down to glide between your folds. He pushed two digits inside without warning, crooking them up and making your entire body jolt in sensation. He tittered, retracting his fingers only to push them back inside his mouth, his tongue swirling to get a sliver of your taste. He kept his eyes on you as he let out a little mmm around his fingers. He slid them out, his smirk was salacious. “I’ve missed you, baby girl.”

You were on the verge of vocalizing his name when he grabbed the front of your gown, forcing you to sit on the bed before he clasped his fingers around your throat. You were being lifted to your knees, groaning into his mouth as he burned you with his kiss. His tongue pushed past your lips, moving in a maddening dance against yours that left you squirming. His grip around your neck was tight, suffocating you with his hand and his kiss at the same time.

When he released you, his face hovered above yours, letting you taste the scent of peppermint in his breath. “You should be glad that you’re smart enough to fuck yourself at the sounds of me fucking this little cunt,” he emphasized by plunging his fingers harshly between your folds. “If I had caught you watching someone else’s video, you know I wouldn’t be so forgiving.”

“I-I wouldn’t—” He tightened his grip, ending your sentence abruptly in a choke.

“Speak only when I tell you to,” he growled. “You’re my fucking bitch for the night. Behave.”

Thrill suffused your body like a shot of adrenaline. You melted in his hold, your lips parted in a strangled whimper. 

Eren kissed you once, softly, languidly, but when he dragged his lips to your ear, his voice was perilous. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“P-please,” you answered, begging at his mercy.

He purred, his smirk was pressing against the skin below your earlobe. “Where do you want me?”

You swallowed thickly. “I want you inside me, Daddy.”

He chuckled, pleased at the title you gave him. Removing his hand from your throat, he squeezed your jaws until you felt his nails digging into your skin. His lips were only a breath away when he whispered, “Pathetic little slut.”

He ripped your thin nightgown with both hands, shredding everything in one try. He tossed you back to the bed so carelessly that your nude body bounced once before you settled on the sheets. He removed his blazer, his gaze never left yours, only getting heavier by the second. The white shirt he was wearing was plastered to his sculpted chest. Eren was still as sturdy as he was five years ago, his muscles were drawn by the angels themselves. “Go on,” he said as he rolled each of his sleeves up to his elbow. “Put that toy back inside. You didn’t get to finish before, did you?”

You wanted him to touch you so badly that you wanted to go on your knees and beg him for it. Even without using your words, Eren could see it. “Let me know when you’re about to cum.” For once, he let his heavenly smile return. “I want you to squirt on my face.”

Your breathing ragged. “Yes, Daddy.” You reached for your vibrator again, feeling your heart beating so fast at the way your husband was watching you closely. When you were about to push it inside, he stopped you. 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit dry?” One corner of his mouth was raised higher than the other, gazing down at you so pompously. “You should do something about it, Sweetheart. Don’t want my little whore to hurt herself. That’s my job.” 

You knew he wasn’t referring to the bottle of lube on your nightstand. He wanted you to give him a show. Breathing heavily, you pushed the vibrator inside your mouth. You could taste yourself on the silicone, feeling absolutely humiliated that you had to suck a plastic cock in front of your husband with your legs spread open. Eren leaned forward, landing a palm on the sheets as he drew the sex toy away from your hand. “Here, let me help you.” He jammed it back in, choking you and fucking your mouth with the toy until you felt tears brimming in your eyes. You gagged in reflex, your fingers clutching around his wrist to stop him. “Don’t choke. Hold it in,” he chuckled, easily dismissing your feeble attempt. “You can do it, baby. You know mine is twice as big.” He repeated his actions several times. By the time he pulled it away, you were coughing. 

“Think of it as a warm-up,” he said as he pushed the vibrator inside you up to the hilt, not caring if your body was still tense to have a foreign object slide past your ring. “Before I wreck you apart with my cock later.”

He switched on the button, eyes gleaming in amusement at the way you were squirming at the sensation. “Keep your voice down.” He clamped his mouth around your nipple as he pumped it fast inside you. “I’m not gonna let you cry over a fucking toy.”

Despite his warning, you couldn’t hold back your whimper. The sensation was too much. He was pushing it too deep, too hard, too fast, sucking and biting on your sensitive bud all the while. “Ah! Ren—mmph!” He slapped a palm over your mouth, removing his mouth from your chest to hover his face above yours. 

“Too much, baby?” He asked almost melodiously. “Here, let me tone it down.”

Eren clicked on the buttons, putting the level of intensity to the maximum. You jerked forward, arching your back, your legs shaking from the vigorous vibration that ran up your skin. He took in your features, enjoying every bit of your expression as you turned into a sobbing mess. “Tell me when you’re about to cum,” he reminded you, his wrist moving back and forth. “Wanna drink all that fucking juice, baby.” He dipped his head in the crook of your neck, his fangs teasing your supple skin. “Come on, give it to me. Give it to Daddy.”

His words worked like magic and with a few more thrusts, you clutched your fingers on his shoulders, fisting his shirt. “I’m—I’m about to cum—”

Eren slid out the toy and flung it away without a care. Before you could whimper at the loss, he hooked his arms around your thighs and dove between your legs. He darted out his tongue, eating you out in the way that left you gasping and tugging on his hair. “Fuck, Daddy—” The word slipped out your mouth as your legs closed around his head. 

Eren growled, pinning your thighs back to the sheets as he lapped up and down your folds. You could feel the tip of his nose grazing against your clitoris every time and when you mewled, he finally closed his lips around it, sucking hard on the nub. That was the final push you needed to reach your ecstasy. You were squirting on his face, a sprinkle of your juice stained his cheeks before Eren took the rest inside his mouth. “Finally,” he breathed out, panting as he continuously lapped at your cunt like a starving man. “Been waiting for weeks to taste you again, baby. Mmm,” he moaned, his tongue dipping inside your entrance to clean every last drop. “So fucking sweet, I want to eat you up all night.”

You were dizzy, breathless, and spent but Eren was far from done. He unfastened his tie with one hand, letting it hang loose on his collar. “On your knees,” he commanded but you were too weak to comply right away. “What, you’re tired?”

He permitted you to speak. “Give…” You swallowed, your throat felt parched. “Give me five minutes… M-my legs are shaking—”

Eren bent himself down, grabbing you by your jaws again. “I don’t care if your legs are shaking,” he said through gritted teeth with barely an inch of space between your faces. “I’m not finished.”

He brought you up, forcing you to sit on your heels as he stood on his knees before you. “Look at me.” You tilted up your chin at his command, hooded eyes meeting his lustful ones. A proud smirk painted his face as he observed your features. “Such a pretty little bitch,” he simpered, his lean fingers stroking your cheek. “Whimpering like one too.” Eren shoved his thumb inside your mouth as his other fingers were glued against the underside of your jaw. He forces your mouth open, pressing his pad against your papillae. “I’m gonna fill you up tonight, baby girl. In every way possible.” 

You closed your lips around his thumb before you sucked on it, treating it like his cock. His eyes glazed with desire when he pulled his hand and slapped you across the face.

Fuck, it burns, you thought, as the stinging pain his palm left on your skin spread across your cheek. But this was what you wanted, wasn’t it? You had asked him—no, challenged him to do this. “I don’t think you’ll ever have the heart to slap me,” you remembered the words you’d once said to him. “You can be rough in bed, sure, but you’re always so… vanilla. I want you to treat me like you did to me that morning, Ren. Calling me your cumslut, treating me like one. It was exciting. I think it would be a nice change if we—”

“You seem distracted.” Eren slapped you again, ending your thoughts short. It wasn’t hard enough to leave his handprint on your skin, but the pain was searing nonetheless. “Don’t you want this, baby?” His fingers returned to grasp your throat, lifting you up. “Don’t you want me to treat you like a fucking whore?”

“Y-yes,” you choked out. His grip was so tight that your nerves were screaming in agony. “Yes, Daddy.”

“And what do you say?”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Good. Now, show me.” He unwound his hair tie, letting his silky smooth chestnut hair cascade down to his shoulder. He reached behind you, using the elastic band to tie up your strands in a messy ponytail. “I want to see how grateful you are.”

You nodded. Your fingers, albeit a bit shaky, toyed with the button of his slacks, tugging down his zipper. You lowered his trousers just enough to free him out of his briefs, taking his cock with both hands and stroking it to life. You started by kissing him on his tip, letting him know the softness of your lips before your tongue came to play. 

“Eyes over here,” Eren reminded you, and you looked up from underneath your eyelashes. The sight of you acting so docile sent his blood running south. “Dart out your tongue.” You obeyed, giving him small licks on his slit as you used one hand to pump his dick. He snorted, immensely pleased at how submissive you were. “Naughty kitten. Gonna milk my cock dry after this?”

You dragged your lips to the side, tracing the veins on his shaft with your tongue. “Yes, Daddy.”

“If you waste a drop, I’m gonna punish you.”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good. Now open up. I’m gonna fuck your face.” When you weren’t moving fast enough, Eren pulled your head back by your ponytail. Your mouth slightly opened in a gasp and he used the chance to slap his cock against your lips. “Wider.” You complied. Eren didn’t waste a second. He drove his length entirely inside your cavern in one try, hitting the back of your throat. Your lids closed in reflex, your mewls muffled by his skin. “Keep your fucking eyes on me.” Your red, glistening eyes shot open to meet him as you struggled to breathe. His disparaging smile made him look wicked. “You look the best when you have my dick in your mouth, Sweetheart. Come on, take me deeper.” 

He closed whatever space that was left, keeping your nose pressed against his pelvis, and blocking your airways for about three seconds before he released you. You coughed, gasping for air, choking on your own spit. A little longer than that and you would’ve gagged.

“You remember our safe word, baby?” He held you by the chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as he spoke. You nodded, tasting the saltiness of the tears that glid down to your lips. “Good. I want you to keep that in mind. I won’t slow down. You want me to be rough on you and I’m here to give it to you. I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk. You have my words on that, but…” he paused, swatting the bangs out of your eyes. He broke the tension for a moment. His touch was gentle, reminding you that it was still your husband underneath this vicious persona. That this was just a performance—a role that you asked him to play. There was a genuine worry in his voice when he said, “If it gets too much, say the word and I’ll stop immediately.”

“I’m okay,” you promised him with a smile. Eren was terrifying before, but that was part of the game, part of the excitement. You kissed the hand that caressed your face, your lips brushing against his palm. “I’m all right, Ren. You can do whatever you want with me. I’m enjoying this,” you purred, leaning into his touch like how a small kitten would. “Truly.” 

He hesitated for only a couple of seconds before his smirk returned. And that was it. He wouldn’t ask for it again. You wanted him to drive you to your limit? So be it.

His palm smacked against your cheek, throwing your face to the side. “Then get back to work.”

Still a bit dazed, you tried your best to please him with your tongue, hollowing your cheeks around him and pulling away with an obscene pop. Eren was about to thrust inside your mouth when suddenly his phone rang. The ringtone echoed from the inside chest pocket of his blazer, growing persistently with every second passing by. He reached over to his side with a sigh, snatching his phone. The name Levi Ackerman was written on his screen. 

Your husband clicked his tongue in vexation. He knew for certain that his strict, foul-mouthed manager would constantly call him until he picked it up. Your curiosity almost turned into words but you stopped yourself at the last second, not wanting to upset him by talking without permission. You stroked his length with your hand, hoping he’d notice the question in your eyes. Who is it?

Your nervous look granted him an idea. Wanting to tease you a little bit further, he pushed your head down to take his cock back inside your mouth. He slid his thumb across the screen, answering the call. “Hey, Levi,” he addressed, pressing his phone against his ear. 

You pulled away with a gasp, perplexed at the way your husband so casually greeted his manager—who was also a friend of yours—over the phone. “Ere—” The second you parted your lips, he used the opportunity to ram his cock back inside.

“Shhh, baby, I’m on the phone,” he said, his lopsided grin almost as lewd as the way he rocked his hips. He was enjoying it, loving the way you could do nothing but loosen your jaw and let him fuck your mouth until he was satisfied. He returned to his phone, putting it on speaker so you could listen to the conversation. “What’s up?”

“Am I interrupting something?” Levi’s voice rang from the other line, sounding as formal and cold as ever. 

“No, it’s okay. I was talking to Jace.” Eren pushed your hair back, gripping tightly onto your bangs as he picked up his pace, reaching a little deeper with every thrust. “We’re just…” He let out a breath. He could feel how fucking warm and wet your mouth was. A little bit of mirth stood evidently in his voice when he continued, “Playing a little game.” Your husband reached back to seize your ponytail, tugging tightly on your strands. “Watch your teeth,” he uttered sotto voce, his stare degrading.

“I swear to fucking God, Jaeger, if you’re fucking your wife right now, I’m gonna chop off your tiny fucking dick.”

“I swear, I’m not.” Well, not exactly in the way you’re thinking anyway, he sneered inwardly. “Also, leave my dick alone. I’ve got a wife to please. I don’t wanna make her cry, you know.” He hit the back of your throat, continuously shoving your head down, and maintained that position until you felt suffocated. “Though she does look pretty when she cries.” He knew how harsh he was being, judging by the tears that coated your eyes but he didn’t plan on stopping. He moved his phone away, whispering, “Take it,” as he kept one hand behind your skull, his hips rutting against your mouth. “Take my fucking dick. Ah, fuck, yeah, just like that—you fucking whore—”

“Jaeger!”

Drowning deep in pleasure, he could faintly hear Levi calling his name. He returned to his phone. “Sorry,” he answered breathlessly. “What were you saying?” 

“What the fuck are you doing? If you get distracted one more time, I’m gonna—”

“Jesus Christ, enough with the threat already. What’s up?”

The older man sighed, too weary to put on a fight. “I’m calling to let you know that we have someone from Kerrang Magazine looking for you.” Judging from his tone, impatient but not yet aggravated, he was oblivious to what was happening.

Eren released you, thick strings of saliva dribbled down your chin as you gasped frantically for air. He slapped his palm over your mouth before you could cough, reminding you to be silent. “Yeah? Another interview?” He angled your face upward, wanting the light to shine on you so he could witness every detail. You had tears streaming down your face, your lips bruised and glistening with your spit. Eren bent his head down, and for a second, his angelic smile fooled you. Thinking that he was aiming for a kiss, your body jerked when he spat onto your mouth. He giggled, couldn’t help but find this situation amusing. “Okay. When?”

“Now. She wants to interview you over the phone.”

“Now?” His grin grows wider when he sees you shaking your head, your eyes widening in protest. “Yeah, I’ve got some time to kill. I don’t have anything planned.” He framed your jaws, biting his lip at the thought of painting your face with his cum. “Yet.”

“All right. I’ll give her your number then.”

“Tell her to contact me right away.” He observed the way you ran your tongue all over his fingers, coating his digits with your saliva from his tips to his knuckles. “I’m a bit tired. I don’t want to fall asleep while waiting for her call.” Eren inserted his fingers into his mouth, watching you with a pair of mischievous eyes as he rolled his tongue around them, savoring the taste of your saliva mixed with his earlier pre-cum.

“Fine. You better watch your words, Jaeger. Stick to the script I gave you.”

“Yes, Sir.” Ending the call, Eren flung his phone to the bed. “Bend over.” You were being tossed like a rag doll before you could react, your breath knocked out of your lungs as you fell onto the sheets. 

“Eren—”

“Shut the fuck up and let me fuck that cunt,” he snarled, spinning you around until you were on all fours. Yanking his tie away from his collar, he wrapped it around your head, the black silk blinding your vision. Eren leaned forward, the material of his shirt grazing your backside as he snickered right beside your ear. “Our sex tape is a little bit outdated, don’t you think? Why don’t we make another one? Maybe this time we can upload it online. Let everyone see how good you are at taking my cock.” 

A whimper barely broke free when he shoved your head against the pillow, robbing your ability to speak. He gathered your phone, switched on your camera, and positioned it on the little space on your headboard. The video started recording, filming you from the front. On the screen, Eren could see himself taking off his belt. Both of your bodies were exposed. Your husband was still dressed perfectly in everything but his blazer, while you only had his tie to conceal your eyes. 

Smirking in satisfaction, he folded his belt and slapped your ass cheek with it. You flinched, whimpering in both thrill and pain. “You know what I’m so pissed about right now?” He spanked you again, not letting you answer him with words. “It’s the fact that you’re such a fucking whore, you couldn’t even wait for a day for me to come home. What, that fucking hole of yours is so loose now that you had to stuff yourself with a dildo to keep you satisfied? What would happen if I left for a month, huh?” Another slap, this time harder than before that a bruise bloomed instantly on your skin. “What are you going to do when your little toy can no longer please you? You’re gonna look for another dick, baby? Gonna fuck a guy and beg him to fill up your cunt, is that what you’re planning to do?” When the leather met your skin again, your arms quivered under your weight. “Answer me.”

“No!” You cried out. “No, I will never—I will never do that—o-only you, Ren!”

“That’s right, baby.” He chuckled, rewarding you with one last slap before he cast his belt to the side. “You belong to me.” 

His cock, still wet and lubricated with your saliva, was held firmly in one hand. He settled it against the crease of your ass, gliding it back and forth. “I haven’t fucked you here in a while.” He probed his tip against your rim. “But it would take time for me to loosen you up and I don’t think I’m up for that. Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck your ass later after I’m done with your cunt.”

You gulped at the thought, your fear and excitement were wrapped into one dizzying emotion, but once his phone rang again, it turned to nothing but panic. 

 “Oh no, they’re calling me so soon,” Eren sniggered. “What should I do?” His question was rhetorical, answering the call without a trace of shame or remorse in his voice. “Hello?” He spoke, pressing his phone against his ear while he maintained his other hand on your hip. “Yes, that’s me. Oh, yeah, from Kerrang Magazine, right? Hi, Hannah, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you felt your husband nudging the head of his cock against your entrance. “Ere—mmph!” You were being shoved down again, your face buried deep inside your pillow.

“No, you’re not calling at a bad time.” Eren’s voice was exceptionally friendly and enthusiastic, putting on his best behavior. “I was just chatting with my wife. You know, enjoying her—” Eren, without warning, pushed himself inside, nipping on his lip to refrain himself from giggling, “—company.”

You could only whine, biting at the end of your pillow. Even after having that vibrator inside you, you could still feel how he was stretching you out so nicely. Losing your vision somehow heightened your senses, making you feel ten times more sensitive than you already were. Being recorded in this position was already a thrilling thought, but conversing with a stranger during your sexual intercourse? It felt like you were tiptoeing your way on the edge of a cliff.

“Yes, we’re planning to go on a tour during summer,” he let out a breath, almost groaning at the way your warmth was enveloping him at once. He had missed it. God, he’d missed how warm you were. How wet and needy your pussy felt around him. “So far, we’ve got fifty-one cities confirmed.” Your husband kept one hand pressed against a spot between your shoulder blades, pinning your upper body flat against the sheets while he kept your ass raised high in the air. 

“Oh, you do?” He chuckled, feigning bashfulness. “I think you’re just being too kind, Hannah, but thank you.” His voice reeked with innocence but the rest of him was anything but. He yanked you back up by your hair, holding you only by your ponytail as he fucked you senseless. A sudden forceful thrust almost sent you knocking your head against the board and you whined. 

“Hmm, it’s hard for me to say,” he continued, smacking his palm against your ass to remind you to stay mute. “Sometimes the music itself will lead me in and draw out a kind of weird emotion from me,” he answered yet another question, seemingly unbothered with the way he had his cock sliding in and out of your hole. There was a slight change in his expression when he felt your walls squeezing around him, your thighs quivering as he rubbed a spot inside you just right, but his voice remained steady. “Some of it does end up being autobiographical.” He brought you to your knees, his chest completing the dip of your spine as he grind his hips. His fingers were back inside your mouth to silence the noises, but whenever a whimper sounded a little bit too loud, you could feel him smirking against your ear. He loved it. Deep down, he wanted to get caught. “Yeah, exactly. It’s in those situations where I tend to actually go a bit more autobiographical with the lyrics.” Wanting to switch positions, Eren pulled himself out and rolled you over to your back. “Singing about love or relationships and things like that.”

He spread open your legs, settling himself between your thighs and sliding back in so easily even without using his hand. You had your fingers clawing against the sheets, your mouth covered by the back of your palm as you tried to keep quiet. Your face was decorated prettily with his tie. To Eren, you were the prettiest little slut he’d ever seen in his life. “You mean, my wife?” He chortled lightly into the phone, desirous eyes watching the trail of saliva that rubbed off to your cheek. “Yes, she’s been my inspiration since I was young.” 

You couldn’t see what was happening before you, but you could feel it when his lips ghosted over yours. He landed one hand on the sheets, right next to your head. You vaguely could hear a female voice resonating from his phone from the proximity you were in but you couldn’t make out the words. As she spoke, elaborating further on her question, Eren kissed you, softly but deeply, his hips coming to a halt for a moment. He occasionally muttered a small, “Mm-hmm,” between kisses, not giving a fuck over her words. 

“No, you’re not wrong,” he said, his thumb and index finger trapping your chin and pulling it down until you had your lips parted. “You could say on some levels some of the fans will know elements of my persona or subconscious better than I do.” As the interviewer elaborated further on his answer, Eren pushed away his phone, whispering, “Stick that tongue out. I wanna see that fucking tongue, open up.” Eren let his saliva pool inside his mouth before he darted his tongue and let it dribble down onto yours. “Swallow.” His eyes glazed with lust as he watched you take it in. He stuck his thumb inside your mouth, tugging down your lower jaw to make sure you had swallowed it all. “Good girl.” He smirked in satisfaction, his face dangling close above yours. “Now, say it with me.” He gestured to you to imitate his words. “Good girl,” he said at the same time you pronounced the words, giggling before he returned to his phone. 

“That’s correct, Hannah. But in terms of my personal life, there's not many that know who I really am,” he stated, taking off your blindfold and grinning at you when your gaze met. His eyes were as dark as the night, wild as a starving wolf. “How would I describe myself as a person?” His little laugh gave such a gentle, amiable vibe but the way he was strangling you with his fingers was the exact opposite. Your husband tucked his phone between his ear and his shoulder. “I don’t know.” He had one hand choking you while he slapped your breast with his other one. He started moving again, his hips swaying obscenely. “A devil, maybe?”

He was. He truly was a devil in disguise. Fear started to crawl on your skin when you felt your lungs starting to burn. The sensation of him fucking you fast and rough with pain scorching your senses drove you to the brink. Right before your pleasure could rip through you, Eren stopped everything at once. He was edging you, torturing you, sending enough amount of frustration that made you glare at him.

“Hannah, sorry, can you give me a sec?” He dragged his phone away for a moment, making sure the interviewer wouldn’t pick up his conversation. 

“Eren—”

He slapped you across the face, hard and fast. “You better show me some respect,” he uttered disdainfully. “Look at me with those eyes again and I wouldn’t be so kind.”

You gulped, your body left frozen under his smothering gaze. “Y-yes, Daddy.”

Taking your breast in one hand, he squeezed it tightly until you flinched. “You can only cum when I allow you to. You understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He caressed your cheek, soothing the reddened skin even when his eyes still gleamed dangerously. “Good.” Returning to his phone, he dropped the superiority in his voice, reusing his affable tone once more. “Sorry about that. What were you asking me again?”

But he wasn’t making it any easier for you, was it? In fact, Eren was trying his best to make you cum, rubbing your clit on purpose with his thumb as he thrust his dick inside. You couldn’t stop a wanton cry from breaking free, clasping a palm over your mouth a second too late. 

Eren was pleased. “What? You heard something weird?” He spoke to the phone, acting nonchalant. “Oh, my daughter is watching TV, maybe that’s why.” He pitched his voice louder, pretending. “Irene, baby, keep it down, okay?” He rammed himself deep. “Daddy’s on the phone right now. I can’t concentrate if you—” he added three more thrusts, pushing you up further against the headboard that you had to reach back and place your arm on the surface to stop your head from knocking against it, “—keep making noises,” he finished with a haughty smirk.

The interview went on for a whole twenty minutes and you were being edged continuously without mercy. You were so close to lashing out when Eren gave a polite chuckle. “No, thank you for interviewing me today. It was really nice talking to you, Hannah. Yeah, take care. Bye.” Eren ended the call, throwing his phone over his shoulder. His pretty crooked teeth peeked behind a devilish grin as he giggled at your expression. “Now, where were we?” He removed his white shirt, giving you a nice view of his abs but he didn't let you marvel at his beauty for too long. 

He lifted both of your legs high in the air, pushing them forward until you had your body folded in half. He wasn’t planning to waste any second longer. Both of you had been playing a dangerous, torturous game for half an hour and it drove him feral.

Eren was so deep, deeper than before, deeper than ever, rubbing against your insides in a way that left you wailing. “That’s right, scream for me, baby. Scream for Daddy,” he simpered, sounding breathless and hoarse. “You’re still taking your pills?”

Yes, but you couldn’t remember whether you’ve taken one today. You were too hazy to think about it, or about anything else, really. “I—I don’t know—ah, Ren—”

“You know what?” He moved to your ear. “I don’t care. I’m still gonna stuff your tight little pussy with my cum whether you like it or not. You want to be my cumslut, don’t you? Let me grant your wish.”

Your legs were dangling over his shoulders, your bottom half raised in the air as he plunged himself repeatedly. “Fuck—” He gasped out when your walls quaked around him. “You’re sucking me in. You want to cum, baby?”

You threw your head back, slamming your skull against the pillow as you cried out, “Yes! Yes, I’m so close—”

“Start begging then.”

“Please,” you sobbed out, “Please, let me cum—”

“Again.”

“Daddy, please! I can’t—” Your mouth was opened wide in a silent scream. Lightning bolts of ecstasy shot through your body, going straight to your core. Your orgasm hit you so intensely that you squirted on his cock, feeling nothing but shame when he laughed degradingly at you. 

“You came without my permission.” He pulled away to see how much you’d coated his skin with your slick. “Filthy whore.” He slapped his hand against your cunt, the stinging pain causing your body to jolt in response. “You want to be punished?”

“No, Daddy–” He smacked it again, his fingers hitting your swollen clit. “Ah–Daddy, I’m sorry!”

He heard your words well, but even then, he still gave you another slap. “What was that, baby?”

“I’m…” You tried to withstand the throbbing pain that vibrated from between your legs. Your voice was reduced to a whimper. “I’m sorry…”

Under different circumstances, the sight of your eyes glazed by your tears would paint his heart with concern, but for some reason tonight, Eren just wanted to see more. “If you’re sorry,” he brought two of his fingers inside you, pumping them fast in a come-hither motion that made you yelp and squeeze your thighs together. “Spread those fucking legs. I wanna feel you cream all over my fucking dick again.”

You were being overstimulated, your body convulsing in response but your husband left you with no choice. You did as you were told, hooking your arms around your thighs and pulling them up as much as you could until every part of you was exposed.

Eren snorted haughtily, stroking his cock at the sight of your twitching hole. “Now, what do you say, Sweetheart?”

“Please fuck me, Daddy.”

He smirked. “That’s right.” 

Something shifted within you as you fell into the dark heat of his eyes, and once he plunged himself back inside you, you were once again consumed by the smothering passion he gave you. You landed a hand on his chest, trying to push him away to give you a moment to catch your breath. “W-wait—”

He removed your hand, grabbing you by your wrist and pinning it down against the sheets. “Shut up,” he growled, quickening his pace. “Take my fucking cock and scream my name. Or do you want me to use my hands again?”

“N-no, Daddy, I—oh my God–” This was pure animal fucking. Not a hint of romance, not a hint of love. And not a hint of your husband underneath the man that shared the same face with him. 

Eren could feel that he was so close to being blinded by the explosion of pure bliss. “I’m gonna cum, baby, you ready?”

He let your legs slide off his shoulders as he focused his everything on reaching his high. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you brought him closer until your chests were plastered to one another. Eren smashed his lips against yours, his kiss as forceful and messy as his thrust. “Fuck, so fucking tight—“

“Cum for me,” you plead in his ear, drawing his earlobe between his teeth. “Cum for me, Ren.”

“Ah, baby—” A strangled moan filled the air as he came, his hips stuttering before he slowed down, riding his orgasm. His arms were shaking with exertion, his nose pressing against the side of your throat. You could feel his cock throb with each shot of his cum, filling you up so much that his white seeds trickled out of you, staining the sheets underneath. He was still moving, lazily fucking back every little bit of semen that seeped out and you let him. 

When his body stopped trembling, Eren kept himself inside you the way he was, only reaching out one hand to snatch your phone from the headboard. It was still recording until he tapped his thumb on the screen. A new video was saved to the gallery. Tossing the phone to the bed, Eren returned to you, releasing the most blissful sigh as he laid his body flat on top of you.

“Did it really record everything?”

“Yeah, let’s watch it later. Put it on a big screen, grab some popcorn. It’ll be fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not going to pull out?” You asked him, your fingers idly playing with his strands.

“No,” he slurred out the word, feeling drowsy and enervated. “Let’s stay like this for a while. I love it when I have my dick inside you. You feel so warm.” 

“You’re gross.”

“You’re beautiful.” He elevated his face just enough to kiss your cheek. Joy bubbled up inside him at the sound of your pretty giggles but it only lasted for a few seconds before he turned pensive. “Baby… What if I got you pregnant again?” He mumbled, sounding more like himself than how he had sounded all night. There wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice. He was concerned, maybe even guilty, for taking out your options. “We haven’t really talked about having another kid.”

The sudden change in his attitude was so baffling, that it robbed a burst of laughter out of your mouth. “You’re so cute.” You circled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until his lips were a breath away. “It’s okay.” You kissed him once, unwinding the taut muscles on his shoulders. “We’ll let God decide for us. Whatever it turns out to be, I’m ready.”

He smiled, so delicately and beautifully, as he stroked your head, pushing your hair behind your ear. He lost himself in your gaze, planting a soft kiss on your temple before he asked you in a whisper, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you too much?”

“Just a little bit,” you giggled. “I can’t believe you really slapped me. Like seven times.”

“Oh my God.” He turned pale. “I’m so sorry, baby. I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you like that but you said you wanted me to do it and I—” You interrupted him with a kiss, letting him feel the glee in your smile. When you broke away, he was pouting at you. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I am,” you replied with a grin. “Were you really just pretending for my sake? I think you enjoyed it a little bit too much, treating me like a whore.”

A flush crept up his cheek. “W-well, I, uhh…” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t say it wasn’t enjoyable.”

“Can’t believe you ripped open my nightgown.”

Eren turned a shade redder. “F-for dramatic effects.”

Though amused, you gave him a look, judging him with narrowed eyes. “You could’ve just slapped me once and stopped there, you know.”

“I know, I’m so sorry,” he whined apologetically, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he drowned in shame. “It’s just… You looked so cute after I slapped you. I think I I got too… excited.”

“I’ve always known you were a bit of a sadist.”

He pulled away, slightly panicking as he peered into your eyes. “Will you forgive me?”

You melted into a smile, stroking his face. “Of course, Rennie.”

He leaned into your touch. “Will you still love me regardless?”

“Well,” you faked a weary sigh. “I’m married to you so…”

“Babyyy,” he nuzzled his nose against your neck, acting similarly to a dog, begging for your forgiveness. “Please still love me.”

“Fine, I’ll try my best.” Eren brushed his lips against yours again, laughing into your mouth. You stopped him before he could deepen the kiss, placing one finger on his lips. “On one condition, though.”

“Anything for my beautiful wife,” he replied, kissing your fingertip. 

“Let me make you my bitch and slap you next time too.”

He was baffled at first, then he stared flatly at you. “Couldn’t you have phrased it more romantically?”

“Let me make you my bitch and slap you next time, baby boy.”

“Literally didn’t change anything but okay.” Bestowing another kiss, Eren pulled himself out of you, kicked the rest of his clothing away, and rolled to his back. He was ready to cuddle close as he waited for his strength to return so he could take a shower. But to his surprise, you shifted and mounted yourself on his hips, your hands landing on the tight muscles of his abdomen.

“B-baby?”

You slapped him hard across the cheek, tossing his face to the side. Eren had his lips parted in shock when he returned his gaze to yours. “Bro, that felt so personal!”

You chortled. “Did I hurt your feelings, Princess?”

“Well, no, but—” You slapped him again and he whined. “Babyyyy, you make me feel like a whore!”

“You are a whore.” You yanked him up harshly by his necklace, forcing him to sit on the bed as you straddled his lap. “You’re my whore for the night. Gonna be a good boy for me, Rennie?”

He gulped. “Give me a five minutes break? I'm a bit tired—”

"I don't care if you're tired. I'm not finished." You curled your fingers around his throat, your grin was even more wicked than anything he had showcased earlier. "I'm gonna take care of you now, baby."

"Have mercy on me, please."

***

AN: DON'T LOOK AT ME OKAY Y'ALL REQUESTED THIS!!! I hope you enjoyed it despite all the slapping LMAO thanks so much for reading! Also huge thanks to Sandra for beta-reading this for me, you're the real MVP, babe!

Tagging: @l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashgremlin36 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @ackersune @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza

[seokgyuu]

→ genre: smut, college au, crack → pairing: Wonwoo x Afab!Fem!Reader, Seungkwan x Afab!Fem!Reader → synopsis: you have never been a person who turns down a challenge, but when your best friend challenges you to hook up with 13 boys in one semester you kind of wish you were.

→ warnings: public sex, voyeurism, dirty talk, sub!seungkwan, spitting, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex (pls don't be like y/n in this, be smart), noona use in a sexual way (help)

→  word count: 8.4k (a long one with two smut scenes!!)

previous ; masterlist ; next

A/N: hi! it hasn’t been 2 months yet!! aren‘t you all so proud? anyway, after a long fight with my old laptop that I sadly lost, I have now bought a new one and am severely broke BUT i can at least write and forget about that for a second. I hope you guys enjoy this monster of a chapter with one pretty big surprise that may or may not have been expected. Tell me what you think after in a message or a reply <3

taglist: @ariachavez168 @listxn @tea-and-regrets (if you wanna be added pls reply or send me a message!)

It was pretty clear from here on now that you were an idiot. The second you had said yes to seeing Mingyu again… it was over for you. Not the challenge or your determination to finish it, but the actual strength to leave him once you’ve met up to, well, do whatever you did, and then going to find a new person to seduce for your scheme.

Jiwoo had her own opinion about it and was very vocal about it, too. Everyday you would see her, she would give you that look, paired with a shake of her head and a “you are so screwed”, making you roll your eyes at her every time. It wasn’t like she was wrong. You just really didn’t want to hear her say how fucked you were.

Meanwhile, Jiwoo had finished her third task with a boy named Daehyeon from the engineering program and you were still clueless as to who you should hook up with next. Not to mention that Jiwoo had not allowed Mingyu to count as more than one guy just because you had found yourself in his bed the last three nights. You understood and accepted this, but you also truly hated the verdict. Because this meant you had to sleep with someone else while kind of seeing Mingyu. Even though you weren’t really seeing Mingyu. It was all a big old mess and you felt a strange relief when Mingyu texted you that he was gonna be away for the weekend.

“This means you can finally find another guy. Maybe two. Time is slowly running out, you know”, Jiwoo said once you’ve told her, both of you sitting on the floor of the university’s library, books scattered around you. It was close to midterms now and you had to study extra hard for this one stupid exam you had moved and moved time and time again because of how much you just didn’t wanna write it.

“Or I could just use this time to actually study, you know,” you mumbled as a response as your eyes scanned your page of notes. Jiwoo shrugged.

“Sure. If you are up for losing.”

Sighing, you leaned your head back against the shelve and closed your eyes for a second before looking back at your best friend who was writing something down on her iPad.

“You know, maybe I should. Lose, I mean. This whole thing is slowly getting out of my control and I do not like it.”

“Well, that does sound like a problem you could easily fix. For example, if you’re so scared about the boys you fuck knowing each other… just go clubbing and get someone there. Don’t limit yourself to the boys here, especially since I don’t have to approve of anyone anymore.”

You looked at her for a few seconds before taking one of your pens and throwing them at her.

“Hey!”

“Why did you only come up with this idea now, huh? Are you kidding me?”

Jiwoo’s expression changed from annoyed to a grin. Now it was her who shrugged, clicking her tongue as she put her iPad to the side and leaned forward to face you.

“Is it really my fault you didn’t think of this yourself, y/n?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly you shook your head, looking down at your notes again. God, sometimes she was just so incredibly annoying. Instead of answering her, you just continued, opening one of the books to your side and ignoring her chuckle as she also went back to work.

The two of you were just finishing up, putting all the books back to where they belonged, when you suddenly heard a voice behind you.

“Y/N?”

You turned around, books still pressed to your chest, and almost dropped them all when you saw who had been calling for you. Oh no. This was really the last thing you needed right now.

“W-Wonwoo, hey,” you stuttered, clearing your throat as your face began to burn. Where was your confidence now, huh? He could have not picked a worse moment than this, you with your thoughts all over the place, your whole appearance a mess, hair sticking out of your ponytail and your jeans a little to big, hanging on your body in the most unflattering way. Still, the way he looked at you, with a strange sense of affection and maybe even yearning, you figured he did not feel the same way about your appearance today. Great.

“How have you been?” he asked then, hands awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded slowly, thinking carefully about what to say.

“I’ve been well, just busy. I have to take this exam and I feel like I will never be as prepared as I probably should be, so. Yeah… what about you?”

Jesus, this felt horrible. You felt horrible. You had treated him like a used tissue, throwing him away the second you had finished and now he was standing in front of you, talking to you when you knew it was probably hurting him one way or another.

“I’ve been busy too, tournaments and deadlines… all that,” he explained, and you nodded, pressing your lips together. You wanted to ask whether they had found a person to fill your spot but you didn’t find the courage to actually ask.

“I see. Well, I-,”

“Look, I know you said you don’t want a relationship and I respect that, but I just want to know… why? Like why did you go through all of this, had sex with me and then bailed? Did I- did I do something wrong?”

Oh god. Oh no. This was not good. In fact, it was probably the worst thing to ever happen to you. Yes, you asked yourself a very similar question. Why did you have to do that to him? This genuine nice guy with the cute curly hair and the specks on his nose that were slightly crooked. He, who probably never did what you had made him do, had probably read all of this in a completely wrong way and had been left broken hearted, texting his friends about you and wanting to know what he had done wrong. Fuck, you were horrible. The absolute worst.

“Wonwoo,” you began, but stopped because you didn’t know what to say. Your eyes met his and he looked so vulnerable you wanted to slap yourself in the face. Taking a deep breath, you put the remaining books pressed to your chest onto the shelf next to you and dried your sweaty hands off on your over sized white shirt.

“First of all, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is all on me, I swear. You are wonderful and sweet and hot and I am just… not right for you.” Or anyone, you added in your head. Wonwoo frowned a little bit and took a step towards you, making you back up closer against the shelve.

“I don’t get it. Why would you make that decision for me? Isn’t it my call to make if you’re right for me or not?” He asked, scanning your face with his cat like eyes and you felt yourself holding your breath. Your brain tried hard to come up with an explanation, but all you could think about was the truth and you could never ever expose that. Not to him at least.

“You just left the team and didn’t even really tell us why, tell me why. Do you know how bad I felt? I felt like I read everything wrong and made up the worst scenarios in my head, y/n. I was scared shitless, thinking that maybe you had changed your mind and felt like us sleeping together was a mistake and that maybe you felt pressured into it and-,”

“What? No, Wonwoo, I wanted to have sex with you. I really, really did. I just- god, I just felt like such an idiot, coming onto you like that, in the end I felt like I pressured you into it.”

It was bad. Horrendous. A straight up lie. And it was terrifying how easy it came off your lips. He had given you the best excuse, one that made actual sense. Judging by the way his eyes shifted, it had worked. Worry was now spread all over his face and suddenly he was even closer to you, his hand on your cheek and you felt like all your bones had been frozen because what the fuck was happening?

“Fuck, I didn’t even think of that. No, y/n, I wanted it too, the second you first walked into training I wanted you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to do so many things to you and when you started flirting, when you sent me those messages, called me… I was all in, I promise.”

Now, why did these words make your heart flutter? Was it the way he was looking at you? The way his thumb was caressing your cheek? Or was it the way he was so close to you that you could feel his breath hitting your face, feel the warmth radiate off of him? This was bad. Really, really bad. You should move, leave the situation and him behind, tell him you were glad he had consented after all, but that this did not mean anything else was happening between you. And yet you couldn’t move. You were still frozen in place and only twitched when his thumb touched your bottom lip – if on purpose or not you weren’t too sure. All you knew was that once he realised it too, his eyes shot to your lips and your stomach did a flip that once it landed send pressure right down to your core. Vivid memories of you riding his dick on his chair were flooding your mind and you tried to send them away but to no avail. They were staying.

It didn’t help your case, that was for sure. You not moving away, you not telling him to stop and to leave you alone. Maybe, you thought, you were just too horny for your own well-being. Wonwoo didn’t say anything, but had his eyes still fixed on your lips, as his thumb started moving towards them again – only for you to do the single most stupid thing you could have possibly done once the tip of it touched your bottom lip once more.

Opening your mouth, you sucked in his thumb, your lips closing around it as your tongue swirled around the tip, making Wonwoo’s breath hitch in his throat.

“F-fuck,” he said and suddenly you were pressed against the shelve next to you, a book uncomfortably poking you. Not that you cared. Like, at all.

Jiwoo was here somewhere, as one of the last people with you and Wonwoo. The library was gonna close any second and of course you had gotten books from the very last corner where no one else ever got books from this time of the day. Because what else? How could it be any different?

Wonwoo was breathing hard against your face now, watching the way you kept on sucking on his thumb, the throbbing between your legs getting harder to ignore each second. And the way he looked at you, you were pretty sure his jeans were starting to get tight, too. The dark look in his eyes was not good for your mental strength, either. You did not remember him being this lustful and hot and bothered when you had fucked the first time, back then he was more submissive and just waiting for you to call the shots, obviously wanting you, but this was different, and it rubbed you the exactly right way. Just like suddenly the hand that had wandered between your legs, making you breathe in through your nose in surprise, eyes widening a bit as you continued to look at Wonwoo, who’s mouth parted a bit as he began rubbing circles on your clothed core.

The fact that anyone could walk around the corner and spot you only made this more exciting. Wonwoo now pulled his thumb out of your mouth, spit connecting your mouth and the tip and after a curse under his breath, he pressed his body against yours, lips crushing together. He immediately let his tongue slide over your lips, and you willingly let him inside, felt all of your body prickle with excitement as he explored your mouth and continued to rub against you. His kisses were hot and needy and now you could feel his erection against your thigh, his hand now leaving your core for a second to open the button of your jeans skilfully, zipper following right after. Once his hand slipped into your pants and underwear, you gasped into the kiss your arms now wrapped around his neck, your right leg instinctively lifting up to wrap around his thigh, giving him a better access to your core. Wonwoo then let his fingers slide through your wet folds, kissing you harder so you wouldn’t make any sound and you had never felt hotter in your life. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you desired his fingers inside of you so bad that you wiggled your hips, causing him to somewhat chuckle against your lips before finally letting two of them slip into you. A bold move, but one you appreciated. Immediately, he began to finger fuck you to his best abilities with your jeans still on, but since they were too wide anyways it wasn’t that hard to do. His lips now travelled down your jaw and neck, and you pressed your lips together to somehow manage staying quiet with his long fingers inside of you.

“You’re so damn hot,” he whispered into your ear then once he was back up from your neck and you felt goosebumps all over your body, “so tight and needy for my fingers.” Shit, what had happened to him? Was this the same shy guy who’s cock you had rode, who had been so submissive towards you? Not that you were complaining, after all you also had two sides to yourself when it came to sex.

“What do you say, should I turn you around and fuck you real good?” and there it was, the first moan you couldn’t hold in and immediately his non-busy hand was on top of your mouth, his eyes darting at you.

“Shh, you have to keep quiet. Most of the people might be gone, but I think there is a part-timer here somewhere.” Yes, and Jiwoo. If she hadn’t left. Which you didn’t know. Your head was empty and there was only Wonwoo who’s suggestion was still ringing in your ears. Fuck in this library? With his hand on top of your mouth and only the sound of his cock mercilessly plunging into you filling the air? You clenched around his fingers and begged him with eyes to make it come true. Wonwoo smirked and you didn’t think that you had ever seen him do anything more attractive than this. Pulling his fingers out of you now, he used the now free hand to pull down your jeans fully, spinning you around as he also pulled down your panties, the hand on your mouth gone for a bit, and then you heard him playing with his own belt, opening it, and letting his pants fall to the floor shortly after. With your eyes closed, you felt your heart in your throat as you anticipated his next moves, once again supressing the urge to moan when you felt his cock lining up against your wet heat.

“God, I missed your pussy,” you heard Wonwoo whisper, and you hated the fact he was talking when you had to be quiet just as much as it drove you crazy. When he finally pushed into you, stretching your walls deliciously, you felt his hand back on your mouth, the other one now laying on your hips. Once he was fully pushed in, he gave your pussy some time to adjust – only to pull out completely and thrust back in with a force that not only made you, but the shelves shake as well. Your eyes sprung open wide, and you were back to wiggling your hips, but Wonwoo apparently didn’t care because he did the same thing twice in a row.

Yet, that was not the only thing making something like panic arise in your body. With your eyes now opened, you saw something you wish you hadn’t. The shelve in front of you wasn’t empty, but there was some space in front of your face and behind that, just opposite the shelve itself, the row next to the one you were in, stood a boy. A boy with a deeply red face and a parted mouth, who was staring right at you. He was wearing a name tag, so he had to be the part-timer Wonwoo had talked about and if it weren’t for him now changing his pace to fucking you fast and hard, you probably would have told him to stop. Your eyelids fluttered as you breathed hard against Wonwoo’s hand, saliva dropping out of it as you couldn’t keep your mouth closed. Your eyes were still on the boy who was staring back and once you’ve let your gaze wander off, you could clearly see he was not unaffected. His chinos were sporting a bulge and you felt your heart do a leap of excitement. He was turned on by this. And so were you. In the back of your mind, you remembered that in a situation like this it was important for all parties involved to consent, but you were pretty sure Wonwoo was not seen by the boy. All he could see was you. And so, without giving it another thought you tried to signal with your eyes that he should just do it. Get his hard one out and watch you. And the young man with the light brown hair widened his eyes even more once he understood. Still, he hesitantly pointed at his crotch, and you nodded, your eyes rolling back after because Wonwoo had taken another hard thrust, your knees getting weaker.

“Taking me so well, such a tight little pussy you have, baby,” he breathed and by the judge of how the brown-haired boy’s hands opened his jeans, he had heard too. You watched how they dropped to the floor and how he leaned against the bookshelf behind him, hand now inside his boxers as you held eye contact. Wonwoo, who was probably close to his climax as his thrusts kept getting sloppier, took his hand off your mouth and put it on your other hip, drilling into you now as if his life depended on it. Your lips were red and swollen from before and the boy stared at your face, you now biting your bottom lip hard as Wonwoo’s cock seemed to sink deeper and deeper into you. The boy’s hand movements were getting quicker, and you licked your lips looking at his hand, wishing you could get a sight of his cock, but not about to say anything because if he had felt comfortable with that he probably would have.

“I’m gonna cum-“, Wonwoo said, hips frantically searching his high and then, with one, two, three more thrusts, you felt him climaxing inside of you. He rode out his orgasm and you moved your hips against his, desperately wanting him to keep going, but he pulled out of you, only to come back with three fingers fucking you, your mouth hanging open as this time you could not keep a deep moan from escaping your throat. Hearing that, the librarian swallowed hard and felt his climax rush over him, eyes rolling back and head falling against the book behind him, cum shooting out his cock and right into his boxers. Seeing the wet spot and the way he looked so fucking beautiful – you finished too, coming undone on Wonwoo’s fingers and pressing your own hand against your mouth because you were sure you would have not been able to keep it inside any other way.

Jiwoo was not too happy with you when you’ve stepped outside the library long after you two had split up to take back your books.

“Where the hell have you been? I texted you to meet me in front of my dorm like half an hour ago!” she said.

“Then why are you back here?” you asked, careful not to look into Jiwoo’s eyes. Wonwoo was still inside. And so was the pretty librarian. Once you had turned back around to Wonwoo, who had been kind enough to wipe away his traces of your legs with a paper towel he had taken out of its packaging, you had told him quietly that you had been watched by the fellow student and even though Wonwoo got pale for a second, he then proceeded to grin cheekily, telling you that he was glad to have given him a good show. Thank god. Still, you apologised for not letting him now earlier to which he only kissed your cheek and said it was fine. Which now left you wondering what Wonwoo thought this meant. You were just about to say something when he beat you to it.

“Don’t worry your pretty brain, y/n. I understood that you aren’t looking for something serious. I might like you, but it’s not like I can’t differentiate between feelings and sex. So, if you ever feel like it… you can call me.”

And with that you had said your goodbyes, you walking out first and him walking out, well, probably soon. So, you did not await Jiwoo’s answer, but grabbed her hand and dragged her out the library, leaving her confused.

“Hey, wait, what’s going on?” she asked as she stumbled behind you. You only let go off her when you were far enough from the entrance and turned around to face her with both of your hands scratching your head as you kept on biting down onto your tongue. Jiwoo looked at you completely flabbergasted.

“I just met Wonwoo in the library,” you said then after a small while of contemplating. Jiwoo’s eyes widened.

“Oh shit, how was it?” she asked, obviously worried.

“Well,” you began letting your arms fall back down next to your body and your teeth now continuously sinking into your bottom lip, “we talked for like a good half a minute and then he fingered and then fucked me against one of the bookshelves.”

Just ripped of the band aid. Told her what had happened. Might have left something out but perhaps that would have given her a heart attack.

Jiwoo’s face was blank, and she blinked at you a few times, silently. She was taking in the information you had given her and eventually…

“I beg your pardon?”

You just stared back at her. Silently. Honestly just not sure what to say. Jiwoo seemed to feel the same way. For a few seconds she just looked at you, just as silent as you, then she slowly nodded, blowing up her cheeks with air.

“You know what? Of course, you did. Why wouldn’t you?” She now put her hand on your shoulder and clicked her tongue, still nodding her head. You cleared your throat.

“Also, the guy who works in the library watched us.”

“Oh common!” Jiwoo’s face turned into an unbelieving expression. You pressed your lips together.

“Yeah.”

“I- you do know that doesn’t count, right? You need to at least have some contact with them for it to count!”

If you were honest, you hadn’t really thought about it maybe counting. Your mind had been filled with too many other things, for example Wonwoo drilling into you as if there was no tomorrow. Even now, thinking about the way he had felt inside of you, the way he had moaned into your ear when had climaxed… that in combination with the super cute part-timer… yeah, you had to quickly get your head out of the gutter.

“Whatever. Can we leave?” After nodding, still staring at you with a look you couldn’t quite pinpoint. She did seem impressed, but there was also something else. You did have a guess, but you weren’t willing to bring it up just yet. Because that would mean that you had to take responsibility for your own actions and that just wasn’t… possible. At least not right now.

Wonwoo ended up texting you two days later while you were in line for a coffee at a new coffee shop near the campus.

Wonwoo [10:11am]:how would you feel about watching a movie together this weekend?

Just wonderful. You closed your eyes for a second, before stuffing the phone back into your pocket, chewing on your bottom lip as you finally let the thought you had so desperately wanted to ignore slip into your mind. Sleeping with Wonwoo again was a mistake because he obviously likes you, you idiot. You had given him hope again, even if he had said that he understood and respected your wishes, it still had given him the impression that there might be a future in which you could at least, well, be friends with benefits or something. All that when there was Mingyu who had texted you a selfie this morning from his own bathroom, freshly out of the shower with wet hair and a cheeky grin on his lips, captioned with the words “wish you were here!” and yeah. You had already gotten yourself a friend you somewhat regularly had sex with and while there was nothing wrong with having another one, you also had not even asked Mingyu if he like… was okay with you sleeping with other people, especially without a condom.

“I’m so fucking screwed,” you mumbled to yourself as you finally reached the counter, lifting your head up, eyes on the barista and you immediately had the strong urge to either run away or shit yourself.

“Y/N, long time no see,” god damn Joshua Hong stood there, pretty smile and all, with his hair falling into his face as he leaned on the counter top, waiting for you to order. You looked around the place, confused. Joshua seemed to catch on because he chuckled.

“I started here last week when they opened. The shop owner is a good friend of mine.”

Right, of course. Just your luck. Instead of answering, you just nodded and told him you wanted an iced latte, which he put in the tablet in front of him.

“How much will that be?” you asked then, already getting out your card, when you suddenly felt someone brush against your shoulder.

“It will be my treat,” you heard a voice say and it took you a second to understand who had appeared behind you.

“Oh, Junie!” Joshua smiled widely as he took Jun’s credit card. The world around you started to spin. This could not really be happening. Jun and Joshua started chatting beside you and you felt your cheeks starting to burn because what the fuck? It was very obvious that they knew each other, that they had seen each other just last week at some guy’s place to play some game you were sure you would be able to recognize if only you weren’t frozen to where you were standing. Sweat was slowly building up on your forehead, threatening to run down your face any second and you knew you had to find your confidence somewhere within you because this was not working. Losing your cool because Jun did not only know Wonwoo but Joshua too which meant that the chance of Joshua knowing Wonwoo was not slim.

“Thank you,” you finally said, when Jun had somehow managed to lead you to the other side of the counter where you both watched Joshua make your beverages as his colleague began taking orders.

“No problem, really”, Jun smiled at you, and you smiled back even though you felt like throwing up. Does he know? Does he know I slept with Wonwoo? That I am the girl he was texting about?

“I am glad I ran into you, actually,” Jun continued, and your ears perked up at that.

“Oh, really? Why is that?” You asked and tried to not jump to any conclusions. Even if he knew about who you were, he wasn’t just gonna-

“I wanted to talk to you about Wonwoo.” Shit. You pressed your lips together for a second before slowly nodding.

“Okay. What’s up?”

Jun tilted his head to the side, his eyes giving you a look meaning something like “are you for real?” and you knew that it was stupid to have even asked. You sighed and pulled a hand through your hair.

“I know, okay? But to be fair, how was I supposed to know you guys knew each other? Our university is huge, what are the odds that you guys are friends?”

Jun nodded slowly, a soft pout on his lips. He looked really good today. Hair styled slightly up, a beige sweater on his broad upper body, washed out blue jeans decorating his legs. So pretty.

“Yeah, I get that. Still, I need to scold you for what happened two days ago,” Jun’s pout was gone, had made space for a judging expression and you wanted to fall into the next hole.

“Here are your drinks!” Joshua now placed the drinks on the countertop, smiling at both of you widely. Quickly, you took the cup and turned around, making your way out of the coffee shop that was getting fuller by the second. You suddenly felt like you really needed air.

“Y/N, hold up!” Jun was following you and once you were both outside, he grabbed your wrist and turned you back around to him, softly. God, this was so ridiculous.

“Jun, please, I have class,” you said, sighing after, “look, I get it, okay? I shouldn’t have slept with him again. It was stupid, especially because I knew he had caught some feelings. I won’t do it again, okay?”

For a few seconds Jun looked at you, his eyes wandering over your face. It seemed like he was trying hard to figure out whether you were telling the truth. If you were honest, you weren’t so sure that you were. But he hopefully didn’t see that.

“Fine. I just don’t want him to get his hopes up, you know?” Jun let go off your wrist and rubbed the back of his neck, looking really good doing it, too. You sighed internally.

“I’m very sorry about all of this, Jun. I hope I didn’t like… put you in an awkward position,” you said, back to biting your bottom lip. Jun waved it off, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry. Minghao and I, we, well, we didn’t tell him. Not that it was you, at least. He does know we had the best threesome of our friendship at that party, but that’s all.”

You stared at him, then you laughed.

“Flattery, I see. Well, I’m glad. Didn’t want Wonwoo to feel any worse. I really have to go now, but thanks for the coffee again!” Jun nodded and waved at you as you already began to walk towards campus.

There was no way around going into the library. You had tried to hold it off, but you had to get books, had to study somewhere else than your stuffy apartment that you might love but it just wasn’t working for you to study at home. The tries had failed and now you found yourself in front of the entrance and your legs just wouldn’t move. It hadn’t even been a full week since you had been here, since you had experienced… that. Gulping down the lump in your throat, you finally got your legs to start walking and the second you entered the library – you wanted to turn around and run away again. There he was, standing at the counter across from you, currently scanning books from another student. His hair was falling into his face in soft waves, and he was wearing a baby blue jumper over skinny grey jeans, smiling at the student as he handed her the books – catching sight of you in the same moment.

You saw his face fall, his arm staying mid-air as the girl had already turned around and walked away. To be honest, you didn’t know why the thought had not occurred earlier. He was handsome, pretty even. He had jerked off to you getting railed by Wonwoo – he was perfect for your challenge. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you began walking towards him, now your head in a totally different space than before. It had been so obvious and yet you had let the awkwardness take over you.

“Hi,” you said as you put your arms on the counter, looking at him through your lashes, a small smile playing on your lips. Now, you could finally see the name on his name tag – Boo Seungkwan.

“Oh, uh, hi”, Seungkwan now replied, his cheeks already flaming red. God, he was cute. You did the thing you were the best at, biting down on your lip as you looked at him with your head slightly tilted, making him shift behind the counter.

“I should have come by sooner, but I wasn’t so sure if you even wanted to see me, you know”, you explained and Seungkwan only nodded, eyes hanging onto your lips, “so, tell me, Boo Seungkwan, did you want to see my again?”

The boy’s eyes shot up and he looked straight into yours, Adam’s apple bopping as he swallowed hard. The truth was, he had wanted to see you again. His mind had wandered off to you the past week more times than he could count. The image of you watching him as he touched himself, all while some guy was fucking you so good you had trouble keeping your eyes open – it had been the cause for many sleepless nights and a lot of cold showers in the morning.

“I- I did”, he now replied, proud of himself for still looking into your eyes even though he felt like looking away. It was silly, how the presence of a girl he thought was hot made his whole demeaner change. Normally, Seungkwan was a funny guy with loads of confidence and sass in him, but when it came to girls, he was nothing but a mess. Alone the fact he had done what he had done as he was watching you, had been so far out of his comfort zone he couldn’t even explain why he had even done it.

“Well, that makes two of us,” you know went back to smiling, even though the words you had said were a lie. Or at least half a lie. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him again and more like if you could. Facing someone you had never talked to before who just randomly stumbled across you having sex in a public place who then proceeded to jerk of to it… yeah. Complicated situation. Nevertheless, it could possibly make the whole plan in your head work out just as well as you needed it to.

“Really? I- well, I just figured that you and, uh, that guy-,”

“We’re not together, if that’s what you’re asking,” you interrupted him, “I don’t date anyone right now. I just like to… have some fun.”

Seungkwan’s ears perked up at that. Fun? You and that guy weren’t dating? And you had come back here to…?

“So, I wanted to ask, when does your shift end?” now, you finally asked the question and Seungkwan couldn’t do anything but stare at you, before he finally regained his consciousness and cleared his throat, looking down at the little clock standing on the counter.

“I’m off in about an hour,” he said, and you nodded slowly, licking your lips and feeling his eyes follow that motion nervously.

“Perfect, I’ll get some work done and then we can… have some fun”, you presented him with a wink before you turned around and walked away heading for one of the tables on the right side of the library.

Seungkwan owned a car. A pretty nice one, actually. He told you it had been a gift from his grandparents for getting into college and now he rarely ever used it. But today seemed to be your lucky day because in his fear to be late for work he had taken his car to drive to the library today.

And so, you found yourself on Seungkwan’s lap on the top floor of the nearest parking garage that was mostly empty this time of day, your lips currently on his, your hand in between your bodies on his crotch, making him moan into the kiss here and there. There hadn’t been much secrecy to what you wanted to do, and he had been more than eager to fulfill what you needed of him. His hands were placed on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he tried hard to keep his composure. You felt him hardening against your hand by the second, felt his breath hitch in your kisses, his chest raising and falling rapidly. He was so gone. Just for you.

Smiling, you parted from him, leaning back a bit and taking off your shirt, watching his eyes take in all of what you were now showing him. You had climbed over to the driver’s seat once Seungkwan had parked the car and that’s where you were still sitting now, the wheel behind you making it rather a narrow space, but nothing you couldn’t work with. Once your shirt was thrown onto the passenger seat, you let your hands wander to his face, gripping it as you leaned down for another kiss that he gladly welcomed. His own hands sunk back to your hips, but this time he really dug in his nails as he kissed you back hungrily, leaving you with moans inside his mouth.

You let your lips now wander off to his jaw and neck, hands now underneath his jumper that the both of you took off, before he wrapped his arms around you, pressing you against him, as he buckled his hip, searching for any kind of friction. His desperation for you was getting higher every second and realizing this, you also realized all the possibilities.

Quickly, you let your lips wander back over his neck, leaving slight marks here and there, your hands now opening his skinny jeans. It would be a bit of a hassle to get him and you out of your respective pants without trouble in this small space, but somehow you managed to get his jeans and briefs down enough for you to get ahold of the pretty cock that he so desperately needed to be touched. Before doing so, though, you brought your hand up to your mouth, spitting on it, making Seungkwan whimper. You knew he would be done for the second you touched him. And yes, the second your hand was on him, he immediately twitched, Seungkwan looking down at your hand around his dick, swallowing hard. You smirked, letting your hand move only slowly, watching him as he bit his lip. He looked back up at you, clearly yearning for more, but you could sense that he wasn’t the type of person to push something. But you were going to change that. At least for now.

“Does Seungkwanie want anything?” you asked, voice dripping in innocence and Seungkwan’s eyes widened.

“If Seungkwanie wants something, he has to tell me, use his words”, you continued, your hand still moving ever so slowly. Seungkwan chewed on his bottom lip, looking from your face to your hand and then he finally opened his mouth.

“F-faster”, he then mumbled, and you immediately obeyed, your hand’s movements getting quicker. A beautiful moan escaped his lips now, a moan you needed to engrave into your brain forever. You felt yourself clench around nothing, beginning to crave sinking down on him. But first you had to tease him, make him loose it, beg you to let him be inside of you.

Your lips found his again and he kissed back to his best ability when your hand just felt so good around him. Your free hand now slid underneath his white shirt and found his nipple, squeezing it just to see if it did anything – and yes it did. Seungkwan cried out, leaving you grinning like an idiot with panties now soaked. You kept on with the spiel, one hand around his cock, the other on his nipple and watched his face twitch in awe. He was so pretty like this.

“So pretty, baby”, you whispered into his ear, kissing down his neck again and stopping at his chin. Slowly, you leaned back as your eyes searched for his and once your gazes met, you smiled, taking the hand that had been playing with his nipple to his chin.

“Open your mouth for me, will you?” you said and Seungkwan immediately did as asked.

“Stretch out that pretty tongue now too,” was your next order and Seungkwan obeyed eagerly.

“Such a good boy”, you then said, making his eyes sparkle.

Now, you slowly sat up straighter, hovering over him, looking straight into his eyes.

“Catch, or I’ll be very sad,” were your words before you finally let a strip of spit fall down your mouth and right onto his tongue. His cock was twitching in your hand and so was his face once the drop hit him and he looked at you like he had just seen god.

“Swallow, baby,” your eyes were staring into his and he did as asked, not letting your eyes out of his sight. Once you saw his Adam’s apple bop, you bit your lip, very much content with his obedience. You shot forward again, connecting your lips as your hand sped up on his cock. His breath was hot inside your mouth and his tongue was in no control – but you loved it all. All the reactions you were getting from him. Somehow you managed to get your own pants down, having them pool at your ankles by the end, your panties only shoved to the side as you lead his hand to your core, telling him to touch you there. He was nervous, but eager, letting his fingers slide to your folds as you held your underwear with one and his cock with the other hand.

“I want you to finger me, okay, Seungkwanie? Need you to open me up for your cock, alright?” you said, and the boy nodded, head back to being red.

“Y-yes”, he stuttered as you led him to your entrance after his fingers were drenched in your juices. You lifted your hips a little as he sunk into you, his jaw again dropping as he felt the tight and hot space around his fingers, the mere thought of this being around his cock probably able to make him cum.

“Move your fingers, baby,” you then sighed, and he again nodded, moving his fingers in and out of you, causing moans to escape your mouth. Instinctively you began to move your hand around his cock in the same speed as he fucked you with his fingers and once he noticed that he sped up, electricity shooting through your body as you returned the favor. Both of your pants and moans filled the car now, your hips moving with his fingers as his also began bucking up at every jerk of your hand, and you knew that it was only a matter of time until he (and you for that matter) was going to finish.

“A-am s-so close,” you heard him whine and immediately you stopped your hand, leaning forward to crash your lips together again, both arms now around his neck as he was unsure what to do with his fingers inside of you, his other hand now hesitantly placed on your ass, as you shifted closer to him, your hips still moving as he now continued his movements.

Tongues met and teeth clashed, moans were shared and breaths about to break when finally, you pulled his fingers out of you, looking straight into his eyes as you shoved them into his mouth, telling him to suck. Seungkwan was hard as a rock, precum on his tip, and more shooting out the second he tasted you on his own fingers.

“You like tasting me? What a good boy you are, Seungkwan. Common, take them all in,” he was now deepthroating his own fingers, tears pooling his eyes as you kept on pressing his fingers into his mouth, a devious grin on your lips, before you finally pulled them back out again.

“Did I taste good?” you asked, hand back around his cock and your hips moving up, lining your entrance up with his cock, making him shiver.

“S-so good, yes,” he said, and once his cock was beginning to slide into you, he cried out. But he was wrong if he thought you were just going to ride him without bringing him to a breaking point first. You let his cock slide out again, bringing its tip to your folds, sliding it up and down as you threw your head back. Seungkwan whimpered, bucking his hips.

“N-noona, p-please,” he begged, and you let your head snap back to its original place, eyebrows raised.

“Noona?” you asked, ignoring the other half of his sentence as you continued rubbing his dick through your folds, letting it circle your clit.

“Y-yes, I, urgh, I saw that- that you were, o-older than m-me,” he stuttered, making you smile.

“Did you look me up?” You asked, your thumb now circling his tip, putting pressure on it and causing him to cry out again.

“M-my co-worker re-recognized y-you a-and then I- I looked you u-up, nrgh, in the library sy-system and, f-fuck, you’re o-older th-than me, n-noona,” during his little explanation you had let his cock slide into you for just a tiny second before pulling it out again, tip back to circling your clit. You moaned as you moved your hips against it.

“Mhm, I see. So… does Seungkwan want anything from noona?”

“W-want h-her to r-ride me,” gosh, he was so cute.

“Beg noona, will you, baby?” you placed his cock back at your entrance, looking at him. You were barely hanging on, eager to finally sink down on him, but you needed to see him break, beg you to fuck him. And so, he looked up at you through long lashes, swallowing once again.

“P-please ride me, noona. I really want to fuck you.”

The second he finished his sentence, you finally sank down on him, hands propped on his shoulders and both of you moaning loudly. Without much hesitation you began moving your hips, bouncing up and down on his cock, searching for sweet release. Seungkwan had his head leaned against the seat, hands laying on your thighs, mouth hanging wide open as his eyes were closed. The feeling of you around his cock was magical. He felt as if he was floating, and he was about to fly even higher with your pussy clenching around him like that. Something told him, though, that if he was to finish before you, you would be mad, and he really did not want to upset you. He pressed his lips together now and tried to think of something that was gonna stop him from cumming to soon and you noticed his change in expression, counting one and one together, grinning.

“Is baby so close he has to think of something else, so he won’t cum before noona? That’s so cute,” you said, leaning forward, lips against his ear, sucking on his earlobe, causing him to thrust his hips up. Now, you were the one crying out, biting down on his earlobe, tongue shooting out after.

“Do that again,” you ordered and Seungkwan obeyed once again, fucking up into you now, causing your brain to shut off. All you felt was his cock hitting you right where you needed it to, your walls hugging him and clenching around him.

“N-noona, I am s-so close,” you felt that he was just by the way he was fucking you. And honestly, you were fine with that because you were close, too.

“It’s fine, baby, cum for me, noona allows it,” and as if those were the magic words, Seungkwan’s cock immediately began to twitch and you felt him cum inside you – which then made you reach the edge, milking your and his orgasm as you moved your hips rapidly.

“F-fuck,” the boy under you breathed as he recovered from his climax, you now leaning against him, head on top of his shoulder. You were still trying to get back from your high, your breathing still hard and your legs jelly.

Once you did regain some of your mental capacity, you leaned back, smiling at him as you pressed a short kiss to his lips.

“That was fun,” you then commented and climbed off him and onto the passenger seat, where you tried to get your jeans back up. You just noticed now that your panties had ripped in the process. Oh well. There were your combined releases dripping down your leg and you saw Seungkwan reaching for a tissue on the backseat, handing it to you. Thanking him, you wiped it away, glad Seungkwan had leather seats, otherwise this would have definitely left a weird stain he would have to explain to someone eventually.

“Yes, fun is a word to describe it,” Seungkwan replied, and you chuckled, looking over at him as you finished dressing back up. He was also back in his jeans and looked at you, a little unsure.

“Would you mind dropping me off at home?” you then filled the silence and Seungkwan nodded yes, starting the engine as you buckled up.

The door fell shut behind you and you breathed out. So, five down, seven more to go. Sighing, you walked into the living area and put your bag on the kitchen counter, getting your phone out. You had a few messages from Jiwoo and a missed call from your mother – but you also had a notification from twitter. Unlocking your phone, you went onto the app and almost dropped it when you saw that your favorite underground rnb artist had announced he was going to be at your university’s yearly festival.  For a split second you wondered. Maybe, if you were lucky, he could become number 6.

header credit: @playmetheclassics

[haechanhues]

KPOP FIC RECS 

So I recently (like a couple of months ago) read Bowie’s Books by John O’Connell which is a series of essays exploring David Bowie’s list of 100 Books that transformed his life and I thought it was a way to make my own. These are all fics (in some way or another) that have been memorable in many different ways and I hope to share them with you all. 

This is also a full on sap train so I thought you should be ready. I’m also weirdly nervous since this feels kind of vulnerable and makes me shy. but haiii 

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE

1. @timextoxhajima - HOSTIS | THE BOYZ (completed) 

May as well get this one out of the way first. This story means a lot to me, for different reasons. This au is very fun and a very sultry enemies to lovers and I got carnal pleasure from this book. I love this story and will continue to do so for the rest of my life. BUT the most important reason I love this fic is that it lead me to one of my best friends who means a lot to me. I’m a successful fan if you think about it.  I also kind of cringed at writing this but it’s true (Dana it’s our sappy hour) 

2. @bambisgirl - Confident | ENHYPEN (completed) 

Ahh! You're still going by the time I’m writing this (you’re almost finished) but I loved seeing your updates. This fic was so so fun, I enjoyed it immensely. The way I could just see it playing out in front of me. It was amazing. I just can’t stop talking about how fun and just how joyful I felt whilst reading the fic. I’m telling you it had powers! Powers! When I was sick I would curl up with this fic and it made me feel really good, so thank you and I appreciate you. 

3. @svtskneecaps - Play It Again | SEVENTEEN (completed) 

I just re-read this recently! But I loved it. I love this concept so much! TMI but it reminds me of this old Nickelodeon version of Groundhog Day (The Last Summer?) I loved the way friendship is portrayed in here and I had a really good laugh. I also really loved the development of this fic - it was really fun. I always have a great time reading it. 

4. @/ - ??? | BTS (completed) 

I’m sorry, I remember reading this fic awhile ago and now I’ve forgotten the name of it. Ahhh. I’ve been looking for it these past couple of months to give proper credit but haven’t been successful. But it’s so amazing. It’s about a forced/contract marriage with Hoseok who doesn’t want to be married but has to learn how but he’s in love with another girl, Taehyung is an annoying cousin and Jungkook is a pool boy? (Help me find it please) But I loved the slow burn - the PACING of this story is to die for and I just love love love it. Okay but someone please tell me what the fic is before I cry. I can’t wait to find it again to reread it and get obsessed all over again. 

5. @lunarlxve - Trees In Fall | ENHYPEN (ongoing) 

Let me just tell you the amount of times I refresh the page every time you update and even when you’re just online. Like a dramatic reading~ it gives me hope, it gives me excitement, it makes me happy. Like I don’t know there’s just this level of enjoyment I can’t explain whenever I read Trees In Fall! I am diligently waiting for the next update! I’m obsessed. 

6. @kinktae - Waterloo | BTS (one-shot) 

Everytime I read this I just fall for it all over again. The romanticist sucker in me loves this story with my whole heart. The fact that it’s inspired by Mamma Mia 2? Man, I love those movies they were my comfort and my everything when I was growing up. I read this so early on when I came onto Tumblr and whenever I come back to it’s always some kind of refresher. Like home and adventure in one place :) So thank you, I appreciate you more than any of these words can portray. 

7. @ateezmakemeweep - You’re The One That I Want | ATEEZ (completed)

I remember reading another one of your works and as soon as you released previews for this one I was already hooked. I think I even set alarms as well - to be completely honest and trust me, I am slightly embarrassed by it, but it was so good. It was something I could look forward to and it still is - even though it’s been some time since you finished it. Also the betrayal in this. Fucking hell he’s lucky that redemption arc came for him. Murder on my mind for real. 

8. @justoneday-namjoonii - It Burns, Doesn’t It? | BTS (ongoing) 

So quick expose storytime but on my old account I had written this massive observation (?) paragraph of every character in the fic and putting on my detective hat was so fun. I loved doing it. I’m very interested in these characters and what the fuck they think they’re doing. These characters have these flaws and these stories that are so compelling. The scary thing is the characters are so easy to hate but I find myself being very fond of them all the same. I never tire of them and I’m not sure I want to let them go when this fic is completed either. 

9. @skyesins - Red Mercedes | EXO (completed)

Well first of all, it’s been so long since I read this but I still haven’t gotten over it. I think it got so bad that I couldn’t even stomach looking at * because of how he’s portrayed in this fic. Like I feel like I didn’t know pain until I read this. Perfect if you’re an angst lover. A little too perfect. I feel like I need compensation of some kind....which was stupid because I basically willingly put myself through that pain. Like I got so angry and then sad and then back and forth. So thank you for the perfect type of pain and the resetting of my standards. Read : am I masochist?... after reading this? probably. 

10. @dayinseoul - Baby | BTS (completed) 

I have a memory deeply ingrained in my head relating to this story and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever had in my life. It’s hard to explain but my new university hall was planning what I can only describe to people who are unfamiliar with Māori culture as a massive sleepover for orientation (for those who are familiar though - a noho) My flatmates at the time (the girls) and I were just starting to get to know each other and had joined me to read over my shoulder as well. So us three were all on one mattress and just reading the available chapters. I’ll forever remember that and be thankful of that :) 

11. @starxblossom - Cherry Wine | NCT (completed) 

It also won’t tag for some reason?!

Truly a story after my own heart. It’s a story I’ve been infatuated with since the first chapter and even though the last chapter as been completed for like three years now - it’s always at the back of my mind. Like if you think infatuation only exists between people you’d be wrong. I’m so incredibly fond of this story and I want everyone to read it so we can have long talks and have tipsy afternoons to this. It’s like music to me. 

12. @nikihoon - Jealousy Jealousy | ENHYPEN (completed) 

This story is so fun. So so fun. Like it was devious fun. I can’t describe it. I just physically couldn’t stop reading it. Truthfully I got in trouble with my mother for being ‘on my phone too much, what have you been reading anyway?’ whilst I was reading this. I’d also like to just mention Jungwon briefly but HE IS SO CUTE. I COULDN’T STOP LOOKING AT HIS PHOTOS ON PINTEREST WHILST I WAS READING THIS. Sorry I promise my favouritism is over - at least for now but ahh I just love it. A serotonin boost taking form in a story. 

13. @escapewriter - Redamancy | SEVENTEEN (completed) 

I’m in love with these characters. These boys bring chaos and healing wherever they go. I love Y/N. My standards are just raised but I can’t really explain what standards have been raised but I’m just here to say that they have. I just re read it again recently (like literally just now) and these characters have such a way of forming a little mould of themselves on your heart. In truth too I was contemplating which of your stories to add on here but it just clicked when I saw this. 

14. @ddeonuism - My (Accidental) Demon Roommate | ENHYPEN (completed) 

SUPER ENTERTAINING. I must say this story tested my loyalty so much and so often. It was on the interrogation table pleading and crying I’ll tell you that much. I remember just constantly looking for updates and being so happy each time. I was in a very angry phase (I don’t know what to call it) but this felt very healing and very calm in comparison to my moods. So thank you for that. Thank you for sharing and writing it. 

15. @yutaholic - Smashing The Six | NCT (completed) 

I’m writing this before my baby’s addition but it is so close to being completed. I’m really loving the story and the plot. I don’t want to spoil too much but I’m so glad I stumbled across your account and this story and binged the fuck out of it. I saw you updated recently and may have...accidentally decided to read it instead of paying attention to my meeting. Nobody noticed though so thank fuck but even I did get caught - I have zero regrets. 

16. @biaswreckingfics - No Exit | EXO (completed) 

Well first of all - hey, big fan! I watched you become a deobi through my other account and it was so satisfying to see. When I first got into No Exit - I can’t quite remember the chapter but I was practically hanging off every word you said. You always seemed to update when I was in the car going to university and I can remember just constantly refreshing the page again and again to make sure I didn’t miss it. Then when you uploaded a sequel - oh it was like love to me. So I’ll say it now - I love you, thank you :) 

17. @moonscriptsx - Scandalous | BTS (ongoing) 

Well first of all, I was so distraught when you got hacked and all your work got wiped away. I shed a tear. It was actually so heartbreaking. Scandalous was one of my favourite fics and was one that I binge read twice to enjoy it more than once. Then when I couldn’t find you one day - I went absolutely insane trying to find you. I FOUND YOU RECENTLY THOUGH! HENCE THE TAG! AHH! But I’m so happy you’re writing again and even though this fic no longer exists I’ll be enjoying your other fics regardless. 

18. @wooyukh - Loved | TXT (completed) 

When I tell you how much I fell in love with * during the time you were uploading this. Like the reality is that your fic was the music I fell in love to and I’m so glad for you. I loved this. Absolutely. I loved the simp that the both of them had and I loved everything. I loved LOVED and that’s the end of it. I hated one character in here with all my heart and I’m so glad about the ending. Ahhh it’s been so long - time for a re-read soon I think :) THANK YOU. 

19. @neoculturetravesty - We Met In Online Class | NCT (completed) 

OH MY GOD the writing quality is always MUAH (I’m in love with it - it’s so- I can’t explain it without letting out a sound that’s close to a moan, I’m sorry. But I love it. I love the tone of the story and the aesthetic I got from it. I don’t exactly have synesthesia but I got such a profound sense of feeling I can’t explain. It was like I was reading it but I could just see all these colours and feelings that I could just squeeze and it was just beautiful so thank you. 

20. @fairyofhee​ - Wasted Times | ENHYPEN (completed) 

My newest obsession. Loved it from the very beginning. I’ve been going through some new sort of thirst for the man that is *. But I loved this - all throughout - it became some sort of remedy for the shit going in my personal life. Bearing through the pain of cliffhangers was worth it. I’m obsessed. Still am. * is my safe haven right now. So I’m glad for this story for strengthening (?), processing (?) emphasising (?) that. 

author’s note : now I’m going to run away and go into hiding. four more of these guys... 

[soupandsimple]

Whipped (with Sirius Black)

[ being unable to prove to teenage Harry that you don’t have boyfriend Sirius whipped ]

* fluff!

** no Azkaban Sirius, no second war Potter au (also! let’s pretend there are no spells for common manuel chores) 😊

………

You sat in the living room with a book in hand when you heard footsteps approaching down the stairs. In view came Harry, bedhead still present and all.

Looking at the mop he called hair atop of his head you thought about how baffling it still was to you that this fourteen year old was the same little eleven year old boy you met only three years ago, in Diagon Alley, where he was shopping for school supplies with his godfather Sirius Black.

Like any other woman, you fell for Sirius’s charm from the get go and what you thought would be a few dates with the handsome man actually turned into a very serious three years (and counting) relationship. That being said, you moved in to the large country home with the pair just only a little over a year ago and though there was no ring on your finger (yet), Sirius did whatever he could to show you that this was just as much your house now as it was theirs; which is exactly what he was trying to prove this morning.

Harry looked in your direction as he rubbed sleep from an eye, then quickly shifted his attention towards the window once he heard a hammer whacking out front. Making his way towards the curtained frame, he looked out to see Sirius finishing up fixing a bent part of the white picket fence that stood outside the big home. The wind had blown it downward some days ago and with one little comment from you last night about how awful it made the house look, Sirius immediately saw to it to fix it as soon as daylight hit.

You looked up from your book to ask Harry what he wanted for breakfast but were interrupted by a chuckle from him himself. “Wow,” he added.

“What is it?” you said, assuming he had seen something out of the ordinary through the window.

“He’s so whipped,” he said, as if he was only talking to himself.

“Excuse me?” you said, not entirely sure if you had heard right.

Harry laughed and stepped away from the window, “Sirius- he’s so whipped for you. He does anything you say Y/N.”

You tsked your tongue, “Oh c’mon, no he doesn’t.”

“You only just mentioned the fence thing yesterday and already he’s fixing it up…for you. What would you call that?”

You scoffed, “A homeowner caring about his house’s appearance? Just the same as I care and how you should too.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head, “Trust me, I’ve lived with him my whole life- he does not care for this houses ‘curb appeal’ anymore than I do. If you wouldn’t have said anything, that fence would have stayed that way for months before he ever got around to doing something about it.”

Before you could counter Harry’s words, the front door opened, causing the both of you to turn heads.

“Good morning Harry” Sirius said, kicking off his dusty shoes, addressing only Harry as he had already seen you when you had both woken up.

“Busy morning huh?” Harry replied with a smirk.

“Yep. Just something I had to get done” Sirius said as if the work he had just finished was no big deal. He made his way to the kitchen and the refrigerator door was heard pulled open.

Harry sloppily plopped down in one of the single person couches and exhaled happily, “Whatever he comes back with, ask for it too” he quietly said to you with a wicked smile. “I want to see how ‘not whipped’ he is.”

You rolled your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was unbelievable just how much ‘peer pressure power’ teenagers held, so you agreed and waited for Sirius to make his way back.

As Sirius walked into the living room, he downed a bottle of water and took a seat right next to you all while stretching his free arm to rest at the couch back behind you.

Harry instantly looked at you with an arched eyebrow, showing he was waiting for you to make your move to try and prove him wrong.

You sighed and looked over to Sirius, “Hey, Siri?”

“Yes love?” he replied.

“I’m kind of thirsty too, could you go get me some water?”

Harry amusingly looked at Sirius then back to you then back to Sirius; just waiting to hear his reply.

“Of course darling” Sirius said affectionately, despite getting up with a sigh of tiredness.

Harry couldn’t help but laugh which caused you to giggle a bit too. “No baby, wait” you said as you began to rise from where you sat, “you don’t have to get me anything. Me and Harry just wanted to see something, I can get it myself.”

“Uh uh, I got it” Sirius said, walking backwards and threatening you with a finger point, indicating that he wanted you to sit back down- not even questioning what it was you and Harry wanted to see.

As soon as Sirius was out of sight, Harry made a little whip noise (hand motion and all) which prompted you to gently throw a pillow over at him. “Hey..” you warned semi sternly to indicate you didn’t appreciate the behavior. Although you did find the sound effect comical yourself, you were still an adult who cared to see Harry turn out to be a respectful human being.

At your slight scolding, Harry just snickered quietly, placing the pillow you had thrown off to the side as Sirius entered the room again with your bottle of water in hand.

“Baby, you know you can say no to me sometimes right?” you said to your lover as he handed you the bottle and sat himself back next to you like before.

“Ahh but that’s where you’re wrong sweetheart, I can’t and won’t ever say no to you” he said, leaning in to give you a cheeky kiss on the lips.

“Okay, I’m gone” Harry disgustingly said as he got up, leaving for the kitchen to have his much delayed breakfast.

You giggled against Sirius’s mouth at Harry’s reaction as Sirius happily continued on with the kissing that had now, very much, turned into a little late morning make out. <3

TagList: @regulusblackswhorecrux

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v. 

then he turns up at your door. 

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif​ for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within. 

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over. 

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight. 

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed.  It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on. 

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code. 

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time. 

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water. 

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine. 

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.”  The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious. 

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new. 

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed. 

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?” 

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone. 

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one. 

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they? 

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.” 

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper. 

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go. 

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked. 

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs. 

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least). 

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for. 

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good. 

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone. 

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend. 

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way. 

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God. 

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence. 

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things. 

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.” 

Ah. 

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.” 

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new. 

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased. 

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs. 

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples. 

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice. 

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off. 

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs. 

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?” 

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight. 

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality. 

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own. 

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[punkassbookjockey26]

Story Time - Part 2

Hello everyone! It's been a long time since I've posted anything to my blog, but I finally managed to finish this little bit of writing that I have been pouring over for three months. Writer's block is a bitch, ya know?

Anyways, hope you enjoy Part 2 to my Library AU. Part 1 can be found here.

Rating: T, warnings: some language

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“Alright, class, settle down!” Aelin smiled, waving her hands to the group of tiny humans in front of her. They mostly obeyed her, but she had to contend with a few giggles and flailing limbs before they were all seated.

“Thank you so much for joining me in Story Time today! I had so much fun with all of you, and I can’t wait for you to come back next time. But right now, it’s time for us to say goodbye to all of our friends with our goodbye song.”

To signify the end of Story Time, Aelin led the group through a short song. Their high energy merely paused during the tune, resuming with silly giggles as soon as it came to an end. With a slight smile on her lips, she began pulling out coloring books and toys, barely laying the supplies out when she heard a high-pitched, “Aelin!”

She lifted her head, expecting to see an accident of some sort, but registered that the pronunciation of her name was warped, sounding more like “Ae-win.” Knowing what was next, Aelin braced herself but still staggered a bit as a certain toddler crashed into her legs.

Reaching down, Aelin scooped Millie into her arms, reveling in the giggles that escaped her mouth as she held her above her head. It was amazing to see how far Millie had come from that very first class, so afraid of everything that she needed Aelin to guide her. But now, she fit right in, playing and talking with other children, learning songs, dances, and rhymes. Today she even saw her trying to sing along with the ABCs. Aelin knew that it was only a matter of time before Millie could recite all the letters by heart.

Aelin couldn’t deny just how attached she was to Millie. She was an amazing kid, and the affection that Aelin received from her was enough to sustain her through the rest of the week. If she played favorites, which she totally didn’t, Millie Whitethorn would be at the top of her list.

Aelin twirled around with her still in her arms, the frightened squeals giving way to laughter, much to Aelin’s delight. After a handful of more giggles and squeals, she set Millie back down on the ground and watched as she skipped happily back to her father. Her eyes landed on the man at the back of the room who welcomed the toddler back with open arms. Then his gaze locked with hers, and she realized she had been staring. Heat began to creep across her face as he smiled and waved.

Over the last few weeks, Aelin had stepped into a seamless sort of friendship with Rowan. Before and during class, Millie would give her hugs and toothy grins that made Aelin’s heart melt. At the end, Aelin would scoop her up and carry her back to her father, who often stayed late to speak with her. While some of his questions were geared toward Millie or her class, more often than not, he would inquire about Aelin and her life. On more than one occasion, she could have sworn he was flirting with her.

Aelin couldn’t fault herself for swooning a bit. Rowan was handsome, to say the least, and seeing how good he was with Millie only increased the attraction ten-fold. But she didn’t get crushes on her patrons, especially those who came to her Story Time class with the most adorable daughter, who was a tiny doll of a human with gorgeous chocolate curls. Not only was it unprofessional, but she also didn’t want to make things awkward and cause Rowan and Millie to avoid coming to the library.

Plus, he had to be married, right? Guys that good-looking with daughters like Millie had to have a bombshell of a wife at home. She’d hadn’t seen him wear a ring to class, but that didn’t mean anything - Rowan Whitethorn was entirely off-limits.

She didn’t know when it happened, but she started looking for them every Wednesday morning. Her heart would pound in her chest until they arrived, Rowan smiling and waving at her after setting Millie on the floor. She tried not to think about the way she felt her face flush when she caught his eye or the way that her heart skipped when he smiled at her. Going down that road only led to frustration and heartache.

For someone who didn’t get crushes, she knew she had it bad.

Turning away, she redirected her focus to the children playing on the floor, joining them in their coloring and games. Though she didn’t look to see if Rowan was looking, she was almost positive she felt his gaze on her the entire time. She was supposed to do her job, attend to the children in her class, and handle their parents. Pining after unavailable men was not in the job description.

After interacting with anyone but Rowan, parents and children started filing out of the room, waving goodbye to her and their friends. Aelin had just started cleaning up the toys when a set of tiny hands helped her put the items into her bucket.

“Aww, thank you, Millie! You’re such a great helper!” Aelin spoke fondly to the child, who beamed back up at her. Before she knew it, the toys and activities were cleared and put away, and Aelin was standing alone in the room with Rowan and Millie. They cleaned in peaceful silence, the only noises coming from the occasional toy hitting the bucket and the snick of the door as another family left.

Her stomach flipped when he smiled at her. It was times like this when she felt like perhaps they had something that might be worth exploring outside of this haven of hers, that maybe he was thinking the same thing she was when it came to lingering after class. But Aelin tamped down on that feeling, not wanting to delve into it any further lest she end up looking foolish.

Feeling a slight tug on her fingers, Aelin allowed Millie to pull her toward her father. She had no choice but to follow, especially when Millie yelled out “Dada, Aelin!” at the top of her lungs, and Rowan chuckled, amused. His laugh was her downfall, especially when it spilled out due to Millie’s antics. It was warm and inviting, and Aelin loved how his eyes crinkled with joy, and those dimples in his cheek made a rare appearance.

Millie held on tightly to her hand, dragging her along until they stood in front of Rowan, a shy smile playing about her lips as he grinned at her. Millie grasped onto her father as soon as possible, her small hand swallowed by his large ones. She giggled happily in between them, unaware that her father and her new teacher had been caught in an intense staring contest.

Fuck, she was so screwed.

Regaining her composure and drawing her eyes away from Rowan reluctantly, Aelin bent down on the floor, smoothing Millie’s soft curls back behind her ears. “You were extra good today; I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

Millie smiled brightly at her. “Aelin pretty.”

“Aww, thank you, little love.” Her grin widened at the small compliment.

“Dada says so, too.”

Aelin felt her face heat, whipping her head up to Rowan. He had a matching red stain across his cheeks as he looked down at his daughter with wide eyes. Millie only giggled at their comical expressions, not understanding the enormity of the knowledge she just dropped into the open space between them.

Aelin rose from the floor and stared hard at Rowan, who, she noted, looked a bit sheepish. Dragging his hand across the back of his neck, he frowned down at his daughter. “Thanks for that, Mills.”

His daughter beamed back at him, proud of herself for doing a good job, and went back to swinging their joined hands back and forth. Aelin cocked one eyebrow up at him, and he sighed deeply, casting an exasperated look to the ceiling. “I should have known better than to talk around her. She’s at the age where she repeats everything I say.”

Aelin chuckled softly, enjoying Rowan’s obvious discomfort. “Yes, kids tend to mirror their parents at this age.”

There was a beat of silence as Rowan’s eyes slid back to hers, and she felt her heart skip in her chest. His cheeks were flushed, his forest eyes wide as he looked at her. He was so adorably embarrassed that she couldn’t help but tease him a little.

“So…you think I’m pretty then?” Aelin asked coyly.

“Very pretty!” Millie chimed in before her father could say anything else. “Dada says so to Uncle Fen.”

“Amelia…” Rowan’s voice was rough with embarrassment as he frowned down at his child. Millie, who happily spilled her father’s secrets to her teacher without regard, was oblivious to the awkward silence that now stretched between the two of them.

Aelin chuckled a bit. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve heard way worse than that here. Out of the mouths of babes, right?”

Rowan chuckled indulgently, and the room fell into silence once again.

Aelin chewed her lip nervously. “So…”

Rowan smiled. “So…”

Aelin sighed, her face falling. “So I need to get going. I have another program to run this afternoon, and I haven’t finished prepping for it.” She leaned over Millie, brushing her hands through her soft curls. “You did such a good job today, Millie. I can’t wait to see you next week.”

Aelin’s heart clenched as Millie’s eyes welled with tears, her bottom lip quivering. “It’s okay to leave, little love. I’ll be here when you come back.” Aelin gave her a soft smile, and Millie sniffled a bit before wrapping her arms tightly around her legs.

“She really does love you,” Rowan said softly. “I’m not the only one that talks about you at home.”

Aelin’s eyes lifted to his, those magnificent forest green eyes churning with an unnamed feeling and intent. It left her breathless, the way he was looking at her. Lightning zipped up her back, and goosebumps pebbled across her skin. She felt her muscles tense, and then she took a step back.

“I’m sorry…this is incredibly inappropriate of me.” Aelin stared wide-eyed at both Rowan and Millie. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?” Rowan asked.

“This is a library. I am a librarian. You both are patrons. I should not be acting this familiar with you. It’s unprofessional.”

Rowan frowned at her. “It’s unprofessional to show affection to children?”

“I should be unbiased and objective when it comes to them. I should be treating them equally.”

Rowan took a step closer to her. “But what if they become attached to you? What if they look forward to coming to the library every week just to see you? What if they can’t stop thinking about you in the time they aren’t here?”

Aelin had a distinct feeling that they were no longer talking about children or even just Millie. Rowan looked at her earnestly, imploring her to understand something that she didn’t want to face. She knew that cultivating this relationship was dangerous, and now she faced the repercussions of her actions.

“My job becomes infinitely more complicated when I indulge in those feelings here. I am a recognizable face in our community. There is no separation of work and personal life for me. Everything I do here is known, and people will let you know if they disagree with what you’re doing, including building relationships with parents and their children. So I don’t do anything that would disappoint anyone.”

Before she could let Rowan say another word, she turned and fled the room.

---

It had been a few weeks since Aelin last saw Rowan. He and Millie did not show up for Story Time that morning, not that she could blame them. She had done exactly what she told herself she wouldn’t do. She made it awkward, and now they were no longer coming to her library. She wondered if she would ever see them again.

She knew she was being dramatic, but in just the short time since they started coming, Millie was the part of her week that she looked forward to the most. She always treated each child in her classes like they were her own, but there was something else about Millie that made her want to love her and protect her forever.

She supposed that had more to do with her father.

After that last class, Aelin knew that her feelings for the man were not as one-sided as she thought. But all she could think of was everyone knowing that she found a date in their child’s Story Time class. Aelin had a reputation for being great with children and parents alike, so much that people drove from out of the state to attend her classes. All of that could come crashing down the moment people found out about her and Rowan. Her parents would wonder if she was using Story Time to pick up men, and the trust they placed in her to teach their children would diminish.

Aelin would never allow that to happen. She loved this library and those kids way too much.

That didn’t change the fact that she missed Rowan and Millie terribly.

Another day ended, and Aelin wrapped herself in her coat before walking out to her car. It was the middle of November, and the temperature had dropped significantly over the past few weeks. A crisp arctic air blew off the Staghorns in the distance, and Aelin knew that it was only a matter of time before snow was on the ground.

Her little sedan was parked on the street next to the building, so she turned the corner next to the front door. Pulling her coat tighter to keep the cold from leeching any warmth from her skin, a sardonic laugh tumbled from her lips. She supposed it was fitting, given that her mood had been slipping so low the last few weeks.

Aelin searched her purse for her keys as she walked. Her bag was a cavern, full of anything and everything she could need at any given moment. Unfortunately, she could never find those things due to its oversized nature. She dug around, shoving pens and a mini first aid kit to the side until she finally located her car’s remote triumphantly. As she looked up from her bag, her heart stopped, and her face fell as she saw none other than Rowan Whitethorn leaning against the side of her car.

Aelin stopped a few feet away, and Rowan looked up at the scuffling of her shoes against the concrete. The air between them went taut as a bowstring ready to snap, and she found it difficult to suck enough air into her lungs.

Rowan leaned away from the car, standing up to his full height. Aelin noted for what felt like the thousandth time that he was tall, so much taller than her. She could slot herself right under his chin, like she belonged there, and he would wrap her up in his strong, tattooed arms. She hadn’t quite indulged in a fantasy like that before now, but the last few weeks had left her feeling desperate to cling to the little bit that she got of him.

“Hey.” He dropped the word in between them like a pebble in a still pond, and Aelin felt the ripples right into her heart.

“Hey,” she breathed, her voice soft, unsure.

Rowan moved towards her, and Aelin froze in place. He crossed the short distance between them in only a few steps until he stood right in front of her.

Aelin licked her lips, wetting them in the cold night air, and watched as Rowan’s gaze flicked to her mouth. Her body felt warm and tingly, and she knew without a doubt that what she considered a harmless crush on this man was so much more.

They stood in silence; the only noises were passing cars in the distance, people talking as they entered and exited the library, and the sounds of their breathing in this bubble they shared. Rowan looked like he had something to say, but she beat him to the punch.

“We missed Millie at Story Time these past few weeks.”

Rowan frowned. “Yeah, she’s at her mom’s this month. I suspect she’s going to the library in Wendlyn.”

Confusion must have shown on her face because Rowan sighed. “Her mother and I are divorced, Aelin. That’s why I moved here.”

Aelin frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I like you. And because I wanted you to know, so you didn’t think I was cheating on Millie’s mom when I asked you out.”

She exhaled roughly. “You were going to ask me out?”

“Yes, but you cut me off with your rant about being objective and not indulging in any feelings during work. Which is why I am here now, asking you out when you’re officially not at work. You’re just Aelin, and I’m just Rowan. ”

He stepped impossibly closer to her, and she felt the heat radiating off him. It would only take a step for her to be enveloped in him, but she remained frozen in her spot. He asked her out. He wanted to date her. She felt her heart soar, but reason tamped down on her excitement. “Just so you know, I won’t be able to be as friendly as I have been with you or Millie while I’m here.”

“Aelin, I literally don’t care.”

She frowned. “But what about Millie?”

“Millie asks when you’re going to come over to give her a special Story Time just for her, so I bet she can be persuaded to tone it down a bit.”

A laugh tore out from her, and Aelin couldn’t stop her smile. “I suppose I can make a guest appearance.”

Rowan’s smile grew impossibly wide. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?”

Aelin nodded, her face splitting into an impossible grin. “It means that you’ll have something else to discuss at home, Mr. Whitethorn.

---

Tag List: @faerie-queen-fireheart @1islessthan3books @superspiritfestival @jesstargaryenqueen @ireallyshouldsleeprn @morganofthewildfire @chieflemming @swankii-art-teacher @rowaelinismyotp @mariamuses @booknerdproblems @story-scribbler @whoever-you-choose-to-love @highqueenofelfhame

[atravisphilepsclicker]

Can I get comfort from sal? So trans male reader keeps his binder on to long to the point of bruises and pain? You can chose headcanons or a one shot it’s up to you •3•

Summary: Sal comes home from his supermarket job to see you were in your shared bedroom in your shared apartment and asks how long you kept your binder on after you answer him he tries to help you with the pain.

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Word Count:1654

Pronouns: he/him

Gender: trans male

Warning: mentions of dysphoria, bruising, back pain and small injury

Modern AU

You both are in high school and Sal has a part-time job at the town Walmart.

Y/N = your name

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3rd Person POV

Sal stood in front of the apartment door with the card key in his left hand and was texting the group gc ( with him, todd, larry, ashily, maple and chug ). He turned off his phone and slid the key into the card lock and a small light turned red to green showing that it was unlocked.

Walking into the apartment Sal was met with silence. It didn’t worry him but he wondered where you were when he came home from work you usually were sitting on the couch doing something to pass the time as you waited for him but you weren’t there to give him his usual greeting of “ Hey, Sal, “ or “ Hey, blue! “

Sal then locked the door, took off his shoes, and put them on the boot rack on the door’s left side. Sal stood upright and walked into the living room and that’s when he heard it, “ Oh you’re home, Welcome back! “ Sal heard you greet him from the bedroom. The bedroom door was half open leaving him being able to see you laying on the bed in the room. Sal walked over to the door and opened it and leaned on the door frame.

He looked at you, you were so handsome laying there your legs laying straight on the bed as you scrolled on your phone. You had a tired look on your face and you bet your ass your amazing boyfriend Sal noticed and frowned, furrowing his brow. “ So how was your day today? You look tired. “ Sal asked with a slightly worried tone. You look at him with a small smile and turn off your phone, putting it on the nightstand beside your side of the bed.

“ It was fine I haven’t had a lot of sleep since I was trying to finish the dam book assignment T/N gave us. I did ask todd to help me after I finished pulling out my hair a little. So it’s done now and I won’t have to return to hell for a few days till our next assignment. But other than that I’ve had a fine day. “ You told the blue-haired male that was now on sitting on the bed beside you legs crossed with one hand holding his face listening to you.

You looked at him and asked, “ So how was your day at work? I guess the boss gave you overtime at the store again? “ You asked since he came home 2 hours later than his work schedule had said. “ Yeah, sorry! I tried to get off earlier but she just gave me so many things to do! “ He said annoyed. You leaned on one side wincing at the bit of pain moving gave you and Sal noticed. Sal was not a genius but when he saw you do that it didn’t take long for him to remember the last time a few months ago you didn’t take off your binder for longer than it intended. “ Hey, love how long have you had your binder on? “ He asked with tones of worry in his voice. You saw his eyes through the mask, they looked worried for you, the love of his life.

You sigh and close your eyes not wanting to see his reaction, “ 12 hours. “ You say quietly, almost in a mumble. “ Take it off. “ Sal told you with a stern pained voice. You were hesitant not wanting to have terrible dysphoria again, I mean that the entire reason you have had that on for so long and you both knew it. It took a little time to think but you finally surrendered. “ Fine…” You said with an upset sigh. You sat up quickly sending a jolt of pain down your spine making you lay back down and groan in pain. Sal quickly moved over to you and held your arm with one hand. “ Do you need me to help get up? It must be really painful to move. “ Sal asked rubbing circles on your arm. You make a pained smile, “ That would be really nice of you blue, thank you. “

Sal moved, straightening his back. “ Okay, first let’s sit you up just tell me when you’re ready to move and ill put my hand behind your back and push you up slowly. “ Sal told you. You waited for a minute for the pain to die down a little and told him you were ready. Sal slid his hand under the lower side of your back knowing your upper back must be in so much pain right at the moment.“ K, one...two...three! “ Sal started to move you up slowly and steadily.

Once you sat up Sal helped you lean your back on the backboard of your bed. After that Sal got off the bed and stood beside you. “ You alright? “ He asked squatting down to lead his head in your lap. “ Yeah, I’m fine just in a little bit of pain but no worries! “ You answer as you twirl a few of Sal’s soft blue locks in your fingers. “ Well...if you’re sure you’ll be fine then do you think we could try to stand you up and get that binder off of you? “ He asked in a caring tone. “ Yeah, we could try but I think I might fall over if I do. “ You cucked. SaL then stood up and held both of your arms. “ You know you don’t need to hold me like this right? “ You say as you steadily move up wincing at the pain your binder gave you to move. “ I know I just want to make sure you’re safe and won’t get hurt more than you already are. “ He started concentrating on getting you to stand up. Once you finally stood up he started getting your shirt off as you looked away embarrassed and disgusted. “ Why are you okay seeing my disgusting body? “ You aked as Sal threw your shirt on the bad behind you both. He looked bad at you and put his hand on your face and started rubbing small shapes with his thumb, “ Because I love you, and your handsome body, love. You are anything but disgusting! You're my handsome attractive boyfriend and that's what you'll always be to me, even if you hate how you look ill help you show that you're beautiful! And hey, we can always start saving up for surgery to get them removed if you really want. I’ll do anything to make you happy and I want you to know that but for now, we just need to get that binder off of you. “ He told you. You started to tear up as he started taking it off of you and finally broke down as he also put that down with the discarded shirt. “ Thank you. I love you! “ You cried on her shoulder.

“ Shhhh it’s okay….how about I give you a nice massage to relieve some of the pain? “ Sal asked calming you down slightly. You sniffed a bit and then looked at him with tear stains down your face. “ Yeah, that would be nice….” You said as you lay down in the middle of the bed. Sal sat down beside you and rolled up his sleeves. He first put his hands on your shoulders, thankfully they were warm and he started messaging the notes out. It felt good and you gave a big sigh. He then moved to where your bruises and cuts are from the binder. His hands became softer on your skin and he was careful to relieve some of the pain not give you some more. You felt a wave of relief when the pain died down you didn't even notice when Sal stopped till he said something to you. “ I'm going to get some ointment to put on the bruises! “ He told you walking out of your bedroom.

You stare at the wall in front of you as you listen to his movement, him opening the bathroom door then him opening the cupboard and moving some things around till he found the ointment. You looked over at the door as Sal walked in medicine in hand. He sat back down beside you were still laying on your stomach. “ This is going to be cold on your skin. “ He said opening the medicine and putting some on his finger. He put some on a large bruise and yeah, he was right, it's fucking cold. You wince at the cold feeling on your skin but you soon get used to the feeling as Sal rubbed it in more.

Soon enough he was done and you were tired mentally and physically. You look at your wonderful boyfriend beside you scrolling on his phone. “ You think we can cuddle? “ You ask looking at him with i tired and pained face. “ He turned off his phone and looked at you with beautiful and caring eyes. “ Sure, love! Let me just take off my mask. “ He told you unclipping the clips under his hair. You didn't even really notice he still had it on but was happy he's still comfortable taking it off around you. After setting his mask down on the nightstand he layed his back on the backboard and moved his arms out waiting for you to come in his arms. You crawled over to Sal and went into his comforting arms. You both stayed there in the quiet only sounds of small movement and breathing in air. Soon enough your eyes started getting droopy and you started letting out cute yawns. You hear Sal chuckle and you say a quick shut up before your eyes closed for good and you fell fast asleep going into an amazing and magical dream.

Now you both were together and that wouldn't change ever even if either of you struggles with things or life throws things at you you'll always be there for each other, from now and forever.

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Pictures

Sal Fisher- https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/496873771387590071/

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Sorry if this was terrible! I honestly loved writing this but was having some trouble getting my ideas down on the computer so it might seem quite bad, but hopefully, this helps even a little and have a great day/afternoon/night and remember to stay hydrated!

[needleandhammer]

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!