#and all her relatives that I'm not tagging

[quiet-night-sky-writers-blog]

Saving hope

Pairing: Marc Spector x fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: a ghostly hope drags Marc out of a severe depression

Warnings: angsty angst, depression, self-destruction, alcohol and drug use, mentions of violence, injury and blood, suicide attempt; tiny mentions of masturbation (m) and sex; relatively happy ending, open finale

Author's note: the happenings in this story take place right after the events of the show. The only nuance is that Marc is still working with Khonshu. Layla, Steven and Jake (aka “the other one”) are mentioned, but this fic is totally Marc-centric. Despite the “x Reader” indication, there’s no pronoun “you” - there’s just a girl whose appearance is not described and whose name is not mentioned.

Of course, we all know that Khonshu is the god of the moon, but he’s also the god of time. So here I assume that he knows not only the past, but also the future. Tutu is the god of dreams, who protects sleepers from nightmares (originally considered the god of tombs).

Heartfelt thanks to my friends who supported me and encouraged me to post this fic. I'm still hesitant, but... yeah.

My mental health has taken a bit of a downturn lately, so partly I put my emotions into this story, not gonna lie. I'm sorry.

Below I tag those who have previously asked me to do it - but please don't feel obligated to read it. I realize that not everyone will want to read something like this.

- Were you ever going to tell me? - the indignation in Layla's voice is akin to the sea in a storm - it comes in furious waves over and over, threatening to sweep away everything in its path. She barely keeps herself under control, nails digging into her palms as she desperately clenches her fists, shaking faintly with resentment.

An attempt at talking had turned out to be a damn bad idea. After Cairo, after that inconceivable battle of humans and gods, they shouldn't have met again. Never. Their marriage had been far from perfect, always, even in the very beginning. Marc, although he'd tried, deep down always believed that this “happily ever after” thing was doomed. Because there was always a huge problem in their relationship, and that problem was he himself. At least, that's how he saw it. That's how he saw himself. A malignant tumor, poisoning the lives of people around him. A monster, incapable of anything but violence. When he'd left, and after a few months of living apart sent Layla the divorce papers - even then it had meant the end of everything. But when on their last mission his mental illness became no longer a secret, and, to top it all off, the circumstances of her father's death came to light - then the bridges between them hadn't just burned: they'd been blown up, destroyed, not a single stone left standing.

Marc keeps silent. He realizes what she's waiting for, what she wants to hear now. But he won't say it. He doesn't have the strength to lie anymore, and he doesn't see the point in it any longer. He wasn't going to tell her anything. On the contrary, he was determined to keep it hidden for as long as he could. He keeps silent, and already doesn't care what happens next. He's just tired, damn, he's so tired...

When he's finally left alone (FINALLY - he's almost glad for it, almost glad it's all over), he heavily sinks onto the couch and rubs his face with his palms. He's devastated, he's exhausted, and he's hurting. The latter genuinely surprises him. How is he still capable of feeling pain? After everything he's been through in his life? How has his heart not yet turned to lifeless cold stone, how has his soul not become so numb that it has lost the ability to feel anything at all?

Well, obviously, thinking that you're worthless, that you ruin everything you touch, and that you're the worst that ever happened in someone's life is one thing, but having the other person say it right to your face is another. It would seem he's used to it, and yet...

That night he drinks himself into a stupor.

Marc drinks. A lot.

One day, when Khonshu sends him to take down a local dealer, who is getting kids hooked on drugs, Marc takes a bag of pills from his place. He doesn't even know what those are, as he swallows them, empties another bottle and collapses on the couch. He's not sure what he's trying to accomplish - just dulling the pain, or intentionally going to the next world. Marc doesn't ponder this for too long - the poison in his system takes effect almost instantly, and his consciousness sinks into a gray, viscous fog. 

Waking up the next day after noon, he lies unmoving for some time, slowly regaining consciousness, and the only thought that looms somewhere in the back of his clouded mind is “why am I still not dead?”

He doesn't realize that Khonshu heals him without his knowledge. Over and over again, almost every night, after Marc passes out, thoroughly drugged on some crap. The old vulture can blabber anything, but the truth is that he has, to his own surprise, grown attached to his ward. He'd promised him once that he'd protect him as best he could - and so far he'd never broken that promise, protecting Marc from himself as well.

It's not easy at times, though. Marc starts getting into brawls on a regular basis, as if he doesn't get enough carnage on Khonshu's missions. It's not clear what he wants more - to beat someone up, or to get beaten up, because he fights without his white armor. Fights until there's not a single alive spot on his body. One day he almost dies, lying in an alley with a punctured lung and a shattered occiput, choking on his own blood and resisting Khonshu's help to the last. When he finally loses consciousness, the god practically pulls him out of the grave, healing his mortal wounds before it's too late.

Marc doesn't know what he lives for. He sees no meaning in his existence. He is all alone, there's not a single person who needs him, who even just cares about him. The world doesn't need him. He has no one and nothing but the old god and his service to him. Yes, he rids the world of bad guys, but after all, there are plenty of other people doing that besides him, so they can easily get by without him.

One rainy November evening he drives to his storage unit. After taking all his belongings from there, he throws them away on his way back. The apartment he's been living in for a year now is actually Steven's home, and Marc still feels like a guest in it. All that he and Layla have gained over the years of their marriage is not worth talking about. He kept all the little he owned in that cramped, dimly lit metal container. Hid it from his wife, from Steven. Just as he hid his very essence from the world.

And now, everything he had was going to the trash.

Everything except the gun, that now lies on the passenger seat, its polished metal casing gleaming in the light of the street lamps.

Marc doesn't understand why he's so scared. After all, he's died before. And those fields of reeds looked pretty nice... Though he might not get there again - who knows how things work there... But it probably can't be any worse than it is here, now.

And yet Marc is shaking. His hands are trembling so badly that they're almost disobedient. When he'd poisoned himself with alcohol or let himself be beaten to a pulp by a mob of thugs, he'd essentially accomplished the same thing - the only difference being that he still had a chance to survive. And a bullet to the head leaves no chances.

Khonshu's muttering without ceasing, but it's as if Marc doesn't hear a word he's saying. His mind is in fever, in agony, racing from one thought to another in a panic, but eventually returning again and again to the gun in his hand, heavy and cold.

“Come on, you cowardly piece of shit. Do at least one thing right in your life.”

The muzzle lodges against his temple, finger pressing the trigger.

Click.

A misfire.

Marc convulsively weeps. He collapses on his side on the bed, dropping the gun to the floor. A deafening gunshot sounds - and in the opposite wall there is now a hole from the bullet. Marc cries, and cries, and can't stop.

Finally, his consciousness gives out and shuts down, and he falls into darkness.

On Marc's chest lies a girl. They are both naked, he feels her warmth, the delicious softness of her skin. He catches her scent, mixed with the scent of sex. She has the most amazing eyes he's ever seen - looking at him with tenderness, she smiles at him. Marc gently tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. The girl's smile grows even wider, she covers her eyes and slightly bends her head toward his hand, presses her cheek against his palm, and then kisses it.

Marc wakes up and for a long time can't realize what has happened. His head is heavy, cloudy, achy - as if he has a terrible hangover. Memories slowly float out of the fog: he was absolutely sober yesterday. He remembers why he was sober. Turns his head and sees a hole in the wall, around which cracks are scattered in different directions along the plaster. It was left by a bullet that was meant for him.

The shivers come over him again, so much so that his teeth begin to chatter. Turning away toward the window, he wraps his arms around his body and shakes his head from side to side, over and over, as if to say to himself: “No. No, no, nonono.” Squeezes tightly shut, and suddenly meets again the gaze of those incredible eyes.

“What the hell was that?” - perplexes Marc. This dream... it was so real. He often has vivid dreams. Mostly, of course, nightmares: sometimes scenes from his childhood, more often murder, torture, and blood, lots of blood, other's, and sometimes his own. But this... it wasn't even like a dream, more like a memory. So fresh and clear, as if it had all happened to him just a couple hours ago. And yet Marc is absolutely certain that he's never met this girl.    

He wonders - maybe this memory is not his. But he quickly dismisses that option: Steven is a virgin, and the other one, the one Marc knows nothing about, is able to shut out his alters, blocking them out, not letting them see or hear what's going on, so even if this girl was his, Marc wouldn't remember her.

Calming down little by little, Marc allows himself to return mentally into his dream. So sweet, so warm, so alluring. He feels his palm lazily stroking the curve of her lower back. Her soft skin faintly smells of vanilla and honey. Their legs intertwined under the blanket, between her thighs squeezed his own, he feels the hot wetness... “Fuuuck...” - he moans quietly, realizing that this is his cum - still in her, since they've just made love.

The blood rushes to his cock, it becomes hard and heavy. Marc doesn't want to fight this feeling, and he succumbs to the obsession, so real and unreal at the same time. The movements of his hand are abrupt, almost rough, he cums embarrassingly fast, hoarsely exhaling into the pillow.

She comes into Marc's dreams again. Again and again.

Each time the scenes that emerge in his mind are different, but they are like pieces of one big mosaic. She falls asleep in Marc's arms as he holds her, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. She welcomes him with a warm embrace when he comes home after another mission. They slowly dance at night in the kitchen to a Frank Sinatra song; this dream is especially memorable for Marc: he looks into her ravishing eyes, and his feelings for this girl overwhelm him. When he speaks, his voice sounds choked up: “I can't put into words how much I love you.” He wakes up and his heart thuds muffly in his chest. He loves her, really loves her. And somehow he knows she loves him too. How can she love him? He has never been loved by anyone.

In his dreams she treats his battered fists, kneeling in front of him. Comforts him after another nightmare. Moans his name as they make love. And always looks at him with her stunningly beautiful eyes as if to her he's the whole damn world.

At some point Marc gets used to this beautiful fantasy visiting him, sometimes once in a few weeks, sometimes almost every day. Once he gives up, he stops puzzling over who this girl is, where the image of her came from in his head. Probably, he decides, the night he tried to end his life, his brain created this soothing fantasy in which he could be happy. At least for a little while. At least in a dream.

- Are you sure we won't make things worse? - asks Tutu, - human consciousness is so fragile, and he's already broken.

- We are giving him hope, - Khonshu replies, - he needs it, otherwise he will ruin himself. I can't let that happen, - silent for a while, he adds, - after all, he only sees what awaits him ahead. This is his destiny.

Gradually, Marc actually does feel a little better; they say that time doesn't really heal - it just teaches you to live with pain, and probably that's right. But nothing in his life changes dramatically. He is still lonely, unhappy and hates himself. Except that he drinks far less and no longer tries to blow his brains out. 

There is another circumstance that has not changed over the past months - he still continues to look for the stranger from his dreams among the people around him. But to no avail. At one point, he even decides to sign up for a dating app in the hope of finding her there - but quickly deletes it, angry with himself. What a stupid thing - for that stuff  he's already too old. It's even more stupid to try to find this girl, because most likely she doesn't even exist.

- Hurry up! – irritably grumbles Khonshu, - the later you get there, the more people will get harmed!

- So maybe you should have told me about this earlier? - strains Marc through his teeth, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. God doesn't dignify him with an answer.

Finally they are there. Through the panoramic windows of the business center Marc sees four armed terrorists bursting into the conference room on the eleventh floor. It's time to get to work.

Having quickly neutralized the scumbags, Marc looks around. He counts five victims, two of whom are definitely dead. He foully curses under his breath. Maybe he would like to stay and help the wounded, but healing is not his job: he is a murderer.

Suddenly he feels someone's presence behind his back: a barely perceptible movement, attention directed at him. He turns around. And meets the gaze of astonishing eyes. Their terribly frightened owner had obviously been hiding under the table all this time, and now had decided to peer out of her shelter.

Marc freezes, even seems to stop breathing. His heart pounds against his rib cage like a hammer against an anvil. The girl from his dreams, his living fantasy is now standing a few feet away from him. He hasn't made her up, he hasn't lost his mind. She is real. And she's here.

Waking up, Marc mentally thanks Khonshu for yanking him out of this state, forcing him to remember where they are. He tries to remember how oxygen is supposed to enter the body: inhale, then exhale, and repeat - yes, that seems right. Glad his face is masked and the girl can't see the hungry eyes he's looking at her with now. Swallowing, he hesitantly holds out his hand to her, letting her know that it's safe here now. She timidly takes a step towards him.  

Suddenly there comes a click, a sound Marc wouldn't confuse with anything else: a grenade. Fortunately, despite his confusion, he reacts to the danger with lightning quickness, as befits the warrior he has been his entire conscious life. Wrapping his arms around the girl's waist and pulling her against him, he leaps out the window seconds before a monstrous explosion erupts. She behaves surprisingly bravely, not making a single sound, just clinging with all her might to Marc's shoulders, who is so focused on saving her that doesn't realize he's touching her in reality for the first time.

When their feet softly hit the ground, he continues to shield the girl with his cloak for a few moments from the falling shards of glass and burning debris, and then releases her from his arms. She retreats back a few steps, trembling all over, her eyes wide open as she stares at her savior. Marc suddenly realizes that his silly mummy-like costume might scare her even more, and makes the mask and hood disappear. Then he raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

- Please don't be afraid. I won't hurt you.

She licks her parched lips and nods. Marc can't get his brain to work. He doesn't know how to act, what to say to her. It seems all he can do now is stand there, stupidly staring at her. Finally the most appropriate and adequate question comes to his mind:

- You aren't injured?

- I'm fine, - she gets quiet, and then adds, - thank you.

Marc nods silently. That's it - now his supply of suitable phrases is definitely exhausted. And he's totally fucked. For the past six months, all he's lived with was thoughts of her. The desire to find her. This phantom hope. And here she's standing in front of him - God, universe, fate, whoever, is giving him this chance. Giving him what he wants more than he can imagine. And he doesn't know what to do with this chance, doesn't know how to use it.

Despair mixed with anger floods over him. Hate and disgust for himself fill his mouth with bitterness. Fuck it. Is she capable of loving a lowlife like him? Is anyone even capable?

- I have to get back in there, - Marc squeezes out, - those four weren't working alone - someone helped them to get in.

He turns around, and, mentally showering himself with a stream of curses, paces to the entrance of the building. The girl behind his back still doesn't move. Marc stops. Hesitates for a few seconds. Fuck it...

Returning to her, he forces his voice to sound as calm as possible when he utters:

- I'm sorry. I understand how inappropriate and wild this is going to sound. But I can't help but ask. Would you agree to have dinner with me?

Incredibly beautiful eyes of the girl open even wider, her soft, plump lips parted in astonishment. Marc patiently waits for her answer, doing his best to hide the panic that overwhelms him, growing with every second of her silence. Finally she replies:

- Y-yes. Okay.

The relief Marc experiences now is impossible to convey in any words, in any language in the world. He nods:

- Okay. Tomorrow at seven at Fitz's Brasserie.

Unable to contain the storm of emotions any longer, he hurriedly disappears into the building. He knows he has to find everyone involved in this attack. Find them and beat the shit out of them. He has to do it, to spew out everything that's tearing him up inside right now, or he'll just explode.

And tomorrow... tomorrow he'll pull himself together and do everything right.

Tags: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction ; @mylittledelulucorner ; @oscar-isaacx ; @ingoldthewizard

[bertoltblecht]

On Call - Nine

A/N: Hello hello! Back again! This took a little longer this time, but I'm really pleased with it. Please let me know what you think, the anon messages are really quite delightful.

Word count: 3817

Rated: Mature

Tags: Angst, Mutual Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Tension, Sex, Mutual Pining, Suicidal Ideation, Anxiety, Comfort/Hurt, Where the comfort also hurts, a lot of baseball talk tbh

-

There was really no better reminder that pleather is not leather than seeing it melted into partial thickness burns. 

What began as a relatively slow night-shift alongside Abbot while Robby had a few days off ended with a flood of injuries from a wedding reception bonfire that had abruptly exploded. 

The burns ranged in severity and size, but most upsetting (or, perhaps more accurately, intriguing) for Dr. Reilly was the variety of synthetic fabrics seared to the wounds. It was a research paper’s worth of data, and part of her felt a little guilty for the rush of good brain chemicals she got at the prospect of documenting it all. 

As she worked, Rose gently requested to take pictures, offered to send them to the patients for insurance purposes, and noted the specific material blend of the clothing when they were willing to let her find a tag. 

The source of the unexpected eruption was a topic of debate among the wedding guests. Parsing the chaos of stories, Rose gathered someone (the groom’s brother, at least allegedly) tossed something into the fire as he was leaving, and a few moments later whatever it was had gone boom.

Apparently the brother was unharmed and in police custody for questioning. Rose found it very fortunate that neither the bride nor groom were among those needing treatment. They were spared from injury and also from having to hear their families’ debate over which one of them married trash. Between the melee of competing smells and family strife, the ER was a sensory nightmare.

In between marathon debriding sessions, Rose took ten to stand outside for a moment of fresh air. There was a dull ache between her eyes, somewhere between pressure and exhaustion. She wasn’t sleeping well. The new place was lovely, and the new bed was a dream. It was all just… different. Like waking up every morning in a hotel or a one night stand’s bedroom. It didn’t feel like hers. Combined with an inconsistent schedule covering different shifts, she was feeling less and less human. 

What Rose needed was a good night's sleep to start her long weekend off right, and it took hardly any convincing from the devil on her shoulder to pull out her phone. Only a couple hours before shift change; she knew he wouldn’t be getting up for work but it was worth a shot to see if he was awake. 

Rose: i have wild photos to show you next time i see you 

The reply came back suspiciously quickly for 5 in the morning. 

Robby: what kind of photos 

Robby: send em 

Rose laughed in spite of herself. 

Rose: they’re just some crazy burns from tonight, bonfire mishap

Robby: you know what I will actually wait on seeing those thanks

What Rose really wanted was a cigarette, but she settled for risky texting to feel alive at the end of this hell shift instead.  

Rose: won’t be disappointed if you come over tonight. you were really on to something in the elevator 

Robby: is this sexting?

Suppressing a grin, Rose toyed with several responses, of varying levels of salaciousness. She eventually settled on winking deflection.

Rose: … i have burns to attend to

Robby: see you tonight 

In spite of the tension headache, Rose ended the break pleased with herself. Couple more hours, a short walk, some kind of sustenance - hopefully a nap - and then he was going to come over. Her rational mind fought her emotional mind to keep her on the correct side of reasonable. Nothing about the situation they abandoned had changed in the last two and a half years. They were just… picking up where they left off. For reasons that Rose wasn’t about to dig into too deeply. Her only goals were contact and good sleep. If his goals aligned, then wonderful. 

Rose grabbed some ibuprofen from the break room and took another second to stretch her neck and shoulders before getting back into the mix. 

By the end of the shift, she wasn’t sure her sinuses would ever release the scent miasma. She was finishing one last chart she forgot about and leaning against the charge desk, her backpack at her feet. 

“How many pictures did you get for your perverted little collection?” 

Rose smiled, shaking her head at Abbot‘s question. “I’ll have you know, twenty-five patients and only two of them told me to fuck off. It was a treasure trove of burns tonight.” 

“Did you miss out or were the last two boring?” She could almost hear the half smirk as he did his own charting. 

“They were boring,” she admitted with a laugh. “I still want to know what the hell happened. I’ve been to some messy weddings but no exploding fires yet.”

“What were you taking pictures of their tags for?” he asked curiously, looking over at her. 

“The fabric blends. Did you see the woman in the ’vegan leather’ crop top? That’s just plastic. Horrifying,” Rose shuddered as she closed the chart. “I watched a documentary about Studio 54 in its heyday and certain synthetic fabrics would literally melt under the lights there.” 

“Studio 54?” 

“The nightclub in New York.”

“Do you do anything but work and watch TV?” Abbot shook his head at her. 

“Not after I got norovirus at Pilates. What else is there though, really?” Rose pretended to dramatically ponder the question. 

“Seriously bro, fuck your whole family. You’re all piece-uh-shit morons.” The angry voice drew both their attention as a man from the bride’s family approached the groom’s other brother. 

“Fuck you, man. This was a dumb accident,” the other man said, brow furrowed and jaw clenched. 

“A dumb accident? Look around, asshole. This was all entirely Levi’s fault! Or I guess I could blame your mother for droppin’ s’many uh you cross-eyed dipshits, there were no brains left for ‘im!” 

“Shit happens.” 

“Shit happens? I’m gonna bash your fuckin’ skull in, dude.”

Nice of him to provide warning, Rose thought.

But as he took a couple heavy steps to enter combat, the man of fewer words shoved him hard. The aggressor’s knees twisted awkwardly and sickening snap sounds preceded the thud of his body on the ER floor. If Rose had to guess, it sounded like his ACLs and someone was going to have to pop those joints back in. Lackluster fight really, all things considered. 

Abbot inhaled through his teeth, as Rose winced with an ooh, before the man started wailing in pain. 

“Is that…?” She started, glancing at the attending. 

“Not our problem, shift change happened.” Abbot shook his head quickly. 

“But I want to know what Levi did. I want to know what he threw in the fire.” 

“Text one of the nurses in a couple hours and they’ll tell you what he did, I’m sure.” 

—

This was Robby’s last day off, and he had successfully kept himself from texting Rose for the last three evenings, thank you very much. When she texted, he was already awake laying in bed. 

They hadn’t talked about what happened, but the memory infiltrated Robby’s thoughts every time his mind wandered while he sat in his living room. Even if he tried to enjoy whatever Mission Impossible movie was currently on cable. 

The ghosts of Rose in his apartment made him miss her in a way that told one side of him she should never come back here, and the other side of him he should invite her into the last space she didn’t haunt: his actual bedroom. 

When he got back from walking her home that night, Robby had felt cowardly.  He thought about how easily she had conceded to a boundary he hadn’t even actually set. One time he clarified she could sleep on his couch and she just knew from then on he wouldn’t be able to sleep if his bed smelled like her or he could picture her there? He said her bed and she said his couch? Was he a schmuck? 

He felt selfish for wanting more from her on his own terms, but asking anything from her she wasn’t already offering was unreasonable. Plain as that. Robby was already crossing so many lines. 

Their relationship before had been a means to an end for both of them. Rose was more than just a post-divorce crisis, but they had worked well together for that brief time because she didn’t seem to want anything more than his company. 

Robby sometimes wondered self-deprecatingly what exactly his appeal was, but he reminded himself she liked being around him even when he wasn’t losing himself between her legs. They had compatible methods of coping, it turned out. But if he thought too hard about which ones she had unintentionally picked up off him, he’d get queasy. 

For all the confidence she rightfully earned in the years since then, the earlier Rose needed reassurance she would find places to put all the messy, broken feelings. Sometimes he wondered if he ever actually provided that. 

Knocking it off during her first year was the right call without a doubt. What they were doing had the potential to derail them in so many ways, and they both clearly knew that. None of their decisions ever came with a discussion though. If it came down to it, that would have been part of the problem if HR were involved. What was their relationship? 

Now though… His recently promoted senior resident was spending more time in the OR and often covering shifts under other attendings. How was this more and less complicated?

Robby spent three days thinking about seeing if she was around but talked himself out of it every time. 

Rose worked a night shift and then pulled him so casually via text that for a moment he felt easy.

Fuck it, whatever. There would be time to sort it out later. Why deny himself? 

—

Rose meant to sleep at some point when she got home. She had every intention of taking care of all her physical needs, including napping before Robby came over. 

Instead, she decided to put on a pot of coffee and keep chugging along until she came to a stop. She was hoping for intel from the day shift nurses on the family situation, and she had all those pictures to label before she forgot. 

A natural stop never really arrived though, and she blew past one station by deciding she was going to finish unpacking and cleaning before she showered. 

Rose worked especially well under pressure, and the prospect of Robby coming over and seeing she had in fact not unpacked and gotten her shit together in the last few weeks was the exact motivator she needed to get it all done.  

As she was getting out of the shower, her phone pinged. 

Robby: hope this doesnt wake you. what time is good? i’m free whenever

Rose checked the time - 5:32pm. Damn, thirsty, Dr. Robinavitch. 

It was going to take at least twenty minutes to get the smirk off her face. She waited a second before texting back. 

Rose: i’m up come over whenever you want 

Robby: see you at 6? 

Rose: apt 419

Thirsty as fuck. 

—

Just after 6:00, Robby knocked while Rose was turning over the last of her laundry.

“Hey, come in.” It was easy to relax as he smiled at her. 

“Hi.” Robby stepped inside and let the door shut, tugging her into a slow, soft kiss before he pulled away to scrutinize her with gentle eyes. “Long shift last night?” he asked softly with a light caress to her cheek bone. 

“Did a lot of squinting and pulling burned bits out of places you don’t want bits burned.” Rose wrinkled her nose, her heart thrumming at the immediate affection. His hand fell to the side of her neck as she pressed her lips to his this time. 

“And then you took pictures?” he asked, pulling back again as though he just remembered what she texted early that morning. 

“Of the variety of burned fabric blends. So many fast fashion pieces. You don’t want to see them now, I looked at them for hours.” Rose was babbling a little breathlessly. 

Robby considered her for a long moment, his thumb making soft circles over her pulse point. “Did you sleep?” he asked lightly enough that his Doctor Voice didn’t make her want to lie. 

“Not yet, I’ve got a few days off now though. I just had excess energy and the sun was up.” She chuckled, shaking her head. He probably would have clocked her anyway from the tired eyes and the slightly tachy heart rate. 

“Good you have some time off, you deserve the rest.” No lecture. No tone. Just a small smirk that made her feel like she was going to dissolve into mist. 

“Do you want the tour? It’s not extensive, but the gift shop is the bedroom.” Rose was flushed and feigning a level of casual she was not feeling for some reason.

Robby eyed her with an amused expression. “I can’t decide what the implication of that is.” 

“No need to think too hard about it.” She huffed a laugh and nudged him away to gesture at the space like it wasn’t a shoebox. 

It was slightly bigger than the studio she’d been in previously, but it also had separate rooms.  “Kitchen and living room - bathroom is off the kitchen for god knows what reason. Only other door is the bedroom.” She pointed and headed toward the cracked bedroom door. 

“It’s nice, and no broken mirrors or cursed bookshelves in sight,” Robby bit his lip against a smile as he followed, his hands in his pockets. 

“But their energy… it lingers,” she joked as she pushed the door and went to pull open the blackout curtains. “You don’t have this problem, but I can actually see work from here.” 

“No you cannot,” Robby said in disbelief as he came over to the window laughing. “That’s unacceptable, you have to move. That’s worse than me living in the parking lot.” 

“Shut up! I’m never moving again, I lost like half my stuff in a freak, drunk med student incident.” She laughed too as his arms wrapped around her, his lips pressing to the side of her neck. 

“Pull the curtain, Jack could be on the roof,” he mumbled against her skin with a smirk. 

“Don’t piss me off, Robinavitch.” She tipped her head with a sigh though, drawing the curtains again before turning to face him. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” Robby’s thumb brushed over her lower lip, nudging her toward her new bed in her new place that she’d welcomed him into without a moment’s hesitation, even after being awake for who knows how long. When he kissed her again, it was with an aching, desperate attempt to convey what her vulnerability meant to him without having to say it. 

As her legs hit the bed, she tugged him down with her, making him grunt and wrap his arm around her waist to haul her properly up onto the bed. 

“Wow, showing off,” she smirked at him, only a little breathless. 

“Always.” He grinned. 

—

Robby was beginning to wonder if she had immediately dozed off on him, her head on his shoulder and her breaths slow and even. They had pulled just the sheet over them to stop the chill from the ceiling fan. 

“Not all that different walking from here or walking from your place tomorrow morning.” Rose was aiming for a light tone. Noncommittal, as though it didn’t matter at all to her if he lingered long enough to stay the night. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her indirect approach. “Trying to go to bed already, grandma? I thought maybe I’d order pizza and we could half-watch the baseball game.” 

A not-answer for her not-question, but she hummed in agreement nonetheless. “Watch yourself, I’ve been awake a long time, but I’ll ramble off stats until I lull you into a sleep so deep you only awaken the next time the Pirates clinch their division.” 

“I guess I definitely won’t be walking to work tomorrow in that case.” 

—

“It’s like watching the team at the beginning of Angels in the Outfield before the angels start to step in,” Rose complained, watching the replay of the right fielder for the Pirates tipping a high, fly ball with his glove over the fence for not a ground rule double but a fucking home run. 

“I won’t wake up until the Pirates win the NL. Dermot Mulroney won’t come back until the Angels win the AL. Now there’s a World Series that’s never happened before.” Robby‘s shoulders shook as he practically giggled. 

Her legs were tossed over his on the ottoman in front of her couch, a plate in her lap. 

The laugh was contagious. “It’s hard to be bad for so long. They really need to turn it around. They’re basically an even 50/50 baseball club. Like for their whole history. The difference between wins and losses was twenty at the beginning of this season. Over all 20,000 games, you can flip a coin and guess if they won or not.” She was half-whining but with a wide smile on her face. 

“That’s kind of tragic.” In spite of the sentiment, he was still laughing as she ranted. 

“That’s a weird amount of pressure for the current team, don’t you think? To keep those scales tipped on the winning side?” Rose took a deep breath and sighed, her sides aching. “You’ve got so much more suck buffer when you’re a Yankee.” 

“Suck buffer!” Robby repeated roughly on an exhale, shaking his head at her. 

“I said it!” Rose went back to eating her pizza, a small smirk on her lips. 

“You’re not old enough to remember when they were good.” He realized the truth of the statement and groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Rose couldn’t help rolling her eyes and nudging his shin. “Because you were, what? A youngin’ when they were last winning the World Series in the 70’s?” 

“Yeah actually. In fact they won the last time on my 8th birthday.” His expression softened at the memory, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “The Steelers won the Super Bowl that year too. Big year for the Burgh.”

“Wow, a birthday present for you and then not again since then. Longest drought in the National League. How have you not personally fought one of the giant pierogis?” She smiled over at him. “Were you always a baseball fan?” 

It wasn’t a heavy question; he clearly had a lot of familiarity. Rose could feel him hesitate though. 

Finally, he nodded. “I lived with my grandmother for most of my childhood and she grew up in the city here and was always a fan. It’s an easy thing to focus on. Bond over, I guess.”

“It is,” she agreed and offered him an easy smile. “People open up around baseball. It’s something to talk about when you want to talk about something else.” The line felt soft and worn-in as she said it, an old sweatshirt. 

“Like battlefield surgery?” His foot tapped hers, gaze on the TV. Maybe people opened up around baseball because there was something else to look at. 

“Battlefield surgery is a lot like baseball actually.” That line sounded like someone else’s too. “So is what we do in trauma medicine. We’re just fielding what comes in and running plays. It’s chaotic, but it isn’t random. There are a finite number of things that can be wrong, even if that number is huge. It’s easier not to panic when you understand the fundamentals, and you know there’s always the next correct choice.” 

Robby looked at her then. “There aren’t always correct choices.” 

She shook her head. “I think there is always a most correct choice. I’m not saying everyone can be saved. I guess knowing when the game is over is part of it.” 

“I’ve never thought about baseball or medicine like that,” he admitted with a chuckle after blinking at her for a moment. 

A sheepish expression crossed Rose’s face as she shrugged. “I think about a lot of things with that approach. It’ll get you out of the woods.”

“Until there’s no next thing to do.” He remembered the way she described the spiral in the elevator. 

Rose nodded. “Then you panic,” she teased with an angelic smile. 

On the TV, the batter for the Cardinals hit a high pop-up. The Pirates’ catcher struggled to find the ball in the air above him, and the first baseman collided with him behind the plate, leaving him laid out in the base path. The runner from third swerved around him into the grass, leaving just enough time for the third baseman to pick up the ball and tag the runner out to end the inning. 

Incredulous noises left both of them. 

“Perfect example of the heartbreaking thing about baseball and life in general - other people not knowing the plays.” Rose sat up to put her plate on the coffee table before leaning into Robby’s side, the weight of his arm settling over her.  

“Hey, they made it work. Got the out, ended the inning.” The chuckle rumbling through his chest made her sigh pleasantly, closing her eyes.

“At what cost?” She mumbled. “Is Rodriguez still on the ground?” 

“Bart helped him up and into the dugout, I think he’s okay.” His fingertips pressed firmly into the tension wound at the base of her neck, absently working out the knot and making a soft noise leave her as the pressure behind her eyes eased. 

It was like watching a wind-up toy run out of momentum, Rose relaxing against him. The familiar tug of affection made him feel antsy, but her hand slid over his abdomen and he sighed, the anxious energy dissipating. He pressed a kiss to her head, settling into silence during the commercial between innings. 

“Stay the night?” Rose asked quietly, maybe the only request she had ever made of him. 

Robby hummed in agreement, and he could feel tension leave her at the affirmative answer. He couldn’t explain why that made his chest ache. 

By the time the game ended, Rose was dozing. He almost didn’t want to move and wake her, but his back was going to complain if he didn’t. Gentle fingers brushed her hair back as he kissed her forehead. “Time for bed, sweets.” 

Her annoyed grunt made him smile fondly as they stood and shuffled off to her bedroom. Rose dropped herself on one side of the unmade bed, leaving Robby to kick his sweatpants off and join her. They tangled together comfortably a moment later as she rolled toward him and tucked herself against his side. His content sigh coaxed her back to sleep.

prev/next

[marshmellowtea]

unfortunately for you guys i have started seriously thinking about a munchausen by proxy'd!chris au and i have decided that maybe jonathan could get to be the hero of this specific au.........part of it is that i wanna do more with him in general but there's also the fact that jonathan is canonically a Dad so of the entire cast i think he'd be the one most likely to notice the more subtle things that are off about celia's behavior, her odd calmness at chris's unexplained illness, her weird excitement with each new diagnosis, the way she chatters on with the doctors and nurses when chris is curled up sick in his hospital bed.......it's horrifying to him that she's not more worried, if this were his kid he'd be a complete and utter wreck, and that's what starts to tip him off that Hey maybe something is really fucking wrong here, actually.......

[suddencolds]

// personal

how strange it is to observe yourself changing

[stardestroyer81]

So, guess who's Steven Universe trash now?

After being convinced by my fellow Starfighters to give the series a shot, I've since fallen in love with it only fifteen or so episodes in, and I just had to whip up a design for what my Gemsona would look like! MASSIVE shout-out to @stephysalcido and @minxxikuo for collaborating with me on her design— it wouldn't have been possible without them! 💚✨

[fictionadventurer]

People will often say, 'If you could be with Lincoln for dinner, what would you want to ask him? What would be the unanswered question?' And I know I should be asking him, 'OK, suppose you had not been killed, how would you have dealt with the South? How would you have dealt with Reconstruction and all the controversies that arose?' But I know that if I really had him for dinner one night, I would simply ask him, 'Tell me a story, Mr. Lincoln.' Because then I would see him coming alive. He laughed so hard when he told one of his funny stories, his eyes would twinkle. And then I'd know that the Lincoln I knew -- who was somehow able in the worst days of the war to dispel the anxiety of his Cabinet members by his humor and his life-affirming sense of storytelling -- then I’d know I would have seen him alive.

-Doris Kearns Goodwin, Presidential Episode 16

This was where I had to stop the Lincoln episode at the end of my commute, and as I pulled into the parking lot I said to myself, "Wow, that's lovely." A little schmaltzy, perhaps, but I think it gets to the core of why people study history. Sure, there's the intellectual impulse to analyze and understand events with the benefit of hindsight, but deep down, the heart of historical study is a desire to connect with people. To bridge the gulf of time and space and get to know people despite the fact that they lived in a completely different century.

History's not just dry lists of dates and names and theories. It's people. It's personalities. It's quirks and memories and stories. It's knowing that a historical figure isn't just a face on a monument, or a source of information, but a guy who can tell really funny stories. And I wanted to share this quote because it really understands the humanity of history in a way I rarely see expressed.

[kiyomitakada]

i am going to scream (wip rambling in the tags)

[wingwaver]

I highly doubt those guys are still alive down there but I do hope they manage to find the submersible just to give the families closure

[turtlemagnum]

god, i suck at mario 2. i'm disparaging my legacy.... seriously, how the fuck have i beaten the lost levels without save states but can't get past 1-3 in american mario 2???? why am i not instantly good at a game i've never really played, god!!!! my mother would be disappointed in me

post writing the tags turtle here: i started rambling about my childhood made the tags longer than the actual post and don't feel like putting them onto the actual post because that'd be too much work and i'm feeling lazy. read em if you want personal bullshit! or don't. i'm not care

[ranger-kellyn]

rewatched the serpent's pass last night to take notes for my fic, and all night right up until waking up, i just. couldn't get over how unsatisfying the sukka reunion was. even with my silly shipper goggles on, i'm just like. it didn't sell me, and I don't know how much of that is me being in all likelihood demiromantic, and how much of that was just genuinely lackluster writing :T

like, right before their near kiss, her whole “I lost someone I cared about. He didn’t die. He just went away.  I only had a few days to get to know him, but he was smart, and brave, and funny.” just...........Doesn't do it for me. it's so tonally different from what sokka had just said, and also like!!!!! you knew him for like A DAY!!!!!! you did not have NEARLY enough time to care about him like that please be real dlkjfhdkj

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

willingly listening to horrible terrible music because i love this woman.

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[hongjoongspoetry]

Just Another Night, Until You | Choi San

❤️‍🔥 Summary: Hectic nights at work is nothing out of the ordinary for you, but when a man is wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit with second degree burns all over his body and in the need of immediate medical attention, your life takes a turn as his body heals on his own by the mere presence of you. Shocked by the discovery, you stay by his side as he recovers and together you come to terms with your unexpected connection.

❤️‍🔥 Pairing(s): Firefighter!San x Emergency physician!Reader

❤️‍🔥 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, best friend's brother, oldest daughter and youngest son, slice of life, fluff

❤️‍🔥 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), brief description of burn injuries, medical setting, san is living up to his romance-cat title, pet names (darling, my love, love, honey), MC is a Jeong, a lot of physical intimacy, kisses gallore, san is down bad for the MC, brief description of motorcycle accident and fractured bones (not explicit), the fear of losing loved ones, emotional exhaustion, a few swear words, not beta read!

❤️‍🔥 Wordcount: 7.5K

❤️‍🔥 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). Wihooo! And there goes the second to last instalment of the March Event ;-; im lowkey sad it's ending soon although it gives me more time to work on other stuff!! anyhow, this one was really fun to write and I hope you'll enjoy it, be prepared for a lot of love sick sannie 🥹 Btw I'm not a nurse/doctor or have any "proper" knowledge regarding how things go down in the E.R or hospital for that matter either, so this is all based on excessive research. Thank you for your understanding!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains mature scenes such as descriptions of serious injuries, medical procedures as well as adult language. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

It was an exceptionally calm hour in Seoul National University Hospital. Most nights were bustling with life, whether it’d be residential patients abusing the call button, relatives refusing to leave after visiting hours were over or an incoming emergency putting the whole hospital in a fit. But not tonight. The clock hanging on the wall opposite of the nurse’s station in the emergency department recently struck midnight. You slumped down by your desk as Haneul, your roommate, best friend and fellow colleague, dragged her legs behind her and nearly toppled over her seat. You finished off the last rounds of checking in on the inpatients on your floor, yet your social batteries were already drained and the nightshift had just started. 

Haneul blew a raspberry before her head dropped onto the desk with a soft thud. She groaned and threw herself back on the chair, her arms extended and legs elevated. Her slip-on shoes barely hung onto her feet and she wasn’t faring any better.

“I’m so tired,” she complained and went limp in her seat. “I can’t wait to clock out and return to my boyfriend.”

You let out an amused huff, the pencil twirling in your fingers coming to a stop as you caught it mid air. “You mean your bed?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha, really funny Haneul.”

“It’s a bit funny, admit it!”

You rolled your eyes at her, but couldn’t fight off the smile that spread across your face. It was never a dull moment when in Haneul’s company. You were certain that even if death were around the corner, she’d still find a way to make the situation feel light. That was probably why you two had hit it off at university. She was mostly, if not always, in a cheerful mood, while you walked around with a dark cloud over your head. Had it not been for Haneul approaching you solely because your shirt was similar to one of her favorite character’s outfits in a drama, you probably would never have become friends. A decade later and you were tighter than two peas in a pod, and even decided — after your first semester — to move into a flat together which was still your current home.

“Whatever… I can’t complain as it’s at least a quiet night.”

The unspoken rule of never mentioning the obvious flashed before your eyes and you cowered from the blazing look Haneul shot your way. The air was caught in your throats and neither dared to move an inch from your places. You slowly turned your head sideways, waiting for a patient to peek their head out or scream that their pillow needed puffing up. As the empty hallway continued staying silent and the motion sensor lights didn’t turn on, you exhaled in relief.

“You got lucky there,” she said and logged into her computer. 

As you parted your mouth to answer, a voice broke through from the radio placed on the wall-mounted brackets. A report concerning a handful of people who were hurt in a fire set loose in an apartment came through and everyone ditched their tasks to get ready for the newcomers. You and Haneul, along with other nurses, ran to the trauma bay and occupied a room each where you, hopefully not, would get a patient each. The sound of multiple sirens grew louder the faster the ambulances sped toward the hospital and didn’t stop until the flashes of red and blue colored the building. Despite being employed for two years and counting, you never got accustomed to the ear piercing noise or blinding lights.

“Nurse Kim, could you prepare the wound care kit? Nurse Hwang, bring the respiratory support system. We don’t know what we’re dealing with so we need to expect the worst!”

The commotion from the triage area reached your room as the patients were being rolled into the hospital and underwent the initial assessment of their conditions. The code red patients would fall into your hands and you, together with your team, would do your utmost to lessen their injuries. You put the other glove on and waited by the door of your room. The sight before you was jarring to say the least. The victims of the fire were all in different conditions. Some crying and wincing from the burnmarks while others lay completely still as if the burned skin wasn’t a painful inconvenience. The wonders of falling unconscious. An elderly nurse with a couple of years beneath her belt pushed a stretcher toward you and you hastily moved out of the way. 

Nurse Yeon quickly spewed the little information she knew of the unconscious patient, but you couldn’t focus on her words. Your entire attention was given to the man before you. He looked peaceful despite the soot smudged across his face and several burn marks littering the majority of his body. He was also handsome — very handsome. That, you couldn’t deny. His black strands fell over his closed eyes and brows. Most of his features were sharp and defined, red heart-shaped lips in a slight pout, a long nose with a prominent bridge, high cheekbones and a few beauty marks peeking out from beneath the smeared ash. But you knew that, out of everything, his most alluring feature was his eyes — even when closed. You could see the feline-like shape that reminded you of a panther in the wild and you found yourself wondering what color they were. A tingle erupted along the pads of your fingers, almost begging you to move his hair out of the way. 

“...He was found unconscious in the building after being caught in the fire. Red category. He has second-degree burns on twenty percent of his body, severe smoke inhalation and is currently in respiratory distress. We’ve initiated oxygen therapy. BP is low and bolus fluids were administered to stabilize circulation. He is unresponsive, likely due to hypoxia.”

Nurse Yeon brought you back to the present and you ignored the highly unprofessional thought. With the help of Nurse Kim, you connected him to a monitoring machine and proceeded with the remaining steps of the protocol drilled into your spine. You administered high-flow oxygen via a non-rebreather mask to address the smoke inhalation and to prevent breathing issues later on.

Facing away from the patient to grab a scalpel in order to cut his already torn shirt, you just about turned your head and called out, “Nurse Kim, give him an IV fluid with saline to prevent shock and maintain blood pressure as well as a light dose of morphine to relieve him of pain. Nurse Hwang, hand me the scalpel, please.”

The nurses wasted no time following your orders. While Nurse Kim stabilized the patient’s blood pressure, you drove the sharp end of the scalpel through the center of his shirt to expose the injured area and assess what else you had to work with. As expected, there were blotches of irritated, red skin all over his upper body. It didn’t look too bad but would scar if left untreated. Your main concern was the smoke inhalation, but the high-flow oxygen proved effective, as the pulse oximeter showed that the oxygen saturation in his blood was slowly improving and you could swiftly move on to treat his wounds.

“Nurse Hwang, hand me the antiseptic soluti–”

A horrified gasp cut you off mid sentence and your head flung to the doorway where a nurse — a trainee at that — stood with her wide eyes and mouth hanging open behind her health mask. The interruption crawled beneath your skin like electricity. You glanced down at her nametag.

“Trainee Park?”

The student didn’t budge nor make a noise of acknowledgement and you had half a mind to terminate the established contract between the hospital and nursing school. You understood the weight of students gaining hands-on experience in a hospital setting, but it was beyond the agreement for a student to interrupt a life alternating moment for the patient.

“Trainee Park I won’t ask you a second time, what is it?!” 

Antiseptic solution in hand, you faced the student again, though her focus wasn’t on you but on something behind you. A line formed between your brows as you followed her gaze, leading to what she was staring at. Your patient still lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic motion, but you weren’t caught off guard by his regulated breathing. The patches of glaring red skin that previously looked painful to the eye were replaced with a lighter hue as if his body was recovering on its own. It was inhumane and in all your years as both a student and a licensed doctor, you had never seen anything like it. However, everyone in the room knew exactly what it meant.

“Fuck…”

One of the male nurses found the patient’s ID-card in the cardholder neatly tucked in the pocket of his pants while changing him into a hospital gown, but it was the teary look on Haneul after seeing the man’s face that everything clicked in place. Choi San, the little brother of your best friend, was your soulmate. 

The realization didn’t hit you while standing in the center of the trauma room or when his injuries healed more quickly beneath the touch of your finger. The fact that you had found your soulmate dawned on you early one morning, as you were making rounds between the remaining victims of the apartment fire and came across his room — the last patient to be checked on. The thought of finding your soulmate hadn’t crossed your mind in years. It was locked away in your old high school classroom, along with your youth, when you used to fret over who your soulmate might be. Would they be a foreigner? A celebrity? A boy or a girl? Rich, kind, or rude? The possibilities seemed endless, and you often spent more time daydreaming about the different outcomes than focusing on your studies. It was a miracle you didn’t fail most of your classes.

It was only when you set a goal that you lost interest in who your soulmate was and dedicated more of your time to studying. Little by little, as assignments piled up, you pushed the thought of your other half to the back of your mind and forgot about it. Of course, there were instances when the topic would come up every now and then — meeting distant relatives for the first time in forever and having them ask about your partner, or going out to dinner with Haneul and watching her get so drunk she forgets her own name, but still manages to make bets. Looks like you’d be treating her to that BBQ after all.

You entered the room and stopped at the end of the patient bed staring at San’s sleeping form. The harmless jealousy seeped into your bones as he lay there oblivious to the turmoil wrecking havoc inside of you and you wondered if, despite his unconscious state, he could feel even a glimpse of your emotions. Because you could feel him throughout your entire shift. The change in breathing, eyes fluttering, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as if he was right there with you.

The joke you once cracked to Haneul when you first started working there, something along the lines of finding your soulmate while tending to their wounds, wasn’t funny anymore and left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. You sighed and glanced down at the patient chart hanging off the bedside. His vitals were good. More than good considering he was being driven straight from a burning building. Doctor Jung ran some tests on him during the night and they confirmed that San suffered greatly until he arrived at the hospital, until he reached you.

The doors of the room were violently pushed open and the eldest Choi entered as if her brother wasn’t lying there unconscious. Her unexpected arrival stopped your thoughts from spiraling further and your heart from racing into palpitations. It was weird to see her lips pressed into a thin line and eyes void of light, replacing her usual dimpled smile that would brighten your day. 

“How is he?” She eventually asked and buried her hands in the pockets of her white coat.

You cleared your throat and mimicked her stance, both of you focused on the resting man. “He’s healthier than a newborn baby.”

Five hours of constantly being on your feet, moving around and not having the chance to take a five minute toilet break put you in a hazy mist. It wasn’t until now that you felt the weight of the situation sink in. Who would’ve thought your best friend’s brother was your soulmate?

“You know,” Haneul started and broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m happy it’s you. Someone I know and trust as much as I trust myself.”

The words were oddly warm and spread a branch of hope through you. While you were too caught up with your work and then your own feelings, you didn’t stop to think what Haneul thought of everything. Her two worlds were colliding and it could either be good or bad.

“Is it weird?”

“Not at all… It’s the best thing I could ask for. That my best friend and brother get along… Just…” Haneul gnawed on the side of her bottom lip and turned to you, “Just don’t hurt him, Jeong. San is a tough cookie, but he has a fragile heart and I really don’t want to ever choose between you. You are both very dear to me.”

“You won’t have to. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried.”

Haneul chuckled despite the tears making their escape down her cheeks. “Is it really like how they say? Are you already… affected by him?”

You breathed out a laugh at that. The countless nights spent talking and making fun of other couples who had already found their happily ever after were sure biting you in the ass, because it was, in fact, exactly how they said it would be. The unexplainable pull drawing you toward him, the yearning to be by his side and feeling him everywhere. Every skip of his heart, harsh intake of air and twitch of his fingers were all transferred to you

“Yeah, it’s exactly how they say it is.”

Haneul eventually left to do her last rounds and finish writing reports until the sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the end of your second night shift that week. San didn’t wake up until a few hours later and despite being hooked to a monitor regulating his state and showing nothing out of the ordinary, you didn’t leave his side for even a second. The dread of another emergency report coming through squeezed your abdomen until you were on the verge of puking. Just the thought of parting from him almost sent you hurling your insides in the guest bathroom. You were lucky to have wonderful colleagues who understood the circumstances and reassured you multiple times not to worry about finishing your reports or doing rounds. Nurse Hwang and Kim even passed by with snacks and water before returning to work.

The clock struck early morning when your chin slid off your knuckles and you were unpleasantly awoken from your slumber. The fear of falling to your death had you jumping out of your seat and taking in your surroundings. The sun gently shone through the windows occupying the entire left side of the room and filled the space with auburn streaks kissing your face. The warm rays seeped through the cherry blossom trees planted along the outskirts of the hospital. You found the view to be exceptionally beautiful during the early mornings when the pink petals detached from the branches, swirling in the air like snowflakes and covering the boring cement pavement..

A laser like heat bored into the side of your head and you scanned the room to find the source, only to get lost in the eyes of your soulmate. A wide smile stretched across his face and you realized the dimple gene ran deep in the Choi family as an identical pair to Haneul’s popped on San’s cheeks. You couldn’t shake away the image of a content and well fed cat at the sight of him. 

San immediately shifted the blanket to the side and had one bare foot planted on the floor, ready to leap out of bed and wrap you in his arms. The man just about managed to stand on both legs when you rushed from your seat and gently pushed him back down.

“No, no, please, sit!”

San fell back on the mattress without much of a fight. The moment your hand made contact with his shoulder, an explosion of tingles erupted along your palm, spreading like wildfire through your arm and out to the rest of your limbs, reaching the tips of your toes and fingers. The air caught in your throat and, like magnets forced together, your eyes found his again. Neither of you had to vocalize the question balancing on the tip of your tongues, asking if the other felt that crackling fire. San sensed the twinge of worry squeezing at your heart and hummed in content, he reached out and grabbed one of your hands in his to ease the burden atop your shoulders. He smiled so hard his eyes turned into crescent moons and hadn’t you known better, you’d think he’d start purring like a cat receiving ear scratches. 

“I’m fine. I don’t need rest because you are here.”

You ignored the heat pooling beneath your cheeks at his rather flamboyant response and steered the conversation elsewhere. “What were you thinking running into a burning building?”

The words came out effortlessly, as if you had known him since your youth.

“I didn’t do it on purpose…” He began and jutted out his bottom lip. “My feet just moved on their own, call it an instinct. Besides, I couldn’t just leave everyone inside. I’d put shame on the entire fire department!”

“Curse you for being reckless and kind hearted, San.”

“Yet thanks to my recklessness, I landed in the hospital and found you.”

The cheeky reply nearly made you pop a blood vessel. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm after facing death less than eight hours ago. The monitor attached to him shouldn’t have been stable. Based on your past experience with burn victims, San should’ve been startled and shaken up, and in some uncomfortable pain. Instead, he remained unnervingly composed, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you question your own knowledge. His calmness felt unnatural, given the circumstances. The heart rate monitor, which should’ve shown elevated readings due to stress, stayed oddly steady and only spiked up when you spoke, moved or looked at him for too long.

“San… we are soulmates. We would’ve met eventually,” you hissed, trying to mask the look of realization on your face. The soulmate bond explained his calm demeanor. As he said, he was fine now that you were there, while you just wanted to cover him in bubble wrap and not let him out of your sight.

“Yes, but not soon enough.”

You abandoned the conversation for now as it wouldn’t lead anywhere. San was deadset on his decision being correct even though it was a foolish one and you still had a job to do. Ignoring the way he followed your every movement, a polite smile and creased eyes never leaving your form, you adjusted his pillows and checked the IV attached to his forearm. 

“Do you need anything else?”

“Hmmm, just you.”

Had you met under different circumstances, perhaps in a grocery store where you'd bump carts together or on a packed bus where he’d give up his seat for you and stand by your side to shield you from the other commuters, his charms would’ve worked. But you didn’t. Instead San decided to search the burning building for others with no gear, just his strong will and hope clinging onto his back, and all his attempts at flirting were futile as you couldn’t get the image of his unconscious body out of your head.

“Too bad,” you settle on saying. “You can’t have me before twelve PM.”

The pout intensified and he even crossed his arms in retaliation. Seeing a man in his late twenties throw a silent tantrum wasn’t something you thought you’d ever find endearing, but there you were, suppressing a laugh and yearning to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead. 

“Do you have to go?” He whispered and looked up at you through his lashes.

“Yes, unless you want me to be fired?”

“Fine! But the second that clock hits twelve, you and I are both getting out of here.”

“You can’t just leave, San, they have to run tests and–”

“I’ve never felt better and I think every doctor in the building can agree with me. What I will be if I don’t get to spend time with you is sick, and sad, and heartbroken and–”

“I get it, I get it!”

San lived up to his promise of spending time with you. In fact, he wasted no time running down the hallway the moment the minute hand switched to twelve, asking everyone dressed in white cloaks where Doctor Jeong was. The question left his mouth for the tenth time that minute just as you rounded the corner, ready to check out. San gave you all of three seconds to bid your colleagues goodbye before whisking you away. His plan of getting to know you consisted of lying tangled up on his sofa with a meaningless movie playing in the background, while his fingers caressed your back and his eyes shifted back to you every other second, as if he couldn’t believe you were real. 

You weren’t faring any better. Your head was neatly tucked beneath his chin, and your hand was splayed over his right pectoral, the tips of your fingers gently rubbing soothing motions beneath the curve of his collarbone. Had you known your soulmate would be a kitten with separation anxiety, you’d have stalled on meeting him for a little while longer. Although, deep down, you knew that was a lie. San was everything you needed him to be and more: attentive, gentle, sweet, kind, caring — the list was truly endless. 

The days spent cocooned together — San on sick leave to recover from the accident and you having the next two days off from work — made up for the thirty-something years you hadn’t been in each other’s lives. In just forty-eight hours, you created a bond that most lifelong best friends would envy. He shared embarrassing stories from his and Haneul’s childhood days — sweet memories of how his mother dressed him in Haneul’s hand-me-downs, despite her closet mainly consisting of flower dresses and cute skirts. In return, you told him about that one time you accidentally locked your parents out on the balcony and then hurled your breakfast back out from the anxiety and fear of never seeing them again. If only little you could have understood the wonders of spare keys and that your grandmother was already on her way to solve the issue. 

The first night was spent staying up late, talking about heartfelt stories and niche interests to the point where you both passed out and didn’t wake up until late afternoon the next day. Who knew your hunk of a fireman liked collecting sweet plushies and was adamant on learning how to crochet?

That wasn’t everything though. A week into your freshly established relationship and San hadn’t missed to stop by your workplace once to give you lunch, coffee, midnight snacks or a quick peck on the cheek. It was easy in the beginning when San didn’t return to work for an entire week. The soulmate bond proved that he wasn’t in need of resting as much as his company thought and he eventually had to return earlier than expected. It was weird to be glued to each other for hours on end to then not be able to see each other because of your hectic schedules that never seemed to align. When you’d return home from a long night shift, he was dressed and ready to leave. 

You voiced your worries to Haneul during a lunch break, saying how you were afraid of moving too fast, but now that you barely got to spend time together, it felt like you were moving at a snail’s pace. She mildly reassured you that it craved more than some social distance for your soulmate bond to break and that it would take some time for you to find your footing in the relationship.

However, working multiple shifts a week while running on little to no sleep left you too exhausted to plan an outing whenever an opportunity for the two of you to spend time together appeared. Date-night looked different in the Choi-and-Jeong books. Instead of glamming up and booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, you decided to stay in and watch a movie that would sooner or later be forgotten as you’d be too enamoured with each other. Haneul walked in on one too many make-out sessions, and thus, you came to the decision to host movie nights strictly at San’s apartment.

Like many times before, you lay atop San, his legs parted, giving you the option to cage his left one between yours. One of his arms was bent and propped behind his head to act as a cushion, while the other was curled around you, his hand pressing against the small of your back in a comforting embrace. Your cheek was mushed against his chest and your hand limply rested on his bicep. A movie played on the big screen and a plethora of snacks were strewn out on the coffee table but left untouched. You joked about how, ever since San entered your life, your sugar cravings had dramatically decreased because he was bringing too much sweetness into it.

“Honey?” San broke the comfortable silence and spoke over the characters on the TV. You hummed in reply and he continued. “I want to ask you something.”

As you shifted to get a better look at him, he pulled you in a tight embrace and you immediately stopped moving. “Don't look at me, just… listen? Please?”

“Okay, Sannie, what is it?”

“How do you feel about… moving in… with me? Or me with you!” You could hear the blush attacking his cheeks and embarrassment clinging onto his voice as it grew higher in the end and the words came out in a rush.

Joy tugged at your lips and you couldn’t stop the light hearted chuckle from slipping out in the room. You broke out of his gentle hold and grabbed his hand in yours, and planted a chaste kiss on it.

“I think I’d love that.”

Without warning, he squeezed your cheeks between his palms and captured your lips in a tender kiss, leaving your insides warm and mushy. Despite having muscles the size of a watermelon and broad shoulders that could carry the entirety of Noah’s ark, San was a real softie. He had the habit of holding you as if you were the most valuable possession on the earth, a feather which could crumble at contact or a cube of sugar that would melt beneath the rain. The shared kisses were brief but left a tingle on your lips that you couldn't get enough of and nearly whined in retaliation as San withdrew to catch his breath. 

“I adore you, like really, really much,” he confessed and kissed you again, and again, and again. The peppered kisses were planted all over your face — nose, cheeks, mouth, chin, eyes, forehead. The endearing act of love pulled a string of giggles straight out of your tummy, cursing you with an ache that your grandmother would call remedy for the soul.

One moment he was on you and the next, he turned you over to lay against the couch while he  scrambled to his bedroom on the other side of the apartment. You pushed yourself up on your forearms with only your upper body lifted as you curiously watched San runoff as if his rear caught on fire.

“Sannie?” 

“Just a second, honey!” 

Rough shuffling reached the living room, but it was the loud crash of objects clattering on the ground that you almost headed to see the commotion yourself. San’s reassuring voice telling you everything was okay didn’t help you relax, but you trusted his judgement and remained seated. The eager wait was short lived as San returned with something tightly clutched in his right hand and stopped by the end of the couch, back uncomfortably straight and face pinched into a serious expression. Hadn’t you known him for a little shorter than a month, you’d assume he was about to get down on one knee and ask you to live the rest of your life by his side. 

San cleared his throat and extended his arm low enough for you to see his well manicured fingernails. You shuffled over closer to the end of the sofa and sat up on your knees. His fingers unfolded and exposed the trinket laying in the center of his palm. An apartment key. The spare key to his apartment to be precise.

“I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I’ve never been sure of anything more than this and I really want to take this next step with you.”

“Are you asking me to marry you or move in with you?”

Red dusted his cheeks and he had to look away. Your own lips curved up as his eyes creased into crescent moons, a telltale of his dimpled smile making an appearance. San covered his mouth as if it would make his smile disappear. Testing the waters, he asked, “Would you say yes?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” 

San was sure he could pass out right then and there. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much, but it was the only pain he would ever welcome with open arms. You climbed onto the couch and jumped into San's arms and he effortlessly caught you, his hands finding their designated place on your hips and thighs while your arms slid around his neck like a koala. Your fronts were pressed against each other, but you continued pulling him toward you, as if the chance of becoming one entity was higher than inventing flying cars. San dipped you down princess-style and stole a long kiss, one that you were more than eager to reciprocate. Your fingers tangled in his black hair, nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your heart swelled with so much love and happiness it felt like it could explode and fill the living room with colorful confetti.

It was a shame the human needed air every few minutes because all you wanted to do in that moment was feel him everywhere. Breaking apart, you rested your forehead against his, hot breaths fanning across each other’s lower faces, chests rising with fervor as your bodies desperately tried to reclaim the lost oxygen."

“I’d say yes a hundred times over,” you breathed out, “but let’s save that for after we meet the in-laws.”

“My parents have already scheduled a day for when we can go to Namhae,” he eagerly replied to which you hastily leaned back, nearly sending you both tumbling over.

“San! I swear you’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you.”

Lips swollen, eyes welling with joy and hearts beating erratically, the world paused as you looked at each other. The diploma neatly placed on your desk and the knowledge you had collected over the years seemed insignificant when the love you harbored for San could regrow burned forests, mend broken bridges and heal even the most shattered of hearts.

Living with San was nothing out of the ordinary, except that you saw each other more now that you lived under the same roof. Considering your shared apartment with Haneul was bigger than San’s, it only made sense for the Choi siblings to switch places. That way you kept your room and San took Haneul’s. You quickly realized you could’ve just moved into San’s apartment instead as neither ever went to sleep alone. More often than not, San would crawl into your bed, claiming it was cozier than his, but you knew even the ground would be a great sleeping place as long as you were in his arms. That was precisely what you wanted — to be in San’s arms. Instead you were working another night shift, the most hectic one since the fire incident a couple of weeks ago. 

A young man, no older than twenty, had been in a motorcycle crash, leaving him with severe pain and swelling in his right leg, which was pushed into an unnatural position. The skin was entirely torn off, exposing blood and muscle tissue. You had a suspicion about how severe the situation was, but it still called for an X-ray examination. As expected, the results confirmed multiple fractures of the femur and tibia, requiring surgery the next day at the latest. Changmin, as his driver’s license indicated, was in immense pain and even struggled with breathing difficulties into the night. This left you and your co-workers with no choice but to monitor him closely throughout the remainder of your shift. To say it was tiring would be an understatement. Your feet were so sore it felt like walking on a rug of medical needles and your back ached, begging you to lie in bed and not get up until the birds returned from Southeast Asia.

The only thing pushing you through the long day was the fact that you knew San was waiting on you at home. It didn’t matter if he was awake or not. Your tense muscles relaxed by the thought of burying your face in his chest and forget the world until your batteries were restored again. It became a routine for the both of you. When one had a more physically draining day at work, the other was ready to pamper them and make them feel completely taken care of. 

After a few failed attempts to insert the key into the door, you finally managed to unlock it. A stream of blue light illuminated the otherwise dark apartment and was accompanied by muffled voices coming from the living room. You haphazardly threw your shoes off, not bothering to neatly place them next to one of San’s hundred pairs of sneakers, and instinctively followed the animated sounds that belonged in a cartoon. 

The scene you were met with nearly brought you to tears. San was seated in the middle of the sofa, a fuzzy blanket thrown over his head and shoulders, with two mugs of hot cocoa steaming on the table in front of him. The bag slung over your shoulder slipped off and fell to the floor with a gentle thud. Your jacket — a gift from San’s closet — was at least two sizes too big, making you look like a bear ready to hibernate. The colorful scarf you had been wearing since your teenage years reached up to your nose. San whipped his head in your direction and his stoic expression softened into one of understanding at the sight of fresh tears coating your waterline. His lips curled into a small, reassuring smile that spoke more of compassion than words ever could. 

He quickly lifted one side of the blanket and beckoned you over with a gentle command. “C’mere honey.”

That was the last straw for your tears to start rolling. You wasted no time shedding your outer layers of clothing and curling into San’s side. A sob that you had been holding in throughout the entire car ride home vibrated against his chest. San ran his hand up and down your back while whispered praises tickled your ear. He planted a kiss on your crown and pulled you over him as he fell back against the couch. You adjusted yourself more comfortably, both legs falling on either side of his hips so as not to fall, and he swiftly maneuvered the blanket to shield you from the chilly atmosphere. The minutes ticked by and you had no perception of how long you stayed in that position, but your sobs eventually subdued to soft sniffling. 

“How did you know?”  You whispered, a tremble hanging onto your vocal chords, and sat up. 

San’s hands travelled to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circular motions into your flesh. “I just… felt you.”

“Felt me?”

He hummed, “I still do. Happiness, sadness, fear, anger — everything, right here.” His hand hovered over your heart and you understood. You really did. 

There was no scientific explanation for the emotional connection that kept you in tune with each other’s feelings. The unexpected pressure weighing down on your lungs at even the slightest discomfort or worry he experienced, like when he stumbled upon a video of a duckling being separated from its mother. It was uncanny how your heart soared hours before he came home with good news about a promotion, or the unexplainable sense of pride you had been carrying all day — only to discover it was coming from San, who had helped a kitten down from a tree. You’d never forget the day the bitter taste of dandelion greens spread across your tongue, only to find San lying in bed, caving under the weight of his blue emotions. The best part of the connection, though, would be the buckets of love pouring into your bucket as he hugged, kissed and worshipped you. However, there was one emotion you hadn’t received any signs of.

Your fingers found purchase on the hem of his shirt that rode up his stomach and revealed a sliver of the toned skin beneath. “I don’t feel… your anger.”

San flashed you a blinding smile and spurts of daffodils curved around your heart. “That’s because nothing makes me angry, love.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

A beat passed and you sighed, “I’m always angry.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re angry, just… frustrated.”

“It’s practically the same thing,” you argued and continued fiddling with his shirt. He captured your hands in his and halted your anxious picking.

“It isn’t, not by definition. We feel frustrated when we are unable to progress, while anger is the response to something we perceive as wrong or harmful… You’re not angry, my love, you’re frustrated and probably overworked too.”

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over his words. It made sense, and you didn’t need to voice the comfort it brought you; he felt it. The unruly waves quieted to a steady push-and-pull, letting you breathe as the knot of emotions slowly untangled to nothing.

“You know, I’m supposed to be the older one out of the two of us.”

A hearty laugh filled the previously gloomy room, immediately illuminating the four cold walls, and San caught your waist again as he shifted, the echoes of his laughter filling the space.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. It'd be my honor to make you feel like a teenage girl again.”

That he did. It was almost embarrassing how his sweet gestures had you leaping face first into your pillows and rapidly firing your feet against the comforter. One would believe you were closer to being fifteen than thirty, and while you had a mild crisis, you were still grateful San brought that youthfulness out of you again. 

“Was it a rough day?”

The sentimental moment burst like a fragile soap bubble at the slightest of touches. You took a breath of air and San slid his hand further up your wrists, placing his thumbs in the center of your palms while the remainder of his fingers wrapped around the back of your hand. It was grounding and kept you from re-visiting the gut wrenching thoughts that plagued your mind while tending to the young patient.

“A young guy was rushed to the ER… He got into a motorcycle accident and flew maybe a good ten meters from the crash place, and totally fucked up his leg. It was by sheer luck he didn’t suffer head injuries, let alone injuries to the rest of his body.” 

You still saw the image of his bloodied body and torn clothes, a sight that would leave you with nightmares for days.

“He was in really critical condition, San. We couldn’t leave him alone for even one second. I’m talking about twenty four-hour care… He’s going into surgery tomorrow. He’ll survive, but it’s just... He reminded me of you. How you’re literally in danger every time you go to work and– and how easily I could lose– lose– lose–”

The words caught in your throat as your voice grew higher in pitch. San gave your hands another squeeze and pulled you back down onto him. You wasted no time burying your face in his neck and his arms automatically wrapped around you — one finding purchase at the back of your head while the other securely encircled your back.

“I don’t want to lose you, San.”

“You won’t lose me, love.”

“You don’t know that!”

“What I know is that I always do my best to come back to you in one piece. To my home, no?” The hand that had been placed against your head wrapped around the back of your neck and gently massaged it.

Like a flower opening up to catch the first few sun rays of the day, you put your heart out and allowed San a glimpse of what was inside. 

“It just scared me,” you said between shuddering breaths. “Anything could happen, San, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you–”

“Honey.” His voice wasn’t stern, but it held a certain finality to it. As gentle as a newborn kitten, he carefully eased you back, pulling you away from where your face had been pressed against his neck. With a soft motion, he tilted your head slightly, getting a better look at your face.“Thinking of the what ifs isn’t good for anyone.”

You wanted to reply with an ‘I know’, but you knew better than to lie to him. 

He wiped a stray tear off your cheek and you nuzzled against his palm. “Look, I love that you think you need me, but it’s not true. We managed more than fine on our own and just because we’ve found each other doesn’t mean we can’t function alone anymore… I love that you feel comfortable enough to lean on me, darling, but at the end of the day, you’re strong because of who you are and not because I’m here.

“And if, but just if, anything were to happen to me, I need you to know that you aren’t alone. You’d still have Haneul there. My parents. Your parents. Nurse Kim and Nurse Hwang too. That’s eight more people than me.”

Your hand enveloped his cradling your cheek. “I don’t want to think of a life without you in it.”

“Good because you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever and ever!”

A wet giggle sounded through the living room and San’s rough chuckle blended perfectly with your sweet hiccups. Overwhelmed by the affection filling your humble abode, successfully warming every corner of the apartment, you intertwined your fingers behind San’s neck and determinedly pulled him into a heart-searing kiss. Your mouths molded together in a perfect fit, much like the famous art piece by Auguste Rodin. The sculpture representing a pair of lovers destined to remain together forever, until parted by death.

San breathed life into you with simple gestures that could restore chivalry. His eyes finding yours in a crowded room, silently checking up on you as you were both tugged in opposite directions by your mutual friends. Walking the empty streets after a successful date night, the gentle brush of his fingers skimming over yours before slipping between the gaps and pulling your hand into the pocket of his coat with the excuse of keeping you warm. Slothing his front to your back in the solitude of your home as you’d be too busy for a long cuddle session on the couch. Not to mention the kisses spread throughout the day—morning, noon, and night. He’d see you off with a peck and welcome you with the same sentiment, wishing you a good night or day before taking off.

The memories you collected during your still-new relationship pushed you forward, giving you hope and belief that you were going to get through this. San’s promise of never leaving — intentionally or unintentionally — comforted you and the dreadful thoughts hadn't returned, and hopefully, they wouldn’t ever. But if they ever did reoccur, you knew San would be there to chase them away.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2025. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[mrgoldmc26]

Blackpink's Crazy Night in Paris Part 1 ft. Lisa

Tags: Blowjob, facefuck, anal, pussy eating, creampie, dirty talk, cum swallowing and more...

Word Count: 8.7k

A/N: First time posting here on Tumblr. I write and post all my stuff on AO3, but decided to make the jump to Tumblr thanks to a friend. I'm a relatively new K-Pop fan, and he's helped me find out a lot about new groups, songs and idols over these past few months. Before I met him, I only knew about Blackpink and IVE, and now I actually think I stan more groups and idols than him 🤣

Anyways, I think that for the next few days, I will keep this account as an only K-Pop account, but I could change my mind at any minute and post my other series in here too. I will create a masterlist very shortly as well, in which I will also mention which groups and idols I'm planning to write about in the future.

I'm really excited to start my Tumblr journey with you all. I follow a lot of K-Pop smut writers in here, and I hope that I can bring something to the community with my stories. My main kinks are gangbangs, blowjobs, dirty talk and facials, so expect a lot of stories like that 😝

I'm gonna try to do what I do on AO3, and reply to every comment, but because I'm new to this platform and UI, it's gonna take a while before I get used to it. Also, really wanna do those smutty asks that I see my favourite writers do once in a while, so send me those.

Anyways, sorry for wasting your time with this long ass A/N. I hope you enjoy the chapter ❤️

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

On the evening of September 28, 2023, as the sun dipped below the Parisian skyline, the area surrounding 12 Avenue George V buzzed with an electric anticipation. The iconic Crazy Horse cabaret, known for its avant-garde performances, was about to host a night that would be etched in the history of the entertainment business, as Blackpink's Lisa was set to perform.

Outside the venue, a sea of paparazzi had gathered, their cameras poised to capture the arrival of the evening's distinguished guests. The soft hum of conversations was occasionally punctuated by the flash of bulbs, illuminating the cobblestone streets in brief, dazzling bursts.

The first few guests started to arrive, and not too long after, Lisa's bandmates (Jisoo, Jennie, and Rosé) made their presence known. Dressed in chic ensembles that effortlessly blended sophistication with modern flair, they stepped out of their sleek black limousine, offering polite smiles to the sea of photographers. Their presence was a testament to the unbreakable bond shared among the Blackpink members, each there to support Lisa's solo endeavors.

Moments later, the atmosphere grew even more charged as the President of France, Emmanuel Macron, accompanied by the First Lady, made their entrance. Their attendance highlighted the significance of the event, bridging the worlds of politics and entertainment. The President, with a cordial nod to the crowd, escorted his wife through the grand entrance, both exuding an air of elegance befitting the occasion.

The exclusivity of the evening event was palpable. With only 250 seats available, the guest list was an exclusive collection of Lisa's closest associates, influential billionaires, and visionaries from various industries. Famous athletes, chart-topping singers, and renowned actors, many of whom had crossed paths with Lisa in her illustrious career, gathered to experience a performance that promised to be nothing short of extraordinary. Among the most notable attendees were Latin pop sensation Rosalía, known for her genre-blending style that combines flamenco with urban sounds, and Tyga, a well-known rapper with a series of charting hits.

Also in attendance was the PSG football team, who turned out in full force for the exclusive event. Among the many noteworthy figures of the squad, two stood out, with the first being Kylian Mbappé, the club's star player. He was one of the highest-paid footballers globally, with his immense popularity reflected in his social media following of over 100 million Instagram followers, a testament to his global influence both on and off the field.

The other noteworthy figure of the PSG squad was actually Nasser Al-Khelaifi, the president and CEO of Paris Saint-Germain. With an estimated net worth of around $300 million, Al-Khelaifi exuded the wealth and power that comes with his position. His fortune and influence in the sports world were undeniable, and therefore, it wasn't a surprise to see him at the prestigious event.

The gathering was a testament to Lisa's wide-reaching impact and her ability to draw in the most powerful figures from various spheres of influence, all of whom had come together for an unforgettable evening.

Upon entering the cabaret, guests were greeted by an ambiance that seamlessly blended classic Parisian charm with contemporary allure. The intimate space was filled with rows of plush velvet seating, each chair arranged meticulously to offer a perfect view of the stage. The deep red color of the furniture contrasted elegantly with the dim, golden lighting, casting a warm glow that enveloped the room.

The stage itself was a masterpiece of minimalist design. A polished ebony floor stretched out, flanked by cascading crimson curtains that hinted at the mysteries they concealed. Above, an intricate array of lights hung, poised to bathe the performers in a spectrum of colors and patterns, setting the tone for each act.

As the guests settled into their seats, a hush of anticipation descended upon the room. Soft murmurs filled the air, with attendees speculating about the evening's performance. Champagne glasses made soft clinking sounds, and the light scent of perfumes filled the air, combining to create an enchanting atmosphere.

As the clock struck 9, the lighting gradually dimmed, drawing the audience's focus entirely toward the stage, as the gentle hum of conversation faded into an anticipatory hush. A single spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating the velvet curtains as they parted with a graceful sweep. The orchestra, hidden from view, began to play a haunting melody, its notes weaving through the air and drawing the audience further into the spell of anticipation. As the melody built in complexity, subtle rhythmic beats emerged, layering energy into the atmosphere. Slowly, the music swelled, and the velvet curtains parted to reveal the first act. The performers burst onto the stage with electrifying energy, their intricate dance routine seamlessly blending classic burlesque with contemporary choreography. They moved in perfect harmony, their glittering costumes catching the light with every twist and turn, creating a mesmerizing display of color and movement for the guests.

In between the acts, champagne glasses clinked softly, and servers offered trays of elegant finger foods. Guests nibbled on small, bite-sized snacks like soft, flaky pastries filled with creamy cheese, along with smoked salmon served on delicate crackers. There were also sweet pastries filled with smooth cream and a hint of chocolate. These refined treats, paired with the finest champagne, were just enough to keep the guests satisfied without distracting from the captivating performance unfolding before them.

Each subsequent act brought a unique flair to the stage, from sultry solos to daring acrobatic performances, each designed to keep the audience captivated. The air in the cabaret was charged with excitement, the performers delivering an enticing blend of skill and sensuality that left the crowd mesmerized. While the audience applauded generously for each act, there was an unspoken sense that these were but tantalizing preludes to the main event. The murmurs between performances carried a single thread: anticipation for Lisa’s debut.

Backstage, Lisa steadied herself for her debut as a 'Crazy Girl.' The faint hum of the audience filtered through the velvet curtains, a symphony of murmurs and clinking champagne glasses that signaled their anticipation. She adjusted the feathered mask in her hands, its sleek black feathers accented with tiny crystals that caught the dim backstage lighting. As she slipped it on, she couldn’t help but smirk softly. Tonight, she wasn’t just performing. She was about to shock everyone in attendance. They had come expecting a show, but none of them truly believed Lisa would push the boundaries too far. They’d soon realize how wrong they were.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture and stepped into the wings, her heart pounding in rhythm with the crescendo of the orchestra. As the stage manager gave her the cue, she walked into the light.

The applause erupted instantly, cheers and whistles rolling over her like waves. The guests leapt to their feet, clapping and whistling, their excitement palpable in the air. The chairs stretched out in neat rows, each one filled with a captivated guest, but Lisa’s eyes instinctively found three very familiar faces in the front row. Jennie, with Jisoo to her left and Rosé to her right, were seated directly in Lisa's line of sight, their presence adding a familiar comfort as she stepped onto the stage. Lisa’s expression remained serene, her features unreadable behind the mask that framed her piercing gaze. She exuded control, poised and untouchable, her presence commanding the room. The applause softened after several seconds, and the guests slowly returned to their seats, still caught in the lingering admiration for her.

Her outfit was an intricate masterpiece of decadence and allure. The feathered mask was paired with a collar necklace of white diamonds, shimmering brilliantly and drawing attention to her elegant neck. Draped over her shoulders was a fitted, tailored jacket encrusted with emeralds and black sapphires, their deep green and midnight hues reflecting the stage lights in a mesmerizing dance. The jacket hugged her waist, sculpting her figure, and it glittered with every subtle movement. Her arms were adorned with long, black lace gloves, the delicate fabric extending nearly to her shoulders, adding an extra layer of sensuality.

Her legs were encased in sheer black stockings, the tops of which were trimmed with delicate lace. They extended down to a pair of sky-high stiletto heels, patent leather and perfectly polished, each step a click that commanded attention. The ensemble was completed by a pair of high-waisted panties, their design both seductive and practical, with a discreet hook at the hip, designed for quick removal.

Every detail of her ensemble, from the luxurious fabric to the dazzling embellishments, had been designed to evoke both elegance and temptation, a perfect embodiment of the Crazy Horse legacy.

Lisa stood still for a moment, letting the audience absorb her presence. The spotlight cast a halo of brilliance around her as she slowly raised her chin, her eyes sweeping over the crowd with an unflinching gaze. Unfazed by the loud applause, she was entirely in control, her purpose clear. This was her stage, her moment, and she was there to deliver not just a performance, but an unforgettable experience.

The music shifted, its beat more rhythmic and flowing, as Lisa was joined by her six backup dancers, their silhouettes sharp against the dim lighting. With a flick of her wrist, she signaled the start of the routine, and the dancers fell into flawless formation, moving with precision and grace. The choreography was a perfect blend of contemporary and cabaret-inspired dance, with slow and controlled movements that captivated the audience with every step. Lisa led the group effortlessly, her elegance and poise commanding the stage as they performed intricate formations and synchronized spins. The dancers mirrored her movements flawlessly, their long black lace gloves shimmering under the stage lights, adding to the sensuality and sophistication of the performance. Every gesture was a moment of elegance, as the group executed their movements in unison, creating a visual harmony that left the audience in awe.

As the music faded for just a moment, the spotlight shifted solely to Lisa. The dancers, now positioned far away from her, stood frozen in place, allowing the focus to remain entirely on Lisa. With a sultry look in her eyes, she raised her hands to her face, and the audience held its breath in anticipation. Jennie, Jisoo, and Rosé were already clapping and cheering, along with the rest of the crowd, their excitement palpable as Lisa began to remove her gloves. Slowly, sensually, she used her teeth to grip the edge of one black lace glove, pulling it off with teasing slowness, every motion deliberate and captivating. As the first glove was discarded, the crowd reacted, cheers and whistles filling the air. Lisa then slid the second glove off with her now-gloveless hand, continuing the slow, seductive removal. The cheers grew louder, waves of admiration pouring from the audience, while Jennie, Jisoo, and Rosé clapped and hollered, their enthusiasm unmistakable. With the gloves finally gone, Lisa resumed her performance, the dancers returning to their positions as the music swelled again. The room buzzed with excitement, the air thick with the energy of her sensual display, as every eye remained locked on her. The sensual tension lingered, intensifying the connection between Lisa and the audience, their anticipation hanging in the air like a breath held too long.

As the music built to a crescendo, the dancers executed their final formation with a smooth, synchronized turn, pausing for a brief moment of stillness before striking their last pose. Lisa’s presence remained the focal point, her confident gaze sweeping over the crowd as she gracefully led the group in the final stretch of the routine. With the last beats echoing through the room, Lisa reached up and removed her black feathered mask in one fluid motion, revealing her striking features to the audience. The timing was flawless. Just as the performance ended and her mask came off, the crowd erupted into applause. The dancers took their bows alongside Lisa, the curtains began to close, and the stage was enveloped in darkness for several seconds, the energy hanging in the air as anticipation grew for what was to come next.

Suddenly, the lights flared back to life, bathing the room in a brilliant glow. In the center of the stage stood Lisa, her silhouette sharp against the illumination. She was alone now, the absence of her dancers creating an intoxicating tension in the air. With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached up, her fingers tracing the edge of her jacket before pulling it off, revealing the intricately laced black satin corset that hugged her figure with seductive precision. Designed to accentuate her curves without restricting movement, the corset fit snugly but wasn’t overly tight, allowing her to dance comfortably and effortlessly. The elegant design featured hidden hooks and eyes, blending seamlessly into the fabric to allow for easy and quick removal if desired. The lace detailing created a striking contrast to the powerful presence she commanded on stage.

As the spotlight shifted, Lisa turned her back to the audience, facing away from them as her hips swayed with each step. She walked toward the stripper pole, her movements fluid and deliberate, every motion dripping with confidence. The way her corset clung to her body made her ass stand out in a way that could only be described as captivating, each step she took amplifying the tantalizing effect of her outfit. With every stride, the tightness of the corset accentuated the curve of her waist, and the motion of her hips made her look even more enticing. As she reached the pole, she placed one hand around it, her fingers curling sensually around its cold metal surface. Slowly, teasingly, she began to circle the pole, her hips swaying rhythmically, a perfect blend of control and sensuality. The crowd was drawn to her every move, captivated by the tantalizing promise of what was to come.

The music swelled with a rhythmic pulse, and Lisa began her performance by leaning into the pole, her hand sliding slowly along its length. She started with simple, fluid movements, circling the pole with calculated grace. Her hips swayed hypnotically to the beat, each step purposeful and controlled, her stiletto heels clicking softly against the polished stage floor.

She teased the crowd with small spins, wrapping one long leg around the pole while her body pivoted effortlessly. Each spin was slow and deliberate, her hair cascading like silk as she tilted her head back, drawing in the audience’s fixed attention. She stayed close to the ground, emphasizing her sensuality without rushing into complex tricks just yet.

Lisa then transitioned to floorwork, kneeling gracefully, her hands gliding down the pole as she arched her back and rolled her hips. She rose back to her feet with a seamless elegance, her movements sultry yet restrained, leaving the crowd mesmerized by her confidence and presence. The first part of her routine was a masterclass in teasing; every gesture was a promise of something greater yet to come.

As the music built to a crescendo, Lisa moved into the more advanced phase of her performance. She climbed the pole with an effortless agility, her toned legs gripping tightly as she ascended, each movement exuding control and strength. Once near the top, she hooked a knee around the pole, arching her back and leaning backward into a breathtaking pose, her other leg extended gracefully. The crowd gasped as she spun slowly in this inverted position, her body like a sculpture of elegance and allure.

Sliding down the pole with practiced ease, Lisa stopped halfway, her body suspended with both legs wrapped firmly around the pole. She leaned her upper body forward, her hands lightly gripping the pole for balance, and then began a slow, mesmerizing undulation. With each thrust, she leaned in and out, her torso moving in a controlled, hypnotic rhythm. The movement was both sensual and powerful, a display of mastery that captivated the crowd. Her hips swayed slightly with each motion, her body undulating like a wave, perfectly synchronized with the music’s seductive beat.

Then, as if to take the crowd’s breath away, she let herself slide further down the pole, flipping upside-down with her legs spreading wide in a star-like formation. Her body perfectly aligned, the stage lights highlighted every curve, and the sheer athleticism of the move stunned the audience. With a slow, deliberate motion, she transitioned into a split hold, her legs extended horizontally while she gripped the pole with her thighs, spinning elegantly before lowering herself to the ground with unmatched finesse.

Lisa’s movements became increasingly daring and sensual as she danced. She intertwined graceful spins with moments where her body pressed teasingly against the pole, her expressions a mix of confidence and seduction. She ended the performance with a final dramatic move: climbing the pole one last time, spinning in a controlled descent until her feet touched the stage floor. With the last note of the music fading, Lisa stood tall, her piercing gaze scanning the audience as she struck a commanding pose, leaving them in awe of her beauty and skill.

A brief pause lingered, the air thick with anticipation as Lisa’s hands slid to the front of her corset. With a slow, deliberate motion, she unhooked the hidden fastenings, each movement tantalizingly precise. The structured garment loosened, and with a graceful shrug of her shoulders, she let it slide down her torso, revealing the delicate, shimmering tassel nipple pasties that now adorned her bare chest. The crowd erupted, the combination of admiration and exhilaration palpable as Lisa discarded the corset to the side, standing in nothing but her sheer black stockings, lace-trimmed high-waisted panties, and sky-high patent leather stiletto heels.

Freed from the constraints of the corset, Lisa's movements became even more fluid, her body effortlessly melting into the next phase of the performance. She dropped gracefully to the floor, her legs extending in sharp, mesmerizing motions that captivated every set of eyes in the room. A smooth transition led her into a seamless split, her thighs parting with ease as she faced the audience, arching her back just enough to emphasize every curve of her body. Her hands grazed the floor, her fingers tracing invisible patterns as she shifted, rolling onto her stomach with an effortless glide.

Now, with her back to the audience, Lisa lifted herself just enough to tilt her hips, offering them a perfect view of the sculpted curves that moved in perfect sync with the music. Her long legs sliced through the air as she pushed herself into another split, this time facing away, her ass arching as she lingered for a moment before sweeping her legs together and rolling into a sensuous backbend. Every motion was executed with the kind of precision and confidence that only Lisa could embody—controlled, deliberate, and undeniably hypnotic, given how little she was wearing.

She wasn’t in a hurry. Every motion was slow and deliberate, dripping with purpose. Each flick of her ankle, each flex of her thigh designed to send the crowd into a frenzy. As she lifted herself back onto her knees, one hand dragging slowly up her body, her gaze flickered up, locking onto the audience with a knowing smirk.

As her hand slid slowly up her body, her fingertips brushing against her skin with deliberate slowness, the anticipation in the room reached a fever pitch. Lisa’s eyes never left the crowd, her smirk widening just slightly as she felt the heat of their gaze. She was in control, and she knew it.

With a subtle shift, she pulled at the edges of her tassel nipple pasties, the delicate strands of ribbon catching the light as she gave it a teasing tug. The fabrics barely moved at first, but then with a fluid motion, she yanked them free, tossing them aside like a prize. The crowd gasped, the shockwave of her boldness vibrating through the room.

For just a moment, a heavy silence hung in the air, deafening and almost unreal. Then the cheers came, loud and wild, an uproar of adoration and disbelief. Lisa, with her breasts now fully exposed, only smirked wider, reveling in the power of the moment. She was unapologetically herself, and nothing could take away her command of the stage.

Naked from the waist up, Lisa stood there with her tits out for a brief moment, drinking in the crowd’s feverish energy as their cheers swelled. She could feel their eyes locked onto her, their collective desire turning her body into a living canvas for their hungry gazes.

Her hands moved like a symphony of seduction, tracing the curves of her body with the kind of smooth grace that made every inch of her skin seem like an invitation. She swept her fingers across her collarbone, teasingly brushing over her chest before sliding them down the smoothness of her stomach. Each movement was purposeful, calculated to draw out the tension, to make them beg for more without her ever saying a word.

As her hands glided over her body, she locked eyes with the audience, her smirk returning, full of knowing. She was in complete control, making sure they couldn’t look away. Her hips swayed, each motion measured and deliberate, designed to keep the attention on every inch of her. She pulled her hands up, sliding them over her breasts and her nipples in a slow, almost painful motion, before letting them drift lower, brushing the edge of her waist. She lingered there for a moment, letting the heat of the moment build, before allowing her hands to slide down to her thighs, pushing the boundaries of seduction further.

The crowd was buzzing with anticipation, but Lisa remained composed, her smirk never faltering as she turned away from them, giving them the perfect view of her sculpted back. She slowly backed up, moving towards the edge of the stage with the precision of a dancer who knew the power of every step and every motion. As she moved closer to the audience, the room seemed to hold its breath.

With a subtle shift in her posture, she reached down with one hand, her fingers delicately finding the hook on the side of her panties. The fabric was tight against her skin, the delicate lace trimming hugging her curves as her fingers toyed with the hook. The crowd watched in silence, their eyes fixated on the moment.

Lisa gave them one last look over her shoulder, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips, before she unhooked the panties with a slow, deliberate motion. The fabric began to loosen, teasingly falling down her legs as she bent forward, her body lowering into a perfect 90-degree angle. Her ass arched out towards the crowd, her movements fluid and controlled as the panties slowly slid down her legs, eventually falling at her feet as she exposed her glorious cunt for everyone to see.

The room erupted with cheers and applause, the crowd now in a frenzy of excitement. Lisa lifted her foot, kicking the panties aside as she stood back up, the cool air hitting her bare skin. She was now fully nude, save for the pair of stiletto heels and her sheer stockings that hugged her toned legs, the lace trim framing her shapely ass perfectly.

With the final seconds of her performance approaching, Lisa decided to go all the way. With her body still bent over, she stuck a hand between her legs and put two fingers on her pussy, using them to spread her labia open, giving the audience a clear view of her pink, glistening cunt. The crowd went crazy for Lisa's actions, no more than her three best friends in the front row. As if it couldn't get any better or hotter, Lisa then turned around and raised her hand to her mouth, sucking on her own fingers, her tongue swirling around them as she tasted her own arousal. The crowd was deafening by this point, cheering and whistling, their lust evident. It was clear that she had taken things to the next level, and they loved every second of it.

As the last few notes of the final song came to an end, Lisa took a deep bow to thank the crowd, then stood back up with a radiant smile, her naked body still on full display for the guests to see. The entire audience rose to their feet, erupting into applause for Lisa’s monumental performance. They chanted her name for several seconds, and Lisa continued thanking them, waving with gratitude until the lights dimmed and she made her exit.

Backstage, she was met by her manager, who immediately handed her a robe to cover her body. She thanked the staff members who congratulated her on a legendary performance at the Crazy Horse show. Just as she was about to step into her dressing room, her bandmates' excited voices rang out from a distance, calling her name as they rushed over to congratulate her on her number.

"Oh my god, Lisa. That was amazing!" Jisoo exclaimed, a wide smile stretching across her face.

"I can't believe you did that. You could’ve told your best friend you were gonna do that tonight." Rosé added, still stunned by Lisa's performance.

"Sorry...I didn’t want to spoil you, girls. I wanted to see the shock on your faces."

"It was so hot. I'm so wet right now. I even rubbed one out in the front row, not gonna lie." Jennie said, her cheeks flushed red, her voice dripping with lust.

"Damn, did I turn you on that much? Did I make you that horny?"

"Girl...I’m always horny."

"Yeah...horny for cocks." Lisa joked.

"Speaking of that...should we hit the club?" Rosé suggested.

"Of course. I wanna play cock roulette." Jennie added, referring to their favorite club game.

"Yeah, absolutely. I’m dying to get dicked right now. Let's have some drinks and some fun. Just let me get dressed. You guys wait in the car." Lisa said, saying goodbye to her friends before stepping into her dressing room.

Inside, she sat down for five minutes, just trying to take it all in, what had just gone down on stage. Phones weren’t allowed, so she shouldn’t have to worry about anything leaking online. She trusted everyone in attendance to keep quiet, to not run to the media.

And yet, that nagging thought crept in...what if?

What if someone had managed to sneak in a phone? What if a guest decided to open his mouth and tell the whole world what had happened during Lisa’s performance? The fact that she showed her entire body to everyone in attendance...her tits, her ass and her pussy out in full display for the lucky few deemed worthy enough to attend the Crazy Horse show that night.

If it ever came out, she’d have to deal with the fallout—the headlines, the public scrutiny, the endless speculation about why she had done it. There would be backlash, judgment, and maybe even consequences she couldn’t yet predict. But right now, she didn’t have time to dwell on that. Her friends were waiting for her, eager to hit the club, and she wasn’t about to waste the rest of the night worrying about something that might never happen. Tonight was about celebrating and letting loose.

Lisa made her way toward the vanity table, grabbing the champagne bottle. Tilting it over her glass, she sighed when nothing came out. Still wrapped in her robe, she cracked open the door, calling for a staff member.

"Excuse me. I’m out of champagne. Could you bring me a bottle, please?"

"Of course, madame. One moment." The young staff member hurried off.

He was a tall, young, white man with short curly brown hair, barely looking 20, his nervous energy palpable as Lisa asked for his help.

A few minutes later, he returned, knocking on her door. Lisa opened it, stepping aside to let him in. The young man stepped inside hesitantly, clutching the cold champagne bottle in his hands. His movements were careful, almost too precise, as he made his way toward Lisa’s vanity table. Placing the bottle down, he twisted the foil, peeled it away, and expertly popped the cork with a soft pop, the faintest hint of bubbles fizzing to the surface as he poured the golden liquid into her glass.

Lisa leaned against the table, watching him with amusement as he filled it nearly to the brim. She smirked, lifting the glass to her lips for a small sip before looking at him.

"Thank you." She said smoothly, letting her eyes linger on his face.

"You’re welcome, ma’am." He replied, keeping his gaze respectfully averted.

"No need to be so formal. You can call me Lisa." She said, letting out a soft chuckle.

The young garçon shifted on his feet, a nervous gulp escaping him as he tightened his grip on the bottle.

"Awwww...are you getting shy?" She teased, tilting her head as her smirk grew wider.

"Come on, tell me...did you watch the show?"

"Yes, I did." He said, hesitating for a few seconds before replying to the Blackpink's main dancer.

"And? Did you enjoy it?"

"Y...yes...it was incredible." He admitted, clearly struggling to keep his composure around the Thai superstar.

Lisa stepped closer to him, her robe parting ever so slightly as she moved.

"Tell me...what was your favorite part?" She asked, her voice dripping with playful curiosity as she reached up, adjusting the knot of his bow tie with delicate fingers. She took her time, straightening it with slow, deliberate movements before smoothing out the fabric. Her touch lingered as she gave his chest a light pat, then let her palm rest against him, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath her fingertips.

"I, uh...I don’t know if I should say..."

Lisa let out a soft, sultry laugh, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. The young man cleared his throat, stepping backward towards the door.

"I should go..." He said quickly, reaching for the handle, but before he could twist it open, Lisa’s voice stopped him.

"Leaving so soon? I was thinking we could have some fun together." Lisa said, taking another step forward, her robe slipping slightly off one shoulder.

"You know, performing on that stage got me so wet...I could really use your help right now, boy." Lisa said, as she pinned the guy to the door before she put her hand on his crotch, feeling his already hardening cock.

"Ohhh...seems like someone is having some fun already. Are you getting horny, boy? Do you like the sound of my voice? Does it turn you on?" Lisa whispered into his ear, her breath hot against his neck as she continued stroking his cock through his pants.

"I...yes." He moaned, unable to hide the effect Lisa had on him.

"I'm so fucking horny right now. Are you going to be a good little boy and do what I tell you to do?"

"Y...yes, Lisa."

"Good boy." She said, taking a step back and letting the robe slide down her body, exposing her naked, sweaty body.

The garçon stared at her nude body, his eyes wide as his gaze traveled down the length of her torso, lingering on her smooth, toned stomach. She looked like a goddess, her skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, her chest rising and falling with each breath. He couldn't help but admire her perfectly shaped breasts, the way they bounced slightly with every movement.

Lisa slowly turned around, giving him a perfect view of her ass and pussy. She was shaved completely bare, her lips slightly parted, her pink slit glistening with her arousal. Lisa looked back over her shoulder, her expression playful, almost teasing.

"Come on, boy. I don't have all day. Get down on your knees and eat me."

The guy complied immediately, dropping to his knees and pressing his face against her ass, his tongue flicking out to lick her juices. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he lapped at her folds with slow and deliberate movements, savoring every drop of her arousal.

"That's it. Keep licking."

"I love having young studs between my legs, eating me out." She said, putting her arm behind her back and grabbing the back of his head, pushing his face deeper into her ass and pussy.

The garçon groaned, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants as he continued lapping at her folds. Lisa's eyes rolled back, a low moan escaping her lips as he slid his tongue into her opening, his nose pressing against her clit. Her thighs trembled, the sensation of his warm tongue inside her sending waves of pleasure through her body.  She could feel his hot breath against her skin, the vibrations of his moans echoing against her core.

"You like how my pussy tastes, boy?"

"Mmmm...yes, Lisa. You taste so fucking good."

"I bet this is the best day of your life, isn't it? Seeing me naked...eating me...about to fuck the living shit out of me..."

"You know...I've been wanting a nice cock inside my pussy all night long." Lisa said, as the guy continued to lick and lap at her pussy, his tongue darting in and out of her slick opening. Lisa's grip tightened, her fingers tangled in his hair, as he began to suck and slurp at her wetness, the sounds echoing throughout the room. She couldn't take it anymore. She needed him inside her.

"Fuck, I need a cock. I need your cock inside me right now!!!" She moaned, reaching back and pulled his face deeper into her pussy, grinding her hips against him.

"Get your cock out and fuck me, please." She begged, her voice filled with desperation as she pulled him away from her pussy, before turning around and sinking to her knees.

The garçon nodded, his hands trembling as he unzipped his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His throbbing erection sprang free, hitting Lisa right in the face.

Lisa looked up at him, her lips curved in a sexy smile as she took his cock in her hands, stroking him with slow, steady motions.

"Mmmm...such a big, fat cock, I'm surprised. I can't wait to have it inside me."

The Thai starlet spat on it and kept jerking it for several seconds, making sure his cock was nice and ready for her. As Lisa was giving him a very quick but sloppy handjob, he used this opportunity to take off the rest of his clothes, and once he was done, she stood up, turned around, and made her way towards her table, putting her right leg on top of it and presenting her pussy to him.

"C'mon, French guy. What are you waiting for? I don't have all night."

He immediately walked towards her, his cock achingly hard and pointing upwards, the tip glistening with precum. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her close, his shaft pressing against her folds. She arched her back, her ass sticking out, inviting him to thrust his dick deep inside her.

"Do your worst. Fuck me as hard as you can and ruin me!"

Without wasting another second, he slid into her, his thickness stretching Lisa's inner walls, filling her completely. She let out a loud moan, her eyes rolling back as he started to thrust in and out of her, his movements fast and frantic.

"Fuck...yes...that's it...fuck me harder!" She screamed, her voice dripping with lust as she slightly pushed her ass back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal force.

The garçon groaned, his balls slapping against her ass with each stroke, his grip on her hips tightening. He fucked her like an animal, his cock pounding her pussy relentlessly, the sounds of their flesh slapping against each other filling the air.

"Yeah...you like that? You like how my pussy feels around your big fat cock?"

"Fuckkk yes, I love it! Your pussy feels amazing, Lisa!" He growled, his voice filled with pure desire as he continued to ram his cock deep into her.

Lisa looked at herself in the mirror, watching her reflection as the guy rammed his cock into her from behind, his eyes glued to her ass. Her tits bounced with every stroke, her hair sticking to her sweat-soaked body. She loved the feeling of being fucked from behind, especially by a big, fat cock like the one currently pumping in and out of her pussy.

As for him, his lust for Lisa grew with every thrust, and the longer he kept fucking her, the greedier he got.

"Can I...can I fuck your ass?"

"Fuck...I don't have much time...tell you what...make me cum and I will let you fuck my ass, deal?"

He nodded, a grin stretching across his face. In pure desperation of wanting to make the Blackpink slut cum so that he could have a go at her ass, he started pumping his hips like crazy, slamming his cock in and out of her cunt, making Lisa moan like a bitch in heat in the process. The French stud was fucking her so fast, that it was hard for Lisa to keep her leg still on the table, and it was making her involuntary kick small items that were on top of the table towards the floor every time he went for a deeper thrust.

She tried to grab onto something for dear life, putting her hands on the vanity table, but that also resulted in her knocking down items off of the table, including the champagne bottle. It broke as it fell to the floor, its contents spilling everywhere, the sound echoing through the room.

"Fuuuuccckkkk...your cock is filling me up so gooood..."

"Oh...shit...sorry." He said, apologizing for making Lisa break the champagne bottle.

"Don't apologize, boy. Shut the fuck up and keep fucking me. I'm about to cum." Lisa demanded, as she reached her arm out, her fingers curling around the edge of the mirror.

Lisa was getting close. Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth hanging open, her breaths coming in short gasps. She could feel her orgasm building, her body trembling as his cock hit all the right spots.

"Talk dirty to me. It turns me on so much!"

"Are you sure, Lisa?"

"Yes!!! Degrade me!"

Degrading women wasn't really his thing, but he was never one to refuse an order, especially not from the one and only Lisa Manoban.

"I watched the show from backstage...you know what I really thought?"

"Noooooo, please tell me, fuckkkk..." She moaned, every thrust bringing her closer to the edge.

"I thought you were a fucking slut, showing off your tits, ass and pussy to everyone. Such a dirty fucking slut."

"That's me!!!...I'm a dirty, shameless, filthy fucking slut." Lisa repeated, her voice quivering.

"All I wanted to do whilst watching you was run upon that stage and start fucking you in front of every guest."

"Why didn't you do that then? Fuckkkk. You have no idea how badly I wanted to have sex on that stage. To get fucked like a cumslut in front of everyone."

"You are lucky that there were no cameras, Lisa. We should've livestreamed the whole event, so that the whole world would find out just how much of a slut you really are!"

The more he kept degrading her whilst fucking her, the more turned on Lisa got, her arousal soaking her thighs, coating her pussy and his balls. Lisa couldn't help herself and started rubbing her clit as his pace increased. His strokes grew harder and faster each time his cock drilled Lisa's tight, wet pussy.

"Don't stop! Please...keep fucking me, boy! I want your cum inside me." She begged, her pussy squeezing his shaft, her body begging for release. The Frenchman fondled her right tit with his hand, as he fucked her mercilessly, the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other filling the room.

He wanted to have a go at her ass, but with Lisa's shameless self-degrading comments, he was unable to resist any longer, and neither could Lisa, as their orgasms fell upon them pretty much in unison.

"Fuck...here it comes!"

"Yes, give it to me. Fill me up with your hot, creamy load."

With one final hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside her, his hips bucking wildly and his body spasming as he shot his load, coating her inner walls with his seed. Lisa's body tensed up, her pussy clenching around his cock, milking every drop of his cum, her eyes rolling back, a low drawn-out moan escaping her lips as she came.

She rested her forehead against the table, panting, trying to catch her breath, her heart racing. She could feel his hot, sticky cum trickling down her thighs, his cock still buried inside her as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Wow...that was amazing." He said.

"Yeah? Did you enjoy having your way with an idol?

"Absolutely."

"Great. Lets get this cock nice and clean before it goes inside my ass."

Lisa swiftly dropped to her knees and grabbed his cum-covered cock. She used her tongue to lick his cock clean, swallowing the mixture of her juices and his cum.

"That's a good girl. Get my cock nice and hard so that I can destroy that ass." He said, looking down at the beautiful Blackpink slut licking his cock clean, his shaft already beginning to grow again.

Lisa couldn't help but giggle. She was proud of her work on him in such a short amount of time. Ten minutes ago, he was nothing more than a shy, young Frenchman. Now, he had all the confidence in the world, all thanks to Lisa's self-degrading remarks.

"Your cock tastes so good in my mouth." She said, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue before slapping herself with his hard shaft.

By this point, his cock was more than ready for her asshole, but Lisa just simply couldn't take her mouth from it. She kept her lips around his length and rapidly slurped on his dick like there was no tomorrow. Lisa bobbed her head up and down, sucking him off like a complete whore.

"Holy shit...you are so good at this." He said, placing his hand on the back of her head, pushing her head further down on his length.

"Yeah, you think so? I love sucking dick so much. Especially fat ones like yours."

"You are so fucking slutty."

"I know. Now, I want you to fuck my face." She demanded, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes, her hands firmly holding the base of his cock.

He obliged, grabbing the back of her head and thrusting his cock deep into her mouth. Lisa gagged slightly, her saliva pooling around his shaft as she took him deeper and deeper, the tip of his dick hitting the back of her throat. She looked so fucking sexy, naked on her knees, her lips stretched around his shaft with her mouth filled with cock.

"Fuckkkkkk...this is incredible. I can't believe you are letting me do this to you." He moaned, his cock pulsating in her mouth as she sucked him harder.

Lisa continued to blow him eagerly, her lips gliding over his thick length, tongue swirling as she kept slobbering all over his thick shaft. Sloppy, desperate sounds filled the room as she took him deep, hands stroking in rhythm with every bob of her head. The garçon could hardly believe his luck.

She loved feeling his hard cock move past her lips and hit the back of her throat, her jaw aching as he thrust deeper into her mouth. Saliva kept dribbling down her chin as he continued to fuck her face, his balls slapping against her chin with every thrust.

"Take that dick all the way down. Your throat feels so fucking good around my cock."

Lisa knew she could make him stop with just a snap of her fingers. She was in control, but she was beyond horny, and she loved giving up her power, allowing others to use her however they pleased, and this situation was no different.

The garçon was enjoying every second of his time with Lisa and her warm throat, but also knew if he kept this up, he was going to end up blowing his load without being able to have a go at her ass, so, after a couple more thrusts he pulled his cock out of her mouth, Lisa's spit still connecting his dick and her mouth together.

"Are you going to put that fat cock in my ass now, boy?"

"Absolutely." He said, grabbing a chair that was nearby and placing it in front of the vanity table, giving her something to hold on to once he started fucking her.

Lisa smirked as she got up and bent over, putting her hands on each side of the chair. She looked over her shoulder to see the Frenchman standing behind her, his cock glistening with her saliva, throbbing and ready to penetrate her.

"Go on, give me what I want. Give me that fat dick." She said, licking her lips, her ass sticking out, inviting him in.

He moved closer, placing the tip of his cock at the entrance of her asshole, teasing her slightly. Lisa let out a soft whimper, her body trembling with anticipation.

"Please, just do it. I need your cock in my ass." She begged.

He didn't waste much more time and pushed himself inside, the tight ring of muscle stretching to accommodate his size. Lisa bit her lower lip, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the chair tighter. The feeling of his cock filling her ass was almost too much for her.

"Hmmm, fuck...you have no idea how much I love having big dicks in my ass."

"Fuck me. Don't hold back, boy."

Lisa's moans were music to his ears, and it only encouraged him to give her even more of his cock. The guy began pounding her tight ass, firmly holding her hips as he buried his length deep inside her. Lisa gasped, her eyes rolling back as she felt his dick fill her, stretching her wide open.

"Yes! That's it, keep fucking my ass. Fuckkkk...I love how your cock feels inside me."

"Holy shit, your ass feels so good around my dick. You like having your ass destroyed?"

"Fuck yes! Keep fucking my slutty little asshole."

Sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filled the air as he continued to fuck her, his balls swinging wildly with each thrust. Lisa arched her back and began pushing her ass against him, meeting his thrusts to take his big cock deeper. She was in absolute bliss, the feeling of his thick cock pounding her ass was indescribable. Lisa could feel his warm breath against her skin as the young stud leaned down to kiss her neck, his hands sliding up her body, cupping her tits.

"Keep going, don't stop. I want it harder, please fuck me harder..." She pleaded, her body trembling with pleasure, the sensation of his cock inside her making her feel like she was in heaven.

"Such a good little slut for my cock, aren't you? I bet you didn't even want to perform tonight. You just wanted everyone to see you naked, didn't you?"

"Yes...I love being fucked like a slut and be degraded like a common whore."

Lisa's comments made him groan, and he began slamming his hips into her ass with much more force than before, the sound echoing through the room. Lisa's entire body rocked back and forth, her tits swaying with each thrust as she held onto the chair for dear life.

"Use me like a fuckdoll and give me your cum." She said, reaching her clit with her hand before she began rubbing it as he continued to pound her.

The garçon's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing becoming heavier as he fucked her harder, his balls slapping against her clit. Lisa moaned louder, her voice dripping with pure lust as she kept rubbing her clit, bringing herself closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuckkkkkk...I'm going to cum, boy."

"Cum for me. Cum while I fuck your asshole, Lisa." He demanded, his cock pounding her ass relentlessly as he grabbed her hair and pulled it. Lisa's mouth hanged open as she came, her pussy spasming, coating his balls with her juices. Her body shook violently and her vision became blurry as her orgasm washed over her, with her ass clenching around his cock.

"Lisa, I'm gonna cum too. Where do you want it?"

"Mouth...I want you to dump that load inside my throat." She quickly said, pulling herself off his cock and turning around before she squatted.

The Thai slut didn't waste a single second and began rapidly jerking his cock with both of her hands in a corkscrew motion with the tip past her lips. Her tongue swirled around the head, constantly flickering his piss slit as her hands stroked his cock, occasionally moving down to cup his balls and massage them gently.

It didn't take long before the guy let out a loud groan and Lisa felt his cock begging to throb in her hands and her mouth, and not a moment later, his seed started erupting inside her mouth. Lisa felt multiple ropes hitting the back of her throat, but instead of swallowing it, she tried to hold as much cum as she could in her mouth.

Thankfully for her, it was his second load, so the amount of cum he deposited inside Blackpink's superstar was nowhere near the amount he had dumped inside Lisa's pussy a few minutes ago, but that still didn't stop her mouth from being full and for a small amount of cum to spill from the corners of her mouth.

Once she felt like he was done, Lisa slowly slid his cock out of her mouth and opened it, showing him the load he had given her.

"Fucking slut. Swallow my load like the good little cumdumpster that you are."

Lisa obliged, swallowing every single drop of his thick cum in one go, her throat convulsing as she gulped him down. It was a lot for her to handle, but she managed to take it all in, and she savored the taste, swallowing his cum until her mouth was empty.

"So much cum for me, I love it." Lisa said, before putting her lips back on his big cock to milk him dry out of every last drop.

She slowly bobbed her head up and down on his leaking shaft before releasing it with a pop and licking her lips clean, a smile on her face.

"That was amazing. Thank you so much for your cock and your cum. Now go. Leave my dressing room, I got places to be."

"Yes, Lisa." He said, picking up his clothes and quickly putting them back on before leaving her dressing room.

As for Lisa, she stayed naked on her knees, looking at her reflection in the mirror, admiring her naked body. After a while, she got up and picked up a towel, to clean herself from all the sweat and cum. Once she was done, she put on clean underwear and a nice dress, before heading out and making her way towards the car, where her bandmates were waiting.

"Lisa, what the fuck took you so long?" Jennie said, clearly annoyed.

"Yeah girl, it's been almost 30 minutes..." Rosé added.

"Sorry, girls. I had to take some time to relax."

"Relax? You look more exhausted than before." Jisoo pointed out.

"Just...just drive already."

"Yeah, lets get out of here. Lets go to the club!!!!!" Rosé shouted.

"Can't wait to get fucked so hard." Jennie said.

"That is, if you win cock roulette." Jisoo said.

"Girl, I always win cock roulette. Tonight will be no different."

"Don't start celebrating just yet, Jennie. If anyone is winning that tonight, it's me. I'm so horny right now, that I'm ready to go all the way." Rosé said, as she placed her hand on her crotch and began rubbing herself through her panties.

"We'll see about that." Jennie responded as the girls drove away and made their way to the club, to what would undoubtedly be another unforgettable night for the four Blackpink sluts.

[ms-demeanor]

I've been following what's been going on with Belphie the kitten and his person, Greer Stothers, has just mentioned pet insurance in a tag on a post and I wanted to give an example from my life backing up why pet insurance can be a good idea and why I think it is worthwhile.

Two years ago my sister's dog had bloat while she was on vacation. The kennel he was staying at recognized symptoms and called my sister to clear them to take him to the emergency vet. My sister is very financially secure and this dog is an enormous part of her life, so she said yes with barely a moment of hesitation. That ended up being about twelve thousand dollars of emergency surgery.

Large Bastard and I got pet insurance for Tiny Bastard the same week because we realized that if someone had presented that option to us, we would have had no choice but to have Tiny Bastard put down, and we didn't want to be put in that position.

I did a lot of research about different kinds of pet insurance and different levels of coverage and annual maximums and deductibles and so on and so forth. Tiny Bastard is a senior dog, so this was going to be expensive no matter what options we went with, so I chose a moderately priced plan with a $500 annual deductible, unlimited annual coverage, that pays 80% of the bills incurred annually below the maximum. What that means is that we pay the first $500 of care totally out of pocket, after which point we are reimbursed 80% of any vet bills for care covered by the plan.

The first year we had this plan I was kind of iffy about it. It's a noticeable monthly expense and we didn't even spend the deductible in vet bills the first year. Except that a month before the policy was set to renew, Tiny Bastard got diagnosed with diabetes. We now have monthly insulin costs and syringe costs; there are tests she has to have regularly to monitor her overall condition and we need to do more frequent vet visits to track symptoms.

Suddenly the insulin alone means that the insurance is break-even within six months and the additional visits and tests are something we can afford instead of something we'd have to put on credit.

Our plan (through ManyPets) covers medication, surgery, diagnostics, medical equipment, and euthanasia and cremation. It doesn't cover pre-existing conditions, joint conditions for dogs who were signed up over a certain age, dental care, spay/neuter, vaccinations, or prescription food but honestly all of that makes me just kind of wish we'd signed her up earlier - her knee problems *would* be covered if we'd had her signed up as a puppy, and the monthly cost would have been lower if we'd signed her up then. And there are at least a few emergency vet bills that I wouldn't still be paying off on my credit card. Hell, I've probably paid more in interest on some bruising she got in a fight three years ago than I have for this policy as a whole.

I am glad that Greer is able to take care of Belphie. I am glad that my sister was able to take care of her dog. But I'm also really, really glad that for a relatively low cost, I would be able to take care of Tiny Bastard if she were catastrophically injured, or if she needed emergency surgery. I'm glad that I'm able to take care of her now with her medications and her additional vet visits.

There are a lot of people who say that pet insurance isn't worth it, especially not for young animals. But if your young animal gets very sick, or gets badly injured, or eats a hairband and needs an emergency endoscopy, then it will probably be VERY worth it. It's a risk/reward question. You feel like you're wasting money if you're paying for a policy that you never use, but honestly that just means you're lucky to have a healthy pet.

I'm lucky that Tiny Bastard was relatively healthy before I got the insurance; I'm also lucky that she was insured when she was diagnosed with a chronic illness that will need lifelong care. This enables me to provide care for her that would otherwise be financially unmanageable, and that makes the insurance *extremely worth it* from my perspective.

And Belphie is a good example of why it's a good idea to get coverage even for very young pets. Greer is recommending it because this kitten has required a tremendous amount of care during a period in his life when it's generally taken for granted that a cat will be healthy. (And Greer is not stupid for forgoing pet insurance - pet insurance is still a relatively new concept and there are lots of people who are leery of it for a number of good reasons)

So I'd say that if you've got a pet or are getting a pet it is very worthwhile to find a pet insurance plan that fits in your budget. There are a variety of plans out there and some are very inexpensive. Check coverage levels (you can even get some with wellness plans that include dental care and vaccinations) and see if there's something that works for you.

I personally don't think I'm ever going to own another pet without having pet insurance. It's ridiculous how much easier it is for me to say yes to diagnostic tests or different treatments than it was before because I know I'm going to be able to fit Tiny Bastard's care into our budget.

[moonra66]

These are the designs I did for my fanfic. This shit took me two weeks and I am so tired of drawing. Anyways, I get to yap into the void now at least

Bbg D-16 was the first one I did. I ate it up with him ngl. Gladiator fit is heavily inspired by his TFP design because they ate with that one.

Jazz and Orion look pretty much the same. I will say everyone else looks like a Victoria Secret model and Orion looks like a dog they picked up off the street. I redrew his face like 5 times I quit

MY SHAYLA. These two are my favorite children. Shrapnel is based on a rainbow stag beetle. If Shrapnel has no fans, I'm DEAD. He will be getting a purple color way but I'm saving that for later. I almost made Elita-1 way more buff, but my friend bullied me so blame them for the less buff Elita.

Then there's the heights. Elita-1 gets to be a (relatively) tall queen. Shrapnel is just a little guy compared to normal cogged bots, I love him sm. Anyways, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk <3

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers One (2024), Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Earthspark (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Original Cybertronian Character(s)/Original Cybertronian Character(s), Megatron/Orion Pax Characters: Megatron (Transformers), Optimus Prime, Orion Pax, Sentinel Prime (Transformers), Elita One (Transformers), Jazz (Transformers), Original Cybertronian Character(s), Ratchet (Transformers), Prowl (Transformers), D-16 (Transformers One), B-127 (Transformers One), Shrapnel (Transformers) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Found Family, Surprise Adoption, Slow Romance, Pre-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Tags May Change, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Strangers to Lovers Summary:

“I don’t know, Jazz. The arena is half an hour away by train, and his matches are always packed,” Orion said, hefting a crate of energon.

“I know- but you’re the only one with that day off! Please? It’s for Elita, don’t you want her to like- er tolerate you?” Jazz begged.

“You know I hate watching that scrap.”

“You don’t have to watch, just get the autograph.”

Orion let out a deep sigh “I don’t know...”

“Come on, Orion, you’ve done plenty of dumb scrap before.”

“Yeah, well, those dumb things usually don’t involve decapitated bots,” he huffed. “But… fine, okay. If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.” ~~~~~~~~

D-16 had always been discontent with his station in life. The cards he'd been dealt were far from fair, but he was doing the best he could with his newly obtained fame. His luck takes a turn for the better when one Orion Pax sneaks back stage for an autograph.

Or: I wanted to try and make one coherent continuity from the copious amounts of Transformers media I've consumed