#and then i can also take a long bike ride home

[thistransient]

中正區

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Three

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Suggestive themes (smut is coming I promise)

I literally wrote a whole chapter and it deleted </3

Masterlist

You woke up, body slumped against the door as you groaned. The soft strum of pain vibrated through your lower back, the dull ache sending a small zap through you as you stood up.

Groggy eyes drifted to the stained window, the barely visible streak of sun peaking over the forest as you sighed, feet padding against the floors as soft creaks spoke back to you.

You stared in the mirror, dull eyes staring back. You rubbed your face, small streaks of sticky sleep dragging across your palms as you picked them off.

Mortification is all you could feel. Not only are four men in your house, but you touched yourself to one, and another walked in on you. MID ORGASM. You silently prayed they had packed up their stuff and left. Or maybe it never happened and Ghost hadn’t seen anything. Or maybe- fuck it. There wasn’t much use denying.

The chill of the water woke you up as you scrubbed vigorously, almost as if you could wash away the embarrassment you felt.

You dressed yourself before heading to the barn, the acreage becoming more and more visible by the minute as you fed the animals, collecting any eggs in your makeshift apron, before letting the horses roam in the paddock

You took note of the overcast, thick smog of clouds littering across the barely visible sky. You needed the rain, but you also knew it would make it harder for them to leave if it did.

Conjuring that it would make things easier if they woke up and you were gone, you cooked yourself breakfast before heading out, planning to target a small set of shops you were yet to raid, tucked away on a more secluded part of the area. In fear of waking them up, you rolled out the rusting bike from the garage, a small woven basket adorned with half broken flowers as you rolled the worn wheels onto the gravel road.

You didn’t take much with you. Only a bottle of water, a pistol (incase you magically needed it) and two apples as well the large backpack stitched on your back.

The trail was mostly flat, a few rocks causing you to wobble from time to time, but for the most part it was an enjoyable ride. The soft flicker of the sun stretched through the adorned trees, the heaviness of the clouds beginning to weigh on you as you peddled faster.

It was an hour or two trek, you believed, the roaring ache of your thighs begging for the needed break as you pulled into the abandoned town. Sometimes you expect people to run out, waving you down in celebration, but it never came.

You could hear the soft groans of nearby dead, wobbling their rotting limbs towards the bike before turning around. The tinkle of the rusted bell greeted you as you ducked through the aisles. It was a small store, only supplying anything for a couple hundred, most items expired now anyway, but it was worth a look.

You held your bag open, dumping a few cans of tinned vegetables in as well as a bag of sugar, a pack of razors and some long-life cartons of skim milk. With achy thighs, you jumped over the counter, mess everywhere, register half open with nothing inside. It was funny, even during an apocalypse people found the time for money.

You rattled at the metal knob on the staff door, growing frustrated when it wouldn’t budge before you began to kick, slamming your boots against it repeatedly before it eventually swung open. It might have taken you 15 minutes, but it was sure worth it as you snatched up the golden sweetness many would refer to as whiskey.

You headed off with a few other things, half open stock boxes tipped everywhere as your hands grabbed for anything that hadn’t expire, or was about to. With a heavier bag, and a smug smile on your face, you peddled your way home.

“Y’ think she got scared and buggered off?” Soap quipped, mouth half full with an apple, juices spurting across the room as Ghost glared back.

“If it wasn’t for him,” Gaz interjected, thumb pointing towards the masked-man, “she probably would have let us stay.”

Ghost rolled his eyes, replaying the scene in his head for the hundredth time. Sure, he should’ve knocked but he’s glad he didn’t. Half of him wanted her to ask him to stay, to fully satisfy her, to fully satisfy him.

“She wouldn’t have just packed up and left- put far too much effort into all this place to leave,” Price said, voice deeper than usual as he took a swig of water. Time ticked slowly as they waited around, searching every crevice of the house before they landed on a bow and arrow.

Soap snatched it, veiny hands clawing at the weapon as if it was gold. “What’dya say, LT? Fancy hunting some deer?”

“I ain’t hunting for anybody if I ain’t staying-“

“Go hunt a f’cking deer,” Price huffed.

The two me disappeared into the forest as Gaz stepped outside, bottom plonked in the barely comfortable porch chair. The Captain knew you would probably bitch them out, but a sick part of him wanted you to let them stay, wanted you to realise they were what you needed, that they magically landed on your farm for some Godforsaken purpose.

He would make you realise. He knew he would.

You felt like vomiting now, your bones burning as if they had clawed through your flesh, attempting to escape the treacherous journey that you forced yourself to endure.

You almost felt lost. Why did it feel so much longer on the way back?

You smiled to yourself softly as you passed the tree you marked a few months ago, the unmistakable smiley face almost greeting you. Your smile quickly faded when you felt a spit land on your cheek. And then another. And another. Until you were peddling faster as wet pellets hit the ground.

Slippery hands clutched the leather handles as you neared the entrance of the farm. You were drenched now, hair matted to your neck and face as you flicked it behind you, annoyed that you neglected your clip.

Your boots squelched against the ground as you slammed the garage door shut, weak arms clutching your bag as you swung it around your shoulder, weaving in and out of trees as you stumbled up the front steps.

Tumbling inside, you took note of the cleaner house, a small wrapped bowl of vegetables and a bowl of tomato soup (that was probably cold now) greeting you as you kicked off your boots. You stood over the sink as you scrunched your hair out, the trickle of water tapping as you shrugged off your coat, fumbling outside to hang it on the underground clothes line.

For a minute you thought they had left, no manly faces greeting you until you heard the soft clearing of a throat. “Made you some lunch,” he said.

“Thank you… Gaz, isn’t it?” Clammy hands gripped the bowls as you sat down on the couch, the lukewarm mixture sliding down your oesophagus.

“That’s right,” he replied, gentle smile adorning his face as he watched you, trying to observe you, almost as if you were a war criminal he wanted to break in. Military men, you thought.

You sat in silence, yet didn’t find it to be uncomfortable. Though Gaz was incredibly handsome, and well built, you almost felt comfortable in his presence and you couldn’t quite place why.

“Where did you go?” He asked, almost as if he was hesitant to speak. Your eyes flickered to his lap, hands gently rubbing together before rubbing against his denim-covered thighs. He has nice thighs.

“Uh, I went into a town.. bout two hours from here. Got a few things and I also just wanted to.. get out, I guess.”

He nodded.

Once you finished up, you braced yourself as you ran outside, yet found no horses frolicking frightened in the paddock. Fear ran through you as you sprinted to the barn, heavy footsteps slapping against the mud as you took in the closed door.

You let out a shaky sigh, relieved, when you saw two large, longer heads staring at you from inside, the gentle squawks of hens sounding across the room.

“I hope you don’t mind that I put them inside, figured you would hav’ done that anyway when you got back.” You jumped at the voice, body jolting as you snapped your head.

Price stood there, rough hands clutching a wooden broom as he swept, a beanie now plonked on his head instead of the hat he greeted you with.

“Uh- thanks. Yeah, they’re afraid of the rain.”

“Y’r a good owner, picking up the slack after they were abandoned.”

“I guess so,” you conceded. You looked at him, taking in the way his eyes flickered down your drenched frame, a cerulean blue darkening into a navy.

“Y’r wet.” His tone was sharp, even while stating the obvious, a visible clench of his jaw causing you to tense as you wobbled, suddenly nervous under his gaze.

“Well, I was out in the rain,” you said, almost like it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. You looked away but could feel him walking closer to you.

“Y’r gonna catch a cold if you don’t change.”

“I’ll survive,” you replied, your voice now dropping to a low whisper. You looked at him, his stare heavy, almost like it was weighting you down. He smiled at you, a hand reaching out before it landed on the flesh of your waist, squeezing as you felt the familiar heat you encountered last night, prickling through you again.

Your breathing was shallow, an occasional hick passing through you as his hand lingered. “Pretty thing, hm?” He gestured, nodding towards your chest as you noticed the faint outline of the rose-coloured brassiere you chose today. You blushed and you were sure you looked silly, a red hue across your face as you barely stuttered a reply.

You turned, almost feeling like you were about to choke. Feeling betrayed by your own body, you pressed your thighs together and you were sure he noticed.

“Y’n need any help staying warm,” he began, “just tell me, sweetheart.”

[yrqrnc]

biker!haechan as your boyfriend who you’re mad at (but are you, really?)

★: fluff fluff fluff fluff & a very sexy biker!lee haechan

m.list

( 𝟔 : 𝟓𝟎 𝐩𝐦 )

“i know you’re mad at me angel, but please. hold onto me, or you’re gonna fall off.” your boyfriend pleads as he glances at you for a quick second through the rear-view mirror of his bike.

“no.”

your answer is simple and sweet bitter. a classic sign for him to know how upset you actually are at him, no matter how silly or random the reason may be.

and see, the thing is, in a room full of stubborn people, you would be superior. that is one thing both you and haechan have known for a long time.

so it didn’t matter how sweetly he talked to you right now, if you’re upset, you are upset.

“babe.”

you can hear the frustration in his voice, and that pisses you even more because, how can he be frustrated?

you are.

you were furious.

he was the one who had been all careless about driving on your way to the café by speeding and doing those careless stunts with his damned bike to apparently “show off his amazing skills”, and on top of that, he was also the one who then proceeded to smile a little too unnecessarily sweetly and be a little too unnecessarily friendly to the new pretty friend of chenle, whom you guys had met on your group hangout today.

of course, those were reasons to be mad.

right?

because he was quite shameless about it too. complimenting her right in front of your face and thinking you didn’t catch him side-eyeing you every 2 seconds to see your reaction everytime he interacted with her?

you found him utterly annoying.

most of the time, it was affectionately, but today, your patience had been running short and he had pushed your buttons too far.

your boyfriend was aware of that, and he thought it quite cute, actually.

however, riding the bike as his pillion rider while being on that current speed of the bike could be quite dangerous, and he only wanted to assure your safety in that moment.

“just focus on driving, haechan. i won’t fall off”

“baby, you will.”

“oh my god,” you groan out in annoyance. he really wouldn’t stop.

“i said i won’t. you know what? look—”

his consistent “hold on to me”s eventually get on your nerves in your already sour mood, and you decide it would be best to just prove it to him;

show him that nothing will happen at all—for once—so that he can shut his pretty mouth up and get you both home quietly and hopefully, try to then make it up to you there.

and to do just that, you start trying to completely detach your body from his.

you just saw absolutely no need to hold onto him like he was pushing you to do.

you let your hands fly in the air as you shift back on your seat, away from him, to show him that he’s overreacting and you’re really not going to—

it takes about half and a quarter second for the furious wind to hit you harshly, rolling in along with the fast velocity of the bike, and you’re almost sent flying back off the vehicle.

almost.

in that panicked state of mind, you latch onto haechan’s back instantly, grabbing onto him like your life depended on it.

and it did, actually, for a second there.

your mind becomes so frenzied for a moment; you almost missed how, the moment you shifted away from him, he slowed down and one of his hands immediately flew back to reach you, in an attempt to hold you and pull you back to keep you safe and steady.

then, there’s a moment of silence.

there’s a painfully long moment of silence; only the rumbles of the engine of the bike to be heard.

you try to process what had just happened and how you just quite literally just embarrassed yourself with all the confidence you had about around 10 seconds ago, while he takes his time to calm himself down and steady himself and the bike after knowing you’re still there behind him.

the loud quietness is humiliating until he finally breaks it.

“...are you okay?” his voice comes out a little shaky as if, after the initial panic, he’s now trying to bite back a laugh, and you know he’s looking at you through the bike’s mirror again, with that stupid smirk etched onto his face.

“yes.”

this time, too, somehow, your reply is short and bitter sweet, and biker!haechan finds you absolutely adorable as you very slowly sneak your hands up his chest from the back in a tight hold, sticking closer to him, while you try your absolute best to not face him.

only for your own safety purposes, of course.

because— fine, alright. maybe he was not all that wrong when he’d instructed you. you’d tried to prove him wrong, and nature had just done you the other way around.

and frustratingly, yet once again, he thinks you don’t hear him when he stifles a laugh right in front of you.

“shut up. don’t.”

you mumble out, in poor attempt to keep up with the anger instead of the embarrassment that was swallowing you up right now.

but you’re really just pouting in the backseat and your boyfriend knows that.

you don’t know whether you want to jump off this damned bike willingly yourself now, or if you want to hide your face in his back and never show yourself again.

“mm. didn’t, angel.”

and you hate how you can hear that cocky smile on his face without having to look at him as he speaks.

dumb, dumb, and stupidly hot lee donghyuck.

you loathe him, and both of you know how true that stands.

“are you hungry? we can grab some takeout from that place you liked last time.” his voice is sweet as it always is, as he suggests.

but your mind is still a fuzzy swirl of embarrassment and irritation at him from earlier, and it ends up speaking something completely against your actual wants.

“no i’m fine.”

“baby,” he smiles softly as he glances at you once more, “is that your anger talking or you?”

“…”

“you don’t want that beef soup ramen from that place?”

“no, i don’t.”

and he just knows from your tone that you’re sulking behind him as you say this, your mind screaming something else completely.

( ★ )

“you want something to drink too?”

haechan asks exactly 17 minutes later as you both stand to order your ramen and chicken wings.

what had you been mad at him about, again?

[kikidoul]

── HELPING HAND.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 양정원 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au college/university au jungwon rides a motorbike here ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content unprotected sex (stay safe!) petnames used fingering pussy eating cum eating brief dirty talk (like 1-2 sentences?) public sex jungwon being a tease whoops. . .!? 1769 — mlist.

note. this was inspired by the airport pictures of jungwon when he was going to the prada pop-up store in taipei. his outfit reminds me of a boyfriend who rides a bike, so yeah! taglist. @tfwbluu

You let out a long and heavy sigh, rubbing your shoulders as you paused to stretch your arms, raising them above your head. Groaning at the muscle cramps, you leaned back in your seat and stared at the ceiling, getting lost in your thoughts. Your examinations are around the corner and you have been spending the past few weeks staring at your notes, occasionally neglecting your own health. Needless to say, your boyfriend took it upon himself to check up on you. He didn’t want you to collapse halfway. 

Bzzt, bzzt. 

You grabbed your phone, squinting your eyes against the blinding light as the screen lit up. 

Jungwon: Get ready in five, I’m coming to pick you up. 

You stared at the message, bemused and decided to call him. Jungwon picked up at the first rang. 

“Wonie, what’s with the message? Where are we going?” You asked, idly spinning your pen in between your index and middle fingers. You could faintly make-out the sound of his motorbike’s engine purring in the background along with the sounds of traffic. 

“I’m taking you out so you can relax for a while. I know you’ve been studying nonstop. Besides, is it a crime to see my girlfriend?” Jungwon replied, his smooth words making your cheeks flushed red. 

“Fine, see you later then,” you hung up, changing into more appropriate clothes.

You grabbed your keys and phone, slipping on your sneakers and stepped out of the house. You were just in time when a familiar motorbike came to a stop outside your home. Jungwon remained seated, pulling his helmet off, leaving his hair all messed up. He grins as you stop before him, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on his cheeks. 

“Hi,” you greeted, laughing when he pulled you closer with one hand wrapped around your waist. 

“I think you missed a spot,” he pointed out, ducking his head to kiss you squarely on your lips. It was a sweet and short kiss but it was enough for him to express his feelings towards you. Plus, it was also enough to make your heart flutter. 

“What a sap,” you teased, moving away and wearing the helmet he handed you. Jungwon drove off, leaving a trail of smoke behind once you were seated, with your arms wrapped around his waist. 

~

“W-Wonie, wait! Ngh!” You gasped through the kisses, unable to move away as you were being firmly pressed between his bike and your boyfriend’s chest. 

You should have known he was up to something amiss when you realised he brought you to the rooftop of a multi-storey car park. There were no signs of life, considering how normal people were already asleep as it is two in the morning. Jungwon mischievously grinned into the kiss, his warm hands snaking its way underneath your shirt. 

You gasped at the contrast of his palm against your cold skin and Jungwon used this as a chance to lift you up, making you sit on the narrow seat of his bike. To steady yourself and not fall backwards, you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips still interlocked. You obediently parted your lips, allowing him to explore the insides of your mouth. You tilted your head back, allowing Jungwon to trail kisses down your neck. 

Your breath hitched in your throat when his lips landed on your pulse point near your throat, flinching as he sucked and bit on your unblemished skin, no doubt leaving a mark behind. Invisible alarm bells went off in your mind when you felt his hand snaking down, tracing the hem of your shorts. You immediately stopped him, grabbing his wrist and breaking the kiss. 

“Wonie, are you serious? Right here?” You hissed in disbelief. 

His boba-like eyes glimmered, lips curling up. “Why not? You can be quiet, right?” He emphasized on the final word, pushing his hand down your shorts to rub your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. 

The contact made your mind blanked out, head leaning back as a high-pitched whine was drawn from the depths of your throat. Jungwon’s eyes remained fixated on your expression, greedily drinking in every minor change. He grinned when he felt your panties getting wetter and wetter. Without hesitation, he pulled down your shorts and panties, dropping them to the floor, ignoring the offended “hey!” from you. 

“Fuck!” 

You yelped, blindly flailing your hands about to find something to grab onto when you felt a familiar wet muscle gliding along your folds. You ended up digging your nails into the leather material of the seat, letting out uneven breaths as Jungwon eats you out like no tomorrow. He parted your puffy lips with his left index and middle fingers, sliding one long, thick finger in from his right hand to prep you. At the same time, he slid his tongue further in, humming as you bucked your hips forward at the delirious sensation.

“J-Jungwon—hah—p-please,” you pleaded, eyes rolling up as he inserted another finger, moving them in a scissor-like motion. The fact that you felt full from just his fingers made him chuckled—the vibration drawing a pathetic mewl from you. 

“Look at you, for someone who hesitated, you sure are eager,” he coos, faux sweetness in his voice. “All you needed was to be stuffed and you’re already a mess. Am I wrong?” 

You were tempted to reply with something snarky but the moment Jungwon twisted his fingers at the correct angle, you were a goner. 

“Wonie, oh god, please, please, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, feeling the familiar way your muscles tightened. Your legs twitched as Jungwon harshly sucked on your clit and that was enough to make you spill into his awaiting mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. 

You felt like you were floating, panting heavily to catch your breath. Your ears faintly make-out the sounds of Jungwon unzipping his pants. You yelped when he manhandled you, forcing you to stand on your trembling legs with your back facing him, leaving you to rest your elbows on the seat to support yourself. 

“Jungwon, wait—” You protested, nervousness seeping into your voice as you felt him nudging your legs apart, followed by him teasingly gliding his cock against your folds, collecting your juices to act as lubricant. 

“What? Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he said, reaching out to grab your chin, turning your head around as he forced you to look at him.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow and you squirmed on the spot, feeling shy with how his intense gaze never left your face. You looked to the side but he wasn’t pleased. He tightened his grip, hard enough to elicit a hiss from you but not hard enough for pain to linger. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, his eyes darkened. 

You gulped, tongue darting out to lick your lips. The way his eyes followed the movement didn’t go unnoticed. “P-Please…” 

“Please what?” 

You whined, going the extra mile by batting your eyelashes at him, putting on an innocent act. “Please fuck me, Jungwon. Stop teasing me.” 

He hums, pleased with your response and kisses your forehead—an action so sweet and loving despite your current situation. “Well done, princess. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

This piece of shit! 

Your left eyebrow subtly twitched, anger flaring up but it was gone the moment Jungwon slowly pushes in, stretching you wide open to accommodate him. You hissed in pain as you struggled to adjust to his size. No matter how many times you’ve done this, it was impossible to take him; something that your boyfriend never fails to tease you about. 

“Fuck, how are you still so tight even after I’ve prepped you?” He cursed, already sounding ragged as he watched the way his cock slowly disappeared, inch by inch as he sunk into your warmth. 

Both of you groaned when he was fully in but the moment didn’t last long, not when Jungwon started thrusting, his hips snapping against your skin. Your elbows were violently quivering as you tried to hold yourself up but it was futile, not when you could feel him hitting the same spot, over and over, enough to make you see stars in your vision. You would have been face-planted if he didn’t pull you towards him with one hand wrapped around your waist. 

The rooftop was filled with the obscene sound of smacking flesh and your melody of sounds. Jungwon had to silence you with a kiss when you were getting too loud, not wanting anyone to walk in on the two of you. He swallowed your breathless mewls with his persistent lips, his free hand running down your body to rub your swollen clit in small, hurried circles. 

“Wonie, I’m not gonna last,” you whined into his mouth, gripping onto his broad shoulders for dear life as he continued his ruthless pace. 

He turned you around, returning you to your previous position as you sat on the edge of the seat. You wrapped your legs around his waist and the change of position allowed him to hit deeper, drawing another series of moans from you. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum for me, pretty girl?” He pants, eyes never leaving your face as he continues to rub your clit. 

You frantically nodded your head, eyes squeezed shut. “Mhm! Please!”

“Then cum, I want to see you fall apart.” 

At his order, you reach your orgasm and Jungwon follows suit a few seconds later. You whined, your walls fluttering around his cock as he emptied himself inside you. At this point, your shirt was clinging onto your sweaty skin and you groaned at the uncomfortable feeling. Your boyfriend pulled out and you instinctively clamped your legs shut, shivering as you felt his cum trickling down your legs. He was kind enough to help you wear your panties and shorts and gave a playful slap to your ass. In return, you smacked his shoulder. 

“You’re ridiculous! I can’t believe you dragged me out of the house just to have sex,” you scolded him, arms crossed over your chest as you scowled. 

Jungwon chuckled, pulling out a packet of wet tissues as he cleans you, himself and the seat with different pieces before tossing them to the nearest bin. “I did say I was taking you out to relax.” 

“And this is your idea of relaxing?” You rolled your eyes. 

He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist as he kisses your cheek. “I didn’t hear you complaining though.” 

“Yang Jungwon, I’m going to kill you.” 

[gibsongirlsundaymorning]

noise complaints (part 2)

A/N: Fine you gay people win. Here’s part two… sorry if it’s horrible, I am NOT a writer and I did NOT spellcheck this. Also I now realize she was technically going by Agnes at the time bc she was still under the spell when she was in her cop era… too lazy late to fix it ❤️

Summary: After Agatha finds you and Rio outside of the party she busted surrounded by two guys from your high school, she feels she has a few lessons to teach you two. (Reading part one is highly suggested!)

Warnings: smut, strap-on use, degradation and praise, vouyerism, impact play, fingering, oral, punishment, mean!Agatha, gunplay if you squint and spin three times, orgasm denial, bondage, masturbation, Rio being too bratty for her own good, use of “Y/N”, I don’t know if I can be more specific than this, it’s filth!

Pairing: Older!Cop!Dom!Agatha x Younger!Sub!R x Brat!Sub!Rio

NSFW below the cut MDNI!

After the cruel scolding that was sure to be only the beginning of the harsh words you and Rio would face that night, Agatha drags the two of you back to her patrol car by your wrists. You stumbled over your feet, trying your hardest to keep up with your furious girlfriend; Meanwhile Rio dragged her feet along reluctantly, trying desperately to keep up her careless, tough exterior and get a rise out of the cop.

Rio is thrown into the passenger side of the car, her hair nearly caught in the door as Agatha slams it, leading you towards the back door.

“At least one of my sluts is eager to please… Keep it up and maybe you can get what you want tonight.” She shouts the last part, addressing you, but directing the comment towards your brattier counterpart, who was now fidgeting in the front seat.

Agatha gets in the car, starting it up and taking off on the short ride back to your shared home. Rio’s placement in the front of the car was meant to keep her in check, keep her in Agatha’s direct line of vision and in close reach for reprimand. Rio had different ideas of how to use her forced proximity.

Your older girlfriend’s breathing had just reached some sort of equilibrium, no longer audibly seething through her breaths alone, when Rio reached over the console and slid her hand into Agatha’s lap. Much to your horror, Agatha just laughs.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, doll. You have five seconds to take your hand and keep it to yourself before I decide you’ll be sleeping in the guest room for the next week.” Rio, of course, waits until the very end of those five seconds before dragging her hand back across Agatha’s lap, making sure to brush her covered core ever-so-slightly before bringing it back to her side of the console to pout. You shudder under the reflection of Agatha’s hooded gaze in the rear view mirror as she grinds her teeth down against each other in a fiery frustration.

The silence and tension grows more and more palpable as the drive comes to an end when Agatha throws the cruiser into park at the top of your driveway, right next to Rio’s precious bike. She wasn’t exactly being careful to swerve away from it.

Before you could even think of reaching for your door handle, it was thrown open and you and Rio were being forced into the home. You were at the front, being pushed into the house by Agatha’s right hand, which was tangled in your hair and gripping it into a ponytail. Rio was being dragged in the back by Agatha’s tight grip on her ear. If you didn’t know better, you’d be giggling at the way the slightly taller girl resembled a misbehaving child being scolded by her upset mother. If Rio knew better, she wouldn’t have acted like a misbehaving child.

It was clearly too late for this when Agatha practically tossed you two into the house, all in the same manner as you’d seen her do with her bags after a long day at work. She ran her tongue between her top teeth and her top lip as she looked you and your girlfriend up and down, almost as if deciding between a library of options for how to deal with the two of you.

“Both of you, go to my room now and be ready for me in the next minute… Y/N, pick something pretty out from my drawer, would you, hun?” With that, she had decided.

As you and Rio made your way into your bedroom and Rio made her way to the edge of the bed, you slid the drawer open and instinctively grabbed your favorite from the assortment, a small and quiet but powerful bullet that Agatha could control from her phone. You were hoping she’d use it on you again, but there was no point in asking once she walked in, because it would almost surely earn you the exact opposite.

She walks in to find you sitting on your heels at the same spot at the edge of the bed where Rio sat, manspreading and fidgeting with the seam on her shirt. She takes the small purple toy from your hands and kisses the top of your head, a chillingly gentle gesture in contrast with her bubbling anger that night. Her hand slips from the side of your jaw to the underside of your chin, tilting your head up just a bit so that you were looking up and meeting her eyes with your own. “Such a good choice, sweet girl.”

She then turns to Rio, who hasn’t yet given up her false tough demeanor. “Kiss her. How you were before I walked in early tonight. Pretend I’m not even here, and God help you if you hold back even the slightest bit.” With that, she sat down in the large armchair directly in the eye line from where you sat.

Rio smiles slyly and slides her hands into the back of your head, tangling her digits in your hair as she meets your lips with her own. Your own hands, shaking, find her hips as she deepens the kiss and straddles you as you’re still sitting on your knees with rigid posture that reflects your nervousness outwardly. When you finally melt into her touch the slightest bit, losing yourself in her confident dominance, you hear Agatha stand and are suddenly enveloped in her shadow as Rio is yanking away from you.

Or rather, being yanked away. You note Agatha’s grip around Rio’s waves as she speaks in an even more gravely voice than usual, “That was your final chance to prove yourself as something more than a greedy bitch. Get in the chair.”

She swallows, devoid of any of the dominance from seconds prior, and climbs into the chair Agatha had just risen from. The latter takes Rio’s seat next to you, but lifts you onto her lap with your right leg slotted between her own, your center falling onto the top of her right thigh. Once you could see clearly again as the rush of her rough fingers around your waist simmered the smallest bit, you realized you were sitting on something… hard? and let out an involuntary whisper.

Agatha looks down at where your legs meet and then back at you, grinning like the devil, as Rio writhes in her seat. Agatha immediately clocks the movement from over your shoulder. “If you ever want me to make you come again, you’ll sit still and enjoy the show I’m so generously giving you after your disgusting displays tonight.” Rio reluctantly complies. She returns her attention to you, now digging her fingers into your hips with bruising force, and guides you ever-so-slightly back and forth against the pressure below you. “Agatha?” you breathe out.

“Yeah, angel?” The title almost makes you forget what was supposed to follow your initial words. The hardness below you reminds you quickly. “Are you… did you wear the strap to work?” you nearly whisper, the question barely audible to your other girlfriend, who sat still now and held onto every word from you and the woman below you uttered. “No, baby, try again.”

It seems as if all the blood in your body rushes to your face as you realize that what you were grinding down onto wasn’t the strap you’d been mercilessly filled with time after time, but her patrol weapon. It was mind-blowingly filthy and embarrassing to you, which brought both Agatha and Rio more pleasure than any other act the three of you had carried out together could. “Keep moving those pretty hips, hun. Don’t shy away from being a slut now, it’s a little too late for that.” You bit your lip hard enough to taste the same metallic tang from before you left the same room earlier that night as you hid your blushing face in the crook of the cop’s neck.

“Hey, come back, angel, I’ve got a question for you.” You look up reluctantly, dreading the eye contact you knew she would demand as you spoke. “Yes ma’am.” She chuckled lowly at this, “Oh, what, now you wanna be good for me? Nice try. What I was wondering…. was if you think our greedy girl over there should get to join us.” You look over your shoulder at the desperate woman, your eyes glossing over at the sight of her thighs pressed together so tightly they could surely suffocate you if your head found its way between them as it so often did. You turn back to Agatha and offer only a nod, not trusting your breath to stay loyal to you.

Agatha curled a finger, beckoning your girlfriend over and watching as she scrambled to the bed. “Now, Y/N, do you think I should use this” she held up the toy you’d previously picked out from her collection “on Rio here? Think it’d be fun to see her crumble under the stimulation and forget all about her little stone-cold act?” You nodded quicker than you knew possible. “No, I need words.” You swallow and breathe in shakily, hips still moving on their own accord. “Yes. Please, wanna see.” She just smiles and lifts you off of her leg as she readies her attention on the other girl.

“I think she has to earn it.”

Ok guys this was like… part 1.5, the first half of part 2 of the OG post. The rest of the warnings will apply to the next part if they weren’t in this one, and I’m hoping to have that one out like the middle of next week! LMK what yall wanna see in the next part beside what I have planned :)

Also for those who wanted to be tagged: @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow @wandaslittlelove @babybeeelle @believe-in-magic13 @reeselov3salexvause @ahintofchaos @girlwithissuesworld @lovelyy-moonlight @teenybean @jorddddddddd

[viharbinger]

If you haven’t done it yet

Would it be a problem if you wrote Kenji sato dating headcanons?

Thank you in advance <3

Ken Sato Dating Headcannons

pairings: Kenji Sato x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of marriage

a/n: Ty for requesting this I luv doing hcs

Bike Dates

— Oh yes. He's going to take you out on romantic dates on his bike. He'd get you a helmet to your own liking as well, with all that money he has lying around

Of course if you don't like riding bikes, you can always ride with him on his 20 other different expensive sport cars.

But with the bike, he'd make sure you don't feel uncomfortable and if he feels you slipping your hands away from his waist, he'd pull it back up at a red traffic light. "Keep that on me, ya?" His voice was muffled over his helmet and the humming of the bike, yet it was so attractive, your cheeks were flushed.

First Aid

Of course..... Being the significant other of Tokyo's Ultraman and a famous baseball player means you've got your work cut out for you. It isn't uncommon for him to come home looking like a beat up puppy.

"I think you should stop acting like a big jerk to the Tigers." You grimaced looking at his black eye, before cleaning the other injury on his cheek. "Oh yeah? You should see the other guys- Oww....." He winced when you dabbed his cheek gently with a wet rag to prepare a clean base to put a bandaid on.

Cuddles

After getting patched up by his sweetheart, the only thing that concerns him right now is to get a good night's sleep. With you, of course. He can't get enough of your body warmth, especially during the winter. Some nights after he's had a bad day, he would often sleep on your lap or his head on your chest in a fetal position.

But most nights, it would be you laying your head on his chest, arms wrapped around his waist and engulfing in his scent. He loves your cuddles so much, he starts owning a bolster for whenever you're not home to replace the missing feeling of your body.

Baseball and Fame

VIP tickets to every game he's in. He wants you to watch him really good, he's got a special fan to impress alright? He'd shoot a wink your way, making other fans think it was for them, making you stifle a giggle.

He would teach you the basics of baseball so you know what exactly he's doing, and if he were to ever go away on a big trip for baseball you'd make him tell you all about his games you never got to see. And luckily, because he taught you the basics, it doesn't sound like a big blur to you!

Ken would also talk about you a lot during press interviews. He doesn't care about being a hot single baseball player, he wants the whole world to know that you're his one and only, and he's definitely gonna put a ring on it someday.

Kissing

He always gives you short kisses before he leaves for work like modelling for a canned drink brand, Ultraman or said press interviews. He never leaves home without a kiss! Don't expect him to walk out that door without any type of kiss from you.

If you're angry and decided not to give him a kiss, he'll get grouchy and pouty. If it's gone long enough, he'll start begging and start kissing up your hands looking up at you with needy eyes. You can't leave that poor man without a kiss!

In the morning when you've both just woken up, he likes a long sweet kiss from you before he gets up to shower. He'll cup your cheek to pull you in, never caring for the fact that both of you had morning breath. He loves your kisses and he won't live without it, point blank.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Bike II

Chelsea Women x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're good at bike riding

"I'm so tired," Erin complains, fanning herself," God, it's hot today."

"I need a nap," Millie agrees.

"A nap and to do nothing for the rest of the day," Niamh says as she passes by, stripping off her sweaty training shirt," I'm just going to go home and melt."

"Home and an ice cream," Zećira continues, nodding and completely satisfied with her plan," I can't wait to get home."

"You'll all have to wait," Magda says decisively from the day. She'd come in earlier than everyone else, taking you into the building for a toilet and hydration break.

Most of the team had actually been quite worried about you.

This heat is sweltering and you're still tiny and excitable with energy that makes you run all over the field. It's like an accident waiting to happen.

Pernille had you stop and take long drinks from your water bottle all through practice until it ran out and she sent you off with Magda to fill it up.

You and Magda never came back though so everyone just presumed you'd already been bundled up in the car where there's air conditioning to use while you wait for Pernille to finish up and change.

"There's a surprise out the front."

"Is it an ice cream van?" Guro asks," Because that's the only thing that will make me happy right now."

"It's not an ice cream van."

"Then I'm out."

"No you're not," Magda says sternly," You're all going out the front with a smile and you're going to celebrate and clap and give compliments. Got it?"

"It's hot," Sam complains," Can't we rearrange this surprise?"

"No, Sam. We're doing it now."

"Give them a second to change, Magda," Pernille says," We're all hot. We're all irritable. Give them a sec."

Magda huffs. "Fine. I'll be out the front." She points a finger at everyone in turn. "I expect you all out there in ten minutes."

Pernille manages to shepherd everyone out in five.

"Right," Millie says, adjusting her cap so it properly shades her from the beating sun," What's-Oh."

"Look!" You say," I'm riding my bike!"

You peddle quickly around the car park, little legs pumping as you turn your handlebars so you're going around in circles.

You're doing impressively well on your bike, a very slow for an adult but fast for a little kid. It's even more impressive when the team note that you've not got any stabilisers.

A little basket that wasn't originally there when Sam bought it sits on the front and in it sits your swan and moose toy as well as a little bouquet of flowers that Pernille bought you at the market this morning.

Most of the team is speechless until Jessie starts clapping.

"Well done!" She calls out," You're doing so well!"

You beam at the praise, puffing out your chest in pride and pump your legs even faster.

Magda also puffs out her chest and Pernille has to smother her laughter.

"I taught her to ride," Magda brags," We took her stabilisers off last week. Isn't she so good?"

"The best!" Jessie agrees warmly, still clapping.

"Best ever!" Sam yells out," Look at you go!"

The team seem to have forgotten their exhaustion as you skid to a stop nearly half an hour later, everyone crowding around you as you pant from your cycling.

"Look at this!" Zećira exclaims," It's such a cool colour!"

"It's red," You tell her," Like Arsenal and Sweden's goalkeeper shirt! I love red!"

"It is!" Zećira says, nodding along," And you've got a little basket!"

"For my toys," You tell her," And my water bottle. And I've got a bell!"

You demonstrate by flicking it, letting the noise rings out through the car park.

"That's so cool!"

You grin at Zećira before looking at Jessie, suddenly shy.

"Did I do good, Jessie?"

She grins at you, ruffling your hair. "So good. I'm very impressed. I didn't know you could ride a bike!"

"Morsa taught me," You explain," And Momma did too. At the park. They say if I keep practicing and getting better and better we can all do a ride together! Do you want to go on a bike ride with me, Jessie?"

Jessie grins. "I'd love to."

[maneskinwh0re]

sevika headcannons (fem!reader)

part 2

!! sfw + nsfw !!

♡ she is definitely dominant most often, but can still so easily act like your little puppy, following you around the house or when you go on errands.

♡ acts of service is her #1 love language—you’ll contribute to that by making sure she has dinner to come home to or you'll patch up her wounds, she secretly loves it when you take care of her. on her more giving side with acts of service, she’ll sometimes clean your shared apartment to surprise you or even fix up your car whenever she finds the time.

♡ physical touch is still just as important to her—when in public (at the last drop or other restaurants/bars), she’ll always have an arm around your waist or a hand on your thigh, just as a prideful reminder to others that only she has access to you.

♡ if there’s even the smallest height difference (which is highly likely considering sevika is like 6' ft tall), she’ll tease you by placing the things you use on the daily in higher cabinets/shelves—just so you have to ask her to get them for you.

♡ she definitely drives a motorcycle, there’s no arguing about it, but she does let you put cute stickers on her dark black helmet—there isn't a single scratch on her bike.

♡ whenever you ride behind her on the back of her bike, she’ll rev and speed hella fast to scare you, causing you to tightly wrap your arms around her waist. she’ll also drive with one hand so her other can rest on your thigh, rubbing small lazy circles on your knee with her thumb.

♡ "it's okay, love. i got ya."

♡ she’ll always sit in the bathroom with you to keep you company while you do your nightly routine (or shower if she's not in there with you already).

♡ she keeps a your favorite underwear in her side of the dresser.

♡ her v-line is so sensitive, just you trailing your fingertips down it can cause her to let a whimper slip.

♡ if you start your evening wearing heels as part of your outfit, she makes you keep them on the entire night (if you wear heels as a fem!). oh my lorddd she just loves how your ankles lock around her broad back, your hoarse voice pleading her as she fucks you mercilessly with her long fingers.

♡ "keep begging, pretty girl. come on~ no one else will ever fuck you like i do. say my name, again f' me~"

♡ she steadies you with a tight hold on your hip, not giving you much room to move as she builds up your orgasm. after some time, when she feels you've earned it, she'll move her mechanical hand under your back to help you arch up when she finally lets you cum.

♡ "fuck, you feel so good. you think you deserve it? you do, baby~ go on, be a good girl and cum~ that's it~"

—part 3 is up !! i have some sev smut coming out soon so stay tuned gays ;)

- bee xx

[zayneshottestgal]

Sylus dating a girly badass🐦‍⬛

Having a similar darker clothing style

Tries to suddenly match with you. If he sees you’re a fan of a certain brand/designer he will buy a few items that also suit his taste. If you point out how he didn’t seem to own pieces from that designer before and accuse him of copying you , he’ll tease and ask if you own the brand and can control who can wear it . he of course also buys you all the pieces you want from new drops and tells his henchman to keep a look out on any vintage pieces you’ve been struggling to find.

He thinks obvious matching outfits are too cheesy but also still has the desire to have that obvious sign that the two of you are together when out in public . Matching jewelry seems to do the trick. Matching rings and necklaces. If you have lots of ear piercing , and tattoos and tease him about the lack of his own . He would consider letting you pierce his ears. Tattoos he said he would think about ( he forgets).

“That designer you like is having a show here soon , is their space in your work schedule to go?”

“ do I think that jacket is too similar to your other one? I don’t see anything wrong with having a jacket that detailed if you think you don’t have enough clothes to go with it , we’ll go buy more”

“I left a gift on the desk in your suite consider wearing it tonight”

Having a detailed beauty regime

Most nights Sylus leaves you alone during your night routine but some nights he gets curious….. (*cough* clingy) . He seems like the type to have a effective but small skin care routine so your pamper nights look a little foreign to him

He teases you for it , calling you a true princess, a beauty rocket scientist , a professional beauty queen anything that flusters you and gets on your nerves . But honestly he’s happy to see you taking such detailed care of yourself and that you can still have your relaxing nights even at the n109 base.

He makes sure to keep all your things stocked and take notice of your preferences , which scents you like for soaps, which lotions you prefer to use , What goals you have for your skincare etc. he’ll read up on the methods you use and their benefits ( ex.dry brushing and milk baths) . He doesn’t want to ask and bother you but still wants to be informed.

If you suggest certain methods and products to add to his routine he will consider them sincerely. 9/10 he will implement them ,the 1/10 is if the method takes to much time or he just doesn’t like the product . But he trust your judgment full heartily and even comes to you for advice .

If you try to pamper him one day he will try to resist it but not for long . He thinks he should be the only one to spoil you but since you really wish to return the favor he cannot say no to you. I think he would be quite relaxed during the whole process, he doesn’t get to sit back and truly relax often ,so he’ll take advantage of it. He’ll try to thank you in a special way after especially since he has so much “extra” energy now.

“Is the beauty queen almost done with her routine?our flight in the morning is quite early.”

“Someone’s skin feels extra soft today ,any spare tips for a guy like me”

“What does this do? Hmm…that’s certainly interesting,they sell other varieties of this too right, do you only like this one ?”

Driving a motorcycle and having a sports car

Sylus likes that you also have a motorcycle it makes you more comfortable when riding on his . He also appreciates that if a deal goes bad you can drive the both of you home if he’s unable . He still keeps a helmet at his place so you don’t have to consistently take yours from off your bike just to ride on his. He makes sure your helmet is the highest quality and that your bike is in top shape .

If you have a sports car that you like driving around Sylus would have his men clear the roads in the east side of the N109 zone so that you could drive as fast as you wanted without traffic . He wouldn’t mind sitting in the passenger as you had your fun. He loved that you had that thrilling and adventurous side of you. He was proud that he had the resources to fuel that passion.

When you guys are parked for dates he has mephisto watch over your car . He never bothered doing that for his own car he didn’t care much if it got stolen/damaged he could buy another. But he knew your car meant a lot to you and was protective over it . “Your baby” as you call it. If it ever broke down and needed new parts he had the mechanic and new parts at the house within the next hour . He would not track you or have mephisto follow you around , all he ask is that you text him when you get home especially on those stormy nights . If you are leaving late at night to go back to linkon he insists on driving you himself just to make sure you get home safe . He’ll have one of his men follow you guys so that he can get home. The peace of mind is more then worth the trip.

“no one will steal your baby sweetie I have my men watching over it relax and enjoy the meal”

“ the mechanic said the new part was a perfect fit and that they can have it done within in an hour”

“No eating in the car because it makes a mess ? Sweetheart we’ve made worst messes in this car then just ketchup, I’ll hire a cleaner”

Caring for mephisto and the twins

You’ve grown to like mephisto and he seems to be warming up to you as well. Since he’s a mechanical bird you can’t really give him treats like you would a regular bird. But you still kiss the top of his head when he lands next to you and you thank him for watching over you when sylus can’t do it . Sylus will never admit but he is a bit jealous of his little crow . He made mephisto a custom bird stand for when he’s at your house so that he doesn’t have to perch on any old available surface . Sometimes mephisto lets you put bows on him. When he returns to Sylus to report to him ,Sylus slightly laughs at the bird with the big pink bow . “You’ve gone soft mephisto “ ( he’s projecting).

As for the twins sometimes when you’re back home at linkon or out on vacation with Sylus you bring them back souvenirs. They always appreciate them . They’ve gotten into the habit of waiting at the door when they know you and sylus are on your way home from the airport. You always hand them their gifts right away.

When you’re at sylus house and he’s busy with whatever ,you usually play with the twins. If they ever need any advice from a women’sperspective they always go to you . Even if they don’t need a women’s perspective just another perspective in general and it’s something they might be too shy to ask sylus they go to you. They truly see you as another leader and respect you just as much as sylus.

“ if I didn’t know any better I would think the twins were your henchmen”

“What were you and the boys talking about earlier, it’s a secret? Alright then”

“You want to take the twins AND mephisto with us on vacation. I guess since there’s room on the jet but don’t run back to me when they get you off track to see all the places you wanna go too”

(A.N) longest post I’ve written for love and Deepspace and it’s for sylus lol . I’ll make one for zayne too it’s wrong to abandon one husband for another . Let me know if you enjoyed it in the comments and what I can improve on . Thank you for reading .

-do not repost , translate my work (copy into A.I ) on to other websites . Please and thank you

[fatehbaz]

In just eight blocks of sidewalk in quiet neighborhood, walking through the not-quite-rain of a sunshower, today I encountered four missing shoe soles. Little pieces of plastic and rubber, detached from pedestrians' shoes, now lonely on the concrete, with the weeds.

No such thing, really, as a "weed", though. "Weed" is not a botanical term. Instead, describes perceived pests, at the discretion of the observer. At the discretion of the authority. Designated as weed by the one with power over that land. The agronomist, the rancher, the plantation manager. The weed wastes space that could otherwise be given to a monoculture cash crop, an "economically significant" plant. The weed interferes with the productivity of the plot of land. The weed interrupts the extraction. The weed diminishes the value. The weed doesn't belong in this place.

People are made to be weeds, too.

Some cities will designate you as a weed, and then they'll take action to pull you out. They'll uproot you. But it's not always explicit, like "we're outlawing loitering" or "we're outlawing taking a nap in the park" or "we're defunding the library". Sometimes it's quite clever, it's written into the physical landscape. Self-congratulatory "progressive" cities learn to co-opt language, to obscure the violence, to use and abuse space.

Thinking about things you might encounter, you might perceive, after you've been destitute, broken, lived at a homeless shelter, for years. Little signs of other peoples' misery. Indicators of desperation that some might overlook. And the way that environment shapes, and is shaped by, these miseries.

A friend asks "why is there always an unusual amount of scuffed detached missing shoe soles on this particular stretch of sidewalk? There are hardly any homes around here, it's all asphalt and empty lots, so where are all these be-shoed people coming from?" Because even though this is a wide expanse without either home residences or any kind of commercial or recreation space someone would want to visit, these blocks are the straight-line direct path between a low-income apartment complex and the cluster of corporate big box stores, and there's no bus line that runs between the two areas. "But don't the vast majority of customers of shopping malls and box stores drive vehicles, hence the obscenely massive parking lots?" Sure, customers drive, but guess who actually has to work at those places? An underclass of people living at that apartment complex with harsh restrictions and cheap amenities, who can't afford car insurance or who might be too physically disabled to bike. And so that apartment complex is a de facto "company town", the residents are essentially in confinement. It is written into that landscape. It can be read. "Why is there always debris, wrappers, coins, etc. in this particular quiet couple of blocks of the boulevard?" Because these blocks are between a thrift store and a same-day drop-in clinic, so many impoverished people will routinely be walking between these two locations. They attend their appointment, and then have forty-five minutes to kill before the bus comes back around, so why not check out the thrift store? The city and county collaborated and placed all the low-income assistance offices on the far side of town, which conveniently forces the poor and disabled to both stay away from the luxurious downtown district and also to waste their time making a four-hour commute, catching various connecting buses or else riding the bikepath, across the city just to attend a ten-minute-long appointment.

Then this spatial layout, this city's physical environment, will shape the physical body. This violence writes itself into the flesh. The way the denim is chafed and discolored on the left shoulder of someone's jacket from carrying a small backpack around by foot, day after day after day. The way someone's heart rate increases when they see a white and black vehicle in the periphery of their vision, subconsciously recollecting institutionalization and institutional abuse, or fearing what a ticket fee would mean for their budget (they might not be able to afford rent). The way someone develops a painful limp, maybe occasionally depends on a cane, because they had to walk great distances every day to get to work and their shoe sole fell off on the sidewalk, but they can't replace the shoes because their employer is underpaying them, and they're forced to stand all day at work anyway, and they already had some modest nerve damage in their foot because they've been rationing their insulin and can't afford their prescriptions, and federal medical insurance keeps denying them because their physical letters in the mail always show up too late or not at all, and groceries are too expensive so it's hard to get good nutrition to heal, but the diabetic nerve damage has by now damaged their digestive tract too so they have a strictly limited bland diet and can't enjoy the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal (if they can even afford a home, at this point), and all those "little" miseries add up, and now they're hungry, and in pain, because they were forced to walk kinda funny for a long time over all those decaying sidewalks with all those other weeds.

[wenumsmol]

Umai

ModernAU!Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader

Summary: Kyojuro just got home from a solo outing on a hot day and he's looking so hot you can barely concentrate on what he's saying. He catches on and it's up from there. (He's innocent and cute til he isn't.)

Content Advisory: Proof-read but the plot twist is my eyes keep crossing from sleepyness. If it doesn't make sense, tough titty.

Fluff, Smut-heavy, Overstim, Gender Neutral Reader, A little rough (He fucks like his daddy and you can't tell me otherwise.)

WC: 3.3k words.

Do not repost anywhere, claim as your own, or advertise my works on tiktok. Kay? Thanks.

༒︎Masterlist༒︎

MINORS DON'T INTERACT. Go AWAY. NO!

*Sprays water* GIT! No means no. I do not consent.

Kyojuro pedals up to the apartment building, the summer heat clinging to his skin like a second layer. He skids to a stop, dismounting with a fluid motion, and walks his bike to the rack, locking it securely before heading inside. His compression t-shirt is soaked with sweat, clinging to his muscular frame, and his basketball shorts hang low on his hips. A baseball cap covers his signature golden hair, now damp with perspiration.

He climbs the stairs to the apartment, each step echoing in the quiet building. When he reaches the door, he unlocks it and steps inside, the cool air of the apartment a welcome relief. He toes off his sneakers, neatly placing them alongside yours, and tosses his keys and cross-body backpack onto the side table with a clink.

"Hey, babe! I'm home!" he calls out, his voice full of energy despite the long bike ride. He walks into the living room, where you’re lounging on the couch, and stops in front of you.

You look up from your book, momentarily stunned by the sight of him. Kyojuro’s flushed face, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his t-shirt clings to every muscle—it’s all incredibly distracting.

He glances toward you, his eyes lighting up as he sees you lounging on the couch, engrossed in a book. "Hey there, sweetheart."  His voice is warm and affectionate as he greets you. "How's your day been? I missed you."

You look up from your book, smiling as you set it aside. "Oh, hey Kyo. My day’s been alright. I just got into a good part of this book," you say, holding up the novel.

Kyojuro’s eyes follow the book in your hands, then meet your gaze with genuine concern. "I’m glad you’re enjoying it," he says, stepping closer. "I missed you so much today. I know it was too hot for you to join me at the zoo, and that's okay. But tell me, are you doing alright? Did you stay cool and hydrated?"

You chuckle softly, feeling his care and concern warm you. "Yeah, I’ve been good. I stayed inside with the AC and had plenty of water. I’m glad you had a good time, though. I also hope you took breaks while riding. It's crazy out there today."

While he appreciates your worrying, being hot never really bothered him all that much. He'd even go as far as saying that he was made for this weather.

"Perfect," he says with a relieved smile, his eyes still sparkling with the excitement of his day. "Let me tell you all about it. You won’t believe the things I saw. There was this one zoo keeper who—"

He pauses, pulling off his cap and shaking out his hair right in front of you. Flame-tipped strands fall in loose waves around his shoulders, gleaming even in the dim light of the room. Kyojuro runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it to dry off some of the sweat. He looks wild, carefree, and undeniably sexy.

You hum, watching the way a stream of light catches his disheveled strands and hits his eyes just right.

"And the penguins! They were waddling around so cutely. I could watch them for hours. Oh, and the gorillas! One of them came right up to the glass and stared at me for a good minute. It was like we were having a moment."

Kyojuro chuckles, his deep laugh resonating through the room. He walks over to the fridge, grabs a bottle of water, and takes a long drink, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. You can't tear your eyes away, captivated by the casual display of strength and grace.

As he turns back to you, he finally notices your dazed expression. "Are you okay?" he asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You seem a little distracted."

You blink, trying to regain your composure. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just... listening."

Kyojuro's smirk widens into a grin. "Oh, I see how it is," he teased, walking over to the couch. He leans down, his face inches from yours. "You can't keep your eyes off me, can you?"

Your breath hitches as he closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "Well, I can't blame you," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I did work up quite a sweat today."

Before you can respond, he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a mix of tenderness and urgency. You melt into him, all thoughts of the zoo forgotten as the heat between you intensifies.

Kyo pulls back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your skin. "Let's take this to the bedroom," he suggests, his tone leaving no room for argument. He scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you down the hall as you clung to him, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

Once inside, he lays you down on the bed, his movements gentle but intense. Calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls off your oversized tee and slides off your sleep shorts with a tender touch.

 "I've been thinking about this all day," he admitted, his voice rough with need. "Now, let me show you just how much I missed you."

Kyojuro tilts his head back, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips. His thick fingers comb through the flame-bitten strands of his golden hair, eyes locked on you. You watch, mesmerized, as his muscles flex while he gathers his hair into a loose bun.

You can’t resist tracing every dip and contour of his bulky chest and shoulders with your hands, greedily exploring the strength beneath his skin. Your gaze drifts up to his face, and Kyojuro’s half-smile sends a thrill through you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as he leans down to capture your lips. His mouth moves sensually, a slither of tongue and teeth that nibble at your lips, sucking them gently. Kyojuro's hands roam your body, leaving you breathless and craving more until suddenly he breaks away and rises to a kneeling position on the bed, chuckling deeply.

"You like what you see, huh? Well, hold on, sweet thing..."

All you can manage is a nod, your heart picking up speed.

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he steadies himself with one hand splayed on the bedspread. With the other, Kyojuro teasingly plays with the buckle of his belt before unclipping it. His tongue lazily traces his lips, making a show of holding and dropping the belt, the metal piece clattering on the hardwood floor.

Next, his hands move with deliberate dexterity to the buttons of his pants, undoing each one with practiced ease. The dark denim and briefs slide down, revealing his thick thighs. Kyojuro kicks them aside, his hand wrapping around his cock with a low hum. You gasp as his erection bobs against his stomach, proud and thick. It's impressive and a bit intimidating.

Precum beads at the tip, and he wipes it away with his thumb, smearing it on your lower lip. You taste him as you hungrily suck his finger.

“Wanna see how I do it when you’re not here, sweet thing?”

“Y-yeah,” you mumble breathlessly.

Kyojuro beams, his grin widening as he murmurs something your mind struggles to grasp. You pull off his thumb with a lewd ‘pop,’ releasing it.

He leans back with a sigh, retrieving a bottle of lube from the bag on the edge of the bed. His cock twitches as he holds it up, the grin on his face as infectious as ever. He flicks open the cap and pours a generous amount onto his palm.

You shiver as his fingers wrap around his shaft, slickening it with purposeful strokes. The rhythmic motion of his hands, combined with the way his eyelids hood over his eyes, makes your breath catch.

“Oh yeah...watch carefully,” he rasps. “You’ll get some soon.”

In an instant, his grin fades. He groans deeply as his grip tightens at the base, sliding up to the head. He sizes you up, his hips jolting with each stroke. The bedframe creaks, and his moans fill the room.

“Shit tends to get a little hot when I’m involved. You’ll have to excuse me...” he says, slowing down.

Kyojuro cups his heavy sack, tugging it slightly as he feels the blood pool in his shaft. His red-ringed eyes drink in your reaction.

“Fuck, do you want this dick, baby? I can see you drooling for it.” That award-winning smile returns. “I want to play with you first, though. Make you feel good and ready before I’m deep in you,” he drawls slowly.

His hands slide down your body, tracing the contours of your abdomen, the curve of your hips, and the fat of your ass, until they rest on your thighs. His fingers sink into their plushness, gripping tightly as he maneuvers your legs into a perfect press.

“But I think you’re already well aware of that...” He purrs against your neck, placing a soft, lingering kiss just under your jaw. The kiss is so light you barely feel it until the cool air hits your skin as he pulls away.

Your knees are pinned back, and you're spread out so nicely for him. His eyes drink you in like gasoline feeding a fire. He leans down slowly, watching you watch him kiss and lick the crease of your thighs before focusing on your center. It's so sensitive when it's not blocked by a piece of fabric. Kyojuro makes use of his strong jaw and lips to nip and drag against your inner thigh, and your skin burns from the stimulation.

Finally, he makes contact, and you hiss a sharp gasp as your eyes roll up. He's kissing, using his tongue. Your eyes can't quite focus on the details. All you feel is raw, molten pleasure. So much pressure from different directions, causing the space behind your navel to tense.

Over the music in the background, you hear lapping and wet sounds and the occasional suck as Kyojuro groans what could have been words. But you aren't sure. All you know is he's getting a taste of his favorite dessert.

He'd stop for a moment, only to look up with a smirk and raise an eyebrow at you, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before looking you up and down again. "Don't be so impatient...You think you're soft enough for me, baby? Pliant enough? I want you hot enough to melt my dick off. Lemme finish cookin'..." and he slips his hot tongue back inside.

There's a flame-like glow in his eyes when they make contact with yours, and it does more than set your heart ablaze.

"You're aching for me down here, aren't you?" Kyojuro whispers against your entrance, tracing it with an index finger. "But patience is a virtue."

"I-I can't help it..."

You'd say, a shaky whine in your voice as he kept licking and teasing you, like he was trying to get you to the very edge - trying to get you so close, yet not close enough to send you over.

This position becomes too intense. It's almost unfair how good it feels, and you have to close your eyes as your orgasm rapidly swells.

"Tastes so fuckin' good," Kyojuro's voice is ragged. His tongue outlines the very edge of your wet hole, then dips inside. The slurping is obscene, but he pays it no mind, focused entirely on you and chasing your climax.

It strikes you like a sudden burst of wind to a campfire. And like fire, your back bows in an arch from his relentless motions. You don't remember giving your vocal cords free reign, but the strangled cry of Kyojuro's name floods the entire building. Your stomach clenches and quivers, and you want to clamp your thighs around his head to stop it. It's too strong—it's all so much.

"Ooh, right there. Yeah, just like that...fuck, Kyo," you breathe, your hips faltering.

Kyojuro's jaw pops lewdly at the rough pace, but he picks it up.

"Right here?" He emphasizes his point with two fingers slowly slicking into you. You bite your lower lip, humming a lax 'yeah' as your eyelids flutter at the stretch, and nod.

"Then cum for me, sweet thing," Kyojuro slides his free hand down to cup your ass and effortlessly angles you just right. "Cum for me so I can fuck you proper, make it sloppy."

"Right fucking there, ohmyg-god please don't stop—"

Your head jerks forward violently from his intense sucks, feeling the coiling heat at your belly quickly getting tighter and tighter. A full-body shudder goes through you. Your leg shakes, accidentally kicking him in the back of the head, and he doesn't react beyond a low groan. You can't be bothered to apologize as he mercilessly draws out the pleasure until the sensation finally fades to a dull throb, and he slows to a stop, eventually sliding his fingers from you.

"Wow..."

Kyojuro releases your other leg from his grip. Your entire body quivers as the air and his exhale rushes against your now sloppily wet center, making you whimper.

He pants as his wide smile comes into view, and it's so wet it looks obscene. Yet when he pops his fingers in his mouth, it's still not the hottest thing you've ever seen.

The real winner is the look of pure bliss in his warm, hungry gaze as he rolls his tongue, tasting what's left of you.

As he positions himself above you, his lips are soft and warm, but also slightly damp against yours. Everything he does is hot. It's seriously not fair.

"So fuckin' tasty...let's see how many times I can give it to you, hm?" His hips settle against yours. "Sweet thing, I'm gonna wreck you."

"Mmmm..." His breath cools against your sweat-slicked collarbone. Kyojuro tilts your hips, and the shift in pressure sends your gaze spiraling.

"Just take it for me. C'mon baby." It's thick and velvety as it pushes into you, slowly at first. Your jaw goes slack, a small gasp escaping with each movement. Then he stops.

"Wait, wait..."

He flexes within you, hitting the perfect spot just to torment you.

Your breathing is labored as you run your hands over your face, feeling like you could go mad from his sensual torture. It was frustrating, the slow pace he's built up makes you squirm.

"You're so damn tight," he grunts through gritted teeth. "Relax for me, baby."

"Stop teasing, please..." Your plea almost sounds like a sob. "I need more, Kyo."

Kyojuro chuckles deeply, the sound vibrating through you. "Alright, sweet thing. I'll give you what you want."

With that, he pulls out almost completely before plunging back in with a powerful thrust. You cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming. He sets a relentless pace, each stroke deliberate and deep, hitting all the right spots. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by your breathless moans and Kyojuro's grunts of pleasure.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drives into you. The intensity builds, a coil tightening in your core, ready to snap.

"Cum for me again, sweet thing. I want to feel you," Kyojuro growls, his voice rough with desire.

You can't hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Kyojuro follows soon after, his hips stuttering as he spills into you with a guttural moan.

He collapses beside you, both of you panting and spent. He pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"That was amazing," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine affection. "You're amazing."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "You too, Kyo. You too."

You grip Kyojuro's neck, fingers sinking into the sweat-slicked skin, and clutch his bicep as his thrusts grow more frantic, leaving him gasping for breath. His muscles ripple beneath your touch, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. A guttural groan escapes him, breaking through his clenched jaw. The room fills with the raw, wet slap of skin against skin, mingling with the intoxicating scent of your shared release.

You're both lost in the sensation, growing more sloppy with every breath. Kyojuro's next exhale nearly knocks you off balance as his gaze darkens with deep-seated tension. A whine escapes your gritted teeth, your toes curling as you cry out, his own moans rising in a desperate chorus. His hips twitch uncontrollably, his hand tugging at your hair in a blend of pain and pleasure as you climax together.

He struggles to maintain his rhythm, releasing deep inside you, each pulse flooding you with heat. The overwhelming fullness makes you gasp, each spurt pushing your limits.

Kyojuro pants heavily, his body shaking. Before you can catch your breath, he presses deeper, his cock still leaking copious amounts of cum. His grinding movements elicit sharp intakes of breath as he continues, not quite ready to stop. He hooks your knee for leverage, the obscene sloshing sound and the sensation of his heavy head bumping into that sensitive spot make you yelp in surprise.

"Please, Kyojuro, I can’t cum anymore. It’s too much," you plead, your voice slurred as your body shakes violently beneath him, tears streaming down your face.

"Just one more," he begs, his voice a desperate whisper. "You’re so good. Hold out for me, okay? Just one more."

It’s too much, your brain a fog of pleasure, but he keeps pushing, his desire insatiable. Your body trembles with every thrust, overly sensitive and on fire.

Kyojuro lowers himself above you, his grin as delirious as yours, but you can’t help but adore the satisfaction on his face. "That’s it... Take this dick, baby. Just don’t pass out on me. You’re too good to miss this," he murmurs, his breath hot and labored. Sweat drips from his forehead onto yours, mingling with the cum that leaks from you as he drives into you once more.

Each thrust stretches you, and with one final, overwhelming push, he loses control, pumping the last of his cum deep inside you. His eyes lock onto yours, distant yet filled with awe. "God... so hot. I love you."

Kyojuro pulls you into his arms, kissing you tenderly, licking the sweat from your neck and hairline. You swat at him weakly, complaining about how gross it is.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest as he eases out with a sigh. You nuzzle into his chest, murmuring, "I love you too, Kyo. Why do you always have to fuck me like it’s the last time..."

Kyojuro kisses your nose, cupping your cheek. "Because," he whispers, his voice tender as he strokes your feverish skin, "I have to make sure you always know the full extent of my love until the very end, ember of my heart."

His answer is sickeningly sweet, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He tightens his embrace, stroking your hair until you both drift into a peaceful sleep.

A/N: *Consensual kisses for whoever wants em* Thanks for reading <3 please reblog and like!

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Not exactly a meet cute between Jazz and Jason.

Jason's had a long night of beating the shit out of a gang that dared to sell in his territory, the last thing he needs is the Bats on his tail. He can always sense them when he leaves Crime Alley- they watch for him. Waiting for him to fail. It pisses him off.

So Jason shakes his tail, he's pretty sure it's the demon brat, parks his bike, removes his helm and heads into the loudest bar he can find, ditching his mask along the way. There are no camera's and there was no one watching, so Jason just looks like any other angry frat guy at the bar. Well, he supposes that the Leather jacket might be a stand out.

He grabs a drink, and looks at the time. Jason just needs to wait out the chance that a baby bird saw his bike and hope that curfew kicks in before this has to be a 'conversation'. Besides, the music is good and despite all the people, the crowd is pretty behaved.

"Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" A woman approaches, he can tell she's had a few drinks from her walk but her eyes scream sobriety and fear. She's tall in her flats, her hair looks disheveled (from dancing maybe) and her outfit screams 'this is the one fun black top I own'. She's beautiful and her approaching him might've been a wet teenage dream if his suspicions weren't immediately raised.

"I certainly am here." Jason replies, a smirk set into his features easily and as he straightens out his back he can see the three men watching the back of her head like predators. They're wearing super lame white hoodies and coats, like they're organized somehow.

"That's why you're my hero! Always ready to grab me at a moment's notice! Any chance you'll be good to leave after you finish that drink?" Her eyes are pleading but she keeps the same happy smile and joyful tone the whole time.

"Nah, no worries about the drink. It was cheap and I was just getting bored with it anyway. " Jason explains, setting his glass down on the counter. He's mentally photographed the three creeps, "Did any of your friends also need a ride home?"

"Nope! They all got in an uber... without me. So they'll be just fine!" She explains and there is an anger in her eyes that clearly meant she was telling the truth. Her hands are straightening out his jacket collar, making it look like they're more comfortable with each other than just strangers. She lays her hands flat on his chest once her task is completed and Jason feels his throat go dry.

"I'm always telling you to find better friends. Now c'mon, I parked out back." he wraps an arm around her waist, though its not tight, and peers over his shoulder. These guys weren't going to leave without a fight it seems, Dumb, Dumbie and Dumber are all watching her with evil in their eyes.

The two of them walk out and before she can even say thank you, the door swings back open and she's sucker punched one of the assholes and Jason's pulled his gun out for the other two.

"You gents are gunna go home, or you're gonna end up in the dirt. Pick." Jason growls. Not taking him seriously at first, he shoots one dudes foot and the last one standing looks like he might pass out. He picks up his fallen comrades and backs away into the bar.

"For ancients sake those dudes were trying to traffic the hell out of me." She sighs, and Jason holsters his gun.

"Yeah no shit. You okay?" Jason inquires.

"I will be. I'm Jazz, thanks for saving me Hood."

"I'm no-"

"You're literally leaning comfortably on Red Hoods motorcycle that still has his helmet perched on it. No one would do that unless they were suicidal or him." She challenges, but then a look changes in her eyes and she almost looks nervous "But still, do you uhm, wanna get out of here?"

He blinks. She was trying to pick him up? AFTER finding out he was a crime lord??

The answer is that yes, Hell Yes, Jason does want to get out of here. None of the Bats will bother him while he has a civilian, not at the diner he takes her too and certainly not while he's taking her back to one of his safe houses.

Jason had expected one of his siblings to show up in the morning and cause a ruckus. He hadn't planned for a dude to let himself into his kitchen screaming about government agencies tracking Jazz down that wasn't related. Turns out it's her brother and he's floating and no he's not going to explain why he's there or how he found them.

Jazz has a lot to explain to the both of them and it starts with "So I can admit that I have a thing for motorcycle guys-"

[harleywarley18]

God of prophecy, music, and plague 𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I was supposed to post this Sunday but got caught up with stuff so here's a midnight rundown on my relationship to Apollo ;-;

Apollo began showing up around a month after I began my worship to Aphrodite. I was afraid at first. Not of him, but of the idea of worshipping another deity. In the past, I had only ever worshipped one at a time. As a neurodivergent person I was also afraid that my relationship to Aphrodite was just a hyperfixation since I had been playing Hades a lot.

The thought of worshipping Apollo only further worried me. I wanted to assure Aphrodite that she wasn't;t a mere hyperfixation and that she would not be forgotten. The first time I tried to communicate with Apollo via tarot cards, Aphrodite showed up instead and voiced her concerns.

She was afraid that I'd abandon her and forget about her. I knew where this was coming from because I had told her about Hades. Early 2023 I had begun worshipping Hades but after about a month and a half it became too much for me to continue and I kind of just stopped my worship and never went back. I had felt so bad but worship can be so draining sometimes.

Anyways, after reassuring Aphrodite many times I believed I had the okay to begin doing proper research on Apollo before reaching out to him. What interested me about him is his Lo'xias epithet, meaning god of prophecy or messenger of Zeus. I was so drawn to it because throughout my entire life I have always had crazy intuition and predictions.

At first I chalked up to the fact that I'm autistic and can recognize patterns really well. Specifically, I take "data" I've collected about a situation or people and use it to make predictions about what will happen or what they'll do. But, too often did I predict something and it actually happened in a scarily accurate manner. There have been multiple times that it's felt as though I've actually spoken things into existence. For example, while I was ranting to my sister about someone who had talked major shit about me and I said that (for the sake of privacy I will not describe what I said) this specific scenario was going to happen to them. I said it out of anger and in passing but that very weekend exactly the thing that I said would happen to them HAPPENED.

With tarot cards, especially, my readings are always insanely accurate. Even my sister, who is not a believer in anything that I do, is wary about my readings because she knows that whatever the cards say will happen will actually happen. Furthermore, when I first moved to college I had visited a metaphysical store with my cousin and there the owner overheard me say that it had been so long since I had really done tarot that I probably couldn't ever do it again. And she said to me "tarot reading is like riding a bike, you learn once and never forget. She then brought out her own personal oracle cards and had me do a reading on her and her husband. She wanted me to use the cards to tell them who they are. According to them, everything I had said was more than true.

With Apollo, I thought I could use his help to groom and cultivate this proclivity of mine.

After having properly reached out to him, I've come to the realization that I love more than just his prophetic aspect. I stated in my previous post that I had been struggling due to a situation that occurred earlier in the school semester. Even when I was back home, I was struggling with panic attacks and bouts of major anxiety. What always helped, however, was taking my dogs out on their walk and feeling Apollo's rays of sunshine beaming down on me.

Every single time I stepped out of the house-heart racing, hands shaking, ears ringing-suddenly it would all melt away into nothingness the second I felt the sun on my face, enveloping my person, weaving its heat through my curls and over my ears. Even if it had been storming, when the time came to walk the dogs, the sky would magically become clear enough to allow the sun to shine through.

Eventually, I started keeping the tarot cards I dedicated to Apollo under my pillow and asking him to visit me in my dreams. The first night I saw a beautiful, swirling ball of light above my bed, with orange and yellow flares coming out of it. The second night, however, I woke up in a dream. I was in the back of this van sitting next to this man. He looked young with beautiful, black curls. He had his arm wrapped around me and my head rested on his shoulder.

I remember him feeling so warm. He felt like home. He felt like snuggling up under the covers in a cold room. And I just lay there, hands holding his, watching the scenery of the drive we were on. I woke up that morning with the sun shining on my face, clearly attempting to wake me up.

I've heard a lot of people say that Apollo feels like a golden retriever boyfriend or nice frat boy. And while I respect that everyone's experiences with deities is different, Apollo to me feels like some guardian. Maybe an older brother or a father or an uncle. I think people expect Apollo to be boyish and naive because he's always been described as a young thing. We forget that he is just as wise, if not more, as his cousins and aunts and uncles.

Praise Apollo, averter of evil, dark-haired, messenger of zeus!

[lovebugism]

can I request steeb taking care of shy!reader who is upset after a bullying incident in school? I figured she would be a year younger (like robin’s grade) because I don’t think anyone would touch her if king steve was around. I feel like he’s be so soft with her but also reeling at the thought that someone hurt his girl!

thanks for ur request anon! idk if i can count this as a blrub because it's nearly 3k words but alas pls enjoy! tw for blood (knee scrapes) and j*son c*rver

You come to Family Video with a scrape on your left knee.

It’s not the weirdest thing in the world — you ride a worn-down bike that’s probably older than you are. Steve’s been begging you to get a new one for as long as he’s known you, outright offering to pay for the damn thing as long as he’s sure it’ll get you to him without getting hurt in the process.

You reject him every time. “It gets me where I need to go,” you always shrug. “What more could I want from it?”

And he wants so badly to be angry at the beauty you manage to find in mediocrity. But he can’t be, really. It’s why you fell in love with him in the first place, isn’t it? Why you took the heartbroken boy in your arms on Halloween night in 1984 and convinced him he wasn’t bullshit despite what he told you. He’d be an idiot to be mad at how kind you are.

But when you walk into Family Video, halfway limping with blood dripping down your knee, he knows it’s different. 

Something more than a toppled bike hurt you.

“Oh, god, babe,” he winces from where he stands at the counter with Robin. “What happened?”

“I fell,” you shrug as he races over to you.

“You fell?” Robin scoffs. “Knock me out with a feather.” You know she’s joking, but it’s a little too monotone, and you’re a little too sensitive. Something in her words hurts more than your throbbing knee.

Steve, who knows you like the back of his hand, understands exactly what your diverted gaze means. When you look down to the floor, he shoots Robin a firm glare.

What? she mouths, obviously confused at the sudden silence.

“Can you get the first aid kit from the back? I think there might be some gauze in there,” he asks, deciding to change the conversation entirely. He wraps an arm around your waist and walks slowly with you to the counter. He meets your grimace with a soft smile. “I’ll clean it, wrap it up, and you’ll be good as new.”

You don’t give him anything in response. Not even a pity smile.

He sits you on the counter with the open first-aid kit beside you. Robin flips the store sign to closed. It’s barely five o’clock. She starts tidying up the store to go home, anyway.

Steve wipes up the warm blood with a napkin and cleans the scrape with an alcohol wipe. You hiss at the feeling — it’s like a hundred tiny bee stings. From where he sits just below you on a worn swivel chair behind the counter, he leans in to press a kiss just above the cut.

Without all the blood, it looks a lot less gnarly than before.

“See? It’s not so bad,” the boy smiles as he unravels some gauze. “I’ll patch it up, baby you for the rest of the night, and you’ll forget it ever hurt by morning.”

Again, you don’t even smile. You just purse your lips to the side and nod.

Steve’s heart stings, but he doesn’t take anything by it. He wraps the bandage down and over your knee in an even rhythm. He tries not to be so direct when he asks: “How’d this happen, anyway, huh? Did Ol’ Sliver finally give up on you?”

You shake your head, eyes on the gauze instead of the boy. The white cloth splotches with pink from where your wound still weeps. “No,” you answer quietly. “Just fell.”

“Just fell, huh?” he repeats quietly. A few caramel-colored strands fall over his forehead as he peers up at you with his chin tilted towards his chest. He tries his best to smile. “You’re givin’ me the sad eyes, babe. I feel like it was more than just a fall.”

“It was stupid…”

He scoffs. “Never.”

“A car drove by me,” you confess, only half-lying. You try to look down at him, but your gaze wavers along with your courage. “And the music was kinda loud, and it… It startled me a little.”

You don’t tell him that Jason Carver intentionally swerved on the wrong side of the road to scare you — or that he yelled mean things through the rolled-down passenger window before speeding off again. It’s easier to keep it to yourself. You don’t want it to become a whole thing.

Steve’s brows furrow as he tucks the end of the bandage to keep it from unraveling. “Were they going too fast?”

“I don’t know. Kind of.”

“It wasn’t those football assholes, was it? I swear to god, they need their license revoked.”

“No,” you answer, quick to soothe his rising anger. “It was— It wasn’t anyone. I just got scared, and I swerved off the road, okay?”

Even in your mousy voice, it sounds like you’re being stern with him. And you’re never stern with him.

“Well, that’s okay,” Steve assures with a shrug. “We all get scared. It’s better than you getting hit, I guess.”

“I guess,” you echo with a huff, a teasing smile on your lips.

Steve grins back, happy to see you less pained. He smacks a gentle kiss to your wrapped-up knee. “Go get in the car, okay? I’ll clean up here, put your bike in the trunk, and we can go home.”

You go shy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. “Your home?” you clarify, secretly hoping he’ll say yes.

His answer isn’t surprising. “Of course, my home. You practically live there, anyway.”

You smile and brush a soft kiss to the scruff of his jaw, murmuring a quiet thank you there before leaving. You’re not limping nearly as badly as you had been before.

Robin waits for the door to ding shut before blurting: “I think it was Jason.” 

Steve stills with the first-aid kit in his hands. He squints at her from where she stands between the horror and X-rated horror aisles. 

“What?”

“I think that’s who might’ve run her off the road.”

“…Why?”

“He gives her a hard time sometimes, I don’t know,” she explains vaguely and with a sigh. “Normally, it’s stupid. Like, honestly, I just think he’s super shit at flirting. Maybe he was just trying to scare her and… got a little carried away…”

Anger burns red hot in Steve’s chest. It blooms just behind his ribcage like a flower with fire for petals.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks through gritted teeth, trying not to sound too angry. It’s not like Robin was the one who hurt you, after all — just some douchebag who wouldn’t have laid a hand on you if he knew who your boyfriend was. 

Steve’s knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the plastic box.

“Because I thought it was harmless!” Robin agonizes as she rushes to meet him. Her deep ocean eyes swim with worry, frightened that he might be angry at her. “Seriously. Most of the time, it sounds like he’s just being mean to get into her pants. And, like, I don’t know if that’s how he landed Chrissy back in the day or what, but he’s obviously got no clue what kind of girl he’s flirting with because…”

She trails off at Steve’s hardened umber gaze.

Robin groans and leans over the counter, reaching for the boy’s wrist. “Please don’t be mad at me, Stevie. My heart can take that. I’ll be sick for days—”

“I’m not mad at you, Rob,” the boy promises. He sighs. “I just gotta… go beat up a kid now.”

—————

You’re too focused on the stars and the feeling of Steve’s warm hand on your thigh to notice he’s taking the wrong route home.

The car slows way sooner than you expected. When you come back down from the clouds, you find that you’re in a near-empty lot. The car jolts softly when Steve puts it in park.

“What are we doing?” you turn to him with furrowed brows.

Steve unclicks his seatbelt. “I’ll be right back.”

You look past him, at the large building lit up by amber streetlamps and the green door with a light in its window. Every so often, someone will whip by it wearing a white jersey. Your heart sinks.

“Why are we at school?” you asked, scrunched-faced in a mixture of anger and worry. You don’t know how he knows what happened to you, only that he does know.

“I need to take care of something here. It’s okay—”

“Don’t go in there,” you plead. “Please. Let’s just go home—”

“I’ll be right back,” he repeats. He leans over the console to kiss your cheek. You don’t lean into it like you usually do.

“Steve—”

The car door shuts and cuts off the rest of your pleas.

Steve has an easy time getting into the gym. The backdoor is propped open with a small wooden block like it always is. The coaches welcome him in like usual. They beam as the old team captain waltzes into the newly painted gym like he owns the place.

“Harrington!” the burly man calls over the sounds of squeaking shoes and bouncing basketballs. “Come to turn in an application, finally? I’ve only been asking you to be co-coach since you graduated.”

Steve smiles coolly. “No. Not yet… I, uh— I actually needed to talk to one of your players.”

The man shoots him a look.

“Jason Carver.”

“Oh,” the man chuckles, a deep belly laugh. “You only wanna pull my star player out of practice, huh?”

“It’ll take, like, two seconds. Tops.”

A momentary stare-off ensues. Steve knows the answer he’s going to get. Everyone at this damn school has got a soft spot for him. Perks of being Hawkins High royalty, he figures.

“Two,” the coach says in the place of any real answer. 

He takes the green whistle from his neck and blows into it. The shrill sound echoes through the gym. Like trained dogs, the boys on the court still.

“Carver!” the man shouts, almost too loudly. Steve winces from beside him. “Get over here!”

Jason passes the ball off and jogs to meet them without question. When Steve says he’s got something to tell him, the blonde-haired boy smiles like it’s a privilege. Red-faced and out of breath, he trails behind Steve as they walk out into the hallway.

“Don’t tell me you’re coming to be assistant coach,” the boy says with an audible smile. “Coach Blair has only been talking about it for a year—”

When the double doors shut behind him, Steve whips around and shoves the boy into the lockers. They clang beneath his sudden weight and echo down the empty corridor. Jason’s smug face contorts into shock. “—What the hell?”

He tries to regain his footing, but Steve only shoves him backward again. His hands twist in the neck of his jersey. 

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jason shouts.

Steve’s stern features never waver. He leans in close, eyes trained on the boy like a predator to prey. “Leave my girl alone,” he threatens lowly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know who your girl is—”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Steve spits in response. The lockers bang once more when he shoves the boy backward again. “Should break your leg for what you did to her. What would the star player do then, huh?”

Jason’s wide eyes flit between the both of Steve’s. He racks his brain for what he might’ve done so wrong and who he might’ve done it to. He gapes at the realization — “Bambi? Bambi’s your girlfriend?”

“Oh, that’s what you call her?” Steve muses in a monotone, feigning interest. “How cute.”

“I didn’t know, man. I swear. If I knew, I never would’ve—”

“I don’t care. And stop pleading, alright? It’s embarrassing.”

Jason goes quiet. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Steve’s hand loosens on his jersey. His ice-cold gaze never wavers.

“I don’t wanna know what you did to her. I don’t wanna know why you’re doing it, either — if you think she’s pretty, or if she’s easy-pickings for assholes like you — I don’t care.” He presses the boy further into the lockers, their noses inches apart. “But if I hear you’re messing with her, talking about her to your friends— if you so much as look in her direction again, I promise you won’t like what I do to you.”

Jason’s jaw clenches. He juts out his chin in a feeble attempt to make himself taller. “Yeah?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“That’s real rich coming from someone who couldn’t even beat up Jonathan Byers.”

“I’ve learned a lot since then,” the older boy promises, weirdly composed. “Feel free to find out if you don’t believe me.”

The boy stays quiet.

Steve shoves him backward when he lets go of him. He gives him a final glare and one last warning before walking back toward the gym. “And plant your feet when you’re on the court, alright? It’d be a real shame if you broke an ankle.”

—————

The drive to his house is silent.

It usually is. Most of the time, you’re too zoned into the music or making shapes in the clouds to talk. But now it’s because you’re angry. Steve would be an idiot not to notice. He can feel it radiating off of you like steam.

He reaches for the console and turns the air-con up.

“Are you hot?” he asks in a feeble attempt to break the quiet.

With your arms crossed and your gaze out the window, you deadpan: “I’m mad.”

“I feel like that’s sorta the same thing,” Steve jokes with a weak, lopsided smile.

“I didn’t want you to do that,” you choke through a tight throat. “You’re just gonna make it worse.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you would’ve just told me.”

You turn to him with eyes glassy from unshed tears. A stoplight bathes the both of you in shades of neon scarlet. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d do something about it,” you spit.

“So you’d rather let some asshole run you off the road, huh? Is that it?”

He doesn’t mean to be so harsh. He’s just upset, and the adrenaline’s making him antsy. 

Steve learned a long time ago not to be so forward with you. Even if he’s just joking around, even if he’s mad and saying shit he doesn’t mean — you’re not built for that. You’re made of something softer: marshmallow fluff and crocheted yarn and flower petals. It’s why you let Jason Carver pick on you for so long without saying a word about it.

“It’s not like that,” you argue quietly, blinking back tears as you turn away from him again.

Steve sighs. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean— I’m just upset, okay? I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I know…”

“I just wish you would tell me these things, you know?”

His hand is warm on the skin of your thigh as he smooths his palm over it. Your eyes flit to your leg and then to him. You nod. “I know. I just…” Your features crumple when you trail off. 

Steve squeezes your thigh in reassurance. “You just what?”

“I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle myself,” you confess quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m so weak. I didn’t want you to think that, too.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” Steve scoffs out a laugh, like he almost can’t believe you’d even think something like that.

Your brows furrow. “No?”

“No. Not even a little bit. But as your boyfriend— ‘cause I am your boyfriend, right?”

You meet his teasing gaze with a half-hearted scowl. You’ve only been dating for a year and a half. You nod to humor him.

“Exactly. So, as your boyfriend, it’s my job to help you through the hard shit, you know? Just because you can get through it on your own doesn’t mean you have to.”

Your chest swells. You try not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to. You’ve never had someone who wanted to protect you before. It’s as strange as it is gratifying.

“Okay,” you concede with a nod.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat with a giggle.

Steve leans over the console, moving slowly like his lips are made of magnets that drift to yours. Through the overwhelming urge to kiss you, he jokes: “Is it— and I’m just checking here— is it okay?”

You shake your head and lean to meet him halfway. “You’re such a dork.”

Your lips barely brush before a loud honk echoes behind you. You jolt apart from him, not noticing that the light had turned green until then. 

Steve sighs and mourns your unkissed lips. His engine roars softly as he presses on the gas.

He’d noticed. He saw the light change about twenty seconds ago — how the bright crimson changed into a softer shade of lime that bathed you in its neon hues. He just loved the way you looked in green.

[thvrian]

I just want

➟☾Synopsis: walking after your lover just turns into something more pleasant.

➟☾Pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x reader

➟☾Genre: Smut,fluff

Once you leave your helmet on your motorcycle and head towards the front of the club you see a group of guys and your man.

You get closer and the grin appears on your face when you see his position, he is sitting on a chair with his legs apart, his head down and he looks bad drunk.

Suddenly he lifted his head recognizing your figure and grinned drunkenly.

"Princess" he murmurs and rubs his hands on his thighs "come here" he says and ignores the giggles from the other boys.

You were already in front of him grabbing his hand "We have to go, Yoongi" you say pulling, he doesn't refuse and lets you take him.

"Y/n, can you handle him?" Asks Jimin, one of his friends.

"We'll be fine, thanks. Good night guys." You look at the others and they nod.

Taking Yoongi's hand in yours you pulled him with you to the motorcycle.

"Baby, can we stay a little more?" Yoongi suddenly asks and you frown.

"No" you murmur "it's already late and I have to go to work tomorrow" you take the helmet and hand it over, he looks at you then nods "you won't fall off the bike once I start it, will you?" You ask a little more worried. All he does is nod but you move closer to him.

"Yoongi"

“I'm not that drunk Y/n” he murmured, Y/n ok he's not that drunk.

You both put on your helmets and got on the black motorcycle, Yoongi grabbed your waist, like he always does when he gets behind the bike with you. You feel the warmth of his body on your back, he holds you tight and makes you giggle, he's going to be fine.

The way home is not long, only 10 minutes.

You park the motorcycle, get off safely, then when you think Yoongi won't talk until you get into bed, there he is.

"You're so hot riding the motorcycle" he sings and slaps you on the bottom making you gasp but you know and he knows that you like it. You turn to him and you can't help but smile when you see his sheepish grin.

"Come on, let's go" you say heading towards the entrance of the apartment.

Yoongi's grin never fades when you enter the elevator or walk down the hall.

Once you enter your house you leave your shoes and jacket matching Yoongi's, he quietly follows you into the bedroom.

"Come on, Yoongi, get undressed" you tell him and grab some underwear from the closet.

"I thought you wouldn't say,finally" he grins and takes off his shirt but doesn't undress yet "let me help you baby" he whispers and grabs your blouse in his hands.

"What are you doing?" You ask confused but you know too well what's on his mind.

"I am undressing you?" He's also confused and you can't help but giggle at that.

"I thought you'd just go to the bathroom and we'd finally go to bed, you're drunk" you breathe heavily once he touches your bare skin under your blouse.

"I'm not that drunk" he growls and pulls your blouse off you, meeting your bra and he moistens his lips. "And you're going to let me fuck you, aren't you?" He asked still keeping his eyes on your breasts, you said nothing. Not that you don't want him to do the thing.Yoongi knows what he does always but it's late and tomorrow(today maybe?) you have to go to work.

"Yoongi…" you start but he ignores you, he knows you, he knows you want it so he grabs the back of your bra and pulls it off, he wastes no time, he's already covering your nipple with his sucking mouth making you moan arching your back, his right hand grabs your left breast, squeezing, his left hand holds your waist and pulls you to the bed. He let you lie down on the bed but you still had your feet down on the floor and so did he, he started licking the other nipple, you felt another wave of heat run through your body.

You grabbed his hair arching more for him, he was making dirty noises against your long hardened nipple. Then suddenly he pulls away and you are face down on the bed. Yoongi quickly pulled your pants down, followed by your panties, sending another slap across the bare skin of your ass, the sound it made seemed forbidden.

Your boyfriend sits down on his knees, now face to face with your pussy.He grins when he sees how wet you are and doesn't hesitate to make a remark.

“And to think you could have lost this wetness tonight” he growls but you just bite your lip in anticipation.

He caresses your back and bottom and then holds it in his two hands, he bends his head to finally place an open-mouthed kiss on your entrance. He sticks out his tongue, draws a line from your clit to your entrance, rotates it, kisses ,you moan and squirm with your ass up.

“Yoongi" you moan and lay your head on the bed.

He murmured into your pussy and arched your ass more as he made out with your pussy. You could already feel how close you were, trembling under his touch.

“Damn, dammit, dammit” you curse through clenched teeth and try to rub more against his mouth but he pulls away raising his head higher to kiss your ass cheeks with his mouth open. Oh damn.

"Yoongi?" You grunted and looked back and he was already on his feet looking at your pussy oozing white juices then he looks into your eyes with a face that asks what?

"Can you stop wasting time?" You ask a little annoyed and he clenches his jaw and smacks your bottom hard.

"Don't spoil the fun" he replied and then you felt his fingers at your entrance, he played with it but never really entering. You moaned and bit your bottom lip wanting him to do more because it was already hurting you.

Then he brought his fingers up to your clit cupping and rubbing, your legs shook, a sharp moan coming from the back of your throat, he pressed harder, faster, almost painfully good. You had to reach out for him to stop but he refused your attempt taking both your hands in his left hand holding them above your head, you were sitting in a shameful position, but not for him, he liked it that way.

He rubbed your clit until you saw green stars, you squirmed in your seat but Yoongi continued to grind painfully until you came unfinished. He overstimulates and you cry at that. He took his hands off of you, hearing the rustle of the belt and pants you looked behind you then turned to face him as he removed his boxers revealing that perfect cock you love.

He does not approach you, but climbs into the bed.

He sits with his bottom on the mattress, resting his head on the bed frame, with his cock up.

"Come and ride my cock baby" he murmurs giving himself a few pumps. Of course you don't waste any time and get on the bed then on his lap, he helps you put his cock inside, feeling each other you moan and throw your head back.

He was holding your hips but doing nothing but watching your connected bodies. But you started to move up and down, bringing pleasure, your breasts jumping with each movement, he didn't ignore them and grabbed both breasts with his hands, he squeezed tight and you moaned over and over.

"Fuck yeah" he moaned.

"Damn it"You cry out feeling your climax getting closer with each movement. Your pussy pulsates and flows more and more making wet sounds that made you even hotter.

You finally came on his cock with a sharp moan and you lowered your head as you stopped.

“Come on, I know you can do more” Yoongi murmurs and grabs your hips and makes you move again, the overstimulation hitting again.

You move up and down on his cock, feeling it pulsing and he pulls you deeper and angrier as he cums with a moan. His cum fills the walls and you squirm at the sensation.

"Shit" he closes his eyes still helping you move to get through the high.

You leaned towards him, resting your head on his chest. He stroked your ass and squeezed it.

"We didn't kiss tonight…" he frowned.

"It's because you have alcohol breath" you grin but your smile disappears when he slaps you hard on the bottom.

Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you to his open mouth, he kisses you passionately, as if he hasn't kissed you in millennia and he missed you like hell. When he pulls away, he lightly bites your bottom lip. Now you realize that neither you didn't notice the whiskey taste on his tongue.

"We need to shower" you say and get off of him biting your bottom lip at the feeling of emptiness.

Yoongi followed you into the bathroom, because it's impossible to be intimate with him, and you don't ever want to hide from him.

[skzdarlings]

mine ; lee minho x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood. “Can you please do ❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜ with Lee Know? I just know you’ll come up with something amazing! 🩶"

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: another pair of star-crossed lovers lol. reader is kissed by a different guy without her permission. possessive sex. unsafe sex. lots of biting and marking and grabbing. word count: 3700 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

-

You finally escape.

When the date is over and your supposed boyfriend leaves, you run out the back door.  Your parents are distracted, waving goodbye to your boyfriend as he pulls away in his expensive car.  They chat between themselves on the front porch of the family estate. 

“Such a remarkable young man,” they say.  “So wholesome.  So intelligent.“

So rich, is what they really mean.  Because he is not wholesome; he is a bully and a bigot at the best of times.  He derides anyone he deems beneath him, which is just about everyone.  He is also not intelligent, as true depth of intellect is revealed in conduct.  Someone that cruel and ignorant is not intelligent.  You have engaged in more stimulating discourse with birds.

But he is wealthy.  Your parents picked him for you and have been forcing the relationship along, contriving dates without telling you he will be there, inviting him into your home, encouraging his empty and shallow affection.  You encourage nothing, sitting stiffly whenever he touches you: an arm slung around your waist, a hand on your lower back, a kiss on the cheek.

Maybe you were naïve to think it would not escalate before its time, that you could bear it cordially until his interest withered and died.  Foolish.  He is not here for you but your name.  He does not care how you feel.  He does not care if you want him.  He wants the money and connections and power, sharing a bed with your parents through you.

Today he cornered you when you were alone.  He backed you into the wall and kissed you.  An unwanted kiss is a disgustingly slimy thing, all tongue and teeth and the bad, unfamiliar taste of a vile man’s breath.

Your whole unlived life flashed in your mind’s eye.  Every second was irredeemably awful.

So you run.  Out the back door, to the garage, weaving around your father’s cars.  Your old bike is hooked on its rack and you lift it down with some grunting effort.  You are dressed for a date, wearing a pristine ivory dress your mother picked, white lace stockings, and delicate flats.  It is not the ideal outfit for riding a bike.  It is a pretty but flimsy thing.  Summer nights are warm but there is a crisp breath on the wind as the sun sets. 

But if you stop for even a second, even just to change clothes, even just to catch your breath, then you will never get away. 

You swing onto your bike and escape via the back lane.  It is a long ride across town but your adrenaline propels you onward.

It is very obvious when you have crossed into new territory.  Across the park trail and over the railroad tracks is a different world.  The houses get smaller, more ramshackle, junk piled around the fully abandoned abodes.  Even the lived-in homes have old trucks and rusted goods stacked on their lawns.  It is a consequence of impoverished anxiety, hoarding in fear of one day having nothing.

Indeed, a very different part of town. 

Your parents are probably furious they cannot find you, but they will assume you ran to a nearby friend’s house.  If they knew where you really were, which friend you went to see, they would surpass furious and venture all the way into horror. 

But they are far away now.

You feel nothing but relief as the air changes.  You know it is the chill of a summer night as the sky turns blue, but it convinces you the air is clearer.  You exhale and feel as though you are releasing a breath that you have been holding all day.

Your journey takes you to a familiar yard.  You remember the first time you ever visited, standing so small and uncertain on the front steps, waiting for a kiss you actually wanted.

A kiss that never came.  

You park your bike against the side of the house.  You walk up the front steps on shaky legs, weak from speedy riding.    

You open the screen door to knock on the inside door.  While you wait for an answer, you fiddle with your appearance, adjusting any evidence of wind-swept dishevelment.

Oh, you are so nervous.  You were so hellbent on just getting here, you did not register any feeling beyond determination. But now you are standing on this porch in your flimsy white dress, the sun set, the day done.  You are doing something you should have done a long, long time ago and suddenly fearing you are far, far too late. 

No answer comes.  You knock again.

Your stomach forms a pit you hope you will eat you whole.  Is he ignoring you?  No.  The windows are shut, the blinds closed.  He cannot even see you.

You take a step back.  Even with everything sealed shut, you should be able to see a hint of light.  The house is small, a single story.  There are only so many places he could be.

He isn’t home, you realize, first with relief that he is not ignoring you, then with dejection.  Of course he’s not home, you tell yourself.  What were you even thinking?  Silly girl.  Riding all the way out here, expecting him to be sitting around and waiting for you.  He has a life of his own.  He probably doesn’t even think about you.  You’re pathetic.

You know you are being a little melodramatic.  Your emotions have been running at an extreme all day.  They finally become too much to bear.  You sit down on the steps and cry. 

Some time passes.  You eventually calm yourself enough to wipe your eyes.  You feel the cold more acutely now, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. 

You are not sure what to do now.  You refuse to go home, knowing what awaits you.  You have nowhere else to go. Your future is murky, which is still more comforting than the vision of it when your boyfriend forcibly kissed you.   

You sigh.  You know if you wait long enough, your friend will come home and help you.  Even if he doesn’t want you, even if he can be a bit standoffish at times, he has the warmest heart you know.  You met doing volunteer work, in fact.  You know he will help you like he would help anyone in need.

It does not mean you do not feel pathetic, curled up and shivering on his porch steps.  You are debating a course of action when a truck rolls into the yard with a flash of headlights and a noticeably hiccupping engine.  It pulls around the side of the house.

You stand and take tentative steps to follow.  You are still and quiet as the rough rumble of the truck comes to a wheezy stop. 

The driver door flies open.  He jumps out, cursing.  Your breath catches and all your hypotheticals dissipate in wake of the reality of him.

Lee Minho.

He is wearing his old, dusty leather jacket, something of a signature piece due its reliability.  His jeans are torn at the knee, likely a legitimate tear and not a fashion statement, his old work boots a bit scuffed.  He is a working man of limited means and nothing functional goes to waste.  

He is beautiful as ever.  Dark hair falls across his forehead and he pushes it back with a forceful rake, the softer pieces fluttering forward again.  He has an athletic frame, but delicate features despite his near-perpetual scowl.  When he does laugh, it is a hilariously boisterous sound.

He is scowling right now.  Cursing to himself as he stomps around the beat-up truck.  He wears a carabiner with a bundle of emergency tools, grabbing a miniature flashlight to guide his way.  He props open the hood and starts rustling around inside.  He curses again, then he puts the light away so he can reach inside with both hands.

You do not mean to startle him.  You thought he might have seen you, observant as he is, but apparently the truck has him distracted.

“Minho,” you say. 

You cannot see him too well in the dark, but you hear the distinctive thud of metal as he undoubtedly smacks his head on the open hood.  He curses louder this time. 

There is a small light on the side of the house.  You step towards it at the same time. 

He is rubbing the back of his head, frowning, but he comes to a total stop when he sees you.  His eyes widen ever so slightly, his brows drawn in confusion.  He stares intently at you. 

“Hi,” you say.

He just keeps staring. 

“Um. I was just in the neighbourhood,” you say.  “I wanted to see you.  I hope you’re doing well.”

He drops his arm and it swings at his side.  He continues to stare at you, the furrow in his brow more intense. 

“Right,” you say.  You feel a catch in the back of your throat.  Fortunately, you have cried all your tears and will not make a fool of yourself in front of him.  More of a fool, that is.  You want to say so many things but you cannot think of a single word that suffices. 

I missed you so much, you think.  I think about you every day.  Have you thought about me?

It sounds so clingy and pathetic.  Your boyfriend derides such women and their neediness.  Minho is not a man like that, though.  He has never spoken so disparagingly about someone.  You know that, but the words catch nonetheless. 

You exhale a shaky breath, looking aside at nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.  “I probably shouldn’t have come here.  It’s been months since we last spoke.  I know we’re not really friends anymore.  I just had no where else to go and I…”

“You were crying,” he says. 

You look at him.  His expression has not softened.  It is still that same scrutinizing stare.  His gaze is intently locked on yours, on eyes that must show the evidence of your crying. 

You wipe your face quickly, embarrassed.  Your gaze lifts when he takes a small step towards you.  He reaches for you, as if he means to wipe your eyes himself, but then he catches the sight of his own hand, covered in black grease from the truck. 

“Shit,” he says, and snaps his arm back. 

“Minho,” you say, your heart fluttering just from the suggestion he was going to touch you.  A small touch from him means more than anything. 

“Princess,” he says, an old affectionate nickname for you, though he speaks it rather dryly.  He is still frowning.  “Are you hurt?”

“Maybe,” you say.  When he reacts physically, his shoulders stiffening, you quickly add, “Not like that.  Emotionally, I mean.  I just… I think I ran away from home.”

“You think,” he says flatly.

“Well, I didn’t really think it through, to be honest,” you say shyly.  “I just… I couldn’t stay there anymore.  You know what they’re like.” 

He flinches as if the memory comes with a strike.  You feel embarrassed, remembering too. 

You and Minho became fast friends through your mutual volunteer efforts.  You thought nothing of inviting him to a neighbourhood party at your parents’ house.  He wore his nicest shirt and fresh pants, but as soon as everyone found out where he came from, they wanted nothing to do with him. 

You are embarrassed to say you did not even notice at first, naively taking politeness for granted.  He had to explain it to you, then you saw their two-facedness everywhere and felt horrible.

You stayed on his side of town after that, at least until your parents put their foot down.  They didn’t want you developing feelings for that kind of boy.   You insisted he was just a friend, even while already in love with him.  His biting wit and good heart had you in thrall. 

You were in denial about your parents being bad people.  You wanted to believe they had your best interest at heart.  They were just set in their ways.  They wanted a good life for you.  You told Minho to just give them time.  He let you go.  They introduced you to your new boyfriend the next day. 

Minho takes a breath.  He shoves his tongue into his cheek, looking pensive.  You are thinking of something to say when he nods his head. 

“You look cold,” he says frankly.  “Let’s go inside.”

You nod, following him to the front steps.  He grabs the porch rail and jumps the steps in an effortless swing.  You shuffle behind him while he unlocks the door. 

He says nothing, just nods at you.  You follow him through, closing the door while he bends down to unlace his boots.  He kicks them to the side while you step softly out of your flats.  When you meet each other’s eyes, you feel a spark. 

You stood in this very spot a few months ago, almost nose to nose, arguing about your parents and what to do.  You knew, deep in your heart, the conversation was not about a mere friendship.  You both had stronger feelings, but you were both scared to act on them given your precarious circumstance.  He did not want to risk everything while you were indecisive.  You wanted to keep everything. 

You have lived a life of great privilege and you are used to getting everything you want.  You have had to confront reality, that you cannot always have everything.   

So, if you can only have one thing, you want him. 

He looks at you with the same dark passion as then.  Your heart skips beats under his intense gaze. 

“You’re here,” he says. Maybe the same memories flicker through his mind.  He tips his head, looking at you so closely, like he cannot believe you are real.   

“Yes,” you say softly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I’m here.” 

“To stay,” he says.

“If you’ll have me,” you reply.  Your heart is beating so hard, it is a wonder he cannot hear it.  Your legs feel even weaker than before, but this time is has nothing to do with bicycles and everything to do with him. 

He swallows, his throat bobbing.  He sniffs and looks aside while idly tugging his jacket.   

“And your boyfriend?” he says, glaring at the far wall. 

Your heart sinks.  It is your turn to swallow. 

“You know about that?” you ask. 

He laughs, not that gleeful sound you know but a sharp cackle.  He looks at you incredulously. 

“Of course I know,” he says.  “I don’t always stay on my side of the tracks.  Sometimes,” he speaks with sarcastic wonder, “I get to repair houses for the pretty rich people.”  He huffs, shaking his head.  “It’s fine,” he says.  “You should be with someone like that.  He’ll give you the house.  The car.  I bet your parents love him too.”

“I don’t want those things,” you say, bearing his bitterness because you understand what he is feeling.  You lift your chin and look him in the eye.  “You’re right, my parents do love him.  But I don’t.  He’s shallow and unkind.  And you—”  Your voice catches.  “You, Lee Minho, are anything but that.  You are everything.  And I… I love you.  I always have.”  You drop your eyes with this confession, suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer emotion pouring out of his gaze.  “I know it’s been a while,” you say.  “I don’t expect you to have waited for me.  I just—”

He laughs again.  It is still dry, but not so sharp.  You glance at him. 

“Princess,” he says. “Don’t tell me you seriously think I could just forget about you.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s like you don’t even know me.  I should kick you out just for that.”

You realize he is joking, the faintest hint of something warm melting his scowl. 

“I can’t give you that life,” he says seriously. 

You step towards him, holding his gaze, pouring as much emotion back at him.  He exhales, blinking quickly, long lashes fluttering as he looks at you. 

“I have no idea what we’re gonna do,” you admit.  “But I know I want to figure it out.  With you.  And no one else.” 

He smiles and it makes you smile.  Then he reaches for you, but stops when he once more remembers his dirty hands. 

“Shit,” he says again, then takes a step back.  “Let me just—”

You take him by the wrist and yank him towards you.  He follows your guidance, his breath catching when you plant his hand on your hip.  It will leave a big black stain on your perfect white dress, the shape of his hand in a possessive grip on your body. 

It is more effective than any word.  He swoops in and kisses you, his other hand cupping your other hip with the same deliberate possessiveness.   You are certain this horrid little gown will be destroyed and you do not care one bit.  You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. 

“You’re cruel,” he says between kisses.  “Torturing me for so long.  I wanted to kill that man.  But I thought he made you happy—”

“He disgusted me,” you say.  “He kissed me without my permission today.”

“What.”  That stops the kiss and he looks at you with that scowl again.  “I’ll kill him,” he says without any hesitation. 

You just laugh a gentle laugh, shaking your head.  You twist a longer tuft of his hair around your finger, making his tense shoulders go soft as he leans in. 

“You don’t have to kill him,” you say.  ���Just make me forget him.” 

Oh, Lee Minho is such an awful tease all the time.  Of course he goes back to just staring at you with a contemplative air, making you wriggle and wonder in his arms.  You whine his name, trying to kiss him, but he dodges it.  Your whimpering makes him laugh, because of course it does. 

Then he gets very serious.  Your heart sends a bolt of heat shooting through your body.  Your thighs press together. 

He presses his forehead to yours.  You gasp when you feel his fingers on your back, the careful slow touch as he tugs your zipper down.  The flimsy dress slides off your body as he steps back to look at you.  You shiver, gazing back at him.  His stare is unflinching as he peels off his jacket and tosses it aside.  His hands are already much cleaner, the distinctive print of his palms still plastered to your dress.  He wipes the rest on his own shirt then tugs it off and tosses it to the side. 

He smirks and wiggles two come hither fingers at you, walking backwards.  You follow him slowly, then give chase when he cackles and runs.  You follow him into the bedroom where he literally sweeps you off your feet.

“And you say I’m cruel,” you tease.   

He closes the door with a firm snap then leans you against it. 

“You are,” he says.  He looks down your body while running his fingers through his hair.  “You are.” 

Then he gets on his knees, first one while he tugs your panties down, then the other, when he hooks your leg over his shoulder and put his mouth on you.  He does not tease anymore, swiftly finding all the ways to make you moan his name.  You are scared your leg will buckle under you when he makes you come, but he holds you steady. 

Then he stands up and cups your face, kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue.  It is a good kiss, everything a kiss should be, hot and hungry, slow and deep.  It makes you tingle with aftershocks, blinking at him with delirious pleasure when he pulls back.   

Minho can be loud, can be boisterous, can be scathing.  He can also speak gently, in such a soft, light rasp.  It makes your head spin.   He speaks like that now.    

“This is how it is,” he says, then kisses you again, licks into your mouth.  When you moan, he moans back.  “I make you sigh,” he says.  “I make your pussy wet.  I make you come.  Just me.”

“Yes,” you nod, clinging to him when he carries you to the bed.  “You, Minho.” 

He lays you down, kneeling between your open legs.  They are still quivering from your orgasm.  He looks at you, hungrily, while opening his belt.  He rips it out of his jeans and tosses it behind him, then unzips while leaning down to kiss you.  He dives past your waiting mouth to kiss your throat, biting marks under your jaw, on your neck, on your tits.  You grab his head, hands in his hair, arching your back under his desperate mouth. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “You’ve always been mine.”

He holds your hips while thrusting inside you.  You imagine his hands leaving a permanent mark, just like that stained dress, a claiming that forever marks you as his.  He fucks you so steadily and deeply, holding you possessively, gasping your name and how good you feel while he takes you. 

“Perfect,” he says in that dreamy voice, rubbing you softly while fucking you hard. It makes you come around his cock, clenching tight, which makes him moan into your mouth.   “Mine.”

You wrap your legs around him.  You lay chest-against-chest, holding each other.  Your nails scratch his back, no doubt leaving your own marks, your whole body littered with his kisses and bites.  There is not a single inch of you that is not branded by him. 

“Yes,” you say.  “Always, Minho.”

Saying his name sends him over.  He comes inside you, claiming you even there, then stays inside you after while you kiss. 

You stay in his arms all night, making love and sleeping then making love some more.  When the sun rises, you wake to him holding you, stroking your cheek affectionately. 

He kisses your forehead and you nestle comfortably against him, happy to be home.